Cupid's Black Eye

Note: Sorry. More boo-hoo-poor-me crap. Maybe a revelation next time.

Tonight is unearthly quiet. No vehicles roaring by on the streets. No noisy neighbors stomping around on the ceiling. No kids throwing tantrums. No room mates jacking off to porn.

No, tonight is almost like....death.

The snow outside has pasted everything in white icing. It twinkles like masses of decaying fallen stars. The earth is stony, the cold packed into every granule. Ribbed icicles cling parasitically to the numb skeletons of trees. The sky above is an enormous blackhole devoid of a moon.

Earlier tonight I bounded up the flight of stairs to my apartment door. I was in a rush to escape from the cold, from the dinner I just had with my friend, and from my loneliness. I stood rubbing my hands together, cursing the first snow of winter. For a moment I thought my breaths still hovered in clouds before my face. Then I realized my contacts had some goop on them, shook my head, and reached for my keys. I unlocked the door and retreated into a 20 minute long scorching shower.

Now here I am...sitting in front of the computer, shuffling through Debussy songs on Youtube and unable to shake these thoughts.

Dinner with my friend was nice. The man she has found seems to be a good one. They both are foreigners. She has had a rough life, raising a kid on her own, putting herself through school to get a Ph.D. Her adopted father recently died, and she has been going through some rough troubles. She is a beautiful lady. If anyone deserves some rich, good-looking guy to pamper her...it's my friend.

Money aside...I really do hope this is the guy that will treat her right.

He seems to be nice.

Or maybe that's just my hope..

Still...I'm selfish.

I'm jealous.

They were all smoochy and gaga-eyed for one another over dinner. I kept tossing back my wine to avoid eyecontact with these semi-erotic, romantic scenes. I must have gone through a whole bottle myself. Then I picked at my main course and shuffled salad into my mouth. The whole while he and her are cooing and fussing over who gets to feed who what first. We had good conversation, took photos, laughed and then made a communal journey to our cars.

Before going this guy tells me he has a friend who saw a picture of me. Apparently this friend, who I have seen a picture of...very blond, stocky, Norwegian type....has some weird interest in me. Ding, ding, ding...there goes my intuition. ( I am highly unphotogenic.) My friend pulls me to the side to tip me off that her man's friend is loaded as well but a bit of a hoe. Apparently he has "girlfriends" in three different countries already. Then she kindly said that I could be friends with the guy, since he was willing to pay for some of my expenses. (As in ....a trip to the Netherlands. Possibly. His treat.) I could do it for the "experience," as she put it.

"You don't have to sleep with him," she assures me.

I'm looking at her and thinking, You expect him to fork out all that money and be content with not getting something from said investment? Me...an investment. Fuck that.

My emotions kept swinging between indignation and mild amusement.

You know....I hear from my family and friends that I deserve better than one night stands, than fuck buddies. That I have to get my confidence back. Not to pay attention to the assholes.

I believe this for myself as well. I'm a relationship person. While I have been single over 2 years now, I've kept my options open. I hope that maybe someone good will come my way.

To have a friend tell me this...I'm not sure how to take it. I could be a leech, keep it casual fun, and get some money. Or....I could keep my self respect and just drop it. Oddly, I'm not that pretty of a lady...but this isn't my first "prositution" offer. Apparently, men think they can buy me. Sadly, the ones who I do trust and open up to, leave me. Maybe I'm being an idiot for not taking their money...

Hell, I got bills too!

Sigh.

Nope.

When is it my turn? I have had men love me before. Those men cheated. Those men lied. Those men abused me. Those men left me. Those men hurt me. Those men fucked me over.

Guess what?

They probably didn't really love me.

Or loved me in an extremely immature fashion.

I've stopped looking.

My last fucking date was months ago. And before then I had almost a year gap.

I'm at the point now I don't even try. I don't wear makeup every day. I don't jog religiously. I eat what I want to. If I gain weight, oh-fuck-well. I dress how I want to. Do what I want to. Blah blah blah. Yeah, being single has it's nice perks. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy my girls' nights and random bar escapades.

Still...

Let's face it. I'm almost twenty-fucking-four years old. I am ready for serious.

Serious. Is that a scary word? I mention to men, "Sorry. I don't do casual stuff. I'm looking for something more serious." The room is cleared out. I'm starting to think I should be a magician. David Copperfield watch the fuck out. Make way for Magnificent Me.

Yeah.

So, back to dinner....I'm happy for my friend. Tickled damn pink. But where is my happy ending? What's with the whole "my boyfriend's friend wants to buy you" scenerio? At least she warned me/confirmed my intuition...but still!

Maybe American women are just brainwashed into believing fairy tales come true. I shouldn't be that way, considering all the abusive history I have with men stemming back to my childhood. Here I am....hoping against the odds that some kind, smart, semi-attractive Joe with a heart of gold will take me on.

Take on me.....take on me...A-Ha....awesome band. Got to love that 80s song. It's classic. Still a great beat.

Fuck it.

I'm going to invest in Bob....a boyfriend with batteries. I can get one in the size I want. That vibrates. Glows in the dark. AND NEVER GETS TIRED BEFORE I'M DONE.

Ha.

Seriously...Cupid, I want to give you a black eye.