An Open Letter To The 19 Year Old Dating My Ex-Boyfriend

Hi. We haven't met. And probably never will. But I know just what you're going through. You're probably elated because you're dating BB. You're gushing to everyone about him because it's all exciting and new, there are parties to go to, and people to meet. Hell, you're dating the Canon City Kid. Everyone loves him. He's fucking famous. And he takes you to dinner, and buys you drinks (good thing you got that fake ID, huh? Too bad someone told me about it and I had to have you kicked out last weekend. Sorry, but not really. I'm a pretty cool ex-girlfriend, but I'm not that cool!) He's hard to get a hold of, but he usually calls you back. He's just a busy man, honey. Really, he's not ignoring your calls. Oh, and baby? He calls you that, right? Dollface? My love? Of course he does. It's because he forgot your name. But it's ok. It's been a month, he probably knows it by now. Speaking of a month, you are probably calling him your boyfriend. Or at least everyone is telling you that's what he is. What with the sleepovers, the dates, the way he looks at you, the pet names. It certainly seems serious. It's not, I'm sorry. It's not that he doesn't admit to "hanging out" with you, because he will, under pressure. But any attempt to fix your name (Baby) to "my girlfriend" just won't happen. He just doesn't want to be taken off the table in this girl's eyes(this being whatever girl he's talking to at the bar that night). He's not really cheating on you, (oh he is. Trust me.) he's just keeping his options open. I'm sure he's mostly sleeping with you. And the sex? Well, there's not much to say about that now, is there?

I know I'm being a heinous bitch right now. But you're 19. And 19 year olds are gargantuan imbeciles. It's ok, my brother is 19 and I don't think too highly of him right now either. I'm not biased toward you, the new girl, I dislike all 19 year olds. If I saw you on the street, I'd be polite. I'm so sorry BB is doing this to you. You're not ready to handle the implications of a man like him. You need to find your self a nice, 20 year old boy. This way you aren't stuck at home, wondering who BB is taking home tonight (Not me, although he has). And maybe when that 20 year old boy breaks your heart, it will hurt a little less. Because you are playing with fire and I guarantee you will be the one who gets hurt. That man is hurt by very few things, and you do not know him well enough to know where to strike. I did and probably do love him (not in love with him, mind you) but we had a relationship for a long time and I will not allow myself to regret it because I fought for it. But I wish someone would have stood in front of me, when I first started dating him, and told me exactly what he is. No one did. They stood in front of me, and patted him on the back, called him a "fun guy", and asked him for new tires. No one showed me what notch I am on his bedpost. And that's what you are, honey. Just a notch on a bedpost.

Are You There, God? It's Me, Jessica.

I don't know if it's because I came back from Ohio a month ago today, but I have noticed that the thought of moving to Ohio keeps coming back to me. And actually looking like a good idea.

I love it here. I'm even going to admit that I'm a little bit comfortable in Canon now. I want to move to Denver, but it's not such a desperate thing anymore. I've found a little place here, I just know I can't stay forever.

I love Colorado. I like the weather, except this winter of storms that I hate with all my little black heart. I like the friends I've made, here and in Denver. I like JBelle. Ok, LOVE her. I guess I like my family. It's nice to have them close, but I really only see them sporadically. Not that I really do any of this, but I like knowing I could go rock climbing, skiing, whitewater rafting, hiking, rodeo-ing, hot springing...one of those is a lie and I have no desire to do...I like the activeness of this state. Something the Midwest sort of lacks.

I hate humidity. I don't have a lake attachment. I don't miss grey, dreary days in winter. I do love to shop. A large group of my friends are there. Along with my college mentors who would slap me silly for being so lax on my fiction/playwrighting. My church is there. My heart and my support system to keep me strong and give me common sense is there.

And I'm here, enjoying the weather. There is something wrong with that.

Belle Likes The Box

During the week, this box passes as a coffee table. But that is not it's true purpose. Only JBelle can properly use it:
















Here, JBelle is being a copycat. Which is exactly what I wanted her to do when I started saying "Poohbear" in a British accent. That girl, she is smart.















Here she is not being a copycat. Here she is being shy, she knows how to smile and when to do it. Instead, she'd rather chew on her salty, Playdoh fingers and squinch her eyes shut.













Although she has a hood, she would rather be wearing my hat. Fortunately, a hat JUST LIKE IT arrived at my house today and she will no longer need to take my hat. However, I have the distinct feeling that she will continue to want mine and insist I wear hers. And maybe they are identical, but she will know.













Hunter says "Hi, can I bark at you" but in a slow, deep, Southern, backwoods voice. Because he's stupid.

Because Who Wants Chlamydia When You Can Have Cake?

DD sent me this article on "Loose Women".

I don't agree with the author of Unhooked, I don't think that girls need to stay home and bake cakes in order to keep themselves from getting hurt in a loveless, casual hookup. But nor do I agree with girls getting so drunk they can't remember who they took home that night. It's all about your choice, though. And where your comfort zone is. I have friend who choose not to engage in much of anything with a non-significant other, and I have friends who do bring home acquaintances at the end of the night. Much to my mother's dismay, I fall in the middle of those two sides. It's ok to choose to stay away from random hook-ups, and it's ok to seek them out. It's not ok when you are too drunk to make an informed decision about what happens at the end of the night, and your friends don't stop you from making a decision that you will regret in the morning.

My friends and I joke that "girls are the new guys" in that we don't want to find ourselves in relationships, getting serious, and falling in love. In college, almost all my friends were not in relationships. We couldn't imagine being like the few that were engaged and planning weddings for the summer. We spent our nights out together, and rarely did one of us leave with a guy. We were also all sorority sisters, and I feel that's important because the article mentions how some girls ended an event with consensual sex with their dates. Not to say this never happen, but as a Greek, it's my job to stand up for the sorority girls who didn't engage in that kind of stereotypical behavior at every event. We didn't go to college to find ourselves in love. We went for ourselves and an education. Of course, we all had random hookups. And for the most part, they were not detrimental to our over all health. We aren't damaged from loveless sex. We aren't hurt by a "hookup" that doesn't turn into a relationship. And if I can't get a man to marry me because I had casual sex, then we are from different worlds and probably shouldn't marry.

Working at the bar here in Canon, I see a huge difference in sexual encounters. While we are still around the same age, there is a gap in social status and education. People here are looking for that one person to make them happy. They get angry after a hookup doesn't turn out to be more. They get jealous over who goes home with who at the end of the night. Now that I'm single and people know it, there's pressure on me to go on a date with someone, or dance with them, and talk to them. Before in college, I didn't feel like a conversation with a guy would end with a trip to bed. Here I'm almost afraid to be nice because it's expected that if you are friendly, then you must be willing to go to bed with him or her.

Maybe this is just the bar scene, and it's like that all over. Or maybe it's a small town thing, where guys and girls are so desperate to get out that they do radical things to make themselves feel better and less trapped. Whatever it is, I'm not willing to find myself looking for someone to save me. I'd rather be the "new guys."

I Like Country

I usually don't deviate far from my angry, rocker boy bands when picking music for my car. I love my few indy bands that were given to me in college. And I like music that's really only acceptable in a bar after 10 PM and a three drink minimum.

But right now I'm on a country kick. There really is nothing better for a broken heart than a great country song. The rocker boys only get angry, unless it's Something Corporate and that's just too emo for me. The indy crowd is too philosophical about it. And I do not even want to think about "Smack that" right about now.

Country is just the right blend of anger and sadness. And also drunkenness, don't forget that.

Plus country seems to still have a large contingent of female vocalists, something that the pop culture seems to lack right now. Am I wrong in thinking that? So many artists right now are men, groups of men. Am I looking in the wrong place for women? I struggle to find a good female artist every week at karaoke and I almost always end up doing a song sung by a man. And I like singing country, since I'm better at country because I am country, but I also like singing songs people enjoy hearing. And I'm guessing my limit for the Dixie Chicks and Rascal Flatts are almost up.

TextSpeak

I am borrowing this idea from Que Sera Sera

I don't get a lot of texts, although yesterday prompted me to announce I may need to get more added to my plan. Maybe it's because I'm loved and the love was being shown through texts yesterday. Whatever happened to actually talking on a phone?

So here are some of my best texts since I got my new phone:

An Sandra was drinkin'

Tortilla Chip!

You just don't want me to know about it...silly girl...I'm sending your xmas gift back.

That lusty month of May. Do U remember who played the kooky old knight?

At least this Guinevere isn't on crack.

Thank u love u whore

I really want to insert a herpes comment

lol are you sure your not makin out

John wants to go drunken sledding tonight

Where is my prince charming

No seriously where is mine

lol um I always thought I was a loser

Did you hear how Hollywood is coming out with a new movie called constipated...it hasn't come out yet.

Happy Valentine's day my little dirty pirate tramps. cause no one really gets paid!

You know what I just realized it's the day after tomorrow come true. Man's pollution has caused an ice age.

I Thought Colorado Was Sunny.

Such cruel tricks the air currents above us right now are playing on me. Granted, Ohio is getting dumped on and it's merely grey here. But yesterday I was wearing a dress and no hose and I was able to walk down the street without my coat on.

I should have moved to Austin.

Sometimes I think about doing that. Just moving there and seeing what happens. I'm not really worried about whether or not I'd find friends or if I'd miss home. I don't want to leave because of what I'd miss out in JBelle's life. I moved back home with no friends close by, and once I finally started working at the bar I made friends. (I could have earlier, but I didn't try) I've already lived away from home and family and I did just fine.

But even when I'm gone for a weekend, I miss out on her life. I can't have a relationship with her through speakerphone. I don't want her to ask me "You see me TOMORROW?" when we talk. Because I wouldn't see her tomorrow. I probably wouldn't see her until a few months of tomorrow's have gone by. And she's not even three, she's not going to remember me. And I don't want to make her get to know me all over again. I want to be around for the times when she says silly things to us, or calls me her "Beff Friend!" I can't imagine leaving her. I can't imagine my life without her.

So for now, I'll only move two hours away. And one day, when she's older, maybe I will move to Austin. Or Florida. Or Iowa. Or Italy, when I finally run away from the scam that is Sallie Mae.

Six More Things

Well, Amy said I should! And it's not like there are only six.

Six Weird Things About Me

1)I don't like goat cheese. And I can always tell if what I'm eating is goat cheese. Even if you promise me that it's so mild, just like non-goat cheese, you can't tell at all. I CAN TELL. And I will think it's awful and that it tastes just like how a goat pen smells.

2) I can wiggle my ears. Or, rather, I can flap them. Also, right before I start to cry, I flare my nostrils really big.

3) I've never had boy friends. When I was younger, and home schooled, all my friends were boys except one girl when I was nine. But once I started school and made friends, none of them have been boys. Until now. Now I have the "Team" and it's kind of nice to have guy friends that you don't want to sleep with, nor do they want to sleep with you. The bad side of that is their girlfriends get irrationally jealous of you. *Note to self- Do not attempt to be a decent human being and prevent drunk friend from driving home.*

4)I'm obsessed with finding funny blogs. And reading all their archives as fast as I possibly can. So far I'm in love with Dooce, Amalah, Schnozzfest, Miss Doxie, and Whoopee. And if you know of any other I would adore, please let me know. Sometimes I get really bored during the day and I need something to read. And when I say sometimes, I mean pretty much any day of the week.

5) I am a music whore. I make terrible mixed CD's. So I never make them for people. But I love to get them. What's even worse is that I expect them. And that's why Annushka won't make me any more CD's. Because I am banned until I make her one. Except she forgot when I was leaving her that she had put up a music to Jess ban and she made me a CD anyways.

6) I like to be reading at least three books at one time. And I get myself confused by this. Because I tend to pick out a lot of historical fiction, mostly in the 1500's in England. They all kind of overlap in my mind, and as I'm reading I will get angry because the author is no longer talking about Anne Boleyn, but Queen Elizabeth the First, and that is at least 30 years later and you can't just jump around like that, oh...wrong book. God, this book is so good, I wonder what else she writes.

And Then I Spent A Lot Of Money

Ok, so I didn't take any pictures of the DPH this weekend. I packed the camera in my purse, and promptly forgot to bring it into the bar with me. But that's ok, since it wasn't a crazy fun Friday night like the times before. Just your general, run of the mill drunken night out at Manhattans.

Today I went shopping instead of spending the day on the couch which was a really good idea because I needed to spend a lot of money. I must be feeling poorly. I'm not sure, I try not to feel much right now, thus the drunken nights at Manhattans. Shopping sure helped though. I just wish I would have gotten the skis, bindings, and boots at the sports store. That would make me feel fantastic! Although, Hunter laying on my lap right now helps too.

I also got an exercise ball with a DVD since I have no idea what one does on a blow up ball. But I'm getting tired of the snow and cold keeping me from walking at least a mile and a half. It was only ten bucks too! If only I can keep Hunty from popping it.

My largest, and possibly most regretful purchase was that of two pairs of Silver jeans. I really don't have a problem with buying somewhat expensive jeans, since I don't wear them much and it's nice to not have to buy them often. But I have a problem in picking jeans out. I don't really pick out flattering cuts. I just don't know how. So I really shouldn't have picked some expensive jeans from Dillards, because Dillards is not as cool as Gap is with the whole taking the tags off policy. Not that I have taken tags off a pair of Gap jeans, worn them, washed them, and returned them after realizing they looked awful on me. No, I've never done that.

My Weekends Start On Wednesday

It's true.

I'll gather some photo evidence this weekend of all the Dirty, Pirate, Hooker things I engage in.

A Return That Sparked A Lot Of Glee And Possibly Skipping To The Bar Last Night

When I pulled onto Main last night to park in front of the bar, I scanned the cars to see who was working with me. To my complete surprise, Chris's Jeep was there and it may have incited a little bit of a party in my car as I crossed the double yellow lines to park next to him. (Ok, three cars down, but so close!) Chris has been gone for the past two weeks on account of his wife having the baby two weeks early. And he could not have disappeared on us (being Zach and me) at a worst possible time. We are a team, and we needed our team leader! Ok, maybe Zach didn't but Zach has Chris's number and I do not so he could logically get in touch with him while I was left in the dark!

Anyways, he's back. And I may have bounded into the bar and crashed into him saying (screaming?) "I'm so glad you're BACK." Thus prompting Rich to excuse himself from behind the bar so we could "catch up." God, not like that. He's like my brother for crying out loud. A brother who may have unzipped my shirt last night, but that's only because I was asking for it. Come on, who wears a zip up shirt to the bar? Only someone who is asking for it, and that's why I stayed behind the bar all night because more sketchy guys were there and I am no fool. Chris's advice to me is that I have to watch out for the persistent guys because they are the most trouble. Only certain men will continue to pester a women into giving out her number and I want none of those men. Persistence is a virtue, but in this case it's just obnoxious. I don't give out my number at work, unless you are a girl or old childhood friend. Even then I usually get their number for the sake of appearances. Plus, there is no way I want some drunk boy's number when he graduated in 2004. Please, boy, you wouldn't even be out of college yet.

Anyways, Chris and I had a lovely time catching up on all that went down at the bar while he was gone. No sooner than he found out I am single now, did he start scheming to Marry me Off to his friend Ryan. Actually, I'm pretty sure the scheming started the night before I became single, two weeks ago, when he started going into the virtues of Ryan and how he just wants him to have a nice girl. Chris likes to set me up, although the last time was ill-fated even if his friend was nice. Just not my type at all, even if he just signed a very important contract for a very large sum of money. But Chris is not just conspiring to get us dating. He is trying to marry us off, so we can live in Canon and have dinner parties at his house and babysit Ace for him, and play on some intramural couple softball team.

I don't have the heart to tell him I'm moving to Denver.

I Need An Intervention Right About Now

I had a conversation with someone last week about how I have standards now, and those standards are no kids, no wife, no drugs, must have a job, and college. Hey! Good standards.

Let's go back to last Wednesday at the bar. I was behind the bar, and some guy kept talking to me. I don't remember his name, just like i don't remember anyone's name since they are not important and I don't care. Also, I must meet you at least three times and be told your name as many in order to remember you. This guy has two kids, his wife left him two months ago, he smokes pot, I'm pretty sure he's been to jail, and I don't think he has a job.

And he wants my number so we can go on a date.

Him: Go out with me.
Me: No, I just broke up with my boyfriend on Sunday.

Repeat. Like 4 times.

Fast forward to today. Same man walks into the children's section of the library. Where I am working. Without Deb, who I had previously warned that said man might come into the library and she was to make me go do something when that happened.

But now he's gone and gone without a promise of a date from me. Because I attract losers. Losers who show up to my work. And I dated the last loser who showed up to my work for five months. Gah!

*EDIT*

I know three weeks ago, I would have never posted that about BB. My friend may think he's a loser, but I know how that would make him feel and I was never one to hurt him. Perhaps he was never as aware of my feelings and how his actions may affect them as he should have been. And while that's wrong, it's not as if I haven't had that happen to me before by someone who did love me, who still does love me, and who I still have a meaningful relationship with. People can do awful things to those they love for reasons that are so beyond me. I'm sure I have, and I don't know if you can point out someone who hasn't. So I don't really mean to call BB a loser. But he and I both know that I am far too amazing to be with him. And those are his words, not mine.

Infiltrating The Other Team

It seems that I have found a clique. Well, to be quite honest, it's a gang. Here in Colorado, a gang is defined by more than four members that have a symbol. The gang I'm joining is known as the DPH, which stands for Dirty Pirate Hookers. Here is part of the gang, one is missing:














This is the most bad-ass pirate group you'll ever meet. I'd advise you not to mess with them. Like they said "You date one of us, you date us all."

PS. My "initiation" will be complete when I start drinking a bottle of Captain and once I pass out and knock over the bottle, I'm totally in. That's way more pirate like than actually drinking the whole bottle.