He’s ghosting me. I’m getting ghosted! I can’t believe it, this is so out of the blue. On Sunday, I texted him and just said, “hope you’re enjoying your Sunday.” And then he texted back, and invited himself over. And then we had sex. More than once. And he said we should hang out tonight to watch American Ninja Warrior. Why would he say that if he had no intention of seeing me again? I’m going to Google why guys ghost.
9:35am He’s married? Did he just say he’s married? Oh. My. God. I wish I were deaf, so I didn’t just hear that. God! God hates me for not believing in him. This is payback, and it’s in the form of a wife. What a horrible woman! Stealing my secret future husband. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. I have never seen or heard of any topic even remotely related to eternal vows with a soul mate in a year of working together. In 365 days, he never had the urge to mention her? Is she the elephant woman? Maybe she’s just hideous. No. She’s probably cute. A super cute, blonde, Kindergarten teacher who wears short shorts because her legs are perfect.
My name is Katy. I’m a tall, funny, gorgeous lady-type person. I work in a non-traditional job. I have a lot of men in my life, but not a lot of dating prospects. I am attracted to a lot of different men. I’m a big flirt, but that’s about all. Can I talk about men some more? I like them a lot. I’ve had one real (awful) boyfriend in my life, and two girlfriends. The girls were just a phase. Although one of them meant a lot to me. A friend of mine refers to me as “that girl who doesn’t know how hot she is.”
When I discovered my love of live rock n’ roll that rattled forth from various local stages by the sweaty swagger of many a leather-clad musician, I was instantly enamoured. I followed show schedules, wore a number of revealing outfits, and stood below the stage dancing around in the ecstatic bliss of lusty intoxication. I was mostly fond of a local Vancouver band, The Red Hot Lovers. This was their actual name, it is not changed because I could not come up with a more appropriate groupie-conducive band name if I tried.
(Published in “What She Left Behind”) A group of stragglers crowded through the door and she found herself looking up at the little Flea Market man she’d characterized in a short story. “Damien?” “Rebecca?” She stared at his ageless face, taking in the memorable mess of brown hair. He broke into a smile that spread from ear to ear like a demonic cartoon. She hadn’t seen him in over a year, not since his band Sex Toys had played one of her old house parties with Jeremy, Audrey and Simon. Rebecca met Damien when she and Audrey had stumbled upon a series of after-hours clubs in the X-town area. They’d spent many weekends prowling the über-secretive spots after rock shows.