Sunday, May 13, 2012

I'll Never Be Your Damsel In Distress...

...Once upon a time, there was this girl. This girl didn't have any long extravagant hair a knight in shining armour could climb. She didn't have an evil step-mother who hated the ground she walked on. Nor did this girl talk and sing to animals on a regular basis. And she of course never lost a high heeled shoe in her life. So, this won't be your typical fairytale story you're used to reading. But, then again, neither is the girl in the story I'm about to tell you...

It's no secret to those that know her, know that she's a social butterfly. Leave her alone in a room full of strangers for thirty minutes and she most likely traded contact info with half of the room.

By being this social butterfly, she always valued herself as a pretty good people reader. Her instincts were always good, her intuition was even better, and she automatically knew when to be cautious and to put up those imaginary walls of hers that every girl carries with them.

...Enter charming boy.

(Lets skip a few chapters a head in this fairy tale.)

...The girl sat there on the plane ride home from the far away land she had visited, fiddling with the rings on her hands, over-analyzing whether she made the right decision to visit the charming boy. She felt something in the pit of her stomach...regret? butterflies? unsureness? She didn't know. Whatever it was, it was an unknown kind of feeling she had never known. She just prayed to God things weren't going to change once she arrived back home. She thought she knew the charming boy well enough to know things wouldn't be weird between them after what had happen in this far away land. She was wrong...

...There's not a whole lot I regret in life. In fact I'm a firm believer that it's best not to, but I do regret one thing: Sleeping with one of my dear guy friends. If I could take back anything it would be that, because if I have learned anything in recent years it's this: sex with someone can either make or break the relationship you have with the that person. Once that line is crossed, sex changes everything and anyone that tells you it doesn't is a fucking liar.

If someone would have told me three months before the deed was done that he would go MIA, barely talk to me, and give no explanation on why he did all of this, I would have told that person how crazy they were. No way in hell would "Aaron" ever do that to me. ....I guess my people reader wasn't as good as I always thought it was.

When I was in certain moments with Aaron, I didn't over think anything. For once, as a bit of a planner and over-analyzer of things, I let everything happen. With every reach for the hand, I held his. With every random kiss on the street, I let it happen. And as much as I usually hated being held while sleeping throughout the night, I didn't mind it at all.

With Aaron I felt comfortable. I never had to censor what thought I was having, be extra cautious of what move to do next, or even second guess what everything meant. I was just me. Now I'm not saying I felt the  "L" word for him. But, I really truly cared about him. When you talk to someone almost every day through some kind of communication, you end up developing some kind of feeling. It's rather impossible not to. ...But, then again, it wasn't for him.

The charming boy traced his fingertip along the constellation like pattern of freckles that showed on the girl's sun kissed face that morning, and he smiled. She thought to herself "If you feel nothing for me, please stop doing things like this, you're going to break my heart." He kissed her gently and handed her rose colored glasses to blind her with reality.

It's kinda screwed up how all of a sudden someone can just wake up and decide to hardly ever talk to you again. No reason. No explanation. No words even said. They just leave you hanging like you meant nothing to them. I think what hurts the most is how he made it look so easy to do. I can't blame him for not feeling the same, but I can blame him for how he handled it.

For those of you who are reading this, I don't want you to get a bad impression of who I'm talking about. Aaron is the kind of guy who people want to be friends with. His smile is contagious and his humor can make the sternest person laugh. He has a certain all American boy vibe to him, yet you've never met anyone like him. But, everyone has their flaws, including myself.

Aaron and I very rarely talk these days, nothing has been spoken about what happened or the trip that I went on to visit him.

Truth be told, I miss him. ...Let me rephrase that, I miss who I thought he was.

And if he knew me as well as he told me he did, he would have known what he did would have broke my heart. But, I guess he never knew me at all either...or simply didn't care.

(Lets go to the last chapter of this fairytale...)

Charming Boy breaks girl's heart.

The girl wiped the tears from her eyes, picked herself off the ground, and headed off into the sunset by herself. Unlike the usual fairytale, this girl saves herself in the end and there is no real "The End" to this story, for she saw every ending as a new beginning. And she continued on making her way to her "Happily Ever After."  

xox
hotto

Saturday, May 5, 2012

She's As Fragile As a Coal Truck...

Those that know me well know that I was raised with some southern charm in my upbringing. Sweet tea and cornbread was always on the table during family get-togethers. "Yes, Ma'am" and "No, Sir" was always expected out of my mouth, Sunday church service was a requirement when I was younger, we had important talks on the front porch swing, and an Old Miss basketball game was always on the TV during the season. Growing up with a southern family I always thought big hair was better and a girl should have more dresses than pants. (To a certain extent I still believe this.)


I'm sure it's a no brainer that I got my sassiness and my quick tongue from the Mississippi ladies. As one of my grandmothers said when I was younger "That girl is about as fragile as a coal truck. She can fight with the heart of a pit bull while still maintaining her grace and curls in her hair. Bless the heart of whoever makes her mad."


After having all of that out there, before this year, I was never in a physical fight. I always chose the route of walking away or killing the enemy with kindness. My dad and papa always told me "Rule number one: You better never hit someone first. It's not nice and it's not lady like. But, if they do something to you first, then forget rule number one."


Here's my story:


In January of this year, I had went out for drinks with one of my former bosses, Blake. I had always been attracted to him, but knew what kind of Casanova he was from observing him at work. But, that didn't stop me from spending time with him every now and then after I left my position. Blake is what you would call the modern day James Dean. He's the bad boy with good intentions in this bigger city he resides in. Every woman knows who he is who lives in the city. A magazine even named him one of the most eligible bachelors in his area. He had VIP access to every club and bar, high fives and handshakes were given in every direction when he walked in a room, he was either liked by people who were equal to his status or was hated by people that envied his life. There was no in between when it came to him.


After I had left that job, he looked at me as an opportunity to achieve. He knew I was a challenge who didn't get on my knees and worship the ground he walked on like every woman in town. That intrigued him. I know it did.


Even though he was a cocky, arrogant SOB, I enjoyed talking to him about various things in the world, he knew how to push my buttons and I sure as hell knew how to push his back.


Blake and I had met up at a bigger bar in the city. Two of his friends, Chris and Mark, had accompanied him. If you knew Blake you knew he had an entourage that followed. Always.  


I didn't mind though, I may wear a dress to most events in life but I can keep up with the boys.


After a few free rounds from the owner of the bar, we made our way to another bar in the next town. I was feeling a little tipsy, but I wasn't ready to drunk text my old high school teacher. (That's another story.) 


Once we arrived at the new bar, I could instantly tell that our visit there wasn't going to end well. It was a different crowd than we were used to being around and the bouncer checked my purse at the door for a weapon. Men with ZZ Top sunglasses on, tattoos on men and women that looked like they were done in someone's dirty basement, someone even had a monkey on their shoulder...and it looked like a mean monkey. "So, they check my bag but they let a mean monkey into this bar...I think we should leave." I told Blake. He assured me that we would be fine and he knew the owner. For once I said nothing, hoping and praying he was right.


We went directly to the pool table and set up a game. I could feel every one's eyes on us as we started to play. I noticed that there were only about 3 other women in this decently full bar besides myself and they weren't any delicate flowers. And then the excitement began...


I was drinking my blue moon, wondering to myself if the jukebox played anything else other than Iron Maiden, and noticed a severely gruff looking guy and his biker babe coming towards our group. Chris and Mark told Blake they had to bail due to there being some "guarantees at the bar down the road." I instantly felt my heart drop to my tummy. Great, I thought to myself, now the strong disciples were leaving us. Where's a trap door when you need one?


Blake continued on sitting on the bar stool, sly half smile on his face, watching the couple walk over to us, and he moved his hand to my waist, looking like nothing in the world was phasing him. He obviously hadn't watched all the movies I had seen that started like this.


I looked down at my heels, hoping they were wanting to welcome us to the area and give us a complimentary bag of shelled peanuts. They got closer and I all of sudden wondered if they were taught the rules of personal space in elementary school.


Captain Gruff stared at us intensely while Miss "I look like I came from hell and back" chewed her gum in an annoying matter.


"Are you that mister big shot I hear everyone talk about?" He asked, while chew was stuffed in his bottom lip.


I looked over at Blake and he continued on smiling. "Depends what you've heard." Blake says as he looked over at me and patted me on my ass.


"I heard that you think you're the shit everywhere you go, we don't want you here at this here bar."


"Well, that's funny, Earl. Can I call you Earl? Because I'm pretty sure, Earl, that we're not worried about whether you want us here or not. We're enjoying conversation and some beers, so how about you play another Iron Maiden song on the jukebox and scratch your armpit."


I instantly closed my eyes. Why? I'm not sure. I pretty much knew that I was going to have someone else's blood on my new heels I had bought earlier that day.


I opened my eyes, not even looking at "Earl's" reaction and whispered to Blake "Come on, lets just go and drink somewhere else."


"I don't think you heard me, son." Captain Gruff said "We don't want you here."


"Yeahhh, and take your prissy blonde Barbie with you, too" Captain Gruff's girlfriend said.


I ignored her. I noticed she had a gold tooth on her bottom set of teeth that was shiny as ever. Good for her.  


Blake continued on sitting on the bar stool, arm around my waist, and responded without blinking an eye "We're. Not. Leaving. EARL."


Instantly everyone in that bar turned around. If that wasn't a cue to go, then I don't know what the fuck was.


The bar was silent, you could hear a pin drop.


"You don't want to make him mad." Sister golden tooth squealed. "You guys need to get the fuck out of here."


"Nope." Blake said.


...Oy.


Mister Gruff kicked the bar stool next to us. I don't know if he was trying to scare Blake or show off how high he could get his ginormous leg up in the air. I was personally impressed with the second choice.


Blake got up from his seat and motioned me to get in the corner.


Dear Blake, I know you were trying to protect me and all. But, take a cue from Patrick Swayze...No one puts Baby or Hotto in the corner. Thank you.


So there I was backed in a corner, watching Blake and Mister Gruff two step in a weird fashion for some pre ritual fight dance I didn't know grown men had.


And there came Sister golden tooth my way.


I ignored her and yelled for Mister Gruff to leave Blake alone.


"LET THEMMMM FIGHTTTT!!!!" Sister Golden Tooth screamed in my face.


"I'm right here, standing right in front of you. We're inside. There's no need for screaming in my face." I responded.


"LET THEMMMM FIGHTTTTT!!!!" she said again as she made her way closer to me and there I was in the corner...hoping that if we got into something, the mean monkey would be on my side.


"WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING AT ME?" I screamed back at her. "AS YOU CAN OBVIOUSLY SEE, I"M STANDING HERE LETTING THEM FIGHT."


I tried to peek around her big head and see what was going on, but couldn't see shit. So, I stood there. I knew I needed to get myself out of the corner. But, how?


So, me being the polite individual that I am, I asked her nicely if she could move.


(Yeah, I'm lame, I know.)


"YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL THEY'RE DONE! I DONT WANT YOU TRYING TO PROTECT YOUR MAN."


...Umm okay. So, being polite wasn't going to work. So, I tried plan B...I just shoved my way through her.


It worked, until I felt my hair being pulled. ...Cheese and Fries, Lady, if you're gonna pull my hair, you might as well start smacking my ass too.


I turned around towards her.


"LET THEM BE, YOU BARBIE BITCH!" and then she slapped me. On the face. Hard.


I stood there. Mister Gruff I guess had been escorted out of the bar for starting shit and Blake was running to come by my side and get me.


I felt the right side of my face heat up and it stung really bad. Never in my life had I been slapped before.


Blake looked at me.


I turned towards him, with her still standing in front of me, and asked Blake " Did Sister golden tooth, just slap me?"


Blake just looked at me and nodded.


"That's all I needed to know." I said.


I tightened my fist and aimed straight for her face. The good bit of alcohol that was in her veins may have helped my cause, but that bitch was on the ground instantly.


I straightened my dress out and told Blake "Time to go."


As we ran out of there, I heard her yelling about her tooth. I wasn't sorry. Rule number one needed to be ignored and thank God my heels were fine.


The next day my hand was swollen and my ring that I was wearing on my hand that I hit her with was imprinted on my finger for a good three days.


So, I guess my Grandma was right..."That girl is about as fragile as a coal truck. She can fight with the heart of a pit bull while still maintaining her grace and curls in her hair. Bless the heart of whoever makes her mad."


xox
hotto.