Pregnant With The President’s Baby

my version

Please always remember that there is always more than one version of the story. This is my version. These are my memories of what happened. I am posting this story for the baby I lost. I am sharing this story to reach out to anyone who has ever experienced so much pain they felt like they could no longer go on in hopes that they will know they are not alone.

XoXo Carla

Christmas 2008.

I spent the holidays with my friend’s family and it was one of the nicest holidays I have had in a very long time. We went shopping, wrapped gifts, talked bad about her family members, opened gifts, ate great food and laughed. Oh yes, costumes were involved…and me, my roommate, Chloe (my chihuahua) and my roommates five year old niece all dressed up in Santa costumes. All that fun left me longing for a family of my own. I have so much fun with my roommates niece and as dorky as it is I thoroughly enjoy doing all those cheesy traditional things that you do with kids on Christmas. I knew that it was going to be impossible to top hanging at the bar with the regulars and other random losers who have no other option but to drink their way through the holidays. This new holiday happiness rationalized my plan of calling up the President, telling him I loved him as a person and asking him if we could have a baby together? He of course being single, almost forty with no kids is completely wasted and says sounds like a good idea – we will have to draw up a contract, we should talk more about this later.

Clearly he only heard the part about having sex because a second baby conversation two took place in January in a hotel in Dallas while he was here on business. Because I am a woman, during this visit I let hormones take charge of choosing the topic conversation. I am well aware that im delusional should have stuck with food or chocolate. That would have been too easy so inevitably I became that moron (you know the one who runs UPSTAIRS in every horror movie or worse the “victim character” in those oh so predictable Lifetime Movies). I let my hormones do the talking and bring up the baby topic again and to my hormonally unbalanced surprise the response is totally different.

“What are you thinking?” “You cant be anyones Mother.” “You don’t have a job.” “ You cant take care of anyone, you cant even take care of yourself.” “You’re a loser.”

I am so wounded by his words. I am a girl who left home at 16 and couch surfed until I could afford to get my own apartment by working three jobs. I am confident that I can be a Mother and an excellent one. I have been well schooled in what not to do as a parent that the only kind of Mother I think I could be is an excellent one. I think it goes without saying that I spent the remainder of that evening sobbing while hugging a box of puffs plus.

The fact that I realized and admitted that I truly want a family of my own is such a big deal because I honestly never thought I would feel this way. I see that my first attempt at achieving this goal is completely irrational and I decide I will never ever bring up this topic again. Ever.

While he was in Dallas he also mentioned to me that he had designed a product. The product was named after a nickname he used to call me. He told me he had someone designing the product and doing the marketing and research… no doubt its the flavor of the week.

Once again I am left broken hearted and crying in a hotel room. The President returns to New York City.

A few days later I leave Dallas for NYC where I will be for over a week. The President and I are going to be once again reunited. I’m pretty sure that if he could have come up with a believable escape plan that he definitely would have backed out of this reunion.

He had offered to pick me up at the airport but changed his mind and sent a text message telling me to take a cab. Poor asshole was so distraught about seeing me again so soon that he had to skip work to have one last sexcapade party for two with his latest conquest. The life of a he-whore sure is complicated, isn’t it?

When I arrived at his apartment the twelve year old hipster whore and I must have passed one another in the hallway because she left so quickly that her size large lingerie and unfabulous hooker heels were sitting on the couch. Clearly no accident – I am a girl and know how girls operate. A word of advice to you younger girls… if you want to intimidate me by marking your territory with your slutty lingerie never ever leave the size tag in any garment. Game over.

The original plan was to stay with him the first few days and with a friend in Brooklyn the remainder of my stay. We ended up having a great visit so he invited me to stay and I never ended up going to Brooklyn. I am sure the hipster whore is fuming. I am also sure The president is telling her some good Ole lies about me to smooth things over.

I’d be breaking tradition if a visit with the President didn’t end in tears… He says the same bullshit he always says which included all the hits…. including the number one hit “I love you but…,” “Never Make an Intelligent Woman your Wife” and “Commitment should be a four letter word.” Featuring the new smash “I’ve Decided to Live a Polyamorous Life.”

Polyamorous (from wiktionary.org)

1. Following one of various practices of having relationships with multiple partners, with the knowledge and consent of all involved.

2. Having personal beliefs regarding relationships that are compatible with polyamory, regardless of one’s experience or current practices.

Translation: I’m almost 40, single and clearly in the beginning of mid life crisis mode. Hes totally delusional if he thinks I’m going to continue to be understanding about him fucking me, various other ex girlfriends, girls in other states along with every single slut you pick up on craigslist casual encounters. (blissful ignorance is so underrated)

Polyamorus is a gimmick from the casual encounters slut. He gave my nickname to a craigslist whore. He was duped by the polyamory gimmick. I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

Enough is enough. Even I have a limit to the amount of abuse I can tolerate. See this is proof that , sometimes the horror flick girl gets rescued (if shes under contract to star in the sequel). I had to wise up eventually because Lifetime movies always have happy endings… too bad my endings don’t ever work out that perfectly. I find it terribly misleading that Lifetime movies give you all this false hope that maybe just maybe the predictable stories of tortured women really do all have

happy endings…

This is the last time he leaves me crying and broken hearted. I decide I will sever all ties with the President and return back to Dallas. Once I make a decision (good or bad) I always stick with it. Except…

Upon my return to Dallas I direct my attention to anything that might possibly help me overcome my broken heart. I notice my bra is tight. I wear a 32A so bigger breasts are hard to conceal. I am not happy about this because my breasts are the one thing about my body that I love. Not only are my breasts bigger they really hurt and kept getting bigger.

Now I’m putting on weight… I thought that this was normal because moving back to Texas definitely changes my eating habits and the food in Texas is definitely not low in calories. Maybe my obsession with biscuits and gravy and love affair with butter is getting a little out of hand.

My change in diet and lack of exercise definitely explains why things are a bit snug. If I were in NYC I would be doing lots of walking, what I consider forced exercise which is the only exercise I ever participated in. (Except that one time when the red head and I decided we were going to start running in the mornings before work. Hangover + running = an exercise program with a 100% failure rate – I think we lasted 3 days)

Wait. I should be getting my period any day…this explains everything. I do recall thinking to myself that my period never caused hunger pains so intense they woke me up at 7AM every morning. They were not the kind of hunger pains you could ignore (and believe me I know a thing or two about skipping meals).

At this point I am so preoccupied getting ready to go back to NYC in a couple of weeks The Barking Beauty Pageant 2009 that I completely forgot about my period. I accepted the fact that I had suddenly become a morning person who loved breakfast. I also ignored my new habit of getting up to pee once or twice every night.

I had so much to do before I left and one of the things on my list was to have my pageant dress altered because no matter how much stuffing I did I couldn’t get this strapless dress to stay up to save my life. They do a rush job for me so I can have the dress back before I leave. I picked the dress up the day before I leave for NYC and it fit perfectly.

This time in NYC I will be staying at my friend who is the host of the dog pageant and I knew that my two week stay would be one long slumber party and it was. I was having so much fun that I didn’t think about the President at all. Surprisingly there was a new male someone that I was unexpectedly intrigued with. I cant even remember the last time I got excited about talking on the phone with anyone but talking to him is always fun. I am very grateful for being reminded that I am still attractive. I forgot how much fun flirting was. Who on earth thinks about their period at a time like this? Probably everyone except for me. Traveling has caused my period that was expected weeks ago to be late. There is no other logical explanation. Uh-huh, that reasoning is anything but logical.

I am again distracted its pageant time. I am in total denial about the fact that I have started eating things I usually don’t eat – donuts, hot dogs, vegetables. Pageant preparations sure do work up an appetite. If you know me then you know that I have never participated in anything that could possibly cause me to work up an appetite. I swear any day my period will come… really it will – I don’t trust anyone and I choose to put my trust in my period. The only thing about my period that I can rely on is that it will always and forever remain consistently inconsistent.

The Philadelphia pageant is the first weekend and New York City the following weekend. I I didn’t put on my dress that had been altered until the NYC Pageant so it had been two weeks since the last time I put the dress on. When I was getting ready in the dressing room before the pageant I put my dress on but it wouldn’t zip up. The zipper must be stuck so I ask Leslie to help. The zipper wont move so I removed my padded bra and it still wouldn’t budge. We recruited another friend as she was walking by and it took all three of us to get me into this dress. That is the first time that has ever happened. I never even took the cutlets out of my suitcase and I didn’t have on any kind of bra. I was shocked but dismissed yet another clear sign that something was going on and decide that cutting butter and ranch dressing out of my diet completely would solve this problem. I have loved butter and ranch for as long as I can remember and I have been consistently flat chested my entire life. My brilliant plan to cut these two condiments from my diet all together makes complete sense. Complete NONSENSE.

I was looking forward to some rest after two weeks of being on the go in NYC. When I got back to Dallas I am a bit upset about my recent weight gain so I do what any normal person in my situation would do… I ordered some diet pills. The diet pills of course did absolutely nothing. I am gaining weight in places I don’t usually gain weight. While getting dressed for a wedding I realized that none of my vintage dresses that have all been professionally altered fit me. It seems as though I have gained weight in my stomach. I never gain weight in my stomach, usually in my ass. I don’t feel sick so at this point I am thinking that I’m 34 and my metabolism has changed and I am going to have to start working out… something that I have never had to do. After seeing wedding photos I realize that I have really put on weight in a different way than I have ever gained weight. Still no period… how clueless am I? It STILL doesn’t occur to me to take a fucking pregnancy test.

So to deal with my feelings about my recent weight gain I pick up a bottle of my favorite wine. I pour myself a glass and when I drink it I think it is the most disgusting thing I have ever drank. I go to the fridge and take the bottle of wine out to smell it to see if its bad, its not but its making me sick so sick that I feel like my only option is to pour the entire bottle of wine out and dispose of this bottle. Now I KNOW something is wrong. I love wine.

I tell my roommate about whats been going on and she gives me a pregnancy test but for some reason don’t take the test. Why you ask? Who can remember to take a test when you are busy coming up with intelligent reasons (irrational excuses) why I have been both gaining weight AND haven’t had a period in a very long time… I have had such abnormal periods that I think there is no way I could be pregnant. It takes three whole minutes to take a pregnancy test so why in the hell did I waste valuable time with my ridiculous “absent period mysterious weight gain” theories (excuses somehow fits better than theories) Its bad enough that I clearly have no common sense and no decision making skills but the fact that I am completely clueless is just plain embarrassing. It should be illegal to be this stupid, seriously.

Finally, one hormonally imbalanced morning I get in a fight with my roommate, We don’t fight often so either fate stepped in. My roommate decided to pick a fight to spare my feelings so she wouldn’t actually have to come out and tell how fucking clueless I was acting. So she questions me about the test and I naturally take the high road and become a super cunt and we begin to argue… about what? I seriously couldn’t tell you what we were arguing about if my life depended on it. This is how ridiculous this situation had become. After taking the high road on the super cunt highway I decide to do the mature thing and listen to my friend and take the pregnancy test. I do this to spite her and of course prove her wrong because I don’t lose arguments. Too bad for me Ill be eating those words later.

Being the self proclaimed argument champion that I am I go into the bathroom with the test and don’t bother to read the directions or even bring them with me. My arrogance is anything but charming. So with confidence I pee on that stupid little stick. The stick starts to do something immediately and two lines quickly appear. So this particular pregnancy test is a test that gives you a result of one or two lines. I have no idea which is which. Based on my logic (which has been consistently unimpressive throughout this entire story) one line should be “pregnant” and two lines should be “not pregnant” the reasoning behind this logic is that pregnant is one word and not pregnant is two words. I go to the other room to grab the box and read the instructions. WRONG. The box clearly states that my pregnancy test logic is in fact incorrect which means the test in my hand that has two clear lines, by the way is in fact positive,

[throws stupid stick across room]

[if i were a cartoon those little birds would be circling my head right now]

The room is spinning and its 10AM so its not because of patron shots this time.

The only thing I am drunk on is stupidity

Oh my god. I lost my argument… My roommate WON.

I’m pregnant.

I lost my self proclaimed Argument Champion Title

I’m single.

I’m living at my friends house.

I’m fucking pregnant.

Why didn’t I see the signs. (all the lights were on)

I have to wear things with elastic waist lines.

All this spinning is making me want to lay down where is the control button?

I have to call my roommate with my tail between my legs and admit I was wrong.

How did this happen?

The father and I are broken up.

I’m 34 and don’t know if I will ever get this opportunity again.

I am still madly in love with the father.

The father is in another state.

I have no insurance.

I guess I cant talk my way out of this predicament.

I’m having a fucking baby. OMG.

What the fuck am I going to do?

God damn it why is the fucking room STILL spinning

After the room stopped spinning and my initial shock wore off I am actually very happy. I have been dreaming of a family of my own so this is the best gift I could ever receive. I know the situation is far from perfect. I feel like this is a positive thing and a reason to work twice as hard to get my life back on track, I told my two best friends and they are very happy for me. They think this is a good thing and they are extremely supportive.

Responses from friends:

Congratulations!!!! It is really nice you are keeping the child You are a gem among gems, and I am sure she/he will have a great life with you and Chloe.

What a blessing!!!! hon!!! we are here for you!!!! You are not alone and we are thrilled you are having a HUMAN BABY!!!!! A little Carla..or a little Carlos hehehehehe. We are having a baby!! yeah!!! how exciting!!!

Oh my gosh! You know I figured that was it! You’ll be a GREAT mom!!!!! I can’t wait!

I admire you for what you are doing!

Total destiny!! I am so excited!! I am telling this will turn out to be the best thing ever! Don’t freak out start organizing One thing at a time. Eat healthy and get rest!!

This is your little blessing.

I was surprised at the news you told me and was not sure how to react but hun I am happy for you and know you will be an AMAZING parent and Mother, I really mean it. I think it will be great for you too and will show you that you are a great person and don’t have to turn out like your mom because you are not your mom. You have so much love and knowledge to share, I just know that that baby will be so lucky.

Although I am ecstatic and have already decided that I am keeping the baby for some reason all I can hear are the baby conversations that I had with the president and they are on repeat in my head. I HAVE to tell the President and I have no creative way to present this information so I choose to call him up and blurt it out. He is in shock. Some of his quote worthy responses were “wow,” “geez,” “ummmm”. Ill spare you the other mind boggling quotes, I don’t want any of you falling asleep.

He of course wants to know what I want to do? I say nothing because I want to feel him out. He softens up a bit during the course of this initial conversation. He claims that he will be supportive no matter what I decide to do. He even says “am I going to have to buy a house and move you back to NY?” At this point I feel like when I tell him that I am going to keep the baby that he will be supportive. Clearly he is in a state of shock so I decide that its fair to give him a couple of days to let him sit with this.

He arranges a time to call me back so we can talk about this in more detail after he has had a couple of days to think. He actually calls me when he says he is going to. He calls me while he is following his buddy to his friends house so his buddy can drop off his car at his house on Long Island so they can drive into the city together for a fun filled weekend of partying. With that being said, our phone conversation time is limited and most definitely a waste of time. He is giving me major attitude. The only thing that he can focus on is how my life is not together and highlighting to me a list my past failures –I guess he assumes I just forgot all about those. Now we have run out of time and this conversation is over- no time to cover his impressive list of achievements.

Of course he looks good on paper he was handed a company to run with a side of financial stability. He’s definitely not in a position to point fingers at anyone else yet he always does. He’s pretty close to fucking perfect…. almost 40 and clearly going through a mid-life crisis. Filling his free time fucking as many twenty year old hipster whores from Craigslist Casual Encounters that he can rustle up. In addition to those other lovely, charming clueless young ladies he keeps accumulating. One of the girls he is still seeing is an ex girlfriend who just recently spent some time in a nice cozy psychiatric facility. There is no doubt in my mind that he had a little something to do with her recent hospital visit.

He refuses to listen to anymore of this. He hangs up. He is mad and I am of course CRYING. He is going to enjoy his weekend and call me later. I am livid… I am a party girl on a leave of absence and its so not fair that I have to watch cheesy 80s movies and eat pudding pops all weekend while he parties like its 1999. (and I was having tons o fun in 1999 so I am really pissed)

I start thinking about our conversation… Maybe I am being too hard on him… after all, he did just return from a nice long vacation that he took one of his bimbos on. He was nice enough to let her choose anywhere in the world she wanted to go and being the generic, lame, boring type that she is she of course picked, Mexico. Receiving news that your “crazy ex” is pregnant is probably mind boggling after a two week Mexican fuck fest….

Fuck that, I am PISSED. I resort to angry text messaging (aka actual proof in writing that you are a total lunatic).

FRIDAY

Me: You are a mean, selfish asshole. Fuck you and your stupid friend. I hope you have a horribly unpleasant weekend. I hope you’re weekend is as unpleasant as you have made mine. Its not fair that I get to sit here and cry while you have fun all weekend. I really need you right now.

Him: I don’t know what to say, I’m still digesting everything. I don’t want to upset you but I’m not ready to talk about this rationally yet. I just need a little time.

Me: I understand & if you would have said that on the phone I would have been able to be more understanding towards you. Please don’t be cold, it breaks my heart.

Him: This is no fun for me either, believe me.

Me: Well you still get to have fun so pardon me if I don’t RSVP to your pity party.

Finally after falling asleep after all that crying I wake up screaming because of horrible nightmares. I have spent so many years of my life dealing with nightmares. I can go long periods of time nightmare free but whenever my life gets over the top stressful they come back in full force. My nightmares have always been very clear so clear in fact that many times I think I am awake. I have even tried to wake myself up during those dreams but I was always unsuccessful.

In this dream the President and I are fighting and he is accusing me of trying to take control of his life and his money. The banter is generic and uninteresting. Then suddenly he stops yelling at me and does a line of blow and proceeds to go into the other room. When he returns he is holding a safe. I guess in my dreams a safe is lightweight and totally portable and its a good thing because he then throws the safe at me and storms away. Several minutes go by and I hear nothing so I decide to go look for him. When I find him he is in the shower (in my dream it was one of those stand up showers) and he is holding a gun in his mouth. I calmly ask him to give me the gun and he hands it to me and says “its all your fault.” Then I wake up. These dreams really freak me out and for the next several days it is my new recurring nightmare which of course only adds to my real life stresses.

I need to clear the air with the President in order to keep myself feeling positive and happy which will hopefully stop having terrible dreams. I send a text message to him (see below) hoping desperately I would get a phone call from him which is the only thing I really wanted but that of course didn’t happen…. on a Saturday night….what was I thinking. Several hours later I receive a text message back from him (see below). This only makes things worse because I know every word of it is total insincere crap. Suddenly the light comes on and I ask myself how I allowed this person to treat me so badly for so long. Of course the light didn’t come on when I caught him cheating several times with actual physical proof. It never came on when I allowed him to lie to my face repeatedly which left me crying and broken hearted more times than I would like to admit. I don’t know if I can even respect myself anymore. I need to make some serious changes in my life… with a project this huge I never exactly know the best place to start.

SATURDAY

Me: I don’t want to fight with you, I need you right now. Please respond back because I had this awful dream about you that has been haunting me all day and I have never ever had bad dreams about you.

Him: Hey, I hope you don’t have any more bad dreams about me…& I hope you’re feeling a little better today….try to have a good Saturday night.

My first change is that I am going to hold people accountable. If you give me your word then I will hold you to it. If you make plans stick to them. These are two things that I have a lot of trouble with myself and because its something I struggle with I feel that I have no right getting upset at people when they don’t keep their word or forget about events they committed to. I forget things if I don’t write them down which causes me to be scattered and unable to properly manage my time. I am notorious for double booking events and then feeling so bad about it that in the end I flake out on two commitments because I cant decide which commitment to break. I quickly realize that by holding others accountable I am able to hold myself accountable. Was it really this easy the whole time?

Somewhere around this time my roommate decides that she wants to get a puppy. I have serious doubts about her skills as a dog owner but who am I to judge I was having a baby. She chooses a chihuahua. Adorable dog. I love the dog, of course. I know that in her mind she thinks that she can leave the dog with me all day and I can train it, feed it and turn it into a doggie diva like my dog. Oh, hell no… This isn’t what owning a dog is all about. It pains me. It kills me but I do not take over in the training or care of this dog. She is never home. She doesn’t train the dog. I have to step over dog pee and poop every single time I leave the room. The puppy is not being cared for properly and this angers me. I have bigger things to worry about though.

The President said he would call me on Sunday evening. Sunday evening came and went and at 1AM I decide to send a message since he did not keep his promise to call me. I received no phone call and no response to my text message (see below).

SUNDAY

Me: I guess you decided that you still aren’t ready to talk to me?

Him: No response.

Finally a few days later he calls me. The tone is not pleasant its actually rather hostile. He informs me what I am going to do. The list includes speaking to lawyers, paternity test, listening to more abuse from him. Its strange to me how hostile he has become. It occurs to me he is hiding something from me or maybe from someone else. I am not sure of the best way to handle this situation yet. I know that I don’t want to fight. I know that regardless of what he chooses to do I want this baby. I don’t have a family of my own. I am so happy. This is a once in a lifetime chance for me.

The next phone call from him is even worse. He is again telling me what a loser I am. Pointing out that I cant care for a child. He begins to threaten to attempt to take the baby away from me after the child is born. I think a more suitable option is the baby to be cared for by a father who is an immature, man-whore who parties and does drugs every night then strolls into work at noon. Yes, he is definitely a more suitable caretaker, don’t you agree? This is all about money and it disgusts me. I just want to have the same opportunities that everyone else has… the chance to have a family of my own – who cares if I don’t follow the guidelines that him and his stuck up, rich, personality challenged family thinks I should follow. My life is different and we aren’t of the baby boomer generation so I don’t understand why this is an issue. He calls himself a liberal… only when it comes to fucking people over in business and just plain old fucking.

The next few days are stressful. I am having nightmares. I don’t feel good. This is where the story gets more foggy because I tried to block most of it out.

An afternoon of serious cramping is followed up by a visit to the emergency room. I am in serious pain. I have had severe periods my entire life, these pains are far worse and an indication that something is wrong.

I lost the baby. I’m devastated. Actually, I had no idea that it was possible for me to feel this sad. My heart is so broken. I cant even speak. My roommate takes me home puts me to bed and in the morning I speak to the president. I tell him I lost the baby. I can barely speak. The first thing out of his sympathetic mouth “well, I knew it… my mother said you wouldn’t be able to carry this baby to term. You’re just too thin and unhealthy.” Does it make him feel powerful to kick someone who is down? I really believe that he enjoys hurting me.

Shortly after that heartwarming conversation with the president I start to have severe pains again. My roommate gets the pain pills they do nothing. I am screaming at this point. She has to go to work so she asks her Fathers girlfriend to look after me. I have no problems with the girlfriend except for one tiny thing… she and I are not on the same page when it comes to the father, the son and the holy tooth fairy. (I think religion is a story complete with characters – just like Santa Claus, tooth fairy, easter bunny, etc. I am in too much pain to fight what happens next. Now suddenly the girlfriend is praying over me. I am freaking out and feeling like its a rerun episode of my childhood. Finally I pass out. I tell keep telling myself it was all a bad dream.

A few days go by I contact the president. I ask him if he can help with my medical bills. I don’t have insurance and only work part time. No, he can not provide any assistance because he doesn’t know if the baby was really his. He KNOWS it was his baby. He KNOWS I wasn’t lying but he cant pass up another opportunity to kick me while I’m down.

I become more depressed every day. I cant face anyone. I cant talk to anyone. I am sure the people that did have contact with me wish they didn’t have to. I don’t care about anything – I am too sad to pick myself up to get out of bed. My roommate and I slowly start growing apart. She even says to me one day that if she were me she would want to commit suicide. The sadness is so deep. I know I will never be the same person I was before. I am so broken. So fragile. I was in desperate need of a hug. I was in desperate need of love. I waited but no one called, no one came to visit. I slept for days maybe even weeks in this dirty room with one tiny window and a twin bed that was so worn out that you could feel the metal springs no matter what position you were laying in the bed. I have no contact with anyone except for the dogs… my dog and the puppy my roommate has abandoned. These dogs are my only friends. Chloe has been with me 12 years and this isn’t the first time she has saved my life. Never underestimate puppy power.

I ask the president for help again and he does nothing. I still can not pick myself up and get out of bed. I am paralyzed with sadness. Ive gone trough a lot of hard times but none of them prepared me for this. I am not fabulous. I am not pretty. I am not charming. I am not funny. I am weak. I am meek. I have nothing to say. I have nothing to give. I never thought it was possible for this to happen.

Hark… the president sent me a card. I open it. Its a “get well card”. Inside the president writes “sorry to hear you are sick. Get better soon. Enclosed is some cash. Go out and have margaritas with your friends.” The amount $160 (for the record he claims it was $260). I’m confused… losing a baby is a sickness? The only sick one in this story is HIM. Go have margaritas with my friends… what friends? At this point no one is talking to me except my roommate. She is pouring on her insensitive, passive aggressive, self absorbed charms whenever shes gets a chance. She is so hateful towards me and on a mission to put me in my place. I guess. What place is that exactly?

Over the next several weeks I seriously consider slashing my wrists except I cant stand the sight of blood and could never pull it off. I am forced to live in filth because my depression has forced my maid services to take a temporary leave of absence. I don’t have the strength to keep up with this dirty bird and I am just fucking tired of doing it. While surrounded by clutter and filth I get to hear every single detail about her adventures in online dating. She talks and talks and talks and I say nothing. I fantasize about shoving something in her mouth to shut her up but I actually think she would somehow manage to keep talking despite the ball gag in her mouth. I just tune it all out. Anyone who claims its fun to go on Internet dates because you can be anyone you want on the date clearly is in desperate need of attention. When I hear her version of pretending to be me as one of the characters in her multiple personality online dating extravaganza I know its only a matter of time before she snaps. Shes definitely losing it. Ive already lost it.

I’m going stir crazy hanging out in the dirty house with the dogs so I do what every rational person in my situation would do… I call my drug dealer. I have to numb the pain. If I can do that I can force myself to leave the house. I sign up to volunteer at the local pet orphanage which just so happens to have an event coming up. This event provides me with more work than I can make time for. I welcome this distraction. After the event is over I lose interest in volunteer work and focus on numbing the pain.

The roommate has become the lady about town (or should I say-no Ill let this one go). Shes a dating various morons many from New York, several comedians and lucky me I don’t miss out on one detail. Too bad none of them were into DOGS. The only attention she gives the dog is when she parades her around town in doggie outfits that I gave her. Suddenly she is me circa 12 years ago – except for one small thing… she is NOT me.

I am still horribly depressed but I don’t want to be in this house but I am trapped I have no transportation and she is making sure to remind me every chance she gets. She thinks she is the new queen bee. Except this isn’t high school and she isn’t pretty enough to be a queen bee, assistant to the queen bee possibly…

Resentment level warnings in this house are currently at severe. I have very few options so I am stuck for a while longer. I keep numbing the pain. I think its been a couple of months since I lost the baby. I’m a mess. Guess who suddenly shows up on the radar… the president. Hes coming to town. I know I shouldn’t not agree to see him. I cant say no. Why do I still love him? Why do I still give him the power to hurt me?

I see him, of course. He says and does all the right things. His apology is an award winning performance. Hook, line and sinker… I fall into the trap. We have the best time ever. He fucks me in more ways than one. In the morning he gets up, breaks my heart, leaves me crying at the hotel knowing I have no transportation and no money. To clear his conscience he leaves $100 next to the bed. If you’re going to treat me like a whore I think I should be getting a lot more than a hundred dollars. Hurting me is like a sport to him. If I ever mysteriously disappear I would check his house first… I bet you find my head mounted on the wall. I am certain I wouldn’t be up there on the wall alone hes too skilled at this sport. Its clear he has had years of practice.

Just when all hope is lost someone steps in to save the day… a person from my past comes out of nowhere and becomes the best friend I so desperately needed. I never thought in a million years that this person would ever be capable of even being a friend but a friend who went above and beyond to give me as much love and as many hugs as possible as often as possible.

Things are starting to look up… don’t get too excited… its MY life, remember…

TO BE CONTINUED….

(to find out what happened next see post from September 6, “Can a Clean Freak and a Dirty Bird Be Best Friends?”)