Where Was I? Oh right, Picking Myself Up From Lying In Traffic In The Middle Of The Freeway.

Some of you may remember me. I’m that girl who gives graphically detailed accounts of such TMI subjects as period blood, walks of shame, nearly-missing shitting herself… And of course that train wreck of a love-life.

You might also notice some missing content- words were said, feelings were hurt. I can’t say it was a regrettable thing that happened for a number of reasons; mostly because it pushed the situation out of relationship purgatory and it forced the both of us to make decisions. Decisions were made, and now we exist in a new normal.

This new normal that a round of Cards Against Humanity described most poignantly: “Something your grandmother would find disturbing, yet slightly endearing”. Yep.

So that’s where that’s at, because I know I can’t just pick up writing again without addressing the elephant on the internet.

Speaking of the elephant, it’s been coming up a year since I met some JerkGuy (a term of ‘endearment’ my girlfriend assigned him long ago that just kinda stuck). We couldn’t even meet like normal, functional members of society. We met, of course, on the internet. How else do perverts in the 21st century connect?

I was newly separated, and chomping at the bit to get some strange, and after a couple days of discourse which was nearly 80 percent Seinfeld references, we agreed to meet. A couple days prior to our original plans, I was studying for an exam when he  prompted me to come meet him for a drink. I waffled for a bit- I had studying to do, but I’m smart and tend to fly by the seat of my pants anyways, so I figured I had nothing to lose, and so I went.

20 minutes later, we’re face to face in a pub, exchanging stories, having a beer, and giving sideways glances when we think the other one’s not looking. He’s not one to beat around the bush.

“So where are you parked?”

“Out back. Why?”

“So, later, I’m going to walk you to your car and then try and make out with you a little”

“Let’s go.”

Pay the bill, grab my purse, and not five minutes later I’m straddling this stranger in the passenger seat of my car. Have we addressed my ability to make adult life decisions? I don’t have that.

I check my phone. It’s around 3 o’clock. I have a deadline for 4. My brain is incapable of braining because all the bloodflow has been redirected straight to my vagina. I have to come up for air

“I have, like, 45 minutes. Where is your house?”

In 3 seconds flat, I’m u-turning and we’re on our way. As I recall, the second the elevator doors shut there was inappropriate touching. We get up to his floor, in the door, and clothes are flying. I keep checking the time, and I know I have to go, but it’s like….

So I’m LATE. I keep getting up to leave, but I ‘m pinned between his face in my crotch and the edge of the mattress. Every time I try to get up, he pushed me back down and simply said, “more”, and carried on. Eventually, he says I pushed him away, saying “get the fuck off me, I gotta go!”. Which sounds exactly like something I would say. And I sped off. To get stuck in traffic and be horrendously late. And how many fucks I gave at that point? Zero. Because God damn, that was a fun afternoon.

And such is the story of how I met some JerkGuy. Interestingly enough it was he who’s been encouraging me, nay, NAGGING me to start blogging again. I suspect mostly because we have too many hilarious stories to go unshared.

So, yeah. Welcome back.