Things are looking up all at once.
For starters, I GOT the .:*DREAM*:. apartment!
I had completely written the flakey leasing agent off, and I went to look at three other apartments. I liked my second choice, and was desperately trying to rationalize falling in love with it. I even told myself it was the one and dropped off the check.
And then, I got the call.
The studio apartment wasn’t available, but a one-bedroom was.
And yes, the rent is a little higher. My mom kind of scolded me a bit, but once I started telling her all about it, she seemed to understand.
We’re talking hardwood floors, 10ft ceilings, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, AND I can walk to EVERYTHING—a Starbucks, movie theatre, bars, restaurants, shops, boutiques, grocery stores, a Barnes and Noble, there’s even two parks I can walk to.
The best part? It’s above a JCrew…totally better than being above a restaruant!
I am giddy. Of course, I’m not looking forward to packing, but I am looking forward to getting rid of some stuff, and redecorating.
In the meantime, I’ve been busting my ass on freelance work. In the past two weeks, I’ve done about $650 worth of it.
I am exhausted.
However, on top of my excitement over the Miranda Lambert story, I just got word that my story on the DJs MIGHT be a cover!
I’ve only gotten the cover story one other time (with this particular magazine), and it’s a feeling that never gets old.
So yeah, I’m feeling really Lucky these days—really!
However, over the weekend it seemed like The Men of Lucky’s Past got together and decided to annoy me. Last Friday night, Fratty sent me a text: “Umm, Hello????!!!”
He had sent me a message last month asking me how my birthday went. I told him it was great and thanked him for asking. His response? “Wanna come over and play?”
Um no, no I do not. Sure, that was the extent of our relationship at one point, but that was almost a year ago, and I’m over it. Maybe one day I’ll be in the mood for casual sex again, but that day is not today.
I didn’t respond. Hence the message he sent me Friday.
I had been sleeping for hours when he sent me the text, so I read it, rolled over and went back to sleep. And then proceeded to have a nightmare starring him. He was dating some chick who went missing, was found dead, and he was the prime suspect in her murder. All the while, he had already found himself a new girlfriend.
In this nightmare, I saw him on the street with said girlfriend and was all, “What the hell? You’re being accused of killing your ex and you’re already out in public with this new chick?”
I woke up and was completely creeped out.
Monday night, I got a text from this guy I slept with at least two years ago…we’ll call him New Balance.
New Balance is in his early thirties, has a good job, and owns and rents several homes on the side. He’s attractive, is good in bed, and also has the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on. This was a major factor in our previous hookups.
We only slept together maybe a handful of times, and it was nice. However, it was purely a fuck buddy thing and while sometimes I don’t mind it, most of the time it made me feel gross and bad about myself so I pushed myself away from him. At the time, he was seeing this girl and I felt bad—like I was getting in the way of a budding relationship.
He told me it was nothing…I said, well she obviously likes you…
Eventually, we stopped talking, no hard feelings.
Oh, but Monday night he’s all: “Hey what are you up to?”
Me: “Hanging out at a friend’s house” note: complete lie, I was on my couch reading in my pajamas.
NewBalance: “Just hadn’t heard from you in awhile and wanted to see how you were doing?”
Me: “I’m great. You?”
NewBalance: “would you come over and watch a movie tonight?”
Me: “Honestly, I don’t think so.”
NewBalance: “Why not?”
Me: “I’m going to call it an early night. Already dreading work in the morning.”
NewBalance: “Well what time are you going to bed? I was thinking of going to bed early too, so you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch.”
I didn’t reply. And he still sent me at least two more messages being like, “ok guess not, but I’d really like it if you came over.”
Yeah? And I’d really like it if you fucked yourself.