Day 4: “The Friend”

SOoooo… I drunk dialed an old, old, old flame, I mean, friend.  Not just any flame, er… friend. My favorite “go to” for a decade. He’s dark (this is a pattern of mine), successful, and clever and he was going to go from friend to flame to “I do.”

 With this guy, I geared into full psycho mode:  I would drive by his house, bring him a meal or two while he was at work, and the list goes on…. I stopped at nothing to be near him and to prove myself to him since the 10th grade.  I even serenaded him with that song by Macy Gray “I Try”… In the driveway at his parents house, as he was leaving, I opened up my mouth and said, “This is my song to you!”  And sang “I Try.”

He immediately placed me into the “friend zone”…  The never-ending purgatory!   I was stuck in it.  FOREVER. (With minimal benefits.)  While all my hot friends got to have a piece of him!  Unfair!  In typical psycho fashion, I was sure that if he gave me the same chance as my friends, he would never leave… Or I would never let him leave… Ok, I wasn’t that psycho- plus, there are laws for a reason.

What is it that made me call an ex- er… flame, er… friend, er… ex-flame-friend in a moment of “weakness?”  So what if he told me he never wanted to speak to me again?  AND told all my friends that he never wanted to speak to me again?  So what if I ruined our “friendship- er, flameship” by sleeping with someone he was related to?

Sooo… I called.  Yes, I did.  For that someone-he-was-related-to’s number… Drunk dials were so much better before caller ID!  What genius invented this “slut exposure?”  Granted, this drunk dial happened before my vow of abstinence- exactly, one day before, but this friend knew me for a decade, remember?  He knew the full potential of my psychoness and there’s no way his clever and beautiful dark hands were going to press “Answer” on that cell.

Of course, he didn’t pick up.  Crazy, since it was only 5:11 AM!  But a phone call to a friend today made it known that everyone now knows about my moment of “weakness.”  I needed- ok, wanted- that number!  And maybe, just maybe, all my panties had gone missing while my dog ran out.

Psycho or not, I missed my friend and my 15 year slut saga hurt more people than just myself.  The Modelos (way better than Bud Lights) and late night delusion was enough for me to ring his number and hear his voice on his answering machine.

Here’s to 362 Days- Veronica Graham, psychoing phoning since 1996-

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