Archive for Iago

Day 38: “Memorial Day Instincts”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on May 31, 2011 by Veronica Graham

For this Memorial Day, I didn’t go to a barbecue, didn’t get wasted, and didn’t go to a pool, but I can say that all around- it was a pretty good day lost in my thoughts. I thought a lot of Mother Graham and her Jesus ranting about how I’ll go to hell if I don’t start going to church and if I believed that someone I cared about would go to hell- burn for eternity- for not following certain rules– like, REALLY believed that… how can you not go a little crazy and rant to the one you love?  Another person on my mind was another crush I developed while filming- the eccentric sound guy.  There was something about him that was so intriguing and interesting to me- it’s been hard not to think about him and how I would love to sit down with him and have a cup of coffee- I mean, cup of sex.  

I flirted with the sound guy a little during filming and even told him to call me to make dinner reservations while I gave him my business card, but something tells me that he thought I was joking.  The truth is:  I love weird guys.  Guys that are smarter than me, usually older than me, and can understand my weird side when it comes out.  Today is the last day of filming for him and I’m wondering if he’ll bite the bullet and call me for that dinner date… probably not, but it’s all right, for this guy- I’m willing to be a little more aggressive to let him know I’m not joking around.

I spent a little bit of time at the National Harbor today with Kimmie- one, because it’s a few minutes away from me and two, because
it seemed like the Memorial Day thing to do.  I saw the statue of “The Awakening,” and couldn’t help but admire his stone biceps… Hey, I’m a recovering slut and there are some thoughts that will enter my mind no matter what.  The statue is similar to the Greek figure, Enceladus- one of Gaia’s giants that challenged the Gods and was speared by Athena and buried beneath the earth.  In “The Awakening,” the giant looks like he’s trying to escape earth and I think about the times I’ve challenged God myself and the ways I’ve been speared down… just trying to dig myself up again to cause more trouble.  When I told my mother about the sound guy, she immediately started ranting about things God has told her about this man, “he’s into really kinky sex” she said.  

“I JUST told you about him!” I said to her.

“Well, I already knew about him, because God told me.”

I want to be able to make good choices, but one of the things about me is that I’m up for pretty much anything- I don’t think this is a bad trait…  How do I balance the two?  Spontaneous behavior- enjoying life to its fullest and making good choices for myself?  So many things come in hindsight- like maybe Nice-Shy-Guy would have been a serial killer and I would have probably regretted the midnight kiss… but he wasn’t.  I feel like my intuition is good enough, that if I tune in- I can listen to it enough to see what moments are good or dangerous.

A friend that I haven’t been in too much contact with called me tonight to hang out.  I love her, she’s a good person and a good friend… the problem is the guy she is seeing reminds me so much of Iago that it scares me to be around him.  I know he’s dangerous- to her and to myself.  How do I balance being a friend to her and avoid him?  Especially when I see her drowning in his grip.  I want to be there as a friend to her, but I’m afraid that if I make too much of a presence around this guy… it’s only a matter of time before something terrible happens.  He’s a criminal, just like Iago… and there’s something not quite right about him… just like Iago.  The “something” doesn’t come from his words or actions, it’s just a vibe I get- but the vibe is so potent, that I can’t believe it’s not real.

Another piece of advice always given to me was “to always listen to your instincts.”  A feeling or vibe is nature’s way of letting you know when danger is near… but being someone who is driven by emotion so much, it’s difficult for others and even myself to take me seriously when I do feel something.  For now, I think I’ll see my friend and leave when or if he arrives… but man, I can’t shake that feeling of impending doom… whether it be her or me…

Here’s to 328 Days, Veronica Graham, Hey Sound Guy– Call me!  Seriously.  😉

Day 31: “The Farm Animal Massacre”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on May 24, 2011 by Veronica Graham

I left my house early for work today because the silent argument that has been brewing lately between my father and I is starting to upset me. I haven’t really spoken to any of my family members since I started this blog.  I know he knows about the blog and he knows that I know he knows, so we’re stuck in how to bring up my “turn a Ho into a Housewife” blog.

What am I missing exactly? Attention.  I used to think that if I kept my room clean, or emptied the dishwasher every time the wash finished, mowed the lawn and cooked a fantastic dinner, I could easily win my families approval and have them reach out to me… However, at this point it’s not enough, I still just feel there and I’m running out of ideas and patience.  Acting out was the only way I’d get any kind of acknowledgement from my Dad’s side of my family: when I did cocaine, smoked crack, got arrested, striped in San Francisco, or dating an ex-con.

When I was dating Iago and he was getting heavy into the drug game again despite my efforts of pleading with him to stop for the sake of our relationship. I planned a dinner date for the both of us- just to get him and I together for some quality time together. I went to the grocery store and grabbed the best bottle of wine and recipes for his favorite dish that I’ve prepared for him before. I went to his place prior to his arrival… set the table to a five star restaurant caliber and began cooking. He walked in from his day job, looked at the candle-lit table and sat down to play his X-Box.

I thought, “huh….maybe he had a rough day and I should just let him unwind.” I had given him a little too much credit.  He then proceeded to start bagging up his shit to sell and I noticed his “dealer phone” was already turned on and ready to start making deals for the evening. He didn’t even acknowledge me with a Hi, hello, the candle lit table, or the delectable smells coming from his kitchen.

Again, my inner HULK came out- I turned bright green and started cursing.  I reached for spatulas, peppershakers, and plates to throw!

“What’s wrong with you?” Iago asked.  “I’m gonna be right back.”

“No, you won’t!”

Iago walked out the door and I flipped out.  I threw the asparagus that was sautéing on the stove- haha!  Just something else for this asshole to come back home to!  But it wasn’t enough… My anger wasn’t satisfied.  I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and started hunting for something to cut.  I walked into his bedroom and saw his small collection of stuffed animals and cut each of their heads off with the kitchen scissors.  They were all farm animals: A pig, duck, and baby chick were all beheaded from my rage, bleeding white fluffy stuffing.  Still… My rage, it was brewing and my hulk green hands ripped the stuffing out of the three beheaded animals and I threw the evidence of my crime all over Iago’s apartment.

I stood there, panting, with my scissors in one hand, staring at my murder scene.  Fluff was everywhere, the duck’s body was lying in the living room and the pig was now without arms or legs… It was now just a pink round body. 

I dropped the scissors, overwhelmed with the crime of passion I just committed, “You’re CRAZY!”  I said to myself. 

In my last attempt to redeem myself, I sewed the ducks head back onto his body to try and revive it…  It didn’t work… the duck was gone.

After this incident, I fled the apartment and went home.  Iago called me the following morning, more out of concern for me than what I did to his poor farm animals- we spoke on the phone for hours- just the kind of attention I wanted from him.

I’m not acting out anymore in order to get my Dad to invite me to spend time with him, or go to the movies, or to give me some encouraging words- so, now it’s just silence between us.  We’ll talk about standard small talk: weather, how was your day, etc.  But I wonder what can be done to get my Dad to just want to hang out with me.

Here’s to 335 Days, Veronica Graham, Feel too guilty to walk into Toys”R”Us since…

Day 26: “5 Worst Dates EVER and News”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on May 19, 2011 by Veronica Graham

Today was a good day in news: Osama has “officially”  been “unofficially” replaced, Arnold’s mistress was revealed, a 13 year old facebook user with blue hair was interrogated by the secret service for posting a concern about suicide bombers, a woman was told by Southwest airlines she was too fat to fly unless she and her mother sat together with another overweight woman (makes so much sense!), and DC 101 Chili Cook Off is this Saturday- the same day the world is supposed to end according to Harold Camping followers.

Today, another piece of big news happened for me: On Today, Day 26, is the first day I’ve been asked out on a date since my vow!  It was a vague invitation- and yes, something more than just booty calls that I ignore.  Now, how to rewire my thoughts from sex to date… yes, they are two different things I’m learning.  Decent men DO exist– I’ve heard this someplace.  Not all girls are sluts!– I’ve actually seen some of this from time to time…  It’s amazing that nearly a month has gone by before I’ve gotten a lunch invitation!  Usually I’m the aggressor and now, taking a back seat from.. er, aggressing, I got a unconfirmed invite to lunch by a total hottie with a great personality!  So hot in fact, I’m gonna have to learn how to sit on my hands without seeming weird- probably wear a skirt to blame the “AC” on my “hands being cold.”

Being prone to nervous awkwardness, bad dates come by every now again, but having a history of sleeping around- thankfully, I haven’t gone on too many dates, so I’m able to talk about nearly all of them:

1. LOS TIOS, Del Ray:  The cursed Restaurant.  I’ve gotten trashed here with every LUNCH date I’ve ever been on.  This is usually because I’m too nervous to listen to the staff and their thick accents and they always say, “Margarita?”  I don’t know what I THINK they say, but I always say “Yes.”  A fish bowl of Margarita sits in front of me, where I look at my date, embarrassed and say, “I don’t usually drink this early… but I don’t want to be rude.”  I get trashed. TRASHED.  Strongest Margaritas in the world, they should have a warning sign… seriously.

2. The Animal Lover:  This guy had no pets, but in the middle of making out after a great evening together- all of a sudden he starts head butting me like a cat does… I’ll pause, not really knowing what to do except to continue making out, but then he would pause, look at me- and headbutt me… Totally killed my mood.  So maybe I SHOULDN’T have said, “Are you headbutting me like a fucking cat?… It’s making me sick… literally sick… like I’m gonna need a bucket if you do that one more time.”

3. The Face Planter:  After a few drinks at my favorite local bar, I met this guy.  Got along great!  Of course, we went back to his place where I noticed a framed picture of a girl on his dresser.  “Is that your girlfriend?” I asked.  He walks over to the picture and plants it face down, ready to get going.  I flip out, wake up his roommates, screaming, “YOU’RE A SCUMBAG!!!”  I saw this guy again another night hand in hand with his girlfriend.  I said Hi to him and asked how his girlfriend was as I face planted a standing drink menu… let’s just say, he shooed her out of there and they left me alone at MY bar.

4. The Coward:  A night out with Iago and his friends, I called Kimmie and her roommates, Trevor and Ian to join us.  The brothers were two very good looking and charismatic guys that drew a lot of attention: by females.  Iago’s males friends felt threatened, used their poor dress habits to pretend like they were thugs to pick a fight with the brothers.  Kimmie, Trevor, and Ian instantly turned to leave the bar when Iago’s stellar friends followed the three of them out.  I looked to Iago to help my friends, but when he stood there stunned and frightened- I was suddenly embarrassed to be with him and his poor company.  Thankfully and expectedly, the guys were no match for Kimmie’s cutting tongue and they ran away with their tails between their legs.

5. The Other Coward:  A night out with Rich-Married-Man, he noticed me eyeing a group of beautiful black men at the end of the bar.  RMM feeling insecure with the size of his penis and a few too many drinks started talking shit to these four large black men that looked like they played defense for the Redskins.  I said, “Sorry, sorry, sorry” for RMM’s sake.  We left the bar and a large Escalade rolled up next to us and one of the beautiful black guys stuck his head out and say, “Hey Boy…”  RMM tackled me into a bush to hide- pressing my face down into a bed of poison ivy… Yeah, buddy, that was three weeks of swelling and medication for me.

I’m not anticipating a bad date with this hottie, but I do think I should probably stay away from Margaritas.  I’ll let HIM pick the place- far far away from Del Ray.

Here’s to 340 Days, Veronica Graham, this damn world better not end on Saturday… seriously-

Day 25: “You Want to See F***ing CR@ZY?!”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on May 18, 2011 by Veronica Graham

So… I had quite a bit to drink last night.  Drunk does not wear well on an emotional, borderline girl like myself… Buzzed doesn’t even wear well.  The thing is, everyone always looks at me like I’m this walking time bomb like any minute I’m going to flip out, toss some vases, and scream like King Kong or something… And sometimes I do.  But last night, as I threw back the drinks, everyone: my family, my brother, probably his new girlfriend, and Kimmie tip toed around me like I was about to go bat-shit crazy.  And I probably would have if it WASN’T for my few drinks.

Growing up poor, often times it’s really hard to be around my Dad’s side of the family.  Here, they talk about things like golf, careers, and such.  Something about these conversations immediately put me on edge:  I don’t have a typical “career” although I love my work (Is that a check from Lifetime Television I see?  Yes it is!), I have no love life except for my growing crush on the Irish Ugly Hot guy (found out yesterday he’s from Cork, Ireland… which now I know everything about thanks to Google!), and the only girly conversation I can stand is about shoes, movies, and make up- and only good ones at that.  So, often times I feel like the third wheel, sitting in a country club conversation that I don’t know how to be a part of… But I try.  And usually fail.  I’ll throw out a, “Yeah, love it when they make a goal in golf!”  “Is it the khaki pants that makes Arnold Palmer’s ass so hot?”  “Mmmmm… these horderves are quite delectable… no, I’m not from England… I don’t know where that accent just came from…” and  “Yes, yes, my pinky is sticking out… I thought that was the proper way to drink a Bud Light..”  By the end of dinner or whatever gathering, everyone is just about uncomfortable with me.  Can’t we just talk about sex?!  Isn’t that the one topic we can all agree that we enjoy?!  Even though I know how to dress and present myself as a rich, suburban snob… I can’t do it for long without feeling totally fake!  There’s something in me that just wants to uncross my legs in my Banana Republic dress, swear like a sailor, and check out hot guys!  But I hold it in and as I do that, tension and my emotions start to get the best of me and everyone can sense it.  Uh oh, Veronica’s gonna snap… She can get a little… crazy.  This is usually where I prove them right.

The night I was arrested for littering, I had met up with Kimmie for dinner.  This is after a long spout of not speaking and I really wanted to make amends with her.  I should have talked about how I was sorry about not going to Ireland and pretty much flushing her money down the toliet, how Iago had totally consumed my life and how lonely I had become.  Instead, I talked about how the world was against me.

“That sounds pretty immature.”

“That’s the way it is!” I declared.

I don’t remember Kimmie saying much during this conversation, but i do remember her eye rolls she doesn’t think she does, and her shaking her head a few times.  I ranted.  I went off about how my family hated me, the only thing I had left in this world was Iago and he wasn’t enough, and the world was against me so all I could do was fight back.  I DECLARED all of this, not just said it- DECLARED it to be the truth.

As we were walking back to our cars, I continued ranting and quoting the things you usually hear from rappers:  Fuck the world!  You better respect me, bitches!  I don’t owe you nothing!  I don’t need nobody!

“Pride comes before the fall,” Kimmie quoted and left.

I got into my car and lit my cigarette.  Puffing on it so hard it burned my lungs and damn, it felt good.  I flicked the cig out the window and the next thing I knew, blue and red lights were behind me.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” I pulled the car over and was huffing and puffing with anger.

The cop came to my window and said, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”


“You littered a cigarette and I’m going to have to write  you a ticket.”

At this point, I went into full on HULK mode.  When the cop came back with the ticket and asked me to sign it, I told him to “F” himself.  “I’ve been throwing cigarettes out my window since I was FOURTEEN YEARS OLD!  I’m not signing that ticket!!!”

“Fine, then you’ll go to jail.”


Man, would I regret that.  He handcuffed me and the next thing I knew I was on my way to the police station, screaming.  I wish I could say I was screaming words, but I’m not quite sure.  I was so drunk with anger, I don’t even remember.  But they did drug test me, gave me a breathalizer and they all came out negative.

The next thing I knew, a cop said, “This is an SS.”


Strip Search.  I was so irate that they didn’t believe it could just be from anger.  As they stripped searched me with a few cops monitoring, probably for the poor female cop’s safety, I screamed, “Oh!  Is this how you cops get your jollies off?!  HUH?”

I was tossed into Solitary Confinement… because I was a threat to others.  “I GET A PHONE CALL!” I was screaming.  The cops were ignoring me.  I screamed and cried the entire night until a new shift came on to give me my breakfast through my little slot.  I threw it back at them and cried, “I DON’T WANT YOUR BREAKFAST!”

“You don’t even want the cookies?” The female cop asked.


I called Iago and he called one of his shady drug dealer people to bail me out.  As we were finishing up my paperwork, the magistrate asked me, “Don’t you wish you would have signed that ticket?”

I still had too much pride in me to admit that I probably should have signed the ticket and said, “Thank you, Officer.  Will never happen again.”  Instead, I looked him straight in the eye and said, “NO.”

Last night as I was fuming with anger again for being misunderstood by my family, I was going to head to a bar and get trashed by myself.

“That’s a really bad idea,” Kimmie said.

“I don’t care,” I responded.  She rolled her eyes.

By the time we had driven back to the area, she had convinced me to just go home.  It’s easy for me to confide in her more so than others- maybe because I’ve witnessed her Asian fury more than once:  throwing a drink on a douchebag at a bar, getting into a physical fight once (she wasn’t winning, but to be fair- she did stand up to a guy twice her size and about 200 pounds, and by the time it really got good.. enough guys stepped in), and countless “check please!” moments because her big mouth.  I listened to her- for once- and woke up today, determined to make it an awesome day and it was… I had slept away my anger and didn’t get myself into trouble.  My best friend is a good angel on my shoulder, but anger-days happen for me too often and when I’m usually not around my friend… So what do I do then?  Should I take up meditation?  Should I drink more?  I don’t know.. I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

Here’s to 341 Days, Veronica Graham, You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry…

Day 24: “San Francisco Stripper”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on May 17, 2011 by Veronica Graham

After high school a few of my friends had moved out to San Francisco and my boyfriend and I decided to join them- decided meaning after having sex on The Exorcist stairs in Georgetown, I declared, “WE SHOULD MOVE TO SAN FRAN!”


In the middle of the night, we jumped in my car and took off across country.  When we hit Colorado I decided to call my parents and let them know why I wasn’t home, “I’m moving to San Francisco and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

They were shockingly chill about it or maybe just plain shocked, “OK…” was their response.  I had never felt more free.  So on we went to SAN FRANCISCO!  ME and the LOVE of my Life!  We connected with an old high school friend and I said that I wanted to try dancing– yes, stripping.  My boyfriend said that he did not support this and broke up with me before we had been in our new home for a full day.  I did not see him for the entire 6 months I lived in San Francisco.

Newly single, I went to amateur night and felt great!  I was 19 years old and I loved the attention.  I went next door and got a job as a stripper within a week.  I walked in with baggy pants and a cute top and the manager waved me over to him and I walked into his office.  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

“Ok.”  And I did.

The manager took a polaroid of me and I was hired and my new name was Smokey.

A veteran stripper- blond bombshell- offered me my first taste of hard drugs:  Crystal Meth.  She taught me how to use it and I was instantly hooked.  I felt amped up, alive, and like a pocket of euphoria was released from my brain.  I kept using and soon I had my close knit stripper friends: Jaguar (the asian), Alize (named after her favorite drink), and Brazil (bisexual hottie)… not sure if I can even remember their real names.  But we made money, paid our bills, and paid for our new expensive hobby: Meth.

We were living the life: sex, drugs, and dancing!  The meth kept me happy for a while, but soon there wasn’t enough Meth or LSD in the world to distract me from how fucked up I was.  I was unhappy.

My stripper heels and crystal meth couldn’t keep satisfied anymore…  I was sitting in the club talking with fellow stripper, Alize.  “I can’t do this anymore.”  I started dreaming of sitting in a college classroom, going to church, and getting my life together… I couldn’t believe I was 19 and an addict with no education.

Alize said to me, “Go home.”

I called my dad and he booked me flight back to DC.  It wasn’t until I was back home when I started doing cocaine- the very drug that almost killed me… all because I couldn’t find any meth once I moved back home.

When I was with Iago, we went to San Francisco for vacation.  I went into the club I used to work and saw Alize.  “Hey!” I said.

“Who are you?”


She remembered me, we caught up, laughed and promised to grab coffee together before my vacation was over.  We never did.

On a day like this it’s impossible for me not to think about San Francisco.  The allergies in DC are horrible right now and my nose still hurts from years of cocaine use.  For some reason, I always look back on my time in San Francisco with fond memories, but when I really remember the details:  I remember being degraded for money, started using hard drugs, and having sex with the shadiest men– men I wouldn’t even look at today, more or less talk to- and especially have sex with… and that’s pretty bad coming from me.

Here’s to 342 Days, Veronica Graham, I’m so sorry I blew you off, Alize-

Day 23: “America the Beautiful”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on May 16, 2011 by Veronica Graham

Today I watched a documentary called America the Beautiful by Darryl Roberts.   In the very beginning of the documentary he talks about an amazing woman he had and let go of because he believed there were plenty of other fish in the sea…. It seems as though he was proven wrong and she married another man and had a couple of kids, as happy as could be.

I think about my relationship with Iago and one of his tactics to keeping me around was complaining about the way I looked, “You’re not even that good looking,” “What are you going to do about your skin breaking out?”  “You need to lose weight.”  All these made me feel less worthy- that if I could be a pretty, clear-skinned, skinny individual than I would be good enough for him.  Let’s just say I wore a lot of black while dating him.

This idea of the “perfect” girl in our society and how the media has brainwashed the minds of both men and woman make me wonder if we’re doomed.  From what I’ve noticed, the male population is saturated with flawless and photoshop versions of women in their every day lives to make the average woman feel shameful and unfulfilled- and feel lucky to have any good looking guy- even if he is a prisoner.

Looks aren’t the only department that suffers here.  MTV, music videos, and movies pollute our minds of the “PERFECT” woman.  Kimmie often gets criticized in relationships for being “boring,” “grandma-ish,” and a “workaholic.”  This girl can party every now and again, but is unlikely to on a night when she needs to get up early in the morning, she likes to keep her days productive and works hard- in her very Asian way.  Guys seems to expect me to constantly be working on how to improve my appereance while guys expect her to improve her “wild child” ways.  Are there any guys truly satisfied?  Has the media brainwashed us to expect not only the unattainable but the fantasy?

I was admiring my work crush again today and when this super cutie started hitting on me… it seemed as though my crush noticed me more.  Ooooo, I thought at first- but at the same time, What the hell?  Do I need the attention of someone else to get yours???

I feel like one of the most insulting things about the documentary I watched was when a guy interviewed said, “Looks are 70% of a relationship,” because girls just tend to be less intelligent then guys.  Sure, yeah, that’s what women are all about- Big dicks, money, good looks, money, six packs, and money, right?  What ever happened to the modern age where us women could make our OWN money?  I have Tiffany’s jewerly that I bought on my own dime, assholes!  AND where there is a woman that can fend for her own, she’s too boring because lap dances, blow jobs, and sandwiches aren’t being offered once you get home to that hottie… So is it really expected that we need to look like 10s, act like whores, be super moms, and top noche career women all at once?  Why don’t guys get the same expectation?  So, they may LOOK good and that makes up for their empty pockets or they might be rich, but that’s their excuse to let themselves go and still expect the perfect 10?

I think about when Iago gained weight during our relationship and I loved him.  Maybe I shouldn’t have- because he treated me horribly and was in prision for eight years, but I still loved him when he got fat.  Thinking back on those comments that made me run around in black during the summer infuriate me now!  Do you know how hot DC Summers are???  They’re torture!

Thank God for men like Darryl Roberts to appreciate us women the way we’re made… Now, that’s hot!

Here’s the 343 Days, Veronica Graham, I hope all my children are boys-


Day 12: “The Cheater Conundrum”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on May 5, 2011 by Veronica Graham

I’ve had this constant paranoia when I was dating the ex-con, Iago that he was cheating on me.  Today, I can look back and believe he never did, but there were very few chunks of time that I wasn’t cheating on him and I thought he MUST be cheating on me!

For a while I thought that even my best friend, Kimmie was sleeping with Iago.  The first time I had asked her to meet up with us, she was to meet us at a bar and I was in the restroom at the time she came up.  She walked right up to him and said, “Iago?”  And that was that.  I was suspicious immediately and pulled her aside and grilled her.  “How do you know each other?”

“We don’t. We just met.”

“How did you know which one he was then?”

“Because he was the only one at the bar that looks like a criminal.”  She could be such a bitch sometimes.

Kimmie hated Iago instantly and always had trouble hiding the way she felt about someone.  At the time we were planning a trip to Ireland for the week of Saint Patrick’s Day and Iago and I had only been dating a couple weeks then.  Iago shook his head back and forth as we talked about our plans.

“Isn’t it too early to pull the possessive card?  That’s weird.”  Kimmie said to Iago.

The fact was that Iago was afraid I would be cheating on him while we were in Ireland and although the trip was several months away, he assumed we would still be together then.  And to his credit, we still were together then and I probably would have cheated on him if I had actually gone- but by the time the trip came up, Iago had gotten the best of me and I pulled out of the trip.  Kimmie had paid for the entire vacation at that time and was rightfully upset with me, so upset in fact (since I swore up and down that Iago didn’t have that much control over me), that we stopped speaking for the better part of that year.  I offered to pay her back, of course, but she just waved her hand at me like I was a some kind of annoying insect and said her last words to me until next Thanksgiving, “Don’t even bother.” 

While we were finishing up our drinks upon our first meeting, the waitress handed Iago’s credit card back to him and said, “Have a good night, Iago.”

I shot him a suspicious look.  Was he fucking her too?  The waitress was overweight and friendly.  Maybe he liked bigger women.  Who knew?  “Are  you sleeping with her?” I whispered to him.


“What do you mean who?”
“Who are you talking about?”

“Who are you sleeping with?”


Yes, psycho, I know.  These psycho conversations happened often.  After dating Iago, it actually took me while to get cheating out of my system.  Relationship after relationship, I had to condition myself from cheating on the guys I was with.  However, knowing how easy it is to cheat and how easy it was to get away with it– it was always difficult for me to trust the men I dated.  I would think that my ideal guy would be someone who worked from home and never made any contact with other women.  Yes, psycho and unrealistic.  However, there was one guy I dated maybe about a year ago named Jacob, I went into the relationship with the conscious decision of not cheating on him.  I fell in love with Jacob and there were signs of him cheating that I decided to ignore (hell, looking at the waitress when we went out was a sign to me)- I needed to trust the guys I was with.  But it turns out that damn bastard Jacob was cheating on me!  However, it’s all right.  The difference between Jacob (or who I THOUGHT Jacob was) and the guys I cheated on in the past was the level of respect I had for them.

I had no respect for Iago and he had none for me.  This is why cheating on him was so easy and why I thought him cheating on me would be so easy.  Why the hell would I date guys I had no respect for?  Who knows, it’ll take a super therapist to get that out of me, but I’m assuming it’s a cocktail of low self esteem and general fucked-upness. I haven’t gone on a date since my vow of abstinence and it’ll probably be a while before I do and condition myself to date the RIGHT type of guy that I wouldn’t want to cheat on and the type of guy that will respect me as well.  Unfortunately, the type of guy that snaps me to attention are the bad boys.

“What do you think of that guy?  Isn’t he hot?” I’d ask Kimmie.

“The guy that looks like a demon worshiper?”

“No, the guys that looks like he’s into Marilyn Manson.. I think we’d make a cute couple.”

“Sure, after he cuts you up into little pieces.”  She could be such a bitch sometimes.

My buddy. Kimmie is no angel- but she has been cheated on and like a true Asian X-Men she now uses it to her power.  Like gays have gay-dar and Jews have Jew-dar, Kimmie has Cheat-dar.  She can smell a cheater like she can smell homemade Kimchi, and worst off, she can smell it on me.

The fact is, it’s going to take me time to find the right guy and I’m never going to find him if I’m not the right girl.  Right now, I’m still not right for anybody- especially, the right guy.  Is this age old saying true:  Once a cheater, always a cheater?  Can this cheater change her spots?  If I’ve done it before, I can do it again- I just need to stick to guys i actually like.

Here’s to 354 Days, Veronica Graham, there’s a monogamist in here somewhere-