The Comeback Kid

Do I smell desperate or something?

Within the last week or so two of my ex-boyfriends have made feeble attempts at rekindling our relationship.

First Steve, the infamous, stopped by my house and left a note on the door:

"I really don't care who I pissoff. I want to talk to you. Call me. TRUCE."

I didn't call; and what's this "TRUCE" shit about? I never knew we were at war. He called twice the same day he left the note, I didn't answer. Then he e-mailed me at work the next day (persistent little bugger) sort of blowing off the whole thing like he didn't know what he was thinking when he left the note. I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about. He said, "Nothing. Just wanted to talk to an old friend" HA! I told him I was surprised he still considered me a friend. Again, he made excuses for his behavior, "You know how manic I can be." Boy do I ever. He told me I could call him sometime if I wanted. I didn't have any desire to do so, so I figured it would be best to end it there. I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for us to try and be friends and that we should just leave things the way they are. He said he figured things would turn out like that and went about his merry way...Or not so merry way, whatever the case may be.

Last night, 'my favorite mistake' called. I haven't talked to him for months. The last few times we spoke were unpleasant and disappointing. I had pretty much resolved not to talk to him anymore. He left a message on the answering machine- I miss you, blah , blah, blah. Whatever. I pressed delete and went to bed.

I remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me (because I wouldn't have sex with him--I was 15 for godssake!) my Mom said something I'll never forget, "He'll come back, they always do, and by that time you won't want him anymore." Maybe Mom's words were magic, but I can tell you that every single guy who has ever cheated on, stopped calling, or otherwise dumped me, has always come back with his heart (or his dick) in his hand for a second chance, and like Mom said, I didn't want them (well, most of the time anyway).

So when people say things like "The grass in not always greener..." They're not just blowing smoke up your ass. You should treat life like a chess game and consider all angles before you make a move. You never know, you could close a door and try to open it later only to find that the locks have been changed.

I'm a big girl now.

I got a new bed.

I’ve been sleeping in the same bed since I was freshman in high school. A single-sized, brass daybed, which was of course the shit when I got it but over time, became my albatross. As the bed got older it creaked like the Tin Man, a problem my mother temporarily remedied by stuffing bits of tissue in the various joints of the bed. Over time even this remedy was to no avail.

I slept in the bed through high school. Then I went to college where every dorm room had a single bed, even smaller than what I was accustomed to, and the daybed went into storage. When I came home for visits and vacations I would sleep in my parent’s guest room which always had a cushy double bed in it for my sleeping pleasure.

When I moved into my first apartment in 1998 my only possessions were my daybed, a TV stand and my dresser. My mattress served as the only piece of furniture in my living room until my parents took pity on me and bought me a couch. I then took to sleeping on the couch instead of the noisy bed.

The size of my daybed was a hindrance to my sex life for many years. The thought of having an overnight guest crammed next to me in that tiny bed sent me into waves of embarrassment. Especially once the bed frame broke and I took to simply laying the mattress on the floor.

I also felt a tad bit immature sleeping in a single bed after the age of 20. Don’t ask me why I never got a bigger bed before now. It was always on my list of things I need but was often replaced by items I deemed more important, namely my never ending stack of monthly bills.

So finally, at age 32 I have a double bed of my very own. Sleeping has been lovely, even though I’m still sleeping alone. The bed has yet to improve my sex life or my prospects of an overnight guest. Then again, I’ve only had it for a week. But hey, at least it’s there –just in case.