Right now I’m singing a cute little number about Will’s penis, broken glass and spaghetti. It’s quite catchy.

And he tells me I have issues. Yeah right. The only thing we have in common is that we’re both cocksuckers. Ha ha!

I so can’t believe he treated me that way. There I was trying to be a nice person and he has the balls to tell me to leave. Fuck that shit, no one tells me what to do. Whatever, talking to that fat cunt Jen for two seconds made me want to get the heck out of there. Seriously, I was thinking about leaving anyway.

You wanna know something funny? I guarantee that smug piece of shit thought he was all superior and shit when he made me look like an ass in front of his stupid little family. Well let’s see how he feels when he gets a call from my dad’s attorney.

Let’s see how you like being charged with assault, fuckwad.

I called my attorney and he said that without evidence or witness testimony it’ll be hard to get the authorities to press criminal charges.

So I said to him, “I’ve got pictures of the bruises.”

And you know what the fat fuck said (he sounded fat)?

“Uhhh, Liz, you do, uhh, realize that he, uhh, called the police first.”

“So?”

“So, uhh, their records contradict your version of the events as it happened.”

“Well no fucking shit, Sherlock, that’s because they only have one side of the story.”

“And then there is the issue of you, uhh, waiting a week to bring this to my attention. It doesn’t look good, Liz. It doesn’t create the impression that you were, uhh, as you say assaulted.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that,” he started to say.

“Well listen here you mouth-breathing-fat fuck, I was assaulted goddammit. And if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

Apparently that was fine with him because he told me he had to let me go and hung up. So I called my dad and told him he better fire the guy.

Oh well, vigilante justice is way more fun.

Just ask Heath.

* * *

Dress to impress, is what I always say. Especially when it comes to impressing your man.

Don’t roll your eyes. Just because it’s a funeral doesn’t mean a girl shouldn’t strut her stuff. After all, why waste an opportunity?

For this occasion I’ve decided on a delicious backless number that is the perfect blend of “so sorry,” and “fuck me senseless.” Will’s a sucker for a sexy back.

Highlight your assets. Remember that.

If you ask me, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Now, they normally recommend that women with bigger breasts wear a bra (backless or adhesive), but since mine are so perky I’m thinking why bother. Borderline inappropriate, I know, but it’s not like I’m upstaging a bride or anything. Besides, the only one who would’ve said anything will be laying in a box.

Ugh, I so hope it’s not an open casket. Cancer death is gross.

Anyway, like I was saying, I’ll have Will squirming in his seat and eating out of my hand in no time at all – especially since I’ll be going commando.

Remember: ass-crack done right is anything but trashy.

Thomas couldn’t decide if I was a sexy bitch or an evil cunt. “Can’t a girl be both,” is what I asked him.

After I left Banana I made plans to up to Will’s parent’s house. I guess it’s his just Dad’s house now, but anyway, I figured Will needed someone to comfort him. What can I say, I’m nice that way. Though I could really do without this three hour drive. It fucking blows.

No wonder people drink and drive.

So I could tell Will is really taking this hard. Don’t ask me why. I mean it’s not like they didn’t know it was coming. Hello! She had cancer for fuck’s sake. Probably gonna die soon! Don’t get me wrong, it’s really sad and “oh so tragic,” but if you want my opinion he’s really being a vag about the whole thing. Seriously, when my folks die I can tell you I won’t be a bitch about it.

It’s no surprise though. He’s always been an emotional homo. I’m just glad he didn’t start crying. God knows I’m gonna see enough of that soon.

I don’t know what it is, but the concept of guys crying weirds me out. They look so funny when they do it. The last time I saw Will cry was when we broke up and it took every bone in my body not to start laughing at him. His face got all crunched up and his nose got all flairy, it was odd. The best part was he totally did the whole hyperventilation thing. I almost peed my pants.

You don’t have to tell me I’m mean, I’ve known that for years, but I’ll admit that lately I’ve been a grade-A cunt. See, who says I’m not capable of self-reflection? So I don’t do it on the level Will does, big effing deal. If you ask me, that’s what got him into so much trouble. There’s a reason people shouldn’t acknowledge their faults – especially those with as many as Will. Cripes, I’m shocked he didn’t try killing himself sooner.

What? You’re surprised? Listen, you think I didn’t know the guy was jacked when I first started dating him? Hmph. Well let me tell you, I had him pegged right away. I can spot needy from a mile away.

But every once and a while a girl needs a project to keep her busy. Honestly, looking back I could’ve done better. Not that I failed or anything. Oh well, I’ll get it right this time.

The poop of it is, I’m going to have to apologize. Or at least act like I’m sorry or sad or something resembling remorseful. Who knows? I guess I’ll just have to see how things play out.

A girl has to keep her options open is what I always say.

If you ask me, that’s worth remembering.

* * *

It’s worth noting that I always knew things wouldn’t work out with Heath. Seriously, I knew how that thing would end before it even started. Well, I know how it will end, ’cause I can’t really say it’s over yet. We’ve got a few loose ends to tie off. Anywho, he’s a fucktard and a lousy lay. Any woman who wants to spend their life with a guy like that is probably a bull dyke or something. Mildly retarded at the very least. But that’s just my opinion.

If you’ve ever wondered what a micro-penis looks like just ask me. I’ll show you a picture of Heath’s. Well, I won’t really show you anything cause there’s not much to see (Hah!), but I can describe it.

It won’t take long. (Ha ha ha)! Pun intended mister!

Am I on a role or what?

Not that I’ve done coke, but I bet I’d be pretty entertaining. I can tell you I’d look sexy as shit doing it. Like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. I know that was heroin, but she thought it was coke. Lots of people say I look like her. I look like lots of famous people, so they say.

Will said I always reminded him of Sophie Marceau. She’s French so I don’t blame you for not knowing who she is. She was in Braveheart – you know, that Mel Gibson movie about the English dude? – anyway, if you still don’t know who she is, trust me, she’s gorgeous. But my lips are fuller. And she’s a little hippy if you ask me.

You should know that Red Bull and cigarettes mess with your mind.

Seriously, why the hell I ever agreed to drive to Will’s is beyond me. Remind me to disagree with myself from time to time

The question is: when I see him, should I cry? Hug him and say sorry? Cry and hug him? Or whisk him away and let him fuck me? That’d be soo much easier. Think I’d offend anyone if I just dropped to my knees and blew him?

I have to admit I look pretty hot with a cock in my mouth. I know, I’ve seen the video.

Remember: bat your eyes at the camera – it gives the impression innocence and enjoyment. Seduction is the most powerful weapon a girls got.

That’s the thing with Will, by the end he was just starting to open up, just starting to understand what it was that got me off. Heath never really understood that. He liked to say he did, but I could see he didn’t get it. I mean, seriously, only a Puritanical fag would be get that freaked out by a rape fantasy. Hello, I’m a submissive, like I’m going to give you permission to do those things. Just fucking do them already. For fucks sake, like a cock that small will rip anyone’s asshole.

Anyway, Will’s eyes are starting to open, only this time I’m going to help him along. Together we’ll understand each other. Communication is the glue that holds us together, that’s what I always say.

But enough about sexual predispositions, we ladies refrain from engaging in such lurid conversation.

Back to dead people.

Can you believe the timing of this whole thing? I know I can’t. I mean, I believe in karma and all that stuff but this is just crazy. I mean it’s like the Gods or fates or whatever knew that Will needed me in his life. He can’t say we weren’t meant to be together.

No one can.

Fuck him. I don’t need this shit. I so don’t need it.

His stupid ass doesn’t realize he’s giving up the best thing that ever happened to him. I’m his goddamn meal ticket for Christ’s sake. But you know what? If he wants to stay with that plain Jane cow, more power to him.

I don’t need him.

I’ve got Will.

Well, I will have Will. Will have will. That sounds funny doesn’t it? Anyway, he doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to make his worthless life worth living again. That is if he’s still alive

J/K. I know he is. He’s still on Facebook. Some chick is in his profile picture. What’s up with that? Probably his counselor or something. Ha ha.

I should really call him.

                                                                               *     *     *

So you’d think the asshole would answer his phone. I’ve left, I dunno, twenty messages or something and he won’t call back. Hello, you’re so being a major dick right now. I bet he thinks he’s pretty cool screening his calls, like this is some game or something. As if it takes Machiea-whoever to see this is a fucking power play. Lame.

This one time back in 8th grade, before the whole bi thing was totally cool, me and my best friend Tammy got into this huge fight because she started hanging out with this bitch she knew I hated. She did it on purpose just to piss me off. Seriously, why else would she have hung out with a complete dork like Heidi Schmidt? Anyway, she thought she was all smart thinking she could make me all jealous and shit, so I spread a rumor that I busted the two of them making out. At first people didn’t believe me. They were like, “nuh uh, no way Tammy is a lesbo.” But then I said that one time when she was staying over we got wasted, and in the middle of the night I woke up because she was trying to put her hands down my pants. After that got out, no one would give her the time of day except for the pervs just looking for an easy lay. Seriously, she would fuck any dude smart enough to tell her she was pretty or nice or worth a damn. It was pathetic.

The week before graduation she killed herself while her parents were at church.

The remaining friends she had blamed me for it, saying if I wouldn’t of spread that bullshit rumor she never would have been like this.

I said that if it wasn’t for my “bullshit” rumor they would’ve never been friends with Tammy.

So anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, Will’s a cunt (love that word). But he’ll take me back because he’ll think I want him back.

And I do. Kind of. Well maybe not that bad, but being with him is better than being single. Besides, when you date a guy like Will it’s almost like being single cause you can totally do whatever you want whenever you want. Really, he’s basically a dildo that talks. Though sometimes I wish he couldn’t

But I can deal.

*     *    *

I’m at the mall. Again. Banana is having a sale. Bitches like Denise maybe okay with wearing last year’s fashions, but I’ve actually got some taste and self-respect, so I need new clothes.

My friend Thomas is helping me out. He works there and if he wasn’t totally gay I’d consider dating him. As it is, at the moment we’re in the dressing room, he’s giving me his opinion. I’m horny so I’m trying to get him to give me something else.

“Put that thing away, Liz,” he whispered, crinkling his nose as he looked at my crotch. “It grosses me out.”
“Are you kidding,” I replied. “I’ve got the most beautiful vag you’ve ever seen.”
He shook his head and covered his mouth. “Ugh. You look like a twelve year old.”
“Like you don’t wax.”
“Not there,” he said.
“Yeah well, I wax there too.” I turned around and slowly bent over. “Close your eyes and use your imagination. You won’t even be able to tell the difference.”
He just giggled. “You’re such a slut.”
I gave myself a spank on the ass and stood up. “Damn right.”
He shoved a black leather skirt at me and rolled his eyes. “You so need some help.”
My phone started ringing.
“Shut up and hand me my purse.”
Thomas handed it to me and playfully flipped me off as he left the dressing room. I blew him a kiss.

“Hello?”
“Liz?”
“Hey there stranger! I was wondering when you’d return my calls. What’s up?”
Was he crying?
“She died.”
“What? Who died?”
“Mom.”
“No. Are you kidding? Tell me you’re kidding.”
Silence.
“Will? Are you still there?”
“I just thought you should know. Bye.”
“Wait!”
He didn’t say anything but I could hear him breathing.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Are you okay?”
Nothing.
“Are you coming home?”
“She always liked you Liz. Thought you’d like to know that.”
Then he hung up.

I called him back, but he didn’t answer.
“Will, it’s me.” I figured I should sound like I was crying. What’s devastation sound like? “Call me back, okay. I’m here for you.” Sniff sniff. “Love ya.”

“Sweetie.” Thomas was standing outside of the dressing room. “Is everything okay?”
I pulled on the leather skirt and swung open the door. “Whadda ya think? Does it work or does it work?”
Thomas looked at me like he didn’t know what to think. “Were you crying?”
I looked in the mirror and wiped some mascara from my cheek. Smiling I turned to him. “Just for effect.”
He wasn’t convinced. “It sounded real.”
I bowed. “You forget I used to be an actress.”
“Umm hmm. You forget your evil lies don’t work on me.”
“It was my ex-boyfriend.”
“Heath?”
I shook my head. “Will.”
“Will? Will,” he replied, “What’d that fine thing want?”
I started to pull on a charcoal cashmere sweater. “His mom died.”
Thomas rushed over and was now hugging me. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
“Meh, she had cancer, not like we didn’t know this day would come.”
He pulled back and shot me the “oh-no-you-didn’t” gay guy glare.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“And I thought I was insensitive.”
“Whatever,” I shot back mockingly. “What good are gay friends if they can’t pick out a decent outfit?”
“About as useful as straight girls with no hot guy friends.”
I rolled my eyes. “Witty. Now how about you use your magic gay powers of style and help me pick out a different sweater. This one makes my boobs look too big.”

Thomas left and I sat down. I felt bad for Will, honest. The thing is, getting wrapped up in his mom’s death just isn’t my style.

It was an opportunity.

I bet the phone will ring any sec.

I told myself that when he calls I’m going to stay calm. Even if he calls me names, I won’t get upset. But I don’t think that’ll happen. He loves me too much.

Almost been a day and still no call. What the eff? Jeez, you think maybe he did something to her? I should check the news.

So there’s been nothing about a murder-suicide on the news or Internet or anything. Not here anyway.

Do I call him or her? Wait, I do need to return the pictures. That’d be the friendly thing to do.

                                                                                * * *

People with lawns this nice scare me. I mean seriously freak me out. Like who gives a crap about a lawn? Hello, it’s just grass, doesn’t have to be perfect. Heath obviously thinks so though. Though I’ll admit, he sure looks good pushing a lawnmower.

“Hey there?”

Neither of them heard me. Denise didn’t even see me. Her fat ass was bent over digging in the dirt. Heath saw me though. He acted like he didn’t, but I know he did. Why do you think he sucked in his belly?

“Can I help you?”

I smiled. “Is that you,” I asked, arms held out.

As soon as Denise heard my voice she looked up, barely contained anger flashing across her face. Forced confusion across his.

“Come on,” I continued, “don’t act like you don’t remember. It’s me, Liz.”

“Liz,” he replied. Then in a bit of acting not nearly convincing as my own, flashed an exaggerated smile. “Holy shit, what has it been, five years?”

By this time Denise had stood up and was glaring at me.

I stopped short. “Hello Denise.” I offered her my hand.

She spotted the manila envelope. “Done with the pictures so soon?”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “Didn’t take too long to scan them.”

“Pictures,” Heath said, walking over to Denise. “What pictures?”

“What do you mean what pictures.” I laughed and handed her the envelope. “I made copies of a few I thought you’d like.”

“What pictures,” he asked again, this time his voice cracked.

I pulled the envelope back. “Well embarrassing ones of course.”

Denise rolled her eyes. “Liz needed pictures for your class reunion honey. She stopped by a few days ago to pick them up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she stopped by,” he asked, the color slowly returning to his face.

“Yeah,” I added, “why didn’t you tell him I stopped by?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to,” she replied. And then looking at me, she smiled and added, “And to be honest, until I saw you just now I completely forgot you even stopped by.”

I smiled back. Whatever bitch.

                                                                              * * *

Now I’m not normally a fan of violence, but if ever someone deserved to be punched in the gut or bled to death it would be that skank. I can’t figure out if she didn’t believe me or is just that pathetic. I mean who wouldn’t tell their husband some chick just told them she did him recently? You can believe I would.

But she will as soon as she sees the extra pictures I returned. Unless of course she enjoys seeing her husband’s dick in someone else’s hmm hmm. Or his face for that matter.

                                                                                * * *

I don’t know what the goddamn deal is, but I haven’t heard shit from Heath and it’s been almost a week. You know she had to have opened the damn envelope. God what I would have given to see her face when she saw them. I wonder if she knew how much he liked anal?

If she didn’t, she will.

                                                                                * * *

Seriously, what the fuck? Why hasn’t he called? If Heath and I were married and some dude gave him pictures of his cock in my ass you better believe he’d call me on it. And you know what I’d do as soon as I got done dropped on my butt? I’d call the guy and tell him that if he wanted my ass so bad all he had to do was ask

Yeah right, I’d probably kill the fucker.

Jesus, would you listen to me. I sound like a crazy schitzo or something. But I’m so not crazy it isn’t even funny. I’m just a little upset.

And you can understand that, right? I mean, hello, who’s the one who got totally screwed in this deal? Ha, ha, I mean that metaphorically. Seriously, you think I would’ve left Will if I knew this would happen? Of course I wouldn’t have. I loved him. And now looks what’s happened to me.

Heath doesn’t know what it’s like to hurt this bad. What would he care anyway. I mean look at him, he’s acting like everything is hunky dorey.

By the way, did I tell you I quit the museum? I know, crazy isn’t it? I couldn’t take it anymore. All I got to say is that don’t ever work for a person named Dr. Lavelle- they’re probably a cunt.

I can’t believe I just said that. Cunt. Who even says that anymore? It sounds so mean. I like it. More people deserve to be called cunts I think.

Anyway, I’m done with that upity bitch and all her errands. Like I need a job. My dad said he’d take care of me no matter what.

But I’m drifting here. We were talking about Heath and how he has no idea what real emotional pain is. I mean he’s the guy who never got dumped. He’s the one who always got whatever he wanted.

Back in high school every girl wanted him but I wanted him more. And even though I was totally his best girl friend, we never dated. Yeah, he was my first – I was telling the truth on that- but it was a one time deal and we were drunk. He said it wasn’t. He said he’d always loved me and promised we’d be together but he was full of crap. That was the last time I ever saw his dick until a few months ago.

I should have know he was a goddamn lying piece of shit. I guess my problem was that I loved him too much. But don’t think I’m an idiot or anything. He told me he was leaving her and if there’s one thing I believe in it’s that you trust the ones you love.

Until they break your heart.

                                                                              * * *

I’m calling that bitch. Right now. Fuck her if she thinks she can ignore me.

Pick up the goddamn phone, whore.

“Hello.”

“Hi Denise.”

“Oh hi Liz. I’d been meaning to call you.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes. I wanted to tell you how much I liked the pictures you sent over.”

“Really?”

“In fact, I liked them so much I thought others would too.”

“I figured Heath would like them.”

“Not Heath. He hasn’t seen them.”

“No?” This was weird.

“Really Liz, did you think I would show him such filthy things?”

“So what do you mean?”

“You’re a bright girl,” she replied. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Who did you show them to? Your fat skanky friends?”

“There’s no need to get upset Liz.”

“I’m not upset bitch.”

“What’s your email address?”

“What the fuck do you need that for,” I asked.

“To send you the link to your pictures.”

“You didn’t.”

“Actually, I’ll send you a few links.”

“You wouldn’t do that to him.”

“Of course not,” she replied, “I blurred out his face.”

“You fucking cunt.”

“You look good though,” she said, ignoring my comment. “A little heavy, but I think it was the lighting.”

“You’re lying…”

“He’ll never leave us Liz,” she interrupted. “He loves us.”

“He loves me,” I shot back.

“No, he just loved fucking you.”

“He promised he’d leave.”

“And he promised me he wouldn’t.”

“He cheated on you.”

She exhaled deeply. “And I will forgive him.”

“You can’t trust him.”

“But I can trust him Liz. You can’t, but I can.”

I started to cry. I can’t believe I’m crying.

“Liz,” she said, voice softening. “You need to move on hon.”

“He loves me,” I whispered.

“It’s over,” she whispered back.

I shook my head at the phone. “He loves me.”

“No Liz,” she said, “he hates you.”

And then she hung up.

Whatever.

Like I need the job. If it weren’t for the clothing allowance I’d totally quit. Besides, I’ve been working too effing hard planning this party to quit now. Really, if you had any idea how hard it is to plan something this big you’d understand why I’m so stressed. But it’ll be worth it – it’s totally going to be the event of the season. Pretty much everyone who is anyone will be there.

I should know, I did the guest list.

Changing subjects. So, this totally isn’t like me, but I’ve been a major slut lately. I know, like that’s something you admit to a bunch of people you don’t know. Get over it. It’s only happens when I’m drunk. Besides, they’re more like one night stands and we’ve all had a few of those in our lifetimes. But the random sex is only to get by. Once I get Heath or Will back I’ll be through with it.

Trying to prioritize which one to go after has been tougher than I thought. Too tough really. It’s like a dead heat. I mean I want Heath because he’s successful, upbeat and totally unbelievable in bed. But on the other hand Will is great because…well I guess he’s great ’cause he loves me so much. And he’s hot. Plus we’ve known each other so long – so it’s comfortable.

Like I said, it’s a dead heat.

What kills me though is that they both think they’re happy. Get real. They’re just acting like it. You should see how Heath is when he’s around that skank wife of his. The other day I happened to be driving through his neighborhood (no, I’m not a stalker) and there they were getting into the car to go run their stupid errands. He was all lovey and smiling, helping her fat pregnant ass get into the car. And get this, she was acting just as happy. Despite the fact that the cow knows he cheated. How pathetic is that?

At first she didn’t believe me. A few days after our big fight when it became obvious that Heath wasn’t coming back, I called his wife again. The first time I called, you remember- the night he left- I just wanted to see where he was. Nothing sinister, I promise. Not like this time. He might not want to leave her, but who’s to say she won’t leave him;)

Anyway, as I drove home from work I saw her sitting on the porch. And maybe it was because I had a major crappy day, but the sight of her sitting there, smiling and rubbing her stupid belly as she read some parenting magazine really pissed me off. I mean hello, I’m the one who should be pregnant. Whatever. Obviously, accidents happen. So I see her there and I think to myself, Liz, is it really fair that she lives a lie; that she and her child live a lie? Of course not.

So I told her the truth.

“Helooo,” she said.

God, you could hear her stupid smile over the phone.

“Hi, is this Denise?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi Denise, it’s Liz.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Liz,” I said, “I went to high school with your husband.”

“Oh,” she said. I could hear her smile waver, but only for a sec. “Is this about the class reunion?”

Class reunion? WTF, has it already been ten years?

“As a matter of fact it is,” I said, a new plan taking shape in my head. “I’m with the planning committee and we’re trying to track down photos for our slide-show. I was wondering if you might have any?”

“I’m sure we do.”

“Really,” I said. “Oh Denise you’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s nothing. What’s your address?”

“Address?”

“So I can make copies and mail them to you.”

“Duh.” I said, adding a laugh to cover my gaffe. “It’s been one of those days.”

She replied with a forced laugh that she’d obviously practiced -which, I have to say, almost sounded better than my real one.

“You know,” I continued, “I actually live in town. How ’bout I swing by and pick them up?”

“Really,” she said enthusiastically, a tad too genuine for my tastes. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I replied with equal giddiness. “You stay at home and rest.”

Of course it was only after I opened my stupid mouth that I realized I almost messed up big time. But then I remembered I was dealing with the idiot who believed her husband actually travelled that much. Like anyone travels that much. Hello, you’re a moron.

You’d have thought that since we were making love and someday it was also going to be my house, Heath would have had the decency to show me their place. But he never did. He was always like, “I’d show you babe, but Denise won’t let me near the house.” Like I knew what was really going on.

What a jackass. Seriously, I can’t believe I fell for his lies. He’s leaving his wife, he tells me. At least I didn’t fall for the crap he pulled on her.

Anyway, a couple days later I swung by to pick up the pictures. It was a nice place, a little small for my tastes, but decent enough for them I guess. Actually, now that I think about it, the house was a lot like Denise. Very plain.

Walking up the steps I stepped on some stupid dog toy that almost broke the heel off my new Steve Madden’s. Thankfully for Denise it didn’t break. Otherwise she’d have owed me $173 dollars and I’m pretty sure she couldn’t afford that.

I rang the doorbell and waited for like five minutes before the heifer answered the door. When it finally opened I was greeted by a flash of massive black fur enthusiastically launching itself through the doorway and some bitch screaming “Jo Jo! No!”

But Jo Jo just ran me over.

Thankfully, I have quick reflexes, so I was able to grab the hand rail and catch myself before I fell.

“I’m sooo sorry,” she said. “Are you o.k.?”

“I’m fine,” I shot back, then I reminded myself not to be a bitch and softened my tone. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Really.” I smiled. “It’s so not a big deal.”

She motioned me to come in.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said as she led me to the living room.

I looked around, but aside from a crooked painting, I didn’t see a mess anywhere. “Are you kidding, this place makes my apartment seem like a pigsty.”

She rolled her eyes and dismissed my compliment with typical homemaker humility. “So, how’s the planning coming,” she asked.

“Oh, you know, like planning a big party.” At least, that’s how I imagined it to be. “But it’s coming along nicely.”

Laughing, she said. “I put together a few pictures that should embarrass Heath nicely.”

If she only knew about some of the photos I had.

“Perfect,” I said, trying to find it as funny as she did.

“There’s one in there from when he was 14 or so…such a dork.”

“Weren’t we all?”

“Tell me about it,” she said. “You don’t even want to know.”

“Rolled jeans,” I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. “And crimped hair!”

“Me too,” I said, playing along. Yeah right, like I’d ever crimp my hair.

“So,” she asked after finally calming down. “Did you and Heath know each other in high school?”

“You mean he’s never mentioned me,” I replied in feigned, but mostly real shock.

She paused to think about it, but I could tell she was doing it just to make me feel better. “You know, now that I think of it, maybe he did. I tend to tune him out when he starts talking about the glory days.”

It was my turn to laugh.

“I suppose he wouldn’t mention me. I mean, it’s not like me and my boyfriend talk about the people we’ve slept with.”

Her face blanched. “Slept with?”

“Yeah,” I said perkily, “didn’t you know…we were each other’s first.”

“But that can’t be.”

I tilted my head to the side as if to ask, “it can’t?”

She shook her head. “Heath would have told me.”

“Hmm,” I replied.

Her head was really moving now- like a Stepford Wives bobble-head doll.

“We don’t keep secrets,” she said to me, but mostly for herself.

“Is that so?”

“He said the only woman he slept with before me was some girl named Lori and that she killed herself senior year.”

“Heath said that?”

Denise nodded.

“Your husband, Heath,” I asked.

She nodded again.

“The one with the cock about this big?” I held my hands apart. “And this thick?” I formed an 80% complete circle with my thumb and index finger. “With the little mole about a quarter-way down?”

Her face twitched and her smile faltered for an instant – the transition from happy homemaker to raging bitch and back barely noticeable.

“Well,” she said, composing herself, “that was a long time ago.”

I nodded sympathetically.

She stood up, obviously uncomfortable with this new information.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to get going.” She handed me a manila envelope. “Here are your pictures.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling politely.

I was halfway out the door when I stopped and turned around.

“By the way,” I said, “is it me, or do you kind of miss the mole?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I continued, “it’s still a great cock, but wasn’t that little mole in just the right place?”

Her mouth fell open and her hand instinctively went to her belly.

For a moment my heart swelled in anticipation of the pending miscarriage. But she just started crying instead.

Oh well, a lot can go wrong in nine months

Me? Oh I’m fine. I mean, yeah, I have a few cuts and stuff, but nothing that will leave a scar.

After he finished embarrassing me in front of a store full of people, some woman tried to help me get cleaned up. The owner threatened to call the police, but I think he decided not to after he saw me crying in a pool of glass and blood. I suppose it didn’t hurt that I was mumbling “what about the baby?” over and over. Right, like you can call the cops on a pregnant lady. Obviously I’m not pregnant, but they didn’t need to know that.

Anyway, I got cleaned up and someone called me a cab. On the ride home I kept on thinking about what I was going to say to Heath when I saw him. Boy was I pissed. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can treat me like that. We’re talking serious ass chewing.

But the prick wasn’t there and he hasn’t been answering his cell.

If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow I guess I’ll have no choice but to pay a visit to his wife’s house

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of calls to make.

“Guess who!” God, how excited is he going to be?

“Liz?”

“How’d you know?” He’s probably getting a boner as we speak.

“Caller ID.”

“Ohh, that’s sweet, you still have me in your phone.”

“No. I recognized the number.”

Whatever, he’s just saying that.

“What do you want?”

“Sheesh, Mr. Cranky pants. I just called to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Probably ’cause I’m talking to you.”

He doesn’t mean that.

“You’re too funny.”

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“Bye.”

What the fuck? Are you kidding me? He hung up. What kind of piece of shit does he think he is?

“Will?”

“Why’d you call back, Liz?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

He’s a sucker for sadness.

“So talk.”

“You don’t have to be mean you know.”

Honestly, who does he think he is?

“What do you want?”

“I miss you.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I think we made a big mistake.”

“You made the mistake.”

Whatever.

“Do you miss me?”

“Don’t do this, Liz.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t swear at me.”

Nor can he handle crying.

“I just wanted to talk and…and…”

Or hysterical crying. He’ll break.

“Are you done?”

“I miss you babe.”

“You miss me when you were fucking Heath?”

“I did. Don’t laugh. I thought about you a lot.”

“Does he know you’re calling?”

“Of course not.”

“So I’m the new Heath then.”

“No, you’re the old Will.”

“I bet you used the same line with Heath.”

Of course.

“Of course I didn’t.”

“So where is he?”

“Working.”

“On a Saturday?”

“I know, he’s like super busy lately. We hardly see each other.”

“Must be rough.”

“Ha ha Mr. Sarcastic.”

“Can you stop with the mister shit?”

“Can you stop with the sarcasm…I told you that because I’ve had a chance to think a lot lately.”

“And?”

“I’ve been thinking about us.”

If you smile when you talk you sound more sincere.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us too.”

“You have?

Got him.

“What have you been thinking about?”

“I’ve been thinking about how much time I wasted dating you.”

“Excuse me?”

“And I can’t believe we lasted as long we did.”

“Really, you just said that? Are you kidding me?”

“When you think about it, it’s hard to believe I didn’t try killing myself sooner.”

“That’s not funny Will. Don’t joke about stuff like that.”

It’s natural for him to be upset. Just be patient.

“I’m serious. Being with you sucked.”

“Blaming me won’t help anything, Will.”

“Who said I wanted help?”

“Hello, you almost committed suicide. Obviously you need it.”

“Maybe I’ve already got it.”

“You told your parents?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I found someone who actually cared about someone other than themselves.”

“Whatever.”

“She’s a great girl.”

“Stop it.”

“Everything you’re not.”

“Go to hell.”

“And unlike with you, when I tell her I love her, I mean it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Holy shit, you’re crying. Are these real tears or the usual fake ones?”

“They’re real, asshole.”

“Wow, you must really hurt. Do you?”

“I hate you.”

“It’s a bitch isn’t it. Getting your heart ripped out.”

Why can’t I stop crying?

“Enjoy it. I hope it lasts.”

“Fuck you, you fucking pathetic fuck.”

“Are you done?”

“Go to hell.”

“Right. Have a good life.”
He hung up. He told me off and he hung up. On me. Who does he think he is? I mean, honestly, when did the spine show up? Not at all what I expected. At least he thinks I was really crying. Now he’ll know how much I hurt. That’s why he’ll call back. He thinks he’s over me, but he’s not. That skank- who is obviously a slut- is just a band-aid. He may not know it, but I do. You don’t get over someone like me that easily.

I’ve been a jogger my whole life. Though I kind of had to give it up over the last year. Yeah, I blame Will for that. Will and his stupid desire to move to that ridiculous mountain town. Are you kidding me? Like I could jog there. I suppose I could’ve if I wanted to get run over by some gross hick that was paying attention to my butt rather than the road. No thanks.

Lake Calhoun, it’s totally different. Talk about one of the best places to run in the country. I’m serious, Minneapolis is routinely featured in running magazines as one of the top places in America to jog, and I’d put the chain of lakes up against anywhere, even Central Park. My normal route is a quick jaunt around Lake Calhoun and Lake of the Isles. You should see the homes around those things. I’m talking serious money. When I was a little girl I vowed that I’d live in one someday. They’re absolutely amazing. Old brick architecture, expansive yards, very Lake Como (Italy, natch).

When I’m running, everything else just melts away. It’s my time to think, to problem solve, to daydream. Usually, if I’m upset, a jog takes care of it. Not today though. It’d take a marathon to solve my problems.

So he’s not leaving the cunt. May as well throw that out there right away. God I have no clue what he sees in her. Seriously, I’d expect him to have better taste in women. I mean come on, can you say muffin top? If I ever weigh over 120 pounds you can bet I’d have my mouth sewn shut.

How do I know he’s not leaving? Simple, I read his emails. The funny thing is he thinks he does a good job of covering his tracks, doing the whole, “clear content, clear history, clear forms” thing. Like I don’t know he looks at porn. Right. That’s all guys use the Internet for. Anyway, there’s this software program that you can install on your computer that sends you email notifications of web and email activity on that computer (ladies, I highly recommend it). Best of all, there are no icons or anything to alert someone that it’s been installed. Seriously, it’s pretty much the most awesome product ever.

You should see some of the stuff Heath looks at. Honestly, some of the girls don’t look a day over 18. He’s always going to these amateur websites. What the attraction is I don’t know. Most of the girls look like skanks on meth. Though there is this one site he likes that is all high class and stuff, and I’ll admit those ones are hot.

Oh my God, I almost forgot. He’s totally into the whole Asian thing. I know, what a cliche, right? What is it about Asian chicks? I know I’ll totally sound like a bitch for saying this, but they all kind of look like 12 year-old boys.

Anyway, back to the emails. Like I said, I’ve been reading them and you guessed it, the jerk has yet to tell her about us. If that wasn’t bad enough, he convinced her that he’s really travelling during the week. Can you believe that crap? How dumb is she?

It’s just a matter of time before he leaves her. He has to.

At least I can always go back to Will. Talk about your all-time spineless schmucks. Could you imagine his face if I said I’d take him back? How happy would he be?

Ugh, I sound like such a downer. Shut up Liz. Don’t you have a party to plan?

This damn party. I swear, what a pain in the butt. Of course it doesn’t help that Dr. Lavelle is a total micro-manager.

“Leez, I vant you to do zees.”

“Leez, how can zis be champagne if it eez not from France?”

Gimme a break. Like I don’t know how to plan a party. Hello, I was only social chair of the biggest sorority on campus. Honestly, if I didn’t get a clothing allowance I’d totally quit. I swear if I hear “Leez” one more time I’m gonna flip. What’s funny is that I don’t even think she’s French. Like I know she lived there for a while, but I don’t think she’s actually French. You’d think I’d know, but there’s nothing on Wikipedia or anything. All I can tell you is that someone watched the Devil Wears Prada a few too many times. Whatever.

Like I said, if I didn’t have jogging I’d go nuts.

I kind of think I am anyway.

If you’re going crazy, do you know it? Or is it one of those gradual things?

Kidding. I’m fine. I just need to run faster. After all, there are problems that need my attention.

What would you do in my situation? I’m thinking blackmail or something. Like I threaten to send our emails to his wife. Or, even better, I tell him there’s a good chance the police will receive an anonymous tip on a suspected pedophile. Would that be too mean? Maybe just a little. I could secretly film us and send the video to his wife. That could work. It’d also be hot. Definitely need to buy a camcorder.

Wanna know another reason I love jogging?

I love it because I know the guys (and some women) can’t keep their eyes off me.

* * *

Things have been kind of wierd between Heath and I. He’s been overcompensating big time. Of course he should be. Really, I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy who screwed up as much as him (Will doesn’t count). But you know what? I forgive him. I love him that much. We’ll work it out. I mean, it’s got to be natural to feel this way when you’re leaving your wife. He just needs a little nudge.

Becuase it’s a beautiful day, I told Heath we had to go to Stillwater and do some antiquing. I read that this is the new thing to do rather than spend all your money at Potterybarn. But I’m not completely sold on the whole used thing. It’s kind of gross. Maybe we’ll find something cute though. People tell me I have an eye for style. Sometimes I’m tempted to say, “Hello, I’m an artist. Of course I have an eye for style,” but instead I just smile and say thank you.

“Ohh, honey, this is cute,” I say, pointing to an old fireplace mantle.

“Yeah, you know we don’t have a fireplace, right?”

“I know that.” It’s hard to be patient with him sometimes. “I’m thinking it’d make a great headboard.”

He just looked at me, confused.

“For the bed.”

“Ohh.”

“I swear, if it was up to you our place would still look like we just moved in.”

“Right,” he said. “About that.”

“Oh my God, look at these, ” I said, holding up two small stained glass windows. “How great are these?”

“Liz,” he said, but I really didn’t hear him. I was too preoccupied.

“Liz,” he tried again, this time touching my elbow to get my attention.

“What?” God, he could be so annoying.

“We need to talk.”

“So talk.”

“We need to talk about us,” he whispered.

“Really, I can’t believe how cool antiques are. I mean, how great would these be for the kitchen?”

Heath didn’t even look at the plates I was holding up.

“Liz, I’m serious.”

“So talk if it’s that important. Jesus.” I turned around and started rifiling though a bin of vintage records. “What do you think about framing these?”

“I think we need to move on.”

“Fine, we’ll look at something else.”

“No. We need to move on, on.”

See, I told you he’d leave her. I threw my arms around him.

“Oh baby, really?”

He didn’t hug back. He just said, “I’m leaving you, Liz.”

But of course this couldn’t be happening. It was all in my head.

“That’s not funny, Heath.” I playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Seriously.”

Why wasn’t he laughing?

“She’s pregnant,” he said.

Why was he looking at me like that?

“Knock it off.”

“I’m serious, Liz. I can’t leave her.”

Maybe if I close my eyes tightly and then open them everything will be normal.

“We knew this wouldn’t last,” he said.

Maybe if I hold my breath.

“Liz?”

“But we’re buying antiques. We’re buying antiques for our apartment.”

“The lease is in your name.”

I started laughing again. People were looking at us. They were looking at me like Heath was. They were looking at me like I looked at Will.

That’s when I broke.

“Stop looking at me!” I screamed.

I heard Heath say, “I’m sorry folks,” and then I felt his hand on my shoulder. I spun around and swatted his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

He said, “Calm down, Liz.” and apologized to the crowd once again.

“Fuck you you fucking pervert. You fucking pedophile pervert.” The records in my hand started flying across the room.

“Jesus Christ, Liz,” he said, and then to the shop owner said, “I’ll pay for those.”

I heard someone say, “You want me to call the police?”

But this wasn’t happening to me. I was watching it from outside of me. I heard myself scream. I saw myself trying to punch Heath and saw him try to restrain me. But I fought back and pushed away from him, falling backwards into a rack of old farmhouse windows. And through the red lenses of my blood-stained eyes, I saw him walk away.

Heath doesn’t know what I know. Maybe he suspects something, with all the love and affection he’s showered me with. He’s oozing guilt and I’m taking advantage of it.

Guess who has a new Marc Jacobs handbag?

Guess who’s wearing new Juicy Couture sandals?

He might not leave that bitch, but I can assure you that I’ll get something out of this relationship.

Even if things weren’t okay, you’d never know. Not by looking at me anyway. After all, the key to success is mastery of one’s emotions.

Foundation covers the errant pimple or two.

Radiant smile hide seething bitterness.

Really, everything is fine. I swear. He promised he’d leave her.

But just in case…

“Hi there,” I say, smiling, looking sexy, dress cut in all the right places.

“You must be Liz,” the man says.

We shake hands.

“I’m Brent.”

I size him up. Not normally my type, average height, a little skinny, blond, but he’ll do.

“You look even better in person,” he says.

I smile demurely.

“I mean Jessy said you were good looking, but she didn’t say you were smokin’.”

What a cheesedick.

“Well thank you,” I reply, simultaneously projecting confidence and modesty.

“Have you ever eaten here before,” he asks.

“Nope,” I lie.

“They have the best shrimp tempura.”

“Ohh. I looove tempura,” I say with just the right amount of enthusiasm, despite knowing that the tempura here tastes like rubber, even if it is the most expensive in town.

I don’t even have a chance to look at the menu before the waiter comes over and Bret, or Brent, or whatever his name is opens his mouth and does the whole “I’m a man, I’ll order for us” thing.

“Yeah, we’ll start with an order of the shrimp tempura, and can you make it a little crispier this time?” He continues to bark our order to the waiter, but I tune him out. I’m daydreaming about putting my salad fork in his throat when I sense that both men are looking at me. When I don’t reply right away, I hear Brent say, “She’ll have the miso soup.”

He must be a finance guy.

Dinner comes and goes, but not nearly fast enough. He does the talking. I do the smiling and nodding. Because he apparently has a thing for “authenticity” I’m forced to drink warm Sake. By the time dessert shows up, I’m D-R-U-N-K. Thank God.

“So,” he says, snapping shut the bill, “let’s grab a drink.”

“I would,” I apologize, “but I’ve so got to get up early tomorrow.” He doesn’t need to know the truth.

“Come on, one drink,” he pleads.

“Maybe next time?” I smile.

“I guess,” he says, “if you just want to get to the sex I’m cool with that too.”

He thinks he’s being funny, but I know there’s truth there. I pause and make a face like I’m considering his offer. Then I lean forward, knowing exactly what my dress is revealing and whisper, “I kinda have my period, Brett,” purposely mispronouncing his name.

I smile as the color drains from his face and an uncomfortable smile appears. “I’ll get the car,” he replies.

If he only knew how close he came to getting laid. Seriously, if he would have said yes I would have let him fuck me. I’m a slut, get over it. Will never figured that out though. I could see the boredom on his face when we had sex. He could never get past my submission. So he got bored and angry. If he’d of only let it out. I could see he wanted to, but he was too nice. Too much of a fag. It’s not like I didn’t give him signals. I mean, does a good girl wear revealing skirts and no panties? Does an innocent let you fuck her doggystyle, over and over, in hopes that you’d finally get the hint and put it where you lacked the courage?

“Do it,” I wanted to scream.

But he never did. So I fucked so bad, sorry, made love so poorly that I drove him mad. I thought he’d break up with me. But he was too weak to do even that.

Who am I, you ask yourself.

If only Will asked me that.

“Where’ve you been?”

I ignore Heath and walk to the bathroom. He follows.

“Dinner,” I say, lifting up my skirt and sitting down to pee. Like all guys, he turns away.

“With who?”

“A friend.”

“Dressed like that?”

“A guy friend,” I clarify. My admision leaves him standing there wide-eyed and speechless. I brush past him and walk towards the bedroom.

“Like a date,” he says, following my down the hall.

“Pretty much,” I reply with a smile.

“Why would you go on a date?”

My intoxication is making getting undressed more difficult than it should be.

“And why aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

I have to turn around so he won’t see me smile. “Feels good,” I say as I bend over to unstrap my flats, legs slightly spread. But he doesn’t pick up on the invitation.

“Why’d you go on a date,” he asks again.

I just slide into bed and close my eyes.

“That’s it? No answer?”

Of course telling him the answer would be too easy. Telling him the answer would prevent him from learning. So instead, with nonchalance and disinterest, I say, “I talked to Kathy the other night.”

I hear him mumble “fuck” under his breath.

“She says you’ll be back in town Friday.”

I started the new job on Monday. I thought it went well, though Dr. Lavelle is pretty intense. I haven’t even been there a week and I already have a few important assignments to work on. Good thing I’m not scared of a little hard work! Or a lot What’s cool is that she wants me to help coordinate this huuuge gala event we’re having in a few months to celebrate our new Hopper exhibit. Personally, I’m not Hopper’s biggest fan – sorry, just never cared for his style – but it will be fun nonetheless. Anyway, I am in charge of facilitating and managing our vendor relationships. Do you have any idea how hard it is to coordinate a party in this city? Not only do I have to help manage the event management group, I have to help coordinate the invite design and mailing. And that’s on top of the three other projects she needs my help with. But, this is my dream job, so I can’t complain too much

When I came home last night Heath was already sprawled out on the bed watching Sportscenter. You’d think after I reamed him for the whole “separate apartment thing” he’d be falling all over himself, right? Well…he was! He didn’t even say anything when I turned off the TV for no other reason than I wanted to talk. And to think I want a dog.

“Hey babe,” he said.

I plopped down on the end of the bed and waited for him to come to me. Only when I felt his arms wrap around me did I respond. “Hey there mister.”

“How hard did the evil doctor work you today,” he asked.

“Ughh. You don’t even want to know,” I said, falling back onto the bed. “I’ve got like a ton of stuff to do. All of it important.”

“That’s good. Responsibility builds character.”

I rolled my eyes and glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m just saying, babe…”

“Saying what?”

He laughed. “I mean it’s not like you’ve been setting the world on fire.”

I shot up. “What the hell does that mean?” And with that, I cued the tears.

“Whoa.” He leaned in to give me a hug. “Settle down tiger.”

I pushed him away. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Right, I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been trying.”

His hand started rubbing my back. “I know, babe.”

I could be the victim better than anyone. “If it wasn’t for Will…”

“I know…”

I let the tears and sobs grow. I let him hold me.

“But you’ve got me now,” he said, putting a finger underneath my chin and tilting my face towards his.

I pouted as only I knew how, looked up at him with sad, vulnerable eyes and asked “Do I?”

Of course you do, babe.” He kissed my forehead.

“And Kathy?”

He pulled away from me and took my face in his hands. “Look at me,” he said. “She’ll be gone in no time.”

I smiled. He did too. Then I let him make love to me.

Five minutes later Heath asked me the oddest question. “So, is he pissed or what?”

“Yeah, you think you could at least pull out before asking a question like that?”

“What?”

“I dunno, I guess I’d feel more comfortable answering if your penis wasn’t inside me.”

“Right,” he said as he slid out and rolled over. “So, you think he’s pissed?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How can you be not sure?”

“What’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I just want to know if he’s pissed that his girlfriend of four years just dumped him for another guy.”

“Three years,” I corrected.

“Whatever. He’s got to be pissed.”

“You think? Maybe we should introduce him to you wife.”

He ignored my comment.

“I suppose he wants to kick my ass.” Heath puffed up his chest.

“You’re probably right.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Well then quit being such a dumbass.”

He stopped and gave me a cold look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said.

“Then don’t talk to me like that.”

Ok, this was something new. A guy with a backbone. New tactic. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said don’t talk to me like that.”

Obviously I played this wrong. But, that didn’t mean I was going to apologize. So I didn’t say anything. Instead, I rolled over and started crying. Heath most certainly was not Will, but he still was a guy and guys can only deal with so much emotion. Especially when it’s unpredictable.

“Liz?”

More sobs.

“Sweetheart?”

Big sniffs and running mascara.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“What?”

I could hear the confusion in his voice.

“I don’t like it when you yell at me.” I did melodrama well.

I heard him mumble “shit” under his breath. But while Will would have done everything in his power to apologize and comfort me, Heath just stood up and walked out of the room.

The tears that came next were real.

I woke up in the middle of the night, alone, confused that Heath wasn’t sleeping next to me. I walked to the living room expecting to find him there, but he wasn’t. I looked at the clock. 2:30 AM. Where the hell was he?

So I checked my cell. No new calls.

Then I tried calling his. Straight to voice mail.

Finally, I called his house.

“Hello,” said the woman, half-asleep.

“Is Heath there?”

“Who’s this?”

I felt like pissing her off, so I told her who it was. If I had to be upset, someone else had to be too.

But she didn’t get pissed. She just mumbled, “He’ll be back on Friday,” and hung up.

What did she mean, “he’ll be back on Friday?” That didn’t make sense. He didn’t go anywhere.

I stumbled back to the bedroom. Too tired to stay awake, but too shocked to sleep, I crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling. Sometime later I heard to door open. I closed my eyes and rolled over. The bed sagged as Heath crawled in and I waited for him to kiss the back of my head like he always did before falling asleep, but he didn’t. So, I got up and went to the bathroom. Still, he didn’t acknowledge me.

I should have confronted him.

I should have demanded to know where he was.

I should have screamed, “Why do you smell like booze?” and “you haven’t even told the bitch about us, have you?”

But I knew I wouldn’t like his answers.

Besides, I thought, everything will be better in the morning.

Big news! No, I didn’t get engaged. But it’s almost as good. I got a job! I am sooo relieved, I can’t even tell you. Starting Monday, I’ll be the executive assistant to the director of the Walker Art Center.  If you know anything about the art world you know how big of a deal this is. If you don’t, trust me, it’s huge. 

Finally! I feel like I’m making progress in my life. It’s like everything is going exactly the way it should. I’ve got a job that I’ll love. I mean it’s so me it isn’t even funny. My boss, her name is Dr. Lavelle, is pretty much the foremost authority on modern art. I can’t imagine how many people must have applied for this job. I don’t want to say I knew I was going to get it, but I was pretty confident. After all, I did graduate summa cum laude with a double major in Art and Art History. How could she not hire me? Now I’m seriously thinking about pursuing my Master’s or PhD. To think that I could have her job someday is pretty amazing. 

Heath has been so awesome and supportive. Tonight he’s taking me to dinner. He says he has something important he wants to talk about. And though he won’t tell me what it is, I do have a pretty good idea of what he wants to discuss. If it is what I think it is, he’ll get the best dessert he’s ever had. God, I so sound like a Cosmo article. 

I try not to bother him about his wife. He says he’s taking care of it and I believe him. Personally, I don’t know why he even married her in the first place. Will says I’m a home-wrecker and am the one who belongs in a trailer park. Whatever. Who tried committing suicide? Thank you. Besides, I would hardly call myself a home-wrecker. For starters, their marriage was in serious trouble way before I showed up. Two, Heath is the one who initiated everything and he swears they were over. Three, how can I be a home-wrecker if they don’t have kids? My conscious is clean, Will. 

Ugh, I need to quit with the negativity. Three years dating a guy like Will obviously left some marks. Heath hates it that I can be so cynical. He says I need to work on finding the Liz he knew in high school.  Me? I’d be happy finding the Liz I was in college, but I’m finding it hard to change my established behaviors. Besides, it’s not like I knew I was becoming such a cynic. What’s the saying, “I was like a frog in a pot?” Heath’s been a real help though. I never would have recognized what I was becoming without him. 

Of course, just getting out of No Name has helped. I know I said it before, but you’re a product of your environment. This last weekend Heath and I jogged around the chain of lakes over in Minneapolis. I talked him into running the Twin Cities Marathon, so we’ve been busy training. Anyway, as we were jogging I couldn’t help but think how happy I was now that I was out of No Name – I don’t care what anyone says, Minneapolis/St. Paul is one of the greatest cities on Earth.  I also couldn’t help but daydream about what it would be like to be pushing around a baby jogger. On the car ride back I told this to Heath and he smiled and said he was thinking the same thing. Though he said maybe we should start with a dog. I said I’d be happy with a divorce. 

You’d think I’d have been excited to hear him say that he wanted to have kids. And honestly I was. But for some reason, his enthusiasm kind of threw me off. I mean, I loved hearing that and all, but I wished he’d said he was daydreaming about getting divorced or our wedding. 

*    *    * 

So we went to dinner last night. You know what he wanted to talk about? He said we should probably think about getting our own apartments because of the divorce. According to his lawyer, it looks bad if you cheat and move in with your new girlfriend. Heath said that with my new job I should be able to afford a place. Can you believe that crap? Of course I said, no way was I moving out. The harm had already been done, hadn’t it? He tried to argue his case, but I told him that unless he wanted to break up, he’d better shut up. So he did. For being such a dork, I told him he was buying me a dog.

It’s kind of funny how I always get my way