Five Things You Will Need To Get You Over Your Pathetic Crush:
1) Chocolate, obviously. And lots of it, with the calorie content scribbled out.
2) An entire series of Friends, preferably the one where Ross and Rachel finally get together and true love prevails.
3) A good friend who is willing to lie and say the aforementioned Crush is an asswipe
4) A copy of a staunchly feminist book that rips men to shreds and supports your theory that men should be put in a small box somewhere.
5) I Will Survive by the amazing Gloria Gaynor constantly replaying in the back round, and whoever told you it was wrong to sing along didn’t know what they were talking about.
These are the rules I have lived by my entire life. I have a crush, I get hurt when I see him with some Barbie doll, and then I go into my healing process, which mainly consists of eating too much chocolate and Diane bitching to cheer me up. And call me sad for seeking solace in fattening dairy products and empty insults, but until you’re in a similar situation, be quiet.
“How many dates have they been on again?” asks Diane, opening another bag of chips.
“Four,” I mumble miserably, not looking up from my pile of color coordinated M&Ms. “And another one tonight. If he stills likes her after this one, then it’s going to turn serious.”
Diane violently shakes her head. “No way, it’s at least the seventh or until they’ve slept together or something.”
“Yeah, but he’s not seeing any one else and all his attention is solely on her. She’s his everything,” I mutter sarcastically. “He talks about her all the time.”
“What does he say?”
I shrug. “Stupid, boring shit that only he finds interesting because he’s the one dating her, like how her favorite color is yellow because it’s the color of the sun.”
Diane’s face scrunches in disgust. “What a loser.”
“That’s what I thought, but Justin thinks that it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.”
“She’s obviously a total bitch,” says Diane, offering me a cookie before taking one herself. “She sounds so fake.”
“Exactly.”
I sigh and cover my face with my hands. This is all so screwed up. Part of me is saying it’s none of your business; he wasn’t your boyfriend in the first place etc etc etc. The other part however is mentally shouting obscenities at the “Natasha”, who I am yet to meet. Justin actually said me, her, him and Trace should all go out and have lunch one day. Yeah, right. As if I would voluntarily subject myself to such torture. If I had to spend an hour with someone who I knew Justin might be sleeping with, I’d poke my eyes out with a fork. Oh god, has he slept with her yet? It’s a little early for all that, right? They’ve only been seeing each other for what, two weeks? Three? But then again, I bet she’s an easy slut who sleeps with every celebrity that she meets. Whore.
I wouldn’t know whether a girl has stayed over at their house or whether Justin has spent a night away, as I haven’t been to theirs in over a week. My excuse is, “Ugh, I’m just so busy with work.” Busy with work my ass, I think I do more work shoe shopping. Ah well, at least going into the office somewhat eases my Justin-troubles for a few hours. Just a few though, because as soon as I get back home there’s always a message from him or Trace saying something sickeningly sweet like, “Hope you had a good day at work, give us a call.” There’s more chance of me calling Alcoholics Anonymous. Don’t they get it? I don't go round to their house unless I'm sure it's a Natasha-free zone.
“I bet she’s got fake boobs,” says Diane, noticing my silence.
I nod. “Yeah, which explode when she gets on planes.”
Diane grins. “And I bet she’s got an illegitimate kid by the name of Kid Rock Junior.”
I laugh. “Yeah, the result of a drunken night with the King of White Trash himself.”
“Which makes her the queen of White Trash,” adds Diane.
I begin to cackle evilly. That’s a cheering thought. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. After all, they have only been dating a little while, and Justin is too young to settle down. Yeah, I’m just overreacting.
“It’s probably just a physical thing,” I say out loud.
“Absolutely,” Diane agrees. “Soon, he’ll realize she has the conversational skills of a cheese sandwich and he’ll dump her.”
Wow, I could be his rebound. Wait, that’s bad, right? I guess I should be comforted by the thought its just sex, but I’m not. There’s something in the back of my mind reminding me Justin would never look at me and think, “Hey, I would love to sleep with her.” If we ever were to get into a relationship, it would be because he loved my sarcasm, or my humor, or some other endearing personality trait, not because he thought I was beautiful.
Well, that’s what I think anyway.
-----------------------------
She’s gorgeous. She truly is.
Her hair, it’s just so…silky, and I love the way she constantly flicks it over her shoulder when it comes over her face. And her eyes, I could melt in them. They’re such a dark, chocolate brown, but always have a sparkle in them. And her voice, it’s so gentle and soft, like feathers slowly falling from the sky. There’s just something about her confident, sweet nature that’s making me fall for her. She has this amazing aura that radiates of her smooth, soft skin.
If Trace was here, he’d kill me.
Okay, so I’m talking like some high school chick that has a crush on her teacher, but I can’t help it. I really like Natasha; she’s the first genuinely sweet person I’ve met in a long time, and the fact she’s breathtaking makes things even better. I’m captivated just from listening to her talk, observing the way her glossy, pink lips move to form each word. I may have found a keeper in this one.
“And then….” She trails off, a blush entering her cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve just been talking and talking. You must be bored.”
Around someone as beautiful as you? Never. “No, I’m not. Please, carry on.”
She shakes her head. “No, no. Let’s talk about something else.”
The waiter arrives with the bill and I quickly pay for it. “Do you wanna get out of here?”
She nods and smiles. “Sure.”
I lead her to the car, holding her by the small of her back, and open her car door for her, but not before dropping a quick kiss on her lips. She grins at me and I head around to the other side. I get in and start the car, before turning to her shyly.
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
She smiles. “That would be nice.”
I lean over to give her another kiss before driving out of the restaurant car park. I can barely contain my excitement. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now and haven’t done anything but light fooling around and I would be lying to say I haven’t anticipated more.
We idly chat until I pull up outside my house. We begin kissing before we even get to the door and I end up having her pushed up against my front door in my lust. I quickly open the door and pause. Trace is still home and I’d rather his first impression of her wasn’t ‘Oh, that’s the girl Justin screwed a few nights ago’. I lead her inside and look around to see where Trace is. I can hear his laughter along with another coming from the games room.
I open the door to see Cat and Trace playing some random X-Box game, laughing their heads off, not even acknowledging my arrival. I cough, and they look up.
“Oh, hi Justin.”
“Hi,” I say, smiling at Cat.
“Hey,” she says quietly. I haven’t seen her in a while; it’s probably because of her new job. To be honest, I’ve been kind of preoccupied with Natasha lately.
“How you been Cat?”
She shrugs and her eyes drop down to her hands. She seems uneasy. “Fine, thanks.”
I’m about to enquire into why she sounds upset when I realize I haven’t introduced Natasha, who’s standing right behind me. I gently take her hand and pull her forward. “Oh, sorry Natasha. Cat, Trace, this is Natasha.”
Natasha steps forward, smiling as she shakes their hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” says Trace brightly.
“Likewise,” mutters Cat before she begins twisting the corner of her shirt around her finger. Something is definitely wrong, maybe her new job isn’t as great as she thought it would be or something. I’ll have to ask her later.
“Actually, I think we’ve met before,” says Trace.
Natasha nods and grins. “Yes, I think we have. You’re the guy who spilled Jack Daniels on my top at Justin’s party.”
Trace blushes. “At least it wasn’t on all of your top.”
Natasha shakes her head. “Nah, just ¾ of it. It’s a good thing I didn’t like that shirt anyway.”
We all laugh and I turn to Cat. “So, how’s the new job going?”
She shrugs. “It’s alright.”
I turn to Natasha. “Cat is a journalist for the local paper.”
Natasha nods. “I think you showed me one of her articles.”
Did I? Oh yeah, that’s right. I showed her Cat’s first official article, which was about a painting and seeing as Natasha is an artist I thought it would interest her.
Natasha turns to face Cat, smiling warmly. “It was a wonderful piece. You really brought a new perspective to the painting.”
Cat blushes slightly. “Thank you.” She pauses and looks uncomfortable. “Are you interested in art?”
Natasha nods. “Yes. I’m actually hoping to work on some stuff whilst I’m down here in Tennessee. Hopefully the south is going to fill me with inspiration,” she adds, smiling.
Cat nods before checking her watch. “Speaking of work, I really should get going now. I have an article to work on and I don’t want to get fired quite so quickly.”
We laugh slightly and Cat picks up her things, giving Trace a quick hug before walking past Natasha and I, her head bent. She doesn’t seem to want to look at me, and it’s making me feel guilty, although I don’t know why, I haven’t done anything wrong.
“Bye,” she whispers.”
“Nice to meet you,” Natasha calls out as Cat opens the door.
She glances over her shoulder and gives us a weak smile. “You too. I’ll see you guys later.”
She sends a quick look at me, and our eyes clash in a frenzy of blue. The corners of her eyes seem slightly moist, and she’s biting down on her lip, as though she wants to say something, but her mind won’t let her. She hurries out of the door and I consider going after her, because something is obviously bothering her. Trace must have seen it too, because he brushes past me and runs outside to catch her before she leaves. I have no idea what could be wrong with Cat, but when I looked into her eyes I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought she could be upset over something. I have a strange protectiveness over her; the idea of her being unhappy tears me in two. I think it’s because underneath all the sarcasm and supposed hatred towards everything in the world, there’s just a girl who can get as easily hurt as the rest of us. I really should go with Trace to talk to her.
But soon I’m too distracted by the feeling of Natasha’s lips against my neck and her hands gently skimming over the skin underneath my shirt to concentrate on anything else.
---------------------------------
It’s ridiculous really. I haven’t cried in months and yet the sight of Justin with Natasha sends me into a whimpering mess. She had to be nice, didn’t she? She just had to be kind, courteous and polite…everything that I’m not. I bet she gives all her wages to charity and spends her free time sewing mittens for sick kids. She’s the kind of person I would avoid in the best of circumstances, because I know I would just end up hating her for being such a faultless image of perfection that made me look like a car crash in comparison.
But I could deal with all this. I really could. After all, she’s just another person who happens to be prettier and nice than me, I can deal with that. I’ve done it my whole life. But the way Justin acted around her was like having someone stomp all over my shattered heart. The gentle voice he adopted when he spoke to her, the way his eyes softened when they landed on her, the tenderness in which he touched her, which I’m sure sent chills through her body, as they do to mine. The difference is, when Justin touches me, he has no intention of sending me into blushing frenzy. When Justin looks at me, his eyes soften because he’s thinking about what a good friend I am. When Justin talks to me, he uses his boisterous, ‘I’m just around the guys’ voice. To him I am, and always will be, just a friend.
And it’s tearing me in two.
I was so stupid to let myself fall for him. This happened before, with Matthew, and I let myself get walked all over because I was just so in love with him. I almost wish Justin had never been there that first, fateful day in the grocery store and he had never laughed at me teasing Condom Boy. I wish I could have kept my original impression that he was an ass, rather than discovering he was a sweet, funny gentleman that I would yearn for so desperately. I didn’t even know how strongly I felt for Justin until tonight. Part of me assumed, or hoped, that it was just a phase because I’ve been single for a while and he was the best looking guy I knew. But tonight, seeing him with her, seeing the way he treated her in contrast to how he treated me, and knowing that they were probably going to sleep together, made my heart shatter.
Tears are threatening to stream down my face as I fumble around my purse for my keys, barely seeing anything in the blur of tears. I hear the slam of the door and groan. If that’s Justin, I’ll kill myself.
“Cat! Wait!” I hear a voice call.
I rest my head against the door of my car. Trace.
“Cat!” he repeats, running up to where I stand. He stops and stands beside me, staring at my hunched figure. “Are you okay?” he says quietly
“I’m fine,” I say, opening my purse again to look for my keys.
He reaches out to halt my movements. “I know.”
My hand goes limp and I turn to him. “You know what?” I ask, in hope that he’s talking about something else.
His eyes scan my face and his expression turns sympathetic. “ How you feel about him.”
“I…I don’t know what you mean…” I stutter.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he interrupts softly. “I didn’t see it at first, but tonight showed me.”
I take a shaky breath. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Are you?” he asks quietly.
After a pause, I shake my head. “No.”
Trace sighs, and I let a tear slip, feeling it quickly roll down my cheek. He reaches out to me and I reluctantly collapse into his arms, gasping for breath as I sob into his chest. It’s a strange thing, crying. Afterwards, I always feel slightly refreshed and sometimes better, but in order to get that I have to go through minutes of torturous pain. Maybe that’s what my situation with Justin is like. Maybe I have to go through these few torturous weeks before I realize we’re not meant for each other, or I find someone else, or I suddenly fall out of love with him. I don’t know. I don’t even know whether I do truly love him. I’ve only known him for two months or something, and although they have been an almost perfect two months, isn’t it a bit quick to fall in love with someone?
Part of me wonders whether I’ve just fallen in love with the idea of love, whether Justin was merely the nearest, semi good-looking man who I could immediately fix in the position of wonderful boyfriend because there was no one else and I haven’t dated anyone in years. In reality, Justin probably isn’t that great of a boyfriend. He always works, he sometimes doesn’t listen, and he has a tendency to talk about things he has no idea about. Perhaps I just have him built up in such high regard in my mind, I don’t ever consider reality. I don’t know, all I know is that living through this purgatory is killing me. I can’t even hate Natasha, all I can do is merely resent her or feel jealous of her, but that isn’t as rewarding as knowing she was unkind, or insincere or any of the other horrible things Diane and I dreamt up.
This is it. This is what it feels like to get your heart broken.
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