Okay, ummmmm—oh! Okay, let's stop again in fall 2007 (I think). I'm working at Tillman's, the one with the little hostess and the Mexicans that keep calling me bitch, remember, and my friend ♦♦♦♦ comes to see me and he has something called "miles" and he offers to take me to New York City for free, and I agree, because I work at a fucking bar and the reason I work at a bar and not at a job I give a shit about is because normally when you work shitty jobs like this, the owners know that the only reason you put up with a garbage job like this is because it awards one certain other opportunities, like the ability to take off and do things that you care about more... usually.
These two scumbags that owned this place seemed to think that this was some sort of exception to the rule, or that I'd be so grateful to work at their piece of shit bar that... I don't know? That I'd never ask for a night off? I am still really confused as to what was such a big fucking deal about me asking off for one goddam weekend, I mean you would have thought that I was needed physically to support the building or something the way they acted when I asked for fucking time off. Isn't time off a thing? Well, apparently not when you work for faux-trendy restaurant fags it's not, making the whole restaurant endeavor just seem that much more pathetic with it's fake "Roadhouse" bullshit (i.e. certain songs would come on and the waiters would have to get on the table and dance, shit like that), so I was more than happy to get away from all of these losers, and anyone who takes working at a restaurant that fucking seriously, "Fucking LATER, assholes!"
So, before I get to New York for my first time, I should tell you more about my affair with Anna, because the two will coincide. I mean, you're still here, at least, your eyeballs are, so I imagine you're in this for the long haul now so I might as well give you all the nasty little details that make me the fine specimen of d-bag what you see before you today, and give all the aspiring d-bags maybe some new heights to look forward to on their journey of d-bag atma-bodha (self-awakening).
Okay, so I had to take yesterday off, so my title up there should read "Two Days Forward" or something, but I'm a total sucker for keeping things the way I've been doing them (obsessive compulsive), but I couldn't start this thing off today lying to you nice people. I don't mind lying to everyone else in the world apparently, but you folks, what can I say? You're just too pretty to lie to... (if I say this to you in person you are probably already in love with me, but just a heads up, this means I'm lying to you)
And speaking of lying: so I'm working at the bar at the Magnolia theater in Dallas, this is before the whole Archie incident, probably in March or April, somewhere around there, because it was pretty soon after Brooke had gotten out of rehab and come to visit me that a girl started coming into the bar to watch Grey's Anatomy (I really wish I could change some of this shit, I swear to fucking God you'd think I was out to live Hell on Earth looking back at some of my "romantic" choices, Brooke, being the best one—even with the suicide attempt and rehab and all that shit—she's still the best by leaps and fucking bounds, I mean, the Cretin, she actually told me about how—once again, I swear to fucking God—she actually told me the first time we went out when I started talking about music and she stopped me from talking about whatever I was going to mention to put her foot down about musical greatness... God I can't believe I'm going to tell the world this, it's that embarrassing that I ever fucked this person, but she stops me and says, "Well, you know the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Dave Matthews Band both invented the styles of music they play," hand to God she fucking said that—I KNOW! It's TERRIBLE! So, obviously I am attracted to pretty morons with execrable taste in the world (except Brooke, she has great taste and is very pretty), but, without these women's awful taste in everything they would never be stupid enough to go out with the likes of me and give me these wonderful stories of idiocy that you are now enjoying immensely.
So Anna starts coming into the bar to watch Grey's Anatomy which... no idea whose idea this was to have this as a thing, but, it did get extremely attractive eighth grade teachers to come patronize our bar that otherwise would have remained empty and left plenty of women without the desire to fuck me, which—we can all agree—is an awful thing to deprive anyone of, so, here's Anna. She has shoulder length, straight blonde hair, tiny waist, blue eyes, and perfect tits. She looks like a soccer mom (does that thing still exist?), which, growing up in Dallas you will of course fetishize no matter how hard you try not to. And I was about to say this was at a time when I was trying to be faithful to Brooke, but now that that memory thing that I told you about that kicks in only when I write kicked in, it turns out that there was never any time that I was trying (or succeeding) in being faithful to Brooke. See I already told you about how envious I was of her sexual past, and not that she fucked a million people, she really didn't, she just had a semester abroad where she fucked a lot more people than is healthy or safe, or that I was able to tolerate because I had never fucked that many people in that short an amount of time. Yes, this whole thing is just piteous, I KNOW, so on to the even more piteous...
But before Anna I had never actually fucked anyone else while I was with Brooke. I had made out with plenty of girls, and I had fingered a couple girls in the middle of dancefloors (this was the mid-Aughts, so this was just a regular evening occurrence all around the US, white people dancing, doing a lot of coke, and girls letting themselves get fingered on dancefloors...), but I had yet to fuck anyone else.
As far as cheating on people goes making out with someone else is just like puffing on a joint and fucking someone else feels like the first time you mainline heroin. You're scared but you're also super proud of yourself for just being able to go through with it... and then you of course feel like shit, because that's how it's supposed to go. You do something bad then you feel like shit. But all I wanted to do was hurt Brooke, honestly, that's the reason why I was even dating the Cretin in the first place, was just because she looked like someone you could make someone else jealous with... and now I've wasted seven years of my life with someone who wants to espouse the value of DMB/RHCP with me, I mean, these are the depths to which jealousy will make you sink. God, the heroin is nothing that compares to living with someone who used to fuck Stanford frat boys and the only music on their iTunes is John Mayer and "Dave." The horror. The horror. I always said, any girl who's fucked frat boys, that's like her having fucked 15 regular dudes for each frat-dick that's been in her mouth. And there's probably a lot of truth to that since frat guys all have to suck each other off during "rush week" or whatever the fuck it is, so, you actually probably are tasting about 10 - 15 other frat boys' semen every time you touch a girl that's been touched by frat-penis (math).
So the second time I go to Anna's house I fuck her. And she lived at the apartment complex that is built around the movie theater where I'm bartending, and this leads me down a whole new road of cheating, and cheating is just like dope 'cause the further you go the more you can't go back. But Anna was the first, and I actually attempted to have a relationship with her, which was actually really wonderful because anytime she was a cunt, which wasn't too often, but when she was, she could really show ya how it's done, but so what if she was a cunt? I was in an entire other relationship at the time, I mean, not condoning it, but it's really the only way you should ever date anybody... okay, so that's condoning it, but it really is the best because you have this, like... I think in cars they're called "governors," and what they do is they are speed-limiters that are built right into most engines these days, the car I had that I knew had one, the car was physically not allowed to go over 95mph because of this device. And that's what being in two relationships at the same time is like, it's like you put a governor on the emotional abuse you are going to inflict on, not them, but yourself, because you just can't get that angry about anything, when you know that as soon as you leave from fucking this person, that you hafta get on the phone and call someone else and tell them that you love them, I mean, the other person would have to kill a family member, and one that you actually liked to get a rise out of you after the things you know you are doing to them that they have no idea about! Don't condone it? Shit. I highly recommend it.