by hannah
July 14th, 2010
Here is the question I got on Facebook today:
Q. If you move in with a woman, telling her from the start that you are just friends with benefits and that it’s temporary until you get your shit together, but then she downs a bottle of Aspirin when you tell her you’re moving out ( because you’re sick of her smothering you whenever you’re in the same room and told her so). Is it wrong that your reaction is to go stay at a friends place and order pizza?
She did phone 3 times to say that it was “All your fault and I won’t be here tomorrow.” And “You don’t even care, I’ll find you and die on the doorstep!” And finally “Everything I do, I do for you and get NOTHING in return!
A. Sounds like you basically pimped yourself out for free rent, and (surprise) got yourself into a bad situation…
by hannah
July 2nd, 2010
Hey! Interested in making your life a bona fide hell, where every step you take is sized up for ridicule by a disgruntled bitch and her entire posse? Then sleep with your friend’s ex! I’m serious about this one, ladies. While our forefathers fought for our right to whatever one-night stand we so choose, this is an instance where we might want to exercise a bit of guarded liberty.
Sure, it may seem like a good idea in the heat of the moment. You’re nursing him through a breakup of epic proportions, drowning his sorrows—and your moral compass—in a bottle of Grey Goose at a local dive bar. Woes soon turn to giggles, which turn to sexy whispers, which turn to you emerging from the ladies’ room and handing him your crumpled up panties. “Let’s blow this joint,” you say like a woman possessed.
And your night of released tension—pent up for three long years, as you watched him hold your BFF’s purse while she tried on jeans at Macy’s—is everything you imagined and more. It feels forbidden, yet ten times better because you know it’s technically not. The entire day after, you’re on top of the world…until you get a call. From your BFF. Distraught out of her effing mind…
by hannah
April 20th, 2010
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 8: FALLING IN LOVE)
My boss rounds the corner into my office and proclaims he has the perfect man for me. I look up from my latest suburban layout sketch and smile pleasantly.
Taking this as an invitation, my boss launches into a long soliloquy about the single, attractive young doctor he once again had the pleasure of conversing with at a picnic organized by his church. I furrow my forehead.
He says he told the doctor about me: how I am recently single and looking for love. I raise an eyebrow.
Then he says he told the doctor he would try his darndest to persuade me to attend the next church function so that we can meet.
I politely decline.
“Oh, come on, Hannah. What if you fall in love with the young man?”
I tell him I’ll think about it.
This seems to satisfy him and he leaves.
Distracted, I twirl around in my office chair and prop my feet up on the credenza so I can look out the window. The last thing I need is to get set up by my boss. And what does he know about falling in love anyway—a man who has been married four times and decided to become a born-again Christian just to hook up with the hot blonde he met in a grocery store?
I fold my arms behind my head and tilt my chair back.
I have fallen in love twice in my life.
During my first semester at USC, I walked down into the lone, underground campus bar with the intention of doing homework. That’s until Warner, the bartender, introduced himself to me. I ended up with sweaty palms, watering eyes, a babbling tongue, and my heart threatening to pop out of my chest. It was love at first sight…
