by hannah
April 8th, 2010
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (CHAPTER 7: FRIDAY NIGHT CUTS)
I’m sitting on Ireland’s balcony. We’re smoking a joint to help me numb my feelings of regret. It’s eleven. Mr. Smyth dropped me off at my house half an hour ago; even though—after being made to look like a complete two-timing whore—I puked out a flurry of apologies for what happened and how it wasn’t what it looked like. Mr. Smyth told me not to worry about it. But our moment was lost. We finished our drinks and left.
“He told me to call him when my schedule opened up a bit more.” I suck hard on the joint, devastated.
Ireland inspects the red polish she’s applying to her toenails. “If I had access to someone who looked like Ben and wanted to have sex with me, I’d be over there right now. Forget the old guy.”
“He’s not old! He’s sexy.”
And that’s when I finally relinquish what I’ve honestly felt since the first time I had sex with Ben: that I don’t think Ben is right for me—not even as a fuck buddy. Mr. Smyth is much more my type, which is why I’m kicking myself for ruining my perfect Friday night date with him…
by hannah
March 29th, 2010
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Cain. I’m not sure why I blew him off the way I did, and without even a proper taste test of his Superman bod. I keep telling myself I did the right thing. Cain and I only had a couple dates, my hopes were pinned on Mr. Smyth, and I was just being…honest with myself. Or a delusional fool in love as it turns out. But we often do strange things when men, our heart, and our over-analyzing brain get involved.
Post-parting penitence is a crafty little bugger that presents itself in a variety of ways. It’s like a little Linda Blair that creeps into your bedroom at night: Sometimes she’ll spew green slime in your face, sometimes her head will spin around… and sometimes she’ll simply call your mother a whore and leave. You really never know what you’re going to get, or how long it plans on lodging in Newly Detached Inn. Two months since I blew Cain off, I still find myself obsessing.
The fact of the matter is, when you cut out an individual with whom you’ve had even a couple fond memories with, you’re bound to second guess your decision. Yes, I’m still wondering about Ben too… As we learned in our “friends with benefits” discussion, our good friend oxytocin doesn’t discriminate based on compatibility. Even if you want to strangle the dude with his favorite Armani tie (the one that makes him look like Rambo in a gay pride parade), chances are, you’ll miss seeing him put it on and wink in the mirror before heading off to work. Things you’ve grown intimately familiar with, like scent and touch, could give you phantom pains for months.
For many—a good portion of the 78% Think Tank majority, most likely—this remorse is founded. Your life is lacking something he provided (or thought he would eventually), and suddenly you realize that he was more than a fine ass, master of cunnilingus, or metrosexual—he was also a great listener, sincerely sweet, and even though your vagina quivered at the thought, he wanted kids…
Being alone with a bottle of wine at night can do strange things to the mind—it can drown you in confusion, or coddle you in clarity, and break-up remorse clouds your ability to discern the two. Luckily in this instance, time is on your side. Time gives you the opportunity to meet someone new, and learn from your mistakes, so that you don’t break-up with the next eligible bachelor over something silly like thinking the other guy will eventually fall in love with you, and regret it later.
Next we ponder the gold digger in us: If they don’t make enought money, is it a deal breaker? Weigh in.
by tactics
August 22nd, 2007
Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 1, Winter Season (Chapter 2)
CHAPTER 2: BREAKING UP WITH BAD HABITS.
I’m on my couch, flipping through a “chick mag,” eating Brazilian Acai Berry Sorbet Häagen-Dazs. I’m reading an article about ten things not to do after your boyfriend dumps you. It’s about what so many seriously co-dependent, emotionally unstable women digress to whenever a relationship goes sour: They start eating dessert all day; or drinking their favorite cocktail all night; or having pointless sex with pointless men; or running up credit cards with irrational wardrobe purchases; or chain-smoking; or incessantly calling their ex-boyfriends to try to work things out. Things I would never do.
I scoop a spoonful of sorbet out of the pint in my hand.
Thank god I have no bad habits, I think, biting at the hangnail on my pinky finger. It starts to bleed. Okay, none that are really bad. Unless I’m under the influence of pissed off. Or totally depressed. Or sometimes bored. And definitely if I’m at some pretentious and superfluous Hollywood party. But seriously-I am in total control of my environment. I shake an aspirin out of the bottle sitting on my coffee table.
