Damn! I am really shocked at myself for putting the "you are daddy" ploy. 😂
In my entire life time—throughout high school, college, and my twenties—I have never been dissed by a guy. Not dumped. Not stood up. But here I am—a two time loser all in a week's time. I am completely alone, with not even a prospect in sight.Painful enough, I also don't have Sandra, my steadfast source of comfort when other things, unrelated to romance, had unraveled in my life. Nor do I have my own mother—whom I don't want to call, just to hear some variations of "I told you so." And here's Vanessa, who came to my apartment this afternoon. She came after I had called in sick to work for three straight days. I'm even surprised that it took her so long to rush to my aid, maybe she has no clue of the depth of my despair. "What has gotten into you?" Vanessa asked, glancing around my messier-than-usual apartment. "I've been so worried about you. Why haven't you returned any of my calls?""Jon dumped me," I said mournfully. She raised the blinds in my living room. "Jon broke up with y
Vanessa and I share the same shoe size, the same taste in music, and the same love of fruity mixed drinks that we normally consume in quantity before our big nights out. Besides, it will be great to have her around when the baby arrives. Hope she wouldn't mind getting up occasionally for nighttime feedings? She sliced a lime and hung perfect twists on our glasses. Vanessa has a nice touch when it comes to entertaining, another perks of living with her, "Let's do it!""Wonderful!" She squealed. "My lease expires next month."She crossed the living room over to my couch, drinks in hand. "There's just one thing I should tell you," I said. "What's that?"She handed me a temptingly perfect margarita on the rocks, salt lined evenly along the rim of the glass.Vanessa could be snobbish and judgemental, but still, over the years she has only demonstrated a sense of absolute loyalty to me. I swallowed hard. "I'm pregnant with Jon's baby," I said, blurting out my big secret. I took one tiny
A week has passed and I have not heard from Vanessa about her plans on moving in with me. I have called her so many times which she either avoided or ignored. I would have appreciated it if she tells me point blank that she won't be moving in with me rather than the way she ignores me like I was the child she promised ice cream on her way to work and failed to return home with it.I decided to use a payphone, she's probably ignoring my calls because she knows my number. I put a coin into the coin slot and rattled in her office number. "Hello. Vanessa Garrett speaking." I heard her cute little-girl's voice she likes to fake. She always claims that it is the most professional way of speaking over the phone with clients. "It's Tessy," I said. "Oh. . . Tessy. . . hi. How are you?" She asked, sounding a little bit shocked. Perhaps, she wasn't expecting a call from me or something."I'm okay. You ?" "Oh my goodness! I've been swamped in work lately." I know she's lying even though I'v
I need a fresh start, a change of venue, a new cast of characters. I have to come up with a plan, a way to escape the shame of so much rejection. I foraged through my list of contacts in the city, but everyone is somehow linked to Max or to Vanessa or to my firm. My phone started ringing as a call came in and it is Dixie, from Indianapolis, my last girlfriend standing. "Hi, Dixie!" I answered, feeling guilty for all the times in the past that I dismissed her as boring, neglected to call her back. And I feel especially bad for not meeting her new baby, Cheri, when I was in Indy. "I'm so glad you called!" I said again. "How are you?" How is Cheri?" Dixie gushed about her baby and complained about how she's not sleeping well. "How are you doing, Tessy?" She asked me finally. From her tone, it seems like she already know my tale of woe. So I filled her in on everything, just in case she is missing some details. "My life is falling apart, and I don't know what to do," I cried into t
It's been a week since I called Andrew in London. I even left him two phone messages and a well-crafted, slightly desperate e-mail. The truth is Andrew favours Sandra than I. It's actually quite understandable if he is "team Sandra" and they both can now join forces to deal with me. But right now, my back is up against the wall and I'm taking a new strategy:- *'be your enemy's friend's friend.'* If I am to come out victorious in all of this, then I have to look for solutions in odd places, thanks to Dixie's fast thinking. I have known Andrew since fourth grade, when he moved to our town in the middle of the school year. There was always a flurry of intrigue when a new kid arrived, with everyone excited at the thought of fresh blood. And doing recess on the day of his arrival, Andrew sat alone on the curb near the monkey bars, writing in the dirt with a twig. Everyone was too shy to speak to him, but I summoned Sandra and Dixie and the three of us approached him. I introduced Sandra a
Since the past two weeks, I've been all about preparation and action, single-minded in my quest to shut down my New York affairs and get myself to London.I sublet my apartment to a young couple that found my classified ad. Then, I sold my tainted engagement ring in the diamond district and my wedding gown on eBay. Combining the proceeds with the balance in my account, I have enough money to get through my pregnancy in London without a day's work. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** So, finally, I'm all ready to go. My bags packed full of my finest belongings, on the way to JFK for my red-eye flight to London. As I boarded the plane, I felt a sense of absolute satisfaction, knowing that I am leaving the city without a word to the people who betrayed me. I hunkered down in my business class seat, slipped on a pair of cashmere slippers, and rested my head against the bulkhead beside me . . .** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **I woke up as the plane hovered over green meadows and
I looked around the apartment, trying so hard to hide my disappointment."I told you it was small," he said, giving me a nonchalant tour.Everything looks clean and neat and well decorated, but nothing particularly appeared European, except for some decent crown molding around fairly high ceilings. The kitchen is nondescript and the bathroom downright grim—with a wall-to-wall carpeting, a very bizarre thing and an absolutely miniature toilet and, according to Andrew, it's not an uncommon thing. "Nice flat," I said with false cheer. "Where's my room?""Patience, my dear. I was getting to this," Andrew said, leading me to a room off the kitchen. The room is smaller than a maid's room in a New York apartment, and it's window is too narrow to squeeze through, yet it's still covered with a row of corroded iron bars. A white dresser in the corner clashed with the white walls, each making the other look sickly gray. Against the adjacent wall is a small empty bookshelf, also painted white,
I'm perusing a newspaper someone had left on our table while Andrew ordered our food at the bar, which from what I've come to know—it's a standard practice at English pubs.The newspaper has Victoria and David Beckham, or, as the Brits calls them, "Posh and Becks," plastered across the front page. I just don't get why David Beckham is a big deal in England. The dude isn't that cute. Sunken cheeks, stringy hair. And I hate the earrings in both ears. Andrew returned to our table and I made my observations about David Beckham to him. Andrew pinched his mouth and kept mute, as if David is a personal friend of his. "Have you seen him play soccer?" he asked me finally."No. Who watches soccer?""The whole world watches soccer. It happens to be the best sport in every country but America.""Whatever. As far as I'm concerned this David guy," I said, tapping his picture, "is no George Clooney. That's all I'm sayin'." Andrew rolled his eyes just as an unkempt waitress brought our food to th