Tag Archives: true story

Kevin – A Possible Book Preview

7 Feb

Some of you have asked for a preview of my collection of stories. It is not finalized, and I may not even include this one, but feedback is more than welcome. Let me know what you think.

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About four years ago I began seeing a guy named Kevin. He was younger than I was, which was a change of pace from my usual interest in older men. He had a “top secret government job,” which I thought sounded sexy and mysterious.

Kevin and I had a lot of fun together. I liked his preppy style. He was a typical party guy who loved drinking and socializing, which was perfect because I also happen to enjoy drinking and socializing.

Our first date was to a really fun bar in the city on a hot Tuesday night. It was a perfect date, really, even if we did get a bit too tipsy. He was tall and I loved his cute nose sunburn, and the way he looked into my eyes when he bent down and tucked my hair behind my ear before he kissed me.

I have to admit that I am such a sucker for a hot date on a summer night with some cold drinks. Who isn’t?

When it was over he dropped me off at my house and said he would call me the next day. When he did, he invited me to meet his parents out on Friday for happy hour, and then he and I would go out afterward. It sounded fun.

That Friday I wore a pretty blue dress my mom had bought me for “something special.” I was excited, and I’ll admit a bit nervous to meet his parents on only our second date.

Kevin picked me up and we met them at a bar on the water in Fells Point, a really cute area in Baltimore City. His parents, Phil and Viv, easily were two of the nicest, most fun people I have ever met. They were young, hip and everything I could have wanted on a date with parents…until his mother took out a nail file.

It could have been the effect of the beer, but I swear to you that I watched in slow motion as his mother reached over to her son and began filing his nails. My jaw dropped.

“He doesn’t keep up with his nails very well, does he?” she commented.

“Err, I hadn’t noticed,” I replied.

“Well, he doesn’t. He’s not very good with his room, either. You’ll have to push him to clean.”

The whole thing lasted only about three minutes, but I am telling you that it was such an odd moment that I couldn’t help but comment on it later. “Kev, does your mom always file your nails like that?”

“Yeah, she does, she’s kind of a control freak.”

I kind of wish I had run at that moment, but do you think we should we really judge people immediately about things like that? He was younger than me, after all. Maybe he was just a bit immature, or maybe I was just making up excuses. I didn’t know, I was just glad it was over.

He and I went to another bar and got food and more beers and somehow we thought it would be fun to make a bet that for every beer I drank, he could drink two in the same amount of time. It turned out that he could, but as you can imagine after my four pints and his eight, I ended up drunk and he ended up extremely drunk. We kept laughing and enjoying ourselves, though. He was such a fun guy to be around!

Afterward, we decided to walk back to his house, hand in well-manicured hand. He lived about seven blocks from where we were and at block three he started picking up the pace.

“Why are we rushing?” I inquired, doubling my step to keep up.

“Sorry, I have to use the bathroom.” My roommates are out, so when we get inside just make yourself at”…and then, my friends, he pooped his pants.

Right then and there, Kevin farted and pooped his pants.

I got a cab home.

We never talked again.

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Douche at the bar.

6 May


Tonight I met a coach of a local college team. We talked for an hour or so. He was cute and I was having fun until things got douchey.

Coach: You want to fuck later?

Me: Excuse me?

Coach: I said I want to fuck you, you seem like a great girl. Maybe I was mistaken.

Me: What are you, 16?

Coach: I saw you flirting with that British guy over there, I’m not stupid. Should we wait until tomorrow? We can bang on the holy day. As a bonus, I’ll do you with bad teeth and an English accent while drinking a cup of tea if that’s what you like.

Me (confused, wide-eyed, angry): Wow.

Coach: What, you gonna cry? You too uptight? You probably just need to get laid. Come home with me.

Me: For real? Fuck off!

Coach: Don’t get crazy with me. I know how women can be.

I was close to shutting down. I thought for a moment about all the terrible men I have met and how I don’t believe in people anymore, but then I remembered who I am and how I never give up. When I got home, the picture above was posted on Facebook. It reminded me that I am proud to be smart, honest, sensitive, open, loving, a bit quirky, and kind of funny. I will always love and be grateful. Fuck the rest, people.

Don’t fake things. Be yourself. Love others and be unafraid. Accept vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable.

Dear Vodka

16 Apr

Dear Vodka,

After much consideration and very little recollection, I have decided to break up with you.

We fell in love about 2 years ago, when a foot of snow was on the ground and my ex boyfriend had just broken up with me a week before Christmas. The liquor store on my street was open and that’s where we met. Remember that winter? It was fun. My fondest memory was when you made me chase a bunch of children and call them “little shits” after they threw snowballs at me.

You were there for me that day, Vodka, and we’ve been a great team ever since. One time you told me to punch a douche bag who was at the bar. That douche deserved it, and we saved an innocent guy from getting punched. Now that I think about it, that guy owed me a shot of you.

Still, I’m sorry–it’s over. Why? Last weekend alone did me in and I didn’t even throw up, end up in a strange bed, cry or drunk text an ex boyfriend (our most common offense, surely).

 

Don't judge me. You've been here, too.

 

I did, however, fall off a curb in front of a lot of people, I kissed and gave my number to a man who has “pleasure” tattooed on his neck, I braided a woman’s hair and I managed to eat a dog treat. Yes, a fucking dog treat. On Sunday morning, I woke up topless on my kitchen floor with my phone nestled in between my boobs. That was it for me–I knew we had gone too far.

Perhaps it was just because I tried your new peanut butter and jelly flavor, who knows….but really? A mother fucking dog treat? Seriously? A guy with “pleasure” tattooed on his neck? I can do better than this, Vodka. I am a classier gal than this.

I’ll probably be back, but for now I must bid you adieu.

Yours Truly,

Lauren Ann

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