Easy like Sunday morning

Easy like Sunday morning


Per usual, I rolled over this AM and with half opened eyes reached for my phone. As I typed in my password to unlock my life support I would soon realize that I was not mentally prepared for the words that were waiting for me. Two unread text messages. One begging for regret and the other one dripping in it. The first text was from an ex (caution: term used lightly, I just don’t know exactly what to call a guy who I consecutively spent time with before he fell into a black hole for no rhyme or reason …..#hesjustnotthatintoyouChelsea) in a few short backhanded words he was reaching out in hopes of getting some late night action. The other was a 911 call request from my best friend who wasn't sure what was going to ruin her Sunday more: the moral hangover or the alcohol hangover.I simultaneously paced around my room dialing her number. Before the word “hey” rolled off her tongue I began to word vomit 101 questions and a rough 102 comments. “Why does he think he can just text me that?”

“What a dick.”

“Instead of asking me ‘what am I doing’ at 1:20AM I would rather him just get straight to the point”

“Do you think he was drunk?”

“He had to be drunk.”

“I mean, he clearly just wanted to sleep with me, right?”

“Or maybe he misses me.”

“Do I text him back?”

“I’m not going to text him back.”

“Were his fingers broken three days ago when I asked if he wanted to go to a movie?”

“How about if I just send him a sassy text back.”

“Gosh I swoon for his name.”

"A movie was a dumb idea."

“This is so stupid.”

“You know this isn’t the first time he has done this, right?”

The sound of her exhale instantly snapped me back to reality and I felt like an ass for not even asking if she was ok. “Shit M, I’m sorry. I’m done talking. Tell me everything that happened.” 5 minutes later I was brought up to speed and the only advice that I could give her was to order a pizza, vow to never drink margaritas with him again and to stand in the shower praying and wishing and hoping that those water drops would wash away the touch, the feelings, and the thoughts. Call me crazy but carbs and tricking yourself that your sins are twirling down the drain is the go to cure for the morning after. Between the thoughts that had run through my mind and the words that had flowed through my ears I felt like I needed to attend Sunday service but instead I painted on my lipstick and be-bopped around town. Mid sip of my Moroccan mint tea I laughed out loud. I had spent my morning dissecting a “hey what are you doing” text message as if life answers were encrypted and my girlfriend was across the country checking off her 4th shower of the day. Why we play these games with ourselves only God knows but for the sake of my sanity I am going to file this under the “this is what your twenties are about” category.

Sparkle Heart

Sparkle Heart