Quarter Life Quest

By Hailey Lake

Arising out of the weathered sands on the Oregon coast Quarter Life Quest takes you on a journey from murder and despair to redemption and hope. An intricately woven collection of true events are told in a voice rarely expressed in modern literature, that of a single mother. By the light of day Hailey works and raises two small children. By night she is entangled in a heated romance, all while struggling in the raw aftermath of her murdered best friend. Hailey is on a quest for justice while also hoping to gain the self-confidence to pursue her dreams.

Join Hailey to complete her first new year’s resolution in thirty three years. Frustrated with her stalled life Hailey decides it is time to tackle her dream of becoming an author, so she commits to writing each day for an entire year. Open her journal and be transported by intimate thoughts as she attends a murder trial, travels to Costa Rica and swims with wild dolphins.

Hailey and Josephine were assigned roommates in college who became inseparable best friends. Like a double cherry attached to one stem they thrived in each other’s presence. What they didn’t expect was once their paths separated they would begin to shrivel. Over a seven year period Hailey watches Josephine’s esteem being shaved away by her boyfriend and then husband of five short months. The abuse like a chronic illness wears Josephine down until her husband plots her demise for a million dollar insurance policy.

When Hailey receives a letter stating that Josephine was killed in a tragic accident she immediately knows it was murder. Only one month prior to this death notice Hailey got divorced, her father, grandmother and beloved cat all died. She is caught in a tsunami of tragedy that is threatening to drown her. The drive to expose Josephine’s killer and prove that life can be joyous spurs Hailey to write and transform this dark period. When an unexpected opportunity to swim with wild dolphins arises Hailey jumps at the chance to fulfill a lifelong desire. Days before she departs Josephine’s mother informs her that it was also Josephine’s childhood dream to swim with dolphins. Despite horrific odds this quest will having you laughing, crying and embracing why you are alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781648016189

Book preview

cover.jpg

Quarter Life Quest

Hailey Lake

Copyright © 2020 Hailey Lake

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-64801-617-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64801-618-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

To Lilliana and London, may you know the steady joy your bright eyes and smiles create.

Not till we have lost the world do we begin to find ourselves.

—Henry David Thoreau

2011

June

6/20/11

The problem with me is that I start strong and don’t finish. I can’t even say it’s a weak finish, because usually, I manage to distract myself with another completely different project. I have wanted to write a book for ten years, and yet here I sit scribbling on a pink steno pad, not thumbing through a published novel. Are we talking about a severe case of writer’s block? I’m not even sure that exists. I once had a teacher who said someone in California invented it. It’s not like accountants get accounting block. For me, I think it’s failure’s block. I have plenty to write about, will write for months on end, and then not pull it together. The funny thing is most people probably view me as somewhat of an overachiever, someone who usually follows through. This isn’t true. Looking back, I realized I only completed what I was essentially forced to do. Graduating from high school and college weren’t an option, so I tried my best and ended up at the top of my class. I was still only mildly convinced of my worth. Not trying for medical school because I truly felt I wasn’t smart enough. Then I would have the fear that maybe I could pass medical school, but what about the boards? How horrible a fate to be saddled with huge amounts of debt and not be able to practice! Then my ineptitude would be broadcast to all. So, like many lost people, I applied to law school. I didn’t want to be a lawyer and found the environment detestable to say the least. Not surprisingly, I dropped out to the disappointment of my attorney brother. I applied to law schools again, later, but never with conviction. When I found out I was pregnant while enrolled at law school number two, the morning sickness provided the perfect opportunity to take another path and leave law and rules behind. What a relief.

I convinced myself that if I dedicated as much time to art or writing as if I was in law school that it would manifest great career results. I even believed the old adage Do what you love and success will follow. Yet here we are ten years later. I’m divorced with two lovely children in a job that pays the bills. We enjoy the garden, cooking, and our kitten Greylee. I remind myself that compared to the majority of the world, it’s a nice life. We are healthy, mostly happy, get to travel and do artwork. I spend plenty of time with the kids while also working to support our family.

So, why is there a nagging voice as I watch another cooking show on OPB? Hailey, you need to write. Lucas is taking a nap. Livia is at her dad’s…take this opportunity to write. Instead, I walk to the kitchen and make an indoor smore. Roast the marshmallow with a stick I found on the ground in my backyard. Turn the front left burner on high, rotating slowly ’til the smoke begins to rise. Perfect golden brown, and the kitchen smells like camping. Smoosh the crusty marshmallow between the set-up halves of graham crackers and three squares of Hershey’s chocolate. I return to the warm spot in the middle of the couch and decide to come up with a plan. I must force myself to write, make it a requirement like graduating from high school. I think, Well, if I write one page a day for a year…holy shit, that is almost a book. Now I must make myself not skip ahead and worry about editing, titles, and God forbid publishing. One thing at a time, write one page a day. Date the pages to make yourself accountable, starting tomorrow, Monday. Here goes attempting to begin my new year’s resolution that has been dormant for six months.

Things that make me want to cry. Let’s discuss this topic. Right now, I want to cry because I miss my six-year-old daughter who is spending two weeks at her dad’s house because it is summer. Two weeks is a long time for us, the longest since she was born and could fit from the palm of my hand to the crook of my elbow. Wrapped in the pink hospital blanket with only her head showing, she looked like a pink jelly bean. So sweet and tiny that is why I call her Livy bean. In my mind, I tell myself it will be a nice break with only one child to look after. No matter how much I try to persuade myself after about twelve hours, it begins. I think I hear her laughing or instinctively go to check on her, but she isn’t playing in her room or coloring with her brother. Since it is 11:00 a.m., she is at day care, and someone else is watching her, so I can’t call and talk with her. Hopefully she will be home around 6:00 p.m., and I will get a peek into her day and be able to say I love you. The love you feel for them and missing them doesn’t get any easier. I thought that maybe as the years passed, I would adjust to her visiting her dad, but the sadness still creeps in unexpectedly and triggers tears while I drink a cup of jasmine tea. The funny thing is after I gave birth to her, I felt like I had had her all along, like she was always a part of me. She saw all of my memories and just finally came to the world to share it with me. Couldn’t fully explain how her life changed everything in mine. Even my perspective on my past was altered. It was like my whole life I was waiting for her to be born. The same was true for my son. We are all connected together, so when one part leaves, even for the weekend or two weeks, it feels like you lost a limb. I don’t rest as well or enjoy the strawberries and ice cream as much because it feels like I’m betraying her by not sharing these treats. Little pangs of guilt for the movie she won’t get to watch while she is away. This makes me sad because rationally, I know it is good for her to spend quality time with her dad and other relatives. I want her to know and love them. Yet, even wanting that for her doesn’t take away the lump in my throat. Must write these one at a time, or I will get a headache. Tomorrow’s topic will be Josephine and planning for the trip to attend her murder trial.

Josephine

I could hear the light and joy in her voice the first time we spoke long distance over the phone. It was a call from my soon-to-be college roommate in Virginia, all the way across the United States from where I sat in the kitchen of my parents’ home on the Oregon coast. As she spoke, I smiled and began to like her right away. Her beauty poured over the phone lines, and I knew we would be good friends.

Hi. This is Josephine, your roommate for college.

Oh, hi, I responded.

My mom wanted me to call and say hello before we met.

Oh, cool, I’m Hailey.

She sweetly laughs. Yeah, I know my mom can’t believe you are coming to Hollins from Oregon!

Yeah, I am really excited to visit the East Coast.

Josephine says, Well, I’ve moved around a lot, and you can stay and visit with us when you are in Virginia.

That would be great, I respond.

She says, I read your profile, and I wonder how we got hooked up as roommates. She laughs.

I did not want to fill that out, I say.

I know, me neither. What did you put?

Shaking my head and thinking, I respond, I can’t remember.

So, what are you like? I ask. Josephine replies that she has a younger sister, Laurel, and her parents are Hannah and Shane. She says that I actually remind her of her sister. Oh, really? I say.

And she laughs and says, Oh, great, I’m moving in with Laurel. Laurel or her mom laugh in the background. My mom is smiling at me, and she can tell that I like my new roommate. I ask her if she wants a refrigerator for our room, and she thinks about it and says, Yeah, I don’t know. I reply that I was just wondering because I had read that we could rent one, but it might be cheaper to just buy one and keep it all four years. Yeah, I’ll think about that and let you know, she says. She asks what I am going to bring to school.

Um, I don’t know…clothes, I guess. I just have a suitcase, so not much. She answers that she has a TV, VCR, and computer so not to bring anything like that. Sweet, I am thinking.

We are just about to hang up, and she says, Oh, I just remembered I have a fridge. What? I have a refrigerator.

I am momentarily caught off guard and say, Oh, cool. Can’t wait to meet you. ’Bye. Shaking my head, she cracks me up, and I do a silent prayer thanking the universe for giving me a cool roommate.

6/21/11

I don’t want to write about more things that make me cry because I am already hungry, and that will just put me in a bad mood. I’m steeping jasmine tea to tide my hunger over ’til 10:00 a.m. when this small neighborhood restaurant opens. It is a community café that makes two meals a day for $1.50 each. Some were skeptical that it would bring in bad clientele, but if anything, it has diverted the homeless to a good clean location. Their mission is to provide healthy home-cooked meals to all. I like their food; they are two doors down, and I tip extra to support the cause. The staff consists of volunteers, one of which is my neighbor. This is a big step because I usually don’t eat out to save money. Occasionally, I will take my daughter out to her favorite restaurant for one-on-one time, and then we walk on the boardwalk or visit the farmer’s market. Ironically, I really love food, and good food at that, but I cook at home so we can eat really well. I’m the type of mom who shops all the grocery sales and gets excited when pork tenderloin is $5. Who wouldn’t buy two? That is just a great deal and makes a delicious meal. Whenever we have it, my son asks for more chicken please. This shopping mentality allows us to eat mostly organic meats, fruits, and vegetables. We make pretty much everything from scratch, which has actually been very enjoyable to learn and do together. Yes, I have completely turned into my mother. God help us all.

Okay, so one thing that makes me secretly happy is that my daughter who is six by the way just got a cell phone. After I ranted on about not getting her one, she is too young, not responsible enough, etc., her father gave her one at his house. It is out of my control. Today is the first time she texted me, and I have to confess that I felt so connected to her and proud that she could write her words. Here is our conversation: I sent her a picture of a huge banana slug on the toilet this morning. She wrote cool then cool Mom. I said, I love you, good job texting. She replied, I love you too. I texted, I’m going to pick up the papers for the reading program at the library today, so let me know when you read a book so I can write it down. She texted, you are the best. Now any mom will tell you that just makes your heart sing. We have a funny banter back and forth, and I feel like we are in our own warm cocoon, a separate world where just she and I communicate.

6/22/11

I’ve finally checked enough things off my to-do list that I feel I can sit down and do a little writing. Today is a very exciting day because I booked tickets for my friend and myself to go to Costa Rica! We have both independently wanted to go for years. She actually filled out her passport papers with Costa Rica as her destination and dated it September 2011. It was destiny when we would reconnect and decide to make the journey in September 2011. We met working one summer at a ranch in Wyoming. We were children’s counselors and had a lot in common. Painting, hiking, traveling, we just clicked on a lot of different levels. Over the years and through a marriage and divorce for each of us and finishing school and chiropractic college for her and moves through various states, we had lost touch. Last December, I got a mass e-mail Christmas card with a photo of her and her two dogs, Violet and Zander. With the updated address, I contacted her, and we gradually reconnected, as much as two busy people can.

When we spoke on the phone, it was as if no time had passed at all, and I saw her face smiling on horseback in the sunshine of Wyoming, and love pulsed through me. It only took a single phone call, and the memories flooded in of us driving in the old brown, beat-up pick-up truck with two gas tanks. I remember being envious and yet proud of her power and skill as she drove a tractor. She frequently voiced her desire to be a chiropractor even back then, and I knew deep down that she would achieve it. Yet she was so much more than her desired occupation; she was open and free and just plain happy. I wanted to be in her presence. Together we tracked wild horses, painted aspen trees, fished in a small boat, and cooked green beans and chicken, which was all that we knew how to in that old trailer filled with her dead grandmother’s life. We laughed and shared our ideas endlessly while devouring huge ice cream sundaes at The Sugar Bowl where the outdoor sign boasts We just look expensive. She painted me a turquoise star with the words Cowgirls are forever, and to this day, it sits in the kitchen window above the sink where I see it every day as I hand-wash the dishes.

Some people pull you to them. I knew she was special from the moment we met. She’s one of those renaissance women who is great at everything and beautiful and, to top it all off, kind. Tonight, she revealed that in her practice, she feels people runs her hands over them when she experiences a zap like an electric shock or stinging jolt she stops. This is the spot that needs to be focused on, and she trusts herself to clear and heal.

I imagine an overgrown forest. The tree limbs droop heavily laden with green tangles of moss, the needles are dry and brittle. Boll weevils have gnawed holes into and through the bark; it is disease-ridden. The sun barely touches the top of the canopy. Poisonous mushrooms clump together while hikers climb over large logs that block their path. This is not a place to stop and have lunch or even to take a sip of water. The hikers hurry on toward the waterfall as pebbles shift underneath their steps. August touches this spot and zap. She leans in and adjusts as if she is looking over the horizon like a snow glove from above. The trees are thinned out with the shaking of the ground; the moss now blows in the breeze that hasn’t flowed freshly in years. The stagnant air evaporates as the sun reaches the floor and warms the rocks. The decomposing log finally collapses inside itself as a tiny wildflower blooms. A lizard turns his head and rotates his eye. A butterfly flutters in front of the hikers for a full minute. It stops and sips nectar from a purple thistle long enough for the woman hiker to get out her manual camera, adjust the lens, and click.

She is in touch with greatness, her body a vessel that the universe works through. Why doesn’t this happen to everyone? She is open to life’s possibilities, its vibrations and to the ultimate goodness of its people and this finite earth. August knows for sure that she can clear people’s path and help them to connect to the world in a positive manner. She is able to show them what has ultimately been inside their body—all the answers all along.

Out of the blue, I got a wild hair to go abroad as it has been eight years since I left the country. Gasp. When I was younger and brighter eyed and bushy tailed, it was my goal to go abroad at least once a year. Well as anyone with small children knows or who isn’t working, that is much easier said than done. My daughter and son are now old enough to stay with their grandmother for a week. How crazy that I get to experience Costa Rica with and old friend! Yay, yay, yay! I want to use one hundred exclamation points.

It isn’t like we are trekking around for a month and will probably do pretty touristy things, but hey, to me, it is a big deal. I have always wanted to walk through the rainforest and swim in a Costa Rican waterfall, visit a coffee plantation, and immerse myself in the natural beauty and serenity of this unique environment. One of my greatest joys in life is realizing dreams come true and getting to see something firsthand that I have only read about and imagined. A few hours ago, I was dancing around and doing leaps through the air. The pure joy of anticipation!

6/23/11

How easily my carefree self of yesterday on my Costa Rica high can slip to uneasy, sweaty feet and a lump in my stomach. Deep breath, and just try to relax. I’m not sure what I am angrier at—myself or the decision I am trying to make. Just when I thought I had put something behind me, a little e-mail with an article reared its ugly head. I have deleted this entry as I’m trying to remain positive.

6/24/11

I am finding that it is difficult but not impossible to carve this writing time out of each day. It really means making it a priority and part of my routine. I like to think of it as my job, and I have a responsibility to stick with it. Somehow the day gets filled with appointments, work, running errands, cooking meals, cleaning up, hanging out with the kids in between, and then when I get a moment to myself, I go to the back door and sit outside on the concrete step in the sunlight for five minutes alone. My feet soak up the warmth from the sidewalk, and I close my eyes. Smiling, I think it is funny that I don’t walk the five feet to sit in patio chairs, but they are in the shade. Right now, I need the warmth of the sun’s rays. Then my two-year-old son calls, Mom, Mommy, from inside the door. I open it slowly and say, Beep, beep, so it doesn’t bump into him. I want to do garden, he says. Grinning, I hold out my pointer finger for him to grasp with his entire tiny hand, and we walk outside and slowly water all the vegetables, plants, and trees. When we finish, he says, I want to do birdbath. So we totter over to the birdbath where he happily splashes in the cool water I pour in. When he is tired and wet from splashing, he says, I want to do trampoline, and we totter over to the blue tramp where he sits down on the pad for me to slide off his shoes. As soon as the second one is off, he is up and bouncing away. Mom, watch this. Ribbit, Ribbit, I do bunny. Up and down, he bounces, round and round. Tweak, tweak. The springs on the trampoline barely make a creek; he is so light. Occasionally he stops to show me a bird or point out an airplane in the sky. Eventually, he begins to tire and says take a rest. Kissing his forehead, I carry him inside and give him his juice. He sits so sweetly and sips his drink with pride. This is our summer afternoon routine.

As I looked out the back window this morning at 5:30 a.m., I noticed something was out of place. I pulled on my gray plaid rain boots, unlocked the door, and headed outside in the dark to investigate. The top of the clay birdbath was lying on the grass. It was broken in two large pieces. I tried to put it back together to no avail. While loading the pieces into my trunk, I flicked a slug off the base. At the store when I went to exchange it, the clerk suggested I try to glue it. Was she crazy? A little glue wasn’t going to fix this. Plus, there is no way I would risk the top falling off and smashing my kid’s toes upon landing. They were sold out, so I got my cash back and am bummed that this afternoon, I will have to try to explain to my twenty-five-month-old son why the birdbath is gone. I’ll let you know how he takes it.

6/25/11: Look of Pity (Back Fill)

Waiting at my daughter’s school today for 11:20 a.m. when the morning kindergarten class will then walk in a semblance of a line to their next destination. For some, a grandparent, mother, or father waits. Others follow the line leader past us and outside the heavy metal doors to the yellow buses in a row, as if a toddler lined them up, one in front of the other. The kids on the bus are either taken home or straight to the nearest day care.

As I sit on the wooden bench closest to the door of her classroom, a mother I know walks down the hall toward me. We greet each other, and she sits facing me ready for a conversation. What time do they get out? she asks.

I answer, At 11:20, I know it is a weird time.

Isn’t this their classroom? Without pausing, she continues, Why aren’t they in it? I explain that they are down the hall at the computer lab. This is their teacher’s lunch break, and that is why the room is empty. She tells me the bridge is closed, so she is picking her daughter up today. Usually her daughter takes the bus to day care.

I explain that I am on my morning break from work and that I do this each week day. From school, I take my daughter to her grandmother’s, and then I go back to work. She tilts her head and looks at me with pity in her big blue eyes, outlined in light-brown eyeliner. Her husband is a doctor, and our daughters have grown up in an unusual circumstance. My mother met her at ballet and cared for her daughter as a baby and two years later watched her son when he was born. Following my divorce, I moved back to town, and when I began to work, my mother cared for my daughter also. So, they became friends. Yet we never had play dates, but they were together often, and as the years passed, they took the same ballet class and this year entered kindergarten together.

Her mother’s head tilts again, and she half smiles, her teeth are so white and straight. Then she says, I feel so bad for you being single, followed by something to the effect of it must be so hard for you with both of them. I smile at her, and before I can reply, she says, But you always look so happy when I see you, and you have the best attitude. Like I am some sort of invalid. I tell her that I have a really nice work-life balance. That I enjoy my me time at work and my home time with the kids. I actually find it easier and more freeing to live without a husband. I like myself and get to do all the gardening and art projects I want without feeling guilty or selfish that I am obligated to take care of another adult. We are able to eat all of our meals together, and that is important to me. We talk about how nice it is to have my mom in town. I couldn’t do it without her, I say and mean it. She drives my daughter to ballet and piano lessons and just loves the kids as a grandmother does.

Sometimes I wish I could just touch these people for a moment and give them a glimpse into our lives. Laughing and playing in the sand at the beach yesterday, my daughter wore a swimsuit in April on the Oregon coast. God, kids are great. Tilling and plowing and planting our garden, my daughter loves to pull out the biggest and fattest worms and play with them as my son toddles around the yard and jumps ever so often, proud of his skills. Yesterday he said, Watch this, for the first time as he jumped off his soft lamb chair and landed on his two feet. His face lit up with joy. Making homemade pizza for lunch together today and stretching the dough with our floured hands, the kids splashing in the bathtub and singing to themselves, and sweetly going to bed and to sleep when I close their door at night. My son was born on Mother’s Day, and my daughter on a Tuesday, the day of grace. They are my living dreams, and we are just happy people. So, it takes my breath away and leaves me momentarily speechless when people actually take the time to express their sorrow for me and our family.

I want to hold their hands and let them know that although I do not have a husband, we live a full and grateful life. There isn’t a void we are trying to fill. I am happier now than I have ever been. Each year just keeps getting better. I experience setbacks like anyone else; they just don’t keep me down for long.

This morning, the toilet overflowed, and I shoved my right arm in the bowl and pulled the clog up as water gushed out the bowl and filled the bathroom and then the hallway and kitchen floor. There was no time to grab a plunger. As I pulled towels off the rack and began to soak up the gallons of water, I just shook my head and smiled. It was hilarious. My socks and pants and one sleeve were soaked. Three bath towels later, I had cleaned up the mess. Gosh, my floors really glistened. By the grace of God, the kids didn’t wake ’til I had my morning cup of tea and my son’s bottle ready.

It wasn’t just this mom as you can imagine in my small town. So, for all of you out there with your stares of pity, please turn away, look in the mirror, and focus on you.

6/27/11

I really had great intentions of writing this weekend. Yet only a sleepy page was completed. Good in one sense that I actually have a fun life but bad in that…never mind. I have a slight headache that I am hoping will go away after my morning cup of hot chocolate followed by tea an hour or so later. The sugar and small amount of caffeine should help.

So, I’m sleeping with this guy that I met in my building at work. Just so you don’t imagine a large building with windows and elevators like in New York or Washington, DC, I will tell you this is a small mini mall, which really in itself is an exaggeration. When you think mini mall, it usually entails many stores or businesses and at least one major name brand or recognizable entity. This building inside the center where I’m located has four dinky office spaces. One is occupied by the owner of the building who does construction. My office is across the hall, and across from me to my right is an architect. The upstairs office is vacant. The vacant office used to be an accountant’s office. Hence, the guy I am sleeping with. I refer to him as the cute accountant upstairs to my family and friends. He is friendly and older by eight years, I think. Blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, really nice body and arms, and a good set of white, straight teeth which is a total must. The accountant part is redeemable, because he surfs, has tattoos, and isn’t a total hard ass or conservative. I’m not sure how long he was in the building because he purchased another practice and moved locations, maybe a year or so. It was after I had Lucas and was back from maternity leave. He never knew me pregnant but always knew I had two kids.

For months, we barely said hello or passed in the hallway. One day, the owner of the building, the hot accountant, and I all found ourselves in the tiny back staircase at the same time. The owner introduced me to him, and into his office he went and out the door of the building I exited, not thinking much of it. One day I had a meeting to attend, and the mailman hadn’t arrived yet, so I asked if he could put my mail out. He engaged me in a brief conversation, and I was off again to another meeting. Slowly over time we began to chat here and there. I don’t remember when, but we began to have a cup of tea together. I loved tea time and sometimes wish we could go back to those long conversations.

During this time, I got interested in investing and the stock market. I had done all of my research, followed Suze Orman’s advice from an Oprah episode, but reading and watching Oprah don’t equal experience. So, I began to ask him for advice, not advice per say but information on investing and what certain terms meant. I trusted him.

6/28/11

I go back and forth on if I am making the wrong decision. Is this just going to end on a bad note? Was it all a waste of time? The other half of me actually likes him and those blue eyes and smile. The warmth from his strong arms and body makes me melt. I enjoy his company and dry sense of humor. For now, we only see each other after the kids have gone to sleep. We have tea or dinner and hang out. It is sporadic to say the least. He just got out of a relationship, and I haven’t been in one for a few years, so it is a little difficult to bridge the gap. Trying to understand his perspective makes me want to pull my hair out. Must admit, I do like our semblance of a relationship and realize that if he was calling me every day or over the top affectionate, I would most definitely tune him out and end it.

So, I’m trying to just go with the flow, which by the way is way harder than it seems. I’m used to guys falling for me right away, flowers, gifts, professing love in the first year. He is so reserved and almost off limits. Maybe that is a red flag. It is hard to keep a clear perspective. Getting to know him at work and talking with him, I liked and trusted him. Throw sex in the mix, and it just confuses the hell out of people. Well, probably just me or women. His guy brain hasn’t given it a second thought unless you count I want more sex as a thought. Patience is a lesson I still have to learn.

One more thing, what is so wrong with the booty call? I keep making myself feel bad that we are having sex. Yet at the same time I piss myself off because really what is wrong with two adults sleeping together? We are using protection and like each other, so why is there so much stigma attached to it? Is it because we aren’t playing the traditional boyfriend-girlfriend roles? What about the need for a physical relationship? This is part of what I miss and need. He provides me with that. So, go, hippies?

6/29/11

Let’s be honest, the problem with the booty call is inevitably I get attached and want more of the regular relationship part. Then I get disappointed when the other person doesn’t reciprocate, and yet I knew all along that this was how they felt. Or frankly didn’t feel about me. Here are all the red flags. (I am embarrassed to write them because it confirms what an idiot I am and how clear it is that he is an ass.) One, he jokingly mentioned some interest in a threesome, two he hasn’t invited me to his apartment, three, the biggest of them all, the nail in the coffin is that he cheated on his previous girlfriend. Now everyone knows that if someone is willing to cheat, they will always cheat. This is a pattern for them, the way they operate. So, so much for going with the flow. I just don’t know how to react to this type of situation. You will be proud to know I deleted all his texts last night. See…this is progress.

If I were my friend, I would say, This guy is just an ass that wants ass. He is not worth your time. The me that I am still has a grain of hope that he will pull his shit together, realize what a great person I am and make an effort. I give him too much credit as the person I knew him to be before we got tangled up in sex. He says things like I just complicated my life. Well, there are two people here, and you aren’t the only one who just complicated your life. Things were going fine before you came into mine. I was content with the way things were going. Men didn’t cross my mind. Now I have to admit to myself that even if you aren’t right for me, I do still have the desire to be in a relationship. I’ve been so used to facing things alone for so long that I forgot what it was like to anticipate being in someone’s presence. I’m shaving my legs, painting my toenails, putting on a cute outfit, just in case he comes over. All of that is going to stop. It’s the waiting, waiting, waiting I can’t stand. Waiting for a call or a text or a sign.

This is bullshit. I am going back to my regular life of doing whatever I want and not considering what this other person might be doing or what their needs are. Oprah says if a person doesn’t want to be in your life, then let them go. When someone tells you who they are, then believe them. Once he said that he was difficult to get to know. You think? I believe you, and now I am walking away.

6/30/11

I