An excerpt from my memoir, the messy backstory of why I am this way, #MOODS, Men, & Mommy Issues.
It was December when I laid eyes on my next, no good, still-living-in-his-parents-house, fitted-cap-wearing, drug dealing, and of questionable ambition, fuccboi.
Had I just listened to my gut a lot of needless drama could have been avoided. Who knows, maybe instead of taking up with that pointy faced, ice blue-eyed and heartless poison pusher I could have spent my time and money pursuing my craft, promoting my website, working on bettering myself and my life.
Lolz, okay.
As fate would have it, I was on my way back to more of the same old stuff; snorting and sexing my way through all of my empty feelings.
When I saw him for the first he was playing darts at the front, on the opposite end of the bar from my POS station. He had pale, lightly freckled skin, and light blue eyes. He had a straight and pointed nose. He wore a nose ring, a tiny stud, and he wore it with confidence.
He had a devilish grin, the kind that alluded to so much, and gave you nothing. When he smiled it was like he was laughing at you and with you at the same time, because he was laughing at what you thought you knew.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He had a dynamic presence. He was below average height for my ideal, maybe 5’10, maybe 5’11. His posture was easily changeable, depending on what he was focused on. His movements were smooth, but not direct. He slithered around the bar like a snake.
I distinctly remember thinking he was trouble, knowing it instantly. I would receive confirmation of that exact idea later, from countless other people who’d known him for years.
That night he’s with a short and busty bright bleached blonde with huge fake lips and pencil perfect thin arched eyebrows, and even though I’m sure they’re together I can’t help how much I want him.
He comes into the bar again another night, and eventually talks to me. His name is Sean, and once we become Facebook friends I find out he’s a Scorpio.
OF COURSE HE IS.
Of course. This explains why I notice him, why I’m so strongly attracted to him, why I can’t resist feeling the undeniable pull inside of me toward what is ultimately just another bad decision disguised as an epic, layered, and symbolic romance.
I can sense whenever he comes into the bar. I can feel him looking at me. I may not yet have learned to stay away from fuccbois, but in my years of screwing around I’ve gained enough experience to know that it’s only a matter of time before that devil mouth is going to be on mine.
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