Lately I’ve been picking on my boyfriend for not being more like Edward Cullen. If you don’t know who Edward is, let me explain… He’s a vampire. That’s right - a fictional character from the Twilight saga - a book series for teenage girls. Teenagers.
I’m not embarrassed to admit that I dream about Edward taking me away to some desolate bat cave for a good old fashioned throw down... He’s so romantic - he’s the type of guy, or vampire, who’d sacrifice his life for his girl. That’s pretty friggin’ cool. Although, he’s a vampire, so that I’m not sure how that works. Still, he’d go to the ends of the earth to make his woman happy. So, I ask why Peter? Why can’t you be more like Edward?
"I’m not feeling a connection,” I tell Peter, as I frantically type away on my laptop.
“What? Is the internet down?” He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Come on. I’m being serious. We seem disconnected.”
“This again?” He stands up when he talks to me, I think it’s so he can see over my laptop screen.
“I’m just sayin’, I want to be swept off of my feet.” I mean this in the literal sense. I want him to pick me up and carry me around the apartment.
“Are you still reading that damn Twilight series?” He never curses. So I know he’s pissed.
“I’m on the last book.” I send the email and start on another one. It’s constant work trying to get people to love me.
“You’ve been on the computer for 3 hours. We’re late.” He walks outside.
“Wait. Can we please talk about this?” I follow him carrying my laptop.
“Put the laptop down. Let’s go.” He heads to the car.
“Alright! But we’re talking about this in the car.”
“You bet.” This is his answer for everything.
And I mean, everything…
‘can you take me somewhere really cool this weekend?’
‘will you pick up some toothpaste?’
‘is my new song any good?’
“did you like my last blog?”
‘I know you love me, but are you IN love with me?’
How can I argue with ‘you bet’?
He gives me nothing to go on.
Sometimes I wonder why, or how, he is still with me. I’m not high maintenance, but I’m definitely an attention whore who requires constant recognition and adornment. Most of my exes clued into this bullshit within the first year and got the hell out. Is it my fault that weirdness always ensued after they left? No. The answer is a resounding no. Well, that’s not entirely true. I think Peter might be afraid to break up with me because he doesn’t want to suffer my aftermath.
Things like me ‘friending’ my ex-husband on myspace and making sure he reviewed every scathing blog I wrote about him... “Yep. Saw that one. Seems like you’re, uh, healing?” Then I’d de-friend him, for the hundredth time.
On a side note, ‘de-friending’ in the social media realm is a lot of fun. I get a surge of power when I delete an asshole from my friend list. Call it passive aggressive. I call it fucking cool. Seriously though, if you pull that shit on me, I will hunt your ass down and make you write a ten-point argument on why you removed me from your list.
Where the hell was I going with this? Oh yeah, the aftermath...
My favorite ex-boyfriend ended up with two restraining orders against him, and my wannabe mobster Italian father flying across the country to 'rip his goddamn lungs out of his cocksuckin’ throat' (is that even possible?).
One dude got a police escort out of the building we both worked in together.
The guy before him ended up moving back to Iran because he was happier THERE.
Another fellow ended up coming out of the closet after dating me.
My high school boyfriend became a male stripper and later got into the porn industry.
Like I said, crazy happens.
So, Peter, if you’re reading this - and I know you are because I make you read everything I write - I’m sorry, in advance, for all of the horrible shit that will happen to you after you dump my ass. Your best bet is locating Edward Cullen and setting us up. I’m pretty sure only a vampire could survive dating me.
Keep writing. It saves lives.