Eduardo’s.”
Ginger drops off the face of the Earth for two weeks.
Actually, she cuts communication with me specifically.
I try calling her, texting her, emailing her to let her know that it’s okay. I’ll help raise the kid. That’s how much of a fucking sucker I am. Ginger sold me so fucking hard that I’m actually trying to call her to let her know I’ll raise Lester Diamond’s bastard. Thing is, Lester Diamond was back in the picture, had been back for some time. Maybe he never left. I just hadn’t seen him, and I trusted Ginger enough that when she said he was gone, she meant it.
I’m crushed. I’m depressed, stationed on Scooby’s couch trying to make sense of everything. Ginger won’t call me back or acknowledge me. I’m frustrated, and it’s mostly because I don’t know where I stand anymore with her. The not knowing part kills me.
Scooby is no help. He asks me why I can’t just date a normal fat girl with a personality.
I say, “Because I want Sarah. I don’t want anyone else…and I don’t like fat girls.”
The first few days of this is me feeling rejected, bumming around Scooby’s place and not really doing much more than waiting by the phone. The site continues to be managed, but it’s mostly just something to keep me occupied while I wait for Ginger to reach out. I drink, I post, Twitter-stalking Ginger every few minutes to see if she says anything. She knows I’m watching. When a guy texts and calls as much as I have, you know he’s keeping tabs.
Ginger posts a photo of baby clothes.
Lester Diamond is Tweeting shit like: just had the best sex of my life!
And: thanks for the head this morning baby.
He’s saying these things about Ginger, but they’re directed at me.
I’m thinking, What kind of fucking class does this guy have?
Lester Diamond is making shit up, saying the things that he knows will piss me off because I stole his chick for a minute. The fucked-up thing is that it’s working. I am pissed off. So I sink to their level. I play the game back.
Ashley Zarlin is the daughter of one of the chicks from The Real Housewives of Orange County. She’s your classic Newport Beach girl: blonde, wealthy, tan, big tits (real ones), but just a little thick for my tastes. She wasn’t fat, but my version of fat. It didn’t matter though because I was intent on getting back at Ginger. Depression mode had gone out the window right when Lester Diamond starting Tweeting about getting blowjobs and how good he just fucked Ginger. The little prick was rubbing my nose in it—that much was clear, and Ginger had yet to reach out to me or address any of what he was doing.
I had to accept that she was really going to have this baby and that Lester Diamond was in the picture for good. He won. That didn’t change the fact that I was looking for a little payback, so I start having this very public relationship with Ashley, or Z-List 40 as she was known on the site. I’m going to parties with this girl, taking Twitpics, and she’s doing @replies to me saying things like: just hanging out with my new boyfriend! We go out together, party together. I have no real interest in her, on either a physical or personal level. She’s got too many lesbian friends, which kind of weirds me out. Ashley isn’t relationship material, but she’s a pseudo-celeb and someone that can potentially make Ginger jealous, and I’m constantly refreshing both her and Lester Diamond’s Twitter to see if I’ve made any sort of impact.
It works. Ginger goes nuts.
Ginger blows up my phone:
“How the fuck could you cheat on me like this???”
“I can’t believe you betrayed me! Why would you do that?”
“That bitch is a nobody…she’s only with you because she wants to be famous.”
“I hope you like fucking a fatass!”
I don’t respond. I’m laughing my ass off over this, not because of anything Ginger says. It’s because I figured her out. I played her game better than she did. She’s not
Ginger drops off the face of the Earth for two weeks.
Actually, she cuts communication with me specifically.
I try calling her, texting her, emailing her to let her know that it’s okay. I’ll help raise the kid. That’s how much of a fucking sucker I am. Ginger sold me so fucking hard that I’m actually trying to call her to let her know I’ll raise Lester Diamond’s bastard. Thing is, Lester Diamond was back in the picture, had been back for some time. Maybe he never left. I just hadn’t seen him, and I trusted Ginger enough that when she said he was gone, she meant it.
I’m crushed. I’m depressed, stationed on Scooby’s couch trying to make sense of everything. Ginger won’t call me back or acknowledge me. I’m frustrated, and it’s mostly because I don’t know where I stand anymore with her. The not knowing part kills me.
Scooby is no help. He asks me why I can’t just date a normal fat girl with a personality.
I say, “Because I want Sarah. I don’t want anyone else…and I don’t like fat girls.”
The first few days of this is me feeling rejected, bumming around Scooby’s place and not really doing much more than waiting by the phone. The site continues to be managed, but it’s mostly just something to keep me occupied while I wait for Ginger to reach out. I drink, I post, Twitter-stalking Ginger every few minutes to see if she says anything. She knows I’m watching. When a guy texts and calls as much as I have, you know he’s keeping tabs.
Ginger posts a photo of baby clothes.
Lester Diamond is Tweeting shit like: just had the best sex of my life!
And: thanks for the head this morning baby.
He’s saying these things about Ginger, but they’re directed at me.
I’m thinking, What kind of fucking class does this guy have?
Lester Diamond is making shit up, saying the things that he knows will piss me off because I stole his chick for a minute. The fucked-up thing is that it’s working. I am pissed off. So I sink to their level. I play the game back.
Ashley Zarlin is the daughter of one of the chicks from The Real Housewives of Orange County. She’s your classic Newport Beach girl: blonde, wealthy, tan, big tits (real ones), but just a little thick for my tastes. She wasn’t fat, but my version of fat. It didn’t matter though because I was intent on getting back at Ginger. Depression mode had gone out the window right when Lester Diamond starting Tweeting about getting blowjobs and how good he just fucked Ginger. The little prick was rubbing my nose in it—that much was clear, and Ginger had yet to reach out to me or address any of what he was doing.
I had to accept that she was really going to have this baby and that Lester Diamond was in the picture for good. He won. That didn’t change the fact that I was looking for a little payback, so I start having this very public relationship with Ashley, or Z-List 40 as she was known on the site. I’m going to parties with this girl, taking Twitpics, and she’s doing @replies to me saying things like: just hanging out with my new boyfriend! We go out together, party together. I have no real interest in her, on either a physical or personal level. She’s got too many lesbian friends, which kind of weirds me out. Ashley isn’t relationship material, but she’s a pseudo-celeb and someone that can potentially make Ginger jealous, and I’m constantly refreshing both her and Lester Diamond’s Twitter to see if I’ve made any sort of impact.
It works. Ginger goes nuts.
Ginger blows up my phone:
“How the fuck could you cheat on me like this???”
“I can’t believe you betrayed me! Why would you do that?”
“That bitch is a nobody…she’s only with you because she wants to be famous.”
“I hope you like fucking a fatass!”
I don’t respond. I’m laughing my ass off over this, not because of anything Ginger says. It’s because I figured her out. I played her game better than she did. She’s not
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