I have been single for almost three years now. My last relationship was a mistake waiting to happen. Truth was, I got into it in an effort to clean up the proverbial mess that had become my life. I remember everything had fallen apart after the breakup of my engagement. My ex didn’t like the puppets, he didn’t like my friends, he didn’t like my family. I just wanted a guy who wanted April for April. Nine times out of ten I would just settle for someone who wasn’t a junkie, who worked part time and who would offer to pay for dinner even if we had to dine and dash. And if they were a junkie I would still settle if they would look alive and wouldn’t nod off in public.
So when I met the most recent ex it was one of those things where he had a job. Well it was better than a job he was a lawyer. We ate out at nice places, we talked about stupid things, and I hated every second of it. He and the truth were estranged as he tried to impress his stupid trust fund friends. I was being dishonest too, pretending to be happy. In the end it was for the best. I couldn’t stay loyal to a fake anyway. But for once I wanted something or someone to be mine that was worthwhile, even if it was for a minute.
But the truth is, almost three years later, I sort of like being alone. I don’t want a man, I don’t want a relationship. I like being by myself. At first when I was single again out of a relationship second time around, I wanted to rebound with the cutest guys possible because the ex had been so ugly. He was skinny, balding and had backney. So in order to show everyone how hip I was I ended up going with an Ambercrombie model as well as a former Playgirl model. They were both one shot deals. I tried going back to my unemployed ex cons and such. It just wasn’t the same after having a guy with a job. I wanted to rebound with the Playboys like I had before, enjoying the ride and never having a night alone. I wanted the cute guys to pick me up after my set at the comedy clubs. But then I realized now that I had stopped drinking there was one thing that I failed to realize, cute guys don’t hang out at comedy clubs.
I found myself being pursued by an ex con who quoted the Bible and targeted white women because he felt we were stupid. He said he preferred white women but the truth is a black chick would flatten his ass. He didn’t appeal to me. As a matter of fact he seemed a sad sack of shit who would never stop stinking. Then there was the guy technically still married going through a separation blah blah blah. He obviously still loved his wife. Of course there was the other Playgirl model who was married and didn’t tell me. Then there was the quasi-boyfriend who was too clingy.
Something changed between the ages of twenty five and twenty six though. I can’t quite put my finger on it but it happened around the time my friend Roger died. Roger had been my buddy who had a long history of drug abuse. While not strangling Roger had been a large part of being his friend he always made me laugh. I always wondered what made us connect the way he did, this Cuban ball walking queen that he was. We seemed so different. I think the thing that did connect us was that innately, I identified with his need to look fabulous and the weakness of not being able to say no to the wrong men. Often, Roger would give me shit about my choices when most of the time he didn’t even get the names of his. Needless to say, we would exchange an ironic laugh.
Towards the end of Roger’s life we were not on speaking terms. He made his choices and unfortunately he chose the behavior. Much of it was his unwillingness to get his act together and wanting me to be a party to it. I didn’t find out about his passing until after the burial. When I did I remember just losing my mind. I went on this two week rampage where I went out with three ex cons, one guy who may have been married and a pretty boy who wasn’t sure what team he played for. An old part of me was back and ready to rock, and not in a good way. I figured Roger wouldn’t want me to grieve. He would want me to celebrate his life by living the way he did. Having fun. And Roger would be happy to see me having fun right?
However it didn’t feel as good. Actually it sort of sucked. I felt like trash because I was picking my company directly from the gutter. Then it clicked. Roger would have been pissed to see me carrying on the way I was. This was the behavior that had put him in the ground. Often times he would get pissed when he saw me date the so called “cheeseballs” as he called them claiming despite his homosexuality he could still seduce me and please me in ways they never could. Then the white light moment hit me, just as I had buried Roger it was time to bury that part of my life. More than anything, that’s what he would have wanted.
Suddenly the idiots didn’t look so cute as they talked their idiot talk about being arrested, jobless or whatever. They weren’t worth my time and energy and suddenly I felt okay feeling that. When someone was married I suddenly didn’t want their number or fearlessly told them to fuck off. I didn’t believe a lot of the dick driven jive I heard on the street. That’s all it was, dick driven jive. I saw these losers as what they were, disgusting.
My time out of the dating world was worth it. In Roger’s death I found a new life. I appeared on a reality TV show, did the press tour which included the Today Show, Entertainment Tonight, Inside Edition, Joy Behar, ABC News Now, LAX and several others with my beloved puppet children. I also got fan mail that still amazes me and breaks my heart. Not to mention my pic ended up in the TV Guide. Oh and my pic and story appeared in Chat Magazine in London as well as Gawker here. Not to mention May and I did a dozen or so private events and we were put on the guest lists for several celerity parties. Jenny Krop of the US Women’s Volleyball team took a fan photo with us and May Wilson is still talking about it.
In addition I made lots of new videos and learned how to werq it online. Not to mention I made a killer short film that is being pimped out to festivals. The film was a lot of work to make but it had been forever and a day since I had acted. As a matter of fact it was a surprise I still could even though I went to NYU. I also appeared in a few online commercials. Heck, I was even working as a reenactment actress. From what my mom says I got good face time. The irony of it was I received a lot of air time and don’t even have a TV. Oh and I also got to work with Otto and George, a ventriloquist duo I so admire.
As for my writing, I wrote a book. I found myself revising it and even pitched it a few times this summer. I am currently in talks with someone. I am very excited about my book. I spent all of last summer writing it and now the dream of publishing it is coming to fruition. I have been a writer my entire life and even won a few awards for it as a kid. Somehow, I don’t know why, I just didn’t write a book until now. It was my mom’s idea but my friend Joe Cannava (RIP) pushed me to write. While Joe didn’t call me at two in the morning like Roger, he still made a difference and would always ask me how my book was and told me I should write more. Hell I miss them both.
Oh and I made music for the first time. I befriended Marcus Yi and started recording songs and making videos. Marcus has quickly become one of my favorite new friends I have made this year. Somehow, he always manages to bring out the best in me and knows how to make me look good on camera. He is my one and only techno gay. I don’t know what I would do without him. Not to mention I am doing more song writing and singing. Ironically, I work as a singing telegram person. You would think I would have done that sooner, right?
And then there is YouNow.com. Yes, I am a talking head for the website and love every second of it. I love the friends I have made on there not just because they are so talented but because they always have my back against cyber bullies. I have even a pet city in Italy. I am on younow every day where I rant, freestyle/slam, sing and do routines with my puppet children who are all well rehearsed. I reach large numbers of people and feel good about my work.
As for the standup, I have done a lot less of that this year. Part of it was that after Roger’s death, I felt a sense of purpose and resigned from the club that worked me like a slave as an open mic host and treated me like crap despite the money I made them. I put away some good sets though and got good stage time, but I haven’t chased it like I did years ago. When the doors didn’t open for me the way I wanted I made some peace with that and changed my goals. Sometimes I miss the ideology of the standup dream but other times I know I am farther along because I changed with the tide in my life.
I hadnt had a date for sometime until three weeks ago I was asked out by a well to do and slightly eccentric Jewish man who is old enough to be my grandfather. I went out with him twice and despite what others said he is a cute little guy who makes me laugh and has treated me well. My friends are pushing for me to tap into that pocket, pop that Gucci. Part of me wants to I wont lie. However the other part of me wants to be alone.
Sugar Daddy’s are like Rumplestiltskin. They come to collect eventually or they rub it in and steal your first born. Aside from the steak dinners which I love, I don’t even want a sugar daddy believe it or not. The funny thing is, the potential sugar daddy called me the other day and thought there must be other rich, Jewish guys calling me. I laughed and told him he was the only one I liked calling me which is partially true. However I also wanted to say, “Oh, you think guys who are worthwhile with jobs are attracted to me. Oh you are so cute.” I laughed, gave some line about getting back to him at some point, and hung up the phone. Maybe I will, maybe I wont. But I went out the other night with him and his friends and had steak. What irked me was he had all these questions about the money I made and stuff. It was one of three things. Either one, he was offering to be my sugar daddy. Two, he was asking me for money because he had foolishly lost his and this would be the case knowing my shit luck. Three, he was scoping out whether or not to see if I was a gold digger.
I overheard Sugar Daddy talking to his limo driver about whether or not I was an advantageous gold digger. I wanted to laugh telling him not to flatter himself. I don’t need a man to pay my rent let alone give me validation. I also wanted to tell him to go find one of those Jewish broads he always complains about and go broke over her ass. That’s when I realized I still didn’t want anyone around. I like being by myself.
Today I spoke to my mom in my apartment where I live by myself on the phone. I walked around in my underwear. I went to my fave Ethopian joint on my own, ate and then got home after picking up some money for a gig I did. I thought Sugar Daddy can go choke on his steak dinner with his dentures. I should have been a gold digger. That chauvinist could have choked on his old dick driven agenda. I don’t need him or any man to lord his will power and money over me because I supposedly owe him something. Besides, there would be no angry girl slams or no slams at all because happy girls don’t do slam poetry. Plus Sugar Daddy was a slight homophone. That’s going to be a big problem with my group of friends.
Yes my gay friends who are better than boyfriends and love me regardless. Plus I was kicking ass with and without this potential Sugar Daddy. As I look at myself I feel fine. I am rocking and rolling, working on the entourage that the Joe and Roger would not only want me to have but to be a part of in spirit. I am self reliant which makes me a survivor, a success and beautiful. I don’t need a man to validate me but rather fall at my feet. Call me whatever you want but I am married to my career.
And yes, I am okay. I can make it on my own. I have been for sometime thank you very much. xo