Saturday, October 25, 2014

Damaged and Proud

I recently released a country single called “Hell No, Joe.” It was written when I was at the end of my rope. Yes, with men and all they entail. It’s something about being lied to one too many times that finally makes a New Yorker write a country song. Sure, there are women who go home and cry after being lied to. I don’t take it lying down. I get even in a way that benefits me and makes them look like the losers they are.

At 20, I had my heart broken by an older man who didn’t want to be my boyfriend but wanted the benefits package. So I took my act to the comedy clubs of New York and proved funnier than him. Eventually we became friends, but his wife doesn’t like me. She wants to be a writer of some sort. Well, after she stopped speaking to me, I published my book. Hers is still collecting dust in the drawer.

Then we have all heard about the former fiancé to the point where we want to vomit. However, I got back at this abusive prick by putting him in my comedy routine where he will be forever vilified. Not to mention my puppet children, the ones he tried to take away, have joined me on national television. People have told me they enjoy my children, and we will never part ways again. I also think of my former fiancé terrorizing me and threatening to kidnap me when I didn’t return. These things only motivated me more. Now my ex sees me on television and is forced to swallow it. And he told me I was unfunny and no one liked me.

Of course how can I forget the liar lawyer? Yes, the one who I trusted after all that happened to me. The one who I poured my heart out to and told about my dreams. Well, he lied about everything and truly broke my heart. Sure, I was less than loyal but I never completely trusted him. What does he do? As soon as things end, the jerkoff slimes around in my social circle and goes after the fatter, uglier, more psychotic version of myself. I wouldn’t care, except he has pitted her against me, and there have been times her harassment has been so terrible I nearly had to take legal action. No matter, I get my revenge by living well and doing well. She hasn’t bothered me in some time which has been great. But it makes me wonder, why can’t my ex-lovers and their current squeezes leave me alone? 

So when Holden came along, he was the one I truly loved. Sure, he had to leave the area because he had legal drama. Yeah, he was every mother’s nightmare. But he was kind and had a good heart. Holden wanted to be my boyfriend. He didn’t want the simple benefits without the title. Holden was proud of my career and would tell anyone that listened about me. He didn’t make me give up what I loved. Add in that Holden never lied to me, and despite all the issues he had with drugs and bipolar disorder, Holden never pitted his druggie babes against me. Yes, there is a part of me that will always love him. However, there is a special kind of sting that goes with knowing love isn’t enough to remedy addiction and mental illness.

That is when Hell No, Joe enters. Oh yes, the one I thought was going to be the answer to my prayers after Holden. Yes, the one who laid it on real thick and made me feel good about myself. Yes, the one who it turned out tried to use me to further his career and for a place to live. I was the perfect target for that cad. I think that’s what made Hell No, Joe the hardest. It was as if he staked me out. Yes, April the lonely career woman. That is why I snapped and gave Joe his own country song.

Most women would probably jump off a cliff if they had my dating history. Yet I won’t. Nice guys don’t want me and I am okay with that. Many so called nice guys are judgmental pricks with a stick up their asses. The second they hear one of my exes was a fugitive at one point, they put some pep in their step. Not to mention they try to pin my bad luck with men on me. Maybe I do play a role in my shit luck with the male gender, but there is nothing like an entitled dickhead who never had a bad day in their life telling you how to lead yours. Bitch please.

Or add in the so called nice girls who have always done everything right. They are kind of disgusting to me, too. Yes, the ones who married and lived happily ever after. The ones who I scare to death. Newsflash, your husband wants me. He slipped me his number. I didn’t take it because I don’t want you to chase me in your black sedan. You will because you have no existence outside a man and your life is that empty. And it’s his job to sexually disappoint you, I have shit to do.

Maybe this is why my friends are such characters, because I can relate. I don’t relate with someone who lives on the straight and narrow and is easily successful. That person bores me and makes me vomit. I can’t identify with people who have never been so angry that they could choke the bejesus out of someone. Heck, I don’t know how to talk to someone who’s big goal is to get married and have children. Truth, just as I scare that person, that person scares me.

Eh, I have lived a little. So have my friends. Some have been to jail, and I have visited them there. Others have been to drug treatment, and I have visited them there. Then there are those who have made the front page of the news, and I have cheered them on because I identify with their antics. Of course some join cults and I marvel at their stupidity, but then I am there when they ascend back to Earth.

Recently I took a test on BuzzFeed. The quiz was entitled, “What Kind of Pimple Are You?” I answered the question and I got a scar. Yes, I have lived and have some character behind me. However, because I have lived I would give my last quarter to anyone in need, because I know how it feels to be destitute. I would also listen with a nonjudgmental ear to someone in love with the wrong person. Of course I would try to guide them out of that. Not to mention if someone did fuck up big, I would make them laugh about it because unless you have killed someone, nothing in this world is permanent. I will not help you hide the body, but will give you perspective. Felonies are where I draw the line.

In a way, I am glad I have had the shitty things happen to me that have been put in my path. As a result, I am not afraid of anything, even death. My bad luck streaks have always helped push me to the next level, because there is nothing like proving an oppressive bully wrong. I also know that in the end I only have myself to depend on, and lovers are like the tide, they come and go. Of course, I make less terrible decisions these days. However, every bad decision has at least one good story if the bad decision doesn’t kill you.

No wonder I wrote a country song. The Huffington Post Featured my video.

The next level is just around the corner for me. So to all that have kicked me and beaten me down, thank you. Without you I would not be the woman I am today. xoxox

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