When It Started

NOTE: Please read Part II of this story, "Because We Love Each Other" for the second part of the story.

“The dog days are over.” - Florence and the Machine

When our friendship started four years ago, my job was to blog about X’s performances as a DJ and the parties we collectively threw with Bacardi.  X and I were friends; I saw him perform every week and often times he would stay in the same hotels as the rest of the road crew so we eventually became friends.  We had inside jokes, I knew about his wife, and we all had a great time together.  After the tour ended we loosely kept in touch and right before I moved to LA in August 2009 I saw his show in Kansas City.  We had a blast catching up but I kept my distance with the divorce in full swing – it just wasn’t the right time.  All this time we popped into each other’s space, keeping up with the next move: mine to LA and his as an award winning DJ.  Time passed and it wasn’t until two years later that I saw him again.  His plans to move north were gone, as was his wife.  X made it look and sound like he was in a good place.  We both finally had free time in our schedules to hang out and set a time and place, meeting at his house on June 18^th, 2011.  He was excited to show me his neighborhood and take me to his favorite spot.  I was excited to see my friend but I was also positive that I didn’t want anything beyond friendship with this person.  And then I pulled up to his house, parked my car and hugged him.  That moment changed my life for forever.  I will never forget where I was standing, what I was wearing and the way I felt the second we touched.  It was like electricity had shot between us – there was an undeniable pull, even though I didn’t want it.  I was happily single, I was having a great time with my life and I didn’t want this.  But they say that’s when it happens. 

“I think I might have inhaled you.” - Stateless “Bloodstream”

We had a great time that night.  We talked and laughed till we cried, we caught up on each other’s lives, we told stories, listened to music had drinks and late dinner and before I knew it, seven hours had passed…it felt like 7 minutes.  I still didn’t want to get mixed up or involved with X.  I just wasn’t ready for anything.  But he was so charming and funny and driven and successful and convincing.  I couldn’t stop myself, I spent every possible second with X.  I cooked for him, went to his doctor appointments with him, picked him up from the airport, took him to the airport, taught him how to eat healthy, grocery shop and put his life back together.  We even picked out bed linens for his house.  We were completely consumed with each other.  He would give me a skateboard lessons in empty parking lots, we spent hours driving through the mountains getting lost and talking, laughing, listening.  Other times we would just stay “home” on the couch and hold each other.  We would watch the sunsets from his house up in the hills and then we would look at the stars in the sky and the skyscrapers that twinkled in downtown LA.  It was the first time I’d been in love in years.  I remember him telling me I would break his heart and I remember thinking “yes, I probably will.”   When X was on the road and staying in hotels he would call me at after his shows, so he could hear my “sleepy voice.”  We would talk for hours.  It was amazing how well we got along.  I had completely fallen.  He didn’t want to be with anyone else and neither did I.  Even when the red flag of his divorce popped up and I wondered aloud if I should back out, X asked me to stay.  He said he wanted me there.

 “What if I leave” -  Rachael Yamagata

It didn’t last long.  I don’t know what happened, but somewhere along the road things shifted.  One day X told me he was going to an art exhibit with a girl.  It was a date, but he informed me it was one he didn’t want to go on, but he had promised her.  By this time X told me about the girls he’d dated since his separation from his ex-wife.  How he dated them for months and they would want more but he wasn’t ready.  The ultimatum of a relationship was ultimately what did them in.  That and the girls not understanding his work/schedule/life.  I promised myself that I would not make the same mistake those girls did.  I wouldn’t try to force him into a relationship and I was sure we were so meant to be that that would never be a problem.  I didn’t count on the fact that X wasn’t playing with a full deck.  In fact, he was 100% completely fucked up and he was hiding it all from me.  One second he was telling me he had stopped dreaming until I came into his life and the next he was on date after date and telling me he’s just not ready yet.  By the time he had his headliner show at the Palladium in Hollywood I was holding in 75% of my thoughts and my feelings.  I wasn’t myself. I was dying every day, hanging on his every word and trying to get us back to where we were.  I barely got tickets to his show, practically begging for a +1 and when I got to the venue he wouldn’t answer my messages or calls.  I was completely embarrassed that I took my friends to see the guy I was crazy about and he wasn’t even responding to me.  But I played it cool and made excuses about how stressful it is to prepare for this show and all of the demands of his job.  The only reason I even saw him afterwards was because his road assistant saw us and took us backstage after the show.  X treated me like I was a distant friend instead of the person who had been digging him out of a black abyss for the past few months.  But when the show was done and we were home he came straight to me for strength and collapsed into my arms…and I put him back together again. 

“It's not a silly little moment, it's not the storm before the calm. This is the deep and dying breath of this love that we've been working on.” – John Mayer “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room”

And so it went on for months, me giving him every bit of love and light and positivity that was mine and X giving me scraps to barely keep me alive – but it was enough to make me believe there was a chance.  They way he looked at me, they way he knew me, knew my body, knew how to touch me, talk to me, look at me…I had enough hope and strength for the both of us.  All the while he was dating on a regular basis - I didn’t know the extent or the amount of this until September, I may have been in denial, but I thought I was the only one in his life.  I had clothes at his house, I had makeup, shoes, toiletries… I had drawers.  Even now, more than a year later it hurts to tap into that time.  I can still see the color of the rugs, his towels, the art in the stairwell and the custom piece that Shepard Fairey did for him, hanging over the fireplace; as well as the nails that remained where his ex-wife took her art when she left.  The drum set in the corner, the key hook by the garage.  I can even recall the smell of his house, and him…I can see his grey/blue eyes.  They changed color when he was sad.  I wonder if they’re grey now.   

“When the day is done

And I lay me down

I sit alone in my lonely bed

And I think about

The day we had

And it makes me sad 'cause you're gone” - Polica “Wandering Star”

X still pops in to my head almost on a daily basis.  But I don’t miss him.  I believe it’s the pain he put me through that keeps him in my head.  I don’t really wonder why or how anymore, now I just wonder what reality was.  I know he doesn’t miss me, I know he doesn’t want me and I know he has completely healed from any residual pain he may have felt from our situation.  My thinking this thing was as big as it was is completely inaccurate.  In the end it was nothing to him.  I’m sure if someone asked him, he’d say he would like to be friends.  The situation didn’t carry the same weight for him as it did for me.  I adored him too much and I don’t even know how that happened because he definitely didn’t deserve me.  I’ve learned to take my time healing, I thought I would have been over it months ago but every time I’ve thought I’m 100% whole, I walk out to the end of the limb and it snaps and I have to start all over again. 

“I can't recall how your skin used to smell, I just remember how you shut the door. And I don't need you anymore.” Chris Harford

So I go on without him and I’m glad about that.  In hindsight I would never want to be with someone as narcissistic as X.  I could never live all of my life for someone else and I believe that’s what he wants.  I’d rather live my life with someone else.  However, I admit some part of me misses the connection I thought we had.  There are just too many strong memories to replace him like he did to me.  X caught me in a perfect storm of disarray, low self-esteem, loneliness and struggle and I have to chalk that entire year up to a learning experience and a lesson to never be what I was ever again.  I will take as long as I need in order to be sure that I’ve fully recovered from everything he did.   I know I’m healing because I don’t want him back, but I know I’m not finished because I wish him a lot of pain and regret.  There will come a day when I will forgive him and I wish bad things for him.  That revelation is new to me, I thought I would never see that light at the end of my tunnel, but I can see a faint twinkling light way off in the distance.  I will find strength from myself, my family, friends, God and the Universe to make sure I’m a better, stronger, smarter and most importantly a more selfish person.  I’m nearly positive I’ll never hear from him or see him again.  This city is small, but it’s big enough for that – especially since we live on opposite ends of it.  We don’t have any mutual friends aside from his assistant, and we don’t eat at the same restaurants or go to the same shows.  It’s just…over.  Black and white.  Finished.  A severed tie. 

What follows is a sort of “diary” of my emotions during the unraveling of our love/hate story.

I Was A Heavy Heart to Carry

Good morning everyone!  I’m grateful for another beautiful sunny day in Los Angeles.  And while I am bummed for sleeping in till 8:15 (I like to be up at 7) I must admit I’m off to a good start.  The Venice Kale house saw an addition to its family when my lovely cousin had to return to Germany and our new roommate Kippy moved in.  Kippy has been a bit of a science experiment to me; she’s effortlessly generous to a level 10 no matter what.  Anything she has is yours, no questions asked.  She’s also still very “Midwest” even after being in LA for all these years.  Kippy wants to leave the front door of the house wide open she says “to get some circulation” but I believe it’s because she believes in that feeling of “everybody knows everybody” even if there is a heroin addict shooting up 100 yards down the street.  Kippy has also started explaining a psychological theory to me based on the Inner Child, the Small Adult and the Big Adult.  I’ve been intently listening to her (because I believe we should hear everyone even if we don’t agree with their practice, belief or philosophy) and considering her theory when I watch people in their daily lives. 

My balcony, the scene of the research.

This morning I was fortunate enough to see some Inner Child in the making.  As I was sitting in the living room, drinking my coffee and reading emails I heard a man yell “stop, STOP!” out in the street.  Normally this wouldn’t give me another thought as there is always something going on outside but there was something about this man’s voice that I couldn’t dismiss.  What could cause that sort of emotion in such a simple word?  I had to investigate.  Scooping up my mug I went to the balcony door and I saw a man across the street and to my left.  He was dropping his daughter off at the daycare and by what I heard and her tiny demeanor, she had run out into the street.  Now I get it.  She was probably no more than 3 years old and her tiny little frame was standing there, head down, long hair covering her face in shame.  Now her dad could have handled this two ways: like my father who would have reacted in intense physical and verbal anger out of fear and punished me making me feel embarrassed, scared and sad right before I started school, or like this man who picked up his child and pointed out the cars explaining to her that they drive by so quickly they wouldn’t see her coming if she’d ran into the street.  He then set her down, put her coat on for her and while he was kneeling in front of her he had a full conversation about why he reacted the way he did, how he was sorry that he yelled at her, how much he loves her and then talked to her about the wonderful day he hopes she’ll have.  He zipped up her jacket and untucked her hair from the back.  See that she was still upset about her scolding, he picked her up and just held her with both hands until they were both on the same page again.  Then I saw her pull her head away from his chest, touch his face and I saw them both smiling and laughing with each other.  He set her down, took her and walked her into school.  Beautiful.  Perfect.  One of the healthiest moments of conflict/resolution I’ve ever seen.  And then I thought: I’ve never learned this from my father how on earth am I going to live my life this way?  Who is going to teach me?  At first I heaved a heavy sigh of resolution because I knew it would have to come from me but then I realized that I’m GRATEFUL  to have the wonderful surroundings and insight to know that I have the tools to do this myself and therefore change a pattern that would have been otherwise normal to me.  All of this inner reflection and I haven’t even finished my coffee.  I wish you all the most beautiful, productive and abundant day today.  

Vegan recipes and snacks

I have a group of girls I meet up with every week, aptly called “Girls’ Dinner” (at Holland House of course!). It’s one of the highlights of my week and I’m so grateful for this wonderful group of girls. I’m also grateful that they always like my food because I’ve been known to set the kitchen on fire once or twice. The girls have asked me for the recipes for a few of my dishes so I’ve decided to put my three favorite organic vegan snacks into one blog. They’re easy, inexpensive and healthier (except the popcorn) than the typical snacky dish, i.e. chips, hummus, cheese, crackers, pre-cut fruit, etc.

Kale Chips

The girls love these because it gives you the satisfaction of eating something crispy and salty but not fried and not starchy! 1-3 bunches of kale leaves (I use 3 for the party, 1 if it’s just me and a friend) Grape seed oil Seasons/spices of your choice: I’ve used garlic and Chipotle, smoked sea salt & pepper, sesame seeds & paprika, I’ve even thrown some pumpkin seeds in the mix. You can do an Indian theme, a Mexican theme, Italian…it’s whatever flavors you like. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Tear kale into bite-size pieces and put into your salad spinner. Rinse kale, spin and dump the water, repeating this process until there is virtually no water at the bottom of the bowl. Only take a large handful at a time and dry kale as much as possible by pressing it between layers of paper towels. Once all of the kale is spun, pressed and dried transfer it to a large mixing bowl. Prepare your seasonings in a small bowl and set aside. Drizzle kale with the grape seed oil – do not use too much, but enough to make sure every piece has some oil on it. Sprinkle spices onto kale/oil and thoroughly mix. Sprinkle kale onto a cookie sheet making sure that it’s not piled too high as you want it to be crispy. Bake for 10-15 minutes, until crispy. Make sure you keep a close eye on the kale, it likes to catch fire.

Organic vegan kettle corn

Like I said before, there are a few unhealthy things about this dish, but it’s 10,000 times better than any microwave stuff on the shelf so if you’re going to eat popcorn, may as well do it the best you can! Make sure your corn kernels are organic, that’s really the best you can do there as most corn is genetically modified and terrible for your system. I use organic agave but if you’re a high-roller you can use raw honey – it’s just really expensive to use for cooking (and wasteful of all of the benefits of honey). Agave isn’t great for you as it is very processed but it’s better than sugar or syrup or caramel sauce. Now that you know what you’re getting into, let’s make some popcorn! 1/3 cup of organic popcorn kernels 3 tablespoons of organic grape seed oil 5 tablespoons Organic Agave nectar (or more depending on how much “sweet” you want in your treat) Smoked salt according to taste Heat oil and agave in a large sauce pot (the kind with two handles) until it just starts to bubble. Add kernels and then cover. If you have a glass lid it really helps to monitor the kernels; if not, keep an ear on your popcorn (pun). Sporadically rotate the pot (with the lid on) so the kernels do not get burned by sitting in the same spot. This also allows them to get hot so they will pop. Do this throughout the entire popping process until popping starts to slow down and there are a couple of seconds between each popped kernel. Shut off the heat transfer popped corn to a large bowl. Be careful when you remove the lid as there will be steam and condensation. Add smoked sea salt, pink Himalayan salt or just regular sea salt to your corn, mix/fold and voila! Organic vegan kettle corn.

Banana Ice Cream

Since discovering I’m lactose intolerant, I’ve cut my dairy by approximately 95%. This means no cheese, no yogurt, no cottage cheese, no milk and most importantly no ice cream. : ( However I’ve also discovered that cutting these foods out of my diet drastically decreased my sweet tooth. There may not be a correlation but I’ve noticed the change. But I must say I really enjoyed ice cream. Then one day, a massage therapist at work discovered a brown banana in the freezer with no one to claim it. The moment she said “vegan ice cream” I was like Pavlov’s dog; salivating all over the idea. I’ve never been the same since. Here’s the recipe: Buy a bunch of bananas and let them get overly ripe as if you are making banana bread. This is the hardest part of making the ice cream because it requires patience. Once they are overly ripe peel them, break the bananas into sections and double bag them in zip lock freezer bags. Freeze overnight. When your bananas are fully frozen you are ready to make ice cream. Flavor suggestions: walnuts, dark chocolate, almonds, strawberries, dates, raisins, carob chips, cinnamon, almond butter, vegan brownie bites… anything that will mix well with the bananas. Take out the appropriate amount of bananas, which will be relative to how many people are eating the treat. Put the banana chunks in your food processor with your desired mix-ins. Blend but do not over blend as that will make it more like a smoothie and less like ice cream. Basically you want to blend JUST until there are no chunks of banana. That’s it! If you want harder ice cream, make a batch of your recipe, put it into Tupperware and freeze overnight. Done!

The tale of two hairs.

Recently I went back to Missouri to do makeup for a wedding and while I was back I saw a few friends and they were quick to notice the change in my hair compared to how it looked three years ago when I lived there. Curious to know what I’ve done, I decided to write a blog given that this isn’t the first time I’ve had this question. So here is my new hair routine, start to finish. I am not a hairdresser but these are the steps that worked for me. If you do this, I can almost guarantee you will see positive results as soon as a month from the start. First of all, I started off giving my hair a break from all of the intense bleaching I used to have done. I gave my hair over 12 months to recoup from that. I still had highlights but they didn’t use bleach, I only had my hair done every 3-4 months and I had fewer highlights. 1. Wash and rinse with cooler temperatures; hot water will strip and dry out the scalp and the hair strands. 2. Use only sulfate free shampoo and conditioner. I use L’Anza Healing Color Care but I also like Moroccan Oil brand (not great for thin hair) and Healthy Sexy Hair for fine, thin damaged hair. 3. Only condition from the mid-shaft (nape of neck) down. Don’t condition your scalp as it will clog your pores. 4. Use a detaingler if necessary. In my situation I only use the detaingler on the top of my head, opposite of what I did in step 3. Use a wide-tooth comb to gently comb your hair from the ends up. 5. Apply your styling mousse according to the directions. 6. IMPORTANT!! Apply a heat protecting oil/serum. Do not miss this step unless you don’t use heat tools on your hair. Only apply a SMALL amount – ½ a pump, or one drop. Rub the serum in your palms and apply from the ends, working your way up to the top. I use Redken All Soft and I also like Moroccan Oil Treatment Light for fine and thin hair. 7. Also very important; get a better hair dryer. I have an Amika hair dryer which has ionic and infrared properties which I do not understand, but I do understand that I my hair is not frizzy and dry. 8. I use a ventilated hair brush WITHOUT the heat element to get my hair mostly (and quickly) dry and then I use a boar bristle round brush to get a smooth rounded finish. 9. I don’t use a flat iron and I rarely curl my hair. 10. I almost forgot one of the most important steps – there seems to be a lot of them – I sleep with my hair in a braid every single night. I also run with my hair in a braid and I rarely ever put my hair in a ponytail anymore. 11. I get trims fairly regularly and I don’t highlight my hair as much or as often as I used to. 12. I take prenatal vitamins approximately three times a week. But to start I would take them 5-7 days a week. After you finish your first bottle knock it down to three. Never buy generic vitamins. I always buy a good brand that has gone on sale, they quality is better and you get what you pay for. That’s it. Good luck!

My LA Story: I was mugged and I believe in miracles

Everything happens for a reason, but if I have to put the blame on someone, I blame the skunks. You see I’m afraid of skunks; really I’m afraid of their spray and the way they fearlessly approach me. So Saturday night, when I parked my car at the top of Whitley Heights and walked down the hill towards my building, I took the street rather than the sidewalk because they are always hiding in the bushes by the sidewalk. I didn’t pay much attention to the car that stopped in front of me, didn’t pay a lot of attention when it turned around in a driveway (I assumed they were also looking for parking) and it didn’t surprise me when they started back down the hill. I can officially say I do not have a sixth sense for danger, or at least I chose not to hear it because as the car slowed down next to me, the thought of pretending like I lived in the house to my right was just a fleeting one that went away as fast as it came. I am officially naïve and trusting and I paid for it. The guy and the girl in the car came to a stop and asked for directions to Poinsettia and Sunset. As I was pointing in the direction of those two streets I heard her say something and then the car door opened. I didn’t even have time to wrap my head around the reason for him getting out of the car when I saw a thick liquid heading straight towards my face. Still in my naïve mindset, I thought it was silly string and someone was playing a joke on me. But when it splattered all over me I knew it wasn’t silly string even though it didn’t immediately burn when it hit my face, neck, hands, and legs. But when he grabbed my pursed and tried to yank it out of my hands I held on. My inner bulldog came out and I wasn’t going to let go. He shook my bag back and forth and my body lurched around like a ragdoll. I jerked back with my purse in the crook of my elbow and then he whipped me around and threw me to the ground where he dragged me down the hill, still twisting and trying to get the bag free from my arm. By this time I had dropped my bag of groceries out of my other hand and I was holding on with both hands. Dumb. But all I could think is that I didn’t want to go through with the trouble of closing my bank account, buying a new phone and replacing whatever else was in that brand new purse. Finally I heard the girl say “just let go” and I screamed “I can’t!”; partly because I couldn’t straighten my arm in order to let go and also because…I didn’t want to. Fuck those guys!! They think because I’m little and blonde I’m not going to put up a fight? Fuck. That. Then something inside told me to let go because this was going to take a turn for the worst. I had the feeling he was going to punch me in the face, I was already down on the ground, I still had a lot of fight left in me, but I’m 1000% sure a punch to the face would have done me in – mostly out of vanity. So I let go. He jumped in the car with my purse and they sped off down the hill. And then I did what every little blonde girl who’s ever been mugged has done: I yelled for help. Thank the Lord Jesus my amazing neighbors Raymond and Christiane were home and thank God again that Raymond is slightly bat shit, ADD and apparently awake at random times of the day. He immediately ran out of his part of the house, in nothing but his underwear and asked me what happened. And then I started crying, which somehow kicked the pepper spray into full force. My nose started running and when I tried to sniff it back, the pepper spray activated in my nose and ran down my throat. Then I started coughing because I could feel it getting into my lungs. The last thing I remember seeing is my bare feet and realizing that this guy knocked me out of my shoes and then I just hit the ground and sobbed. I was done. I just wanted to lay down on the ground but I was so shocked by what happened I couldn’t move. And then I heard Christiane right next to me on the ground and she was giving me a cold towel. I pressed this to my face because that’s what 911 told her to do, which we later learned was completely incorrect. This actually prolongs the severe burning of the pepper spray. The police officers, fire department and ambulance were there in NO TIME – probably the quickest response I’ve ever heard of. It was a shame I couldn’t get a good look at any of them though, that would have made for a great love story…”so how’d you two meet? Well, she was doused in pepper spray and bawling and covered in snot, but there was something so beautiful and poetic about it…” Not this time sorry everyone, but not to worry there’s a bit of a love twist coming up in just a minute. The paramedics were the first to go because there were no major injuries and after taking my pulse which they said was surprisingly low after what had just happened, my response being “I run” (I just couldn’t resist), there was nothing left for them to do. The fire department stuck around for a bit longer, checked out my back which actually hurt quite a bit, made sure I didn’t have any major injuries and after probably 10 minutes they left as well. Last were the police officers who had to take a statement from myself and Christiane. By the time it was all said and done, 40 minutes had passed since I was sprayed and I was just starting to be able to open my eyes again. Christiane took me up to her house to make me some tea and get me to a calm place but all I wanted to do was be in a familiar place with a familiar person. And there was only one person I had in mind. I didn’t know how to reach my Mr. Big because I didn’t have my phone, I had blocked him from my twitter and I couldn’t message him on his because I definitely was not following his account. And then I remembered I had his email. I emailed him that I had been mugged sprayed and dragged down the hill and that I need him. And he immediately wrote back. Twice. Big wanted to know where I was, how to get in touch with me and what to do. It was such a relief when Christiane’s phone rang and I heard his voice on the other end. I thought I would completely lose it all over again. Someone who has caused me so much excruciating pain in the past 10 months was now actually going to be there to help save the day. I never thought that would happen. The strange thing is, I was actually going to go to his show earlier that night unbeknownst to him, but in the end I knew it wouldn’t be good for me and I decided not to go. I hadn’t seen Big in two months to the date and now I was going to see him after all. Christiane straightened me out as much as she could and then walked me to my apartment. I finally looked in the mirror and what I saw kind of surprised me. My face and neck were scorching red and shiny and my hair was disheveled and wavy which was interesting to me until I touched it and realized I was COVERED in pepper spray. All I could do was brush my teeth, as I was too afraid to do anything else. Two months since I’ve seen the person who devastated my heart and here I am looking one false move from homeless. Oh well. Then I heard Big calling my name from the street 50 feet below and I hobbled down the stairs as fast as my mushy body would let me. It was just like the movies, I ran right to him and threw myself on him and cried. Then he took me to his car and sprung into fix-it mode, looking up ways to neutralize pepper spray, he was even feeling the effects of it just from having my hair on his face so it was definitely still active. The favored solution? Milk. So we drove to the drug store and bought some milk. I didn’t have to worry about anything, he just had a plan and took care of it. Even with the pepper spray, the scrapes and pain I still found myself trying to gauge the energy between us but it was difficult, probably because he was in this mindset of a small catastrophe, but what if it was because he was…over me? I couldn’t tell. We grabbed the milk and left. It was around 1 a.m. by this time and Hollywood was a shit show. There were helicopters flying overhead, a guy pissing in the bushes, a girl vomiting out of a car and just general anarchy all around. After 20 minutes of looking for a parking spot, Big gave up and pulled back into the cul-de-sac of my building. He turned to me and asked me what I wanted to do because he couldn’t park in my neighborhood. I told him I couldn’t do this by myself and we decided to go upstairs and get my things. We then took the all too familiar route to his house, and I was mostly in my own thoughts while he texted someone…Lord knows who…his assistant? Someone he was supposed to meet up with? Another girl? I didn’t care. We pulled into the garage, out of habit I moved my arm off the rest so he could turn off the alarm and when I walked in I remembered how I thought I would never see this place again. The smell of his house was so familiar, I should have felt at home, but I didn’t. So much had happened and changed between us, it was like that Gotye song “Someone I used to know.” Everything was there but slightly off. No matter, this wasn’t a visit to rekindle anything or start anything, it was two people who knew each other very well and cared about each other at that moment. We went downstairs to the bathroom and for a moment I didn’t really know how this should or would happen. Is he in a relationship? Should I not be getting naked in front of him? You know what, I don’t really give a shit, this is about me and right now I’m covered in pepper spray and slightly broken. So I got undressed, which was actually quite painful and got in the shower. Big told me he was going to pour the milk over my head and that I needed to make sure it got all over my hair, face and neck. It was absolutely positively freezing. We did it in three rounds each time with me stifling a scream while he poured that smelly fat gross stuff over my head. I’m pretty sure he hated seeing me in all of this pain and discomfort for the past hour but he was stoic for the situation. If you knew Big, you’d know that was a really big deal. He is nothing if not absolutely pure undiluted selfishness. After three rounds of dairy I just stood under the water and tried to warm up. And then this: I had to pee. The entire reason I reached out to him and only him was because I knew this was the one person with whom I could be completely broken and not have to worry about someone seeing me at my worst. I’ve seen the worst of him and now it was his turn. So, I told him I had to pee and he just pointed in the shower, which I was still standing in…showering (ick). And then he said “I have to pee too.” So here we were, him at the toilet me in the shower, peeing. He went back into the bedroom while I finished washing the blood, dirt and pepper spray off of me. My mind wove in and out of a state of familiarity and surreal; listening to Jon Stewart while I got ready for bed at Big’s house was something I used to be very accustomed to. It was also something I swore would never happen again because there was no way I was ever letting him back into my world. I swear life hands you your own ass sometimes, because here I was. But I still didn’t want to sleep in that bed, where I knew that other girl had been for the past two months since I had walked away(actually hours after I walked away). This bed didn’t feel like my bed anymore and it didn’t look like my bed (I should have taught him about thread count before I left him) and the bedside table didn’t have my things on it anymore, but it had Big and that was what mattered to me at that moment. Before I climbed in, I saw a folded piece of paper lying on the floor and I immediately recognized it as the letter I’d written to him back in September; what was it doing there? Was he reading it? Was she reading it? Did he just stumble upon it and in a lack of decision toss it on the floor until he could deal with it later? I don’t think I’ll ever know the answer to that. I quickly looked away and just like old times I climbed into bed, he held his arms open and I settled down into my old spot. He asked me if I was ok and I sensed that he didn’t just mean about what had happened earlier that night. I told him I was starting to be ok, which was partly true. And then told him about the paramedics telling me I had a low blood pressure after such a traumatic event and before I could tell him my response, he said in teasing tone “because I run!” and I said “that’s what I told them!!” He just laughed it off like he wasn’t surprised. After laying there for a while, Big sat up and asked me what made me reach out to him specifically and I told him he was the only person I thought of, and then he laid back down and fell asleep. I didn’t really sleep that night between the adrenaline from being violently mugged and being at Big’s house, I just couldn’t quiet my mind. I couldn’t relax. A few hours later it was 5 a.m. and I still hadn’t really slept. I couldn’t stop thinking about that car door opening and then seeing the pepper spray and the feeling of that guy dragging me all over the street. And then Big was awake and telling me about a dream he just had. He was at a concert and everything was in black and white and then he said I was there and in all of those people we found each other. Before I let the exhaustion take me over, Big told me he had forgotten how good this was. I finally fell asleep and woke up late next morning hardly able to move. I went upstairs and made coffee and tried not to be bothered by everything I saw, or didn’t see: the orchid I gave him was gone, and someone had been cooking in the kitchen, which used to be my kitchen. I made the coffee and brought it downstairs to Big who was getting ready to jump in the shower. When I walked back into the bedroom I noticed the letter was gone. Big loaned me $200 to get me through the day until the banks opened on Monday, I waited while he got cleaned up and we left the house and took his car to get it washed before he took me home. While we waited I told him some funny stories – more stuff that I could only tell him and my closest friends. We laughed, made jokes, and had our old ebb and flow. He told me he missed our conversations. This entire time I knew he was playing it safe and holding back because he didn’t want to be the cause of anymore pain in my life in addition to what I’d been through the night before as well as what I’d been through with him for the past 10 months. He drove to my apartment, branded a parking post with one of his stickers (he can’t resist) walked me upstairs, added “Tazer!” to my shopping list in the bathroom (What? It’s where I do a lot of my thinking!), I walked him to the door and watched him drive away. I don’t know why the universe put that man in my life back in 2008, or Saturday night and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it now but if we are supposed to end up together, it’s not supposed to happen any time soon. I won’t be forcing that situation ever again and I will not hold my breath in anticipation. It’s ironic because I chose not to go to that show for the love of myself and I ended up seeing him anyways. Big came into my life when I really needed him, and he was selfless and he was there for me and I appreciate him for that. Does it change anything? No. Does it take away what he’s done to me? No. Does it mean anything? I don’t know. I don’t want to look at anything anymore. I don’t want to know what they’re doing, what he’s doing; I just want the taste of something good to be left in my mouth, instead of the horribleness I’ve been swallowing for the past sixty days. I can’t go back down that rabbit hole, it nearly killed me last time. After he left I got myself together and decided to go ahead with my plans to drive to Vegas. Hell, now that I wasn’t going to work on Sunday I could actually get a head start. But first I had to get a phone. It’s not that I NEED a phone, but driving through the desert by myself without a phone seemed super stupid. There were only three problems: I didn’t have an ID, credit/debit card and it was Sunday. But I DID have my passport and a checkbook so off I went to the Apple store in The Grove. Fail. AT&T store. Fail. Call to Best Buy. Fail. A new phone was not in the cards so I went home and accepted defeat. No phone, no glorious road trip to Vegas with the windows down, pumping Tom Petty and putting my Heartbreaker behind me. But when I got back to my apartment I checked my email and there it was; a message from iCloud stating that my phone was located!!!! I emailed Christiane and then scrambled downstairs to my neighbors apartment to use her phone to call the Po-lice. Fail. I could not have dealt with a bigger asshole. I was ready to give up; I was tired, sore and just over it. I went back upstairs and in that time my neighbor had emailed me to tell me to come up to her house so we could call the police. I didn’t tell her that I’d already tried that, I just obliged, thinking maybe we could add something to the report, which she had at her house. But Christiane is amazing. She does not give up. She is woman. She called and pushed buttons and got through to Detective F who sent a car to Hawthorne to try to locate the area of the signal. The three of us worked on it for hours, with me leaving only to pick up dinner as neither of us had eaten all day and she didn’t sleep well the night before either. The officers sent us a couple of pictures of possible vehicles and after that it was radio silence. The team was finished for the night, but I am so grateful to Detective F for all of the work he did and to Christiane for allowing me to invade her personal space and personal time for the second time. I was finally exhausted and ready for bed so I walked home climbed in bed and the next thing I knew it was morning and someone was pounding on my door. I’d say I shot out of bed but that’s like saying the Tin Man sprung to life when he saw Dorothy. I’m even more sore today than I was yesterday or Saturday night when the robbery happened. But there was a detective at my door and I had to get my wits about me. Wait…there’s a detective? At my door? I guess they’re taking this pretty seriously. Much more serious than the first guy I spoke to who basically told me good luck and fuck off. Detective S was at my apartment for the next 3 hours, working with a team who went back down to Hawthorne and relentlessly scanned the area looking for the car, the perpetrator(s) and my phone. She also called Christiane back down to my apartment and that poor girl sat there with us and was so helpful, it was like she was robbed as well. How on earth do you repay someone like that?? At 11:30 Big emailed to check in on me and I filled him in on the situation and he was very happy and enthusiastic about the developments, but he still insisted that I get a Taser. I still haven’t told him they’re $400. Honestly, all I can think about is how much it hurts to breathe or cough or hold a coffee cup. But back to the iPhone…Detective S spoke to tech support at Apple about the proximity and GPS location of my phone in order to get a more accurate location. We also used Google earth to find out what the neighborhood may look like. It turns out my phone was taken to a cell phone shop where the perp was probably trying to get it unlocked and wiped so he could either use it or sell it. Detectives got there after he left, took possession of the phone which they confirmed was mine because of the serial number (amazing!!!) and questioned the man working at the cell shop. The last thing Detective S told me before she left was that they had surround the beauty shop where the perp apparently had been for most of the day and they were waiting for him to come out. They didn’t want to enter the shop in case he was armed or hostile so they were waiting him out. As Detective S leaned over to write her email on her business card, I saw the nozzle of her gun poke out from her suit jacket. I’d never had a gun in my apartment – another surreal experience. Later that afternoon Detective S sent me an attachment of six possible suspects; I was having my first lineup experience… via email. And as far as I can tell, the person who attacked me was not in this lineup, even though I really wanted him to be. I told her I did not believe my attacker was in this lineup and she emailed me back and told me to standby as they are gathering more information and she will contact me via email. So here I am five hours later, no phone, stuck with my laptop with another life event testing my patience. I swear this shit is going to make me the next Gandhi, or Buddha or someone really patient, orrrrr someone ready to blast the shit out of the next person who asks me for directions and uses poor grammar. Either one. Hopefully I’ll get my phone back tomorrow and I can go to the bank, open a new account and get readjusted to my life as it was. But I have a feeling my life will never be as it was.