Sun Stories: Kita – Chapter 20 – Addicted to Tanning?

“UV light may trigger the same reward pathway in the brain as drugs such as heroin.”

I think Kita is addicted to tanning. I decided to do some research.

Experts have long wondered why many people tan regularly despite the known risk of skin cancer. Past studies suggest that the motivation is not just vanity—some tanning buffs have symptoms of dependence and withdrawal. Now a study in Cell adds more evidence that tanning is addictive. It showed that mice become dependent on beta-endorphin, a drug-like opioid molecule made by the skin under ultraviolet light.

A team at Massachusetts General Hospital scrutinized the opioid system, the reward pathway hijacked by drugs such as heroin, because the researchers had earlier found that beta-endorphin and the skin pigment melanin originate from the same protein. Other studies have also pointed to the opioid system; in one, frequent tanners showed withdrawal symptoms when they took a drug that blocked opioid receptors.

In the new study, shaved mice got a daily dose of UV light long enough to tan but not burn—on a par with 20 to 30 minutes in midday Florida sun for a fair-skinned human. After a few days, levels of beta-endorphin rose in the mice’s blood. Then the researchers rated pain tolerance, a marker of opioid dependence, using heat and touch. The UV mice had a pain threshold up to three times higher than mice that had not tanned. As levels of beta-endorphin rose, so did pain tolerance, suggesting the endorphin played a key role.

When the UV mice received an opioid blocker, their pain threshold reverted to normal, and they showed withdrawal symptoms such as shaking paws and chattering teeth. The mice even modified their behavior to avoid withdrawal: those that received opioid blockers in a dark box preferred to spend time in a white box, despite rodents’ natural penchant for darkness.

Humans and mice share these chemical processes, so the researchers believe beta-endorphin may cause addiction in people. Getting sun may be rewarding to the brain because we need vitamin D, explains David Fisher, a co-author of the study and director of the melanoma program at Mass General. Next Fisher hopes to investigate whether this pathway is involved in seasonal affective disorder, possibly providing a new therapeutic target.

 

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Sabrina – Surprise Visit – Part 2

I take her back to the Versa Spa spray tan machine. I show her where to put the barrier lotion. (Between the fingers, beds of the nails, palms, between the toes and soles of the feet.) That’s where you don’t want the solution to go. I show her how to wear the hair net. (Above the hairline so you don’t get a weird crescent on your forehead below your hairline.) Then I show her the four poses you have to do while getting sprayed. It looks like we’re “Vogueing” in the hallway together.

I tell her there’s a woman’s voice that will guide her through the whole process.

“How long is the process?”

“The whole session is only four minutes. If you can follow directions, you can get a great spray tan. Any questions?”

“I think I got it.”

“Then go to it Sabrina.”

In she goes, and I head back up to the front of the salon. I’m thinking how great Sabrina looks. She’s come a long way at thirty-four years of age. I remember she told me she was addicted for ten years! How did she survive and look as good as she does? That’s fucking heroin! I’m so proud of her!

Fifteen minutes later, lovely Sabrina emerges from Room 8 and approaches the counter. I tell her she has to stay dry for the next 6 hours. She thanks me profusely and gives me a hug.

She’s so sweet to me and tells me that she wants to go to Gran Caffe L’Aquila for dinner for her 1 year anniversary of sobriety.

I’m honored to be the man that will sit across the table from this beautiful woman on that day. (God, my blog has gotten so much better and so have I!)

Sabrina heads out and I wish her a Happy New Year and I remind her she must stay dry for the next six hours for the tan to develop.

——————————————————————–

Later Update: Sabrina wrote a glorious 5 Star Yelp review about me and our salon. (Better than money!)

I text her and thanked her and wished her a Happy New Year. She texted me back that she had done something bad.

I was terrified. Had she re-offended with drugs?

“What happened?”

“I slept with my ex.”

Oh… But technically you’re not divorced yet so you just slept with your husband.”

Oh yea.. Thank you for that. But now he’s not texting me or anything.”

“I know you said the sex was fire between you guys and I get that, but if you guys hooked up, I think that’s all it was.”

“Oh.”

“You’re relationship was toxic and dangerous for over 10 years. If you slept with him I think that’s all it was. I’m sorry. But steer clear so you don’t re-offend. He’s not going to get back to you because you can never go back to that toxic relationship that destroyed you. ”

“But…”

“No. Resist and stay sober. I hate the holidays.”

“But I…”

“I know Sabrina. Go forward. I know it’s hard, but let go of the bars of your addiction and walk out of your cell. You’re doing great.”

“Thank you! I love you and value our friendship! Hope you know I plan on being in your life for a long time.

What a lovely person.

“Promise? Because that’s what I want Sabrina!

“Thank you… Hey, I know what I did was wrong but because of my awesome spray tan I looked awesome naked thanks to you! (And thank you for that delicious visual, Sabrina!)

I love Sabrina and I would love to see more of her because she’s a beautiful person. Not just on the outside.

I can’t wait to see her again.

 

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Sabrina – Surprise Visit – Part 1

Sabrina texts me out of nowhere and wants to cash in her free spray tan.  She lives out-of-town but works down at Penn’s Landing at a marketing company. She loves her job and is doing great. I’m happy she’s doing well and has been sober for over 9 months.

She sees her kids every Saturday and is trying to get on better terms with her sort of ex husband. (They’re still legally married but have been split for over a year. But she refers to him as her Ex) According to her their marriage was toxic and she can’t be with him anymore. She lives in the house they own together but he pays the mortgage and I’m assuming some sort of support.

This is a woman I met at the salon with Jill. (See Jill – 2016 to Present – Client) Jill is an ex stripper/escort that can’t stop drinking. Sabrina met her in a halfway house and they have remained friends. Jill is a full-blown alcoholic and Sabrina is a drug addict. Jill told me Sabrina’s drug of choice was heroin but she’s done an amazing job rising from the ashes of her own destruction to live anew as a sober person.

Sabrina once told me that if she even took a sip of beer she’d be right back into it again. That’s addiction. But I know a few addicts that come in the salon that have been sober for decades and they are incredibly great people who have risen above and sustained their lives. Many are professional people like doctors and lawyers. Addiction doesn’t care who you are. It just tries to steal who you are and sledgehammer your life.

Jill is the one that told me that Sabrina wasn’t an alcoholic. She was heroin addict. But like I said, addiction is an insidious force that doesn’t choose between nationality, race, or social status. It just takes some of them.

I can drink wine every day and not lose my shit. It loosens my mind to write, kills my anxiety and depression, helps me sleep and is a social lubricant. But some people’s wiring just can’t take any foreign substances.

I could drink with someone who is an alcoholic and drink the same thing pound for pound all night long. I will maintain my buzz and go home and go to bed after a fun night.

They will in turn change in mood and personality. Lose their sense of time, sense, verbal ability, motor skills, and eventually black out and do bad things and never remember them. They will not destroy themselves. They’ll destroy everything and everyone around them. That’s addiction.

We’re all different. We all have the same chemical make up that makes us human, but all of our chemicals react differently to introduced to outside forces. Sometimes stimulation… sometimes absolute destruction. Booze is probably the worst because it’s legal and beloved by so many. Nobody high on marijuana ever aggressively hit a cop. A drunk guy who’s losing his shit with his wife would. The worst thing that happens when I’m around people who smoke pot is a boring endless story and I want a drink to get through listening to them.

Here’s the difference between weed and booze. I was friends with a great sensitive drummer named Rich back in the 80’s. He loved weed. I like booze. Here is the conversation when we’re banged up on our substances of choice walking down the street:

Rich: (Stoned) “Hey man… what if the color blue to me isn’t the same color blue to you?”

Me: (Whiskey) “I don’t fucking know. Check the crayon box, asshole.”

See the difference?

 

Anyway, my girl Sabrina wants to come in and get a spray tan. She’s middle eastern and is as brown as a penny and hot as hell, but her legs need color. I tell her we can help her. We can help anybody!

I’ll make all of you girls beautiful and tan. Leave it to me!

She says her legs are always covered and she wants to even out her look. I tell her the best way to do that is to go in a UV sunbed. Cover up the parts you don’t want tan and bake up your legs to match the rest of your delicious self.

Long term that would work for her. Her legs could catch up with the rest of her pretty brown skin.

But Sabrina wants to do a spray tan to just to even herself out and look good. I tell her it’s a temporary fix, but she’ll look great.

She comes in and we have a lovely chat. I tell her about my recent date with Bailey on Christmas Eve and how I’m seeing her again tonight  for some wine and Gelato when I close the salon. Sabrina is surprised and delighted that I’m going on a second date with Bailey. (See: Bailey – From Texting to Connection) 

She doesn’t know about Cherie so I tell her I adore her. “I can’t wait forever for you, Sabrina.” (Only half joking because I would totally love to date Sabrina and haven’t completely ruled out accomplishing that goal in the near future.)

“You’ll have to text me how it went! Have you kissed Bailey yet?”

“No. I hope to this evening.”

“You’ll have to text me if you do!”

She looks amazing and gorgeous. I wish she lived closer to the city so I could spend more time with her. I tell her how great she looks and how amazing her luxurious hair looks. She thanks me and attributes it to being sober.

I love that.

She tells me that Jill is about to be kicked out of her current residence because she’s drinking oceans of vodka and sleeping around. Jill is out of control. Sabrina tells me that Jill wants to come live with her.

I tell Sabrina the following: “You’ve been sober for 9 months. You see your kids. You have a great job now. You’re doing well. You can not bring Jill, the broken drunk into your house. EVER. You have to cut her off.”

Sabrina tells me that she can’t bring that shit into her house after finally getting clean and moving forward with her life. She’s going to have to have the “Talk” with Jill.

It’s sad because in Sabrina’s phone, Jill is still listed as “Roomie” from when they were in a halfway house. Sabrina has been an elegant Phoenix that has risen from the ashes of her own destruction, whereas Jill started drinking and whoring once she got out of rehab and the halfway house.

Jill is being kicked out of her present living situation because she can’t stop drinking and whoring.  Jill plows vodka and jumps from guy to guy. Screwing them and staying at their cribs until they kick her out. I’m sure she cares for her son but her behavior screams she doesn’t give a shit about him because she’s always loaded and riding cock somewhere, blackout drunk.

“The best place for her is to go back to the halfway house.”

Sweet Sabrina’s words ring like lovely bells on New Years day. The words from a mother that is struggling everyday to make her way in this life.

 

I’ll continue this story tomorrow…

 

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Sabrina – Hopeful

Poor girls and their substance abuse.

So the dust has settled and Jill is back tanning her ass at the salon and all is forgiven. She shows up with hot Sabrina the other night and I totally want to date her. I’ve actually been texting her that we should go out and do some sober fun things.

I figured it would be good for the blog. Drunk dude takes drinkie girl out for sober date and ice cream.

I have been talking to this old guy that comes in and tans and he works at the Walnut Street Theater. He wants to get me tickets because I helped him with a problem he had with his new phone and I’m the only one that listens to him complain. (He’s said this to me!)

He has access to tickets to shows at the theater and I want to take Jill’s hot friend Sabrina to them.

Thing is, Sabrina lives in a halfway house with Jill and is an addict like her. I talk to Sabrina and Jill clears the way with the coolness factor. But all drug addicts are liars and so is Sabrina. It’s ok. She says that her last boyfriend got her into drinking and it just took her like Jill. I get that. It’s okay. It happens, you have the gene and that shit takes you. I’ve met dozens of addicts.

But one day Jill is tanning and she tells me that with Sabrina her thing is heroin. Holy fuck. She’s super hot. She doesn’t look like a former junkie.

What do I do?

I go out with her. She’s been clean for over seven months. So could she have a drink or will the high of alcohol make her want to go up to Kensington and score some smack? I need to find this out before I go out with her. Maybe I’ll just stick to a show and some ice cream.

I’ll write more when and if the date happens.

 

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Sun Sories: Trish – Trail of Destruction

I come home from work the other day, and Trish is in my living room chatting with my daughter Lorelei.

I’ve cooled to Trish since her arrest, but my daughter likes her and they hang out sometimes at the house. Trish lives in the apartment below us, so I need to be civil.

Trish is telling the story of her cocaine arrest to Lorelei. How she got a small fine, has to attend some classes and has to do community service. I guess its because it was her first offense and she doesn’t have a record.

“Yea, it’s been a wake up call for me.”

“Well that’s good.”

“My community service is over at the senior center helping the old folks. I really like them!”

“Maybe you’ve found your calling.”

“How is Jill making out at the salon?”

“We fired her.”

“What happened?”

“One day she was supposed to work and she didn’t show up.”

“Wow. I just saw her earlier in the week. I was upset about my arrest and I went to the salon and then we went out together.”

“What did you guys end up doing?”

“Just went out for a few drinks. I wanted to go home after a couple but she said she was heading for another bar.”

“What? When was that?”

“Monday night. Why?”

“Oh my God. No….”

“What?”

“You were with Jill when she got blackout drunk and was subsequently kicked out of her sober halfway house!”

“What?”

“She didn’t show up for work at the salon the next day because she was looking for a place to live!”

“But she wasn’t drunk when she was with me.”

“But you said she left you and was headed to another bar. You were there that Saturday before when she was sitting in the salon and said, “I can’t just have one drink. I have to keep going and then I want to go out. I can’t stop.”

“Oh fuck. So I’m the catalyst that made her relapse?”

“Looks that way.”

“Shit.”

“Anyway, I’m going to go to my room and watch my show. I’ll be through for some ice periodically. Night girls.”

 

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Dating and Relationship Advice – The Four Types of Love Addiction

“Romantic love is heavily associated with the same regions of the brain as drug addiction.”

I feel like this is one of my most personal and powerful reveals. I’ve done extensive research on this subject over the past three years and here’s what I’ve discovered.

Romantic love is heavily associated with the same regions of the brain as drug addiction. Those who have it experience the same intensely pleasurable feelings, while those who are deprived of it experience the same crashing emotional lows and cravings. Consequently, it’s fair to say that love is an addiction. Whether it is positive or negative, though, depends on whether the love is reciprocated, appropriate and nontoxic.

Still, because everyone’s different, there are different types of negative love addiction. Humans can be loosely categorized into four major types, based on their overall patterns of thoughts and behaviors. Each of the four types tends to experience negative love addiction in a different way.

Romance Junkies

Romance junkies fall into the category of explorers, ruled largely by the dopamine system of the brain. Explorers are adrenaline junkies, hooked on thrills, adventures, and above all, novelty. In romance, this translates into an ongoing search for the dopamine rush affiliated with new relationships. When the infatuation phase gives way to the inevitable crash and burn, romance junkies are likely to go elsewhere seeking a new infatuation. (Totally me.)

Attachment Junkies

Builders, who are largely ruled by serotonin, are cautious, conventional, rigid rule-followers. They like to stick to plans and schedules, and take responsibility very seriously. Consequently, they tend to revere attachment above all other elements of a serious relationship. Their love addiction keeps them holding on long after a relationship has run its course.

Violence Junkies

People who fall into the directors category are largely ruled by testosterone. Although many directors never escalate into physical violence, they tend to be less empathetic and less socially skilled than their peers. Consequently, they tend to be action-oriented, using their physicality to express their emotions. They are likely to become violence junkies, addicted to chaos and turmoil in their relationships. When they are rejected, violence junkies may turn to stalking, physical attacks, or even impulsive suicide or homicide.

Despair Junkies

Negotiators are ruled primarily by estrogen and oxytocin. They tend to be agreeable, trusting, nurturing, and introspective, the caretakers in their relationships. Their addiction runs toward self-sacrifice, giving more than they should to heavily damaged partners. When they are rejected, despair junkies fall into rumination, obsessive thinking, and clinical depression. They tend to talk endlessly about the trauma, blame themselves, and try fruitlessly to figure out what they did wrong. Despair junkies are at higher risk for suicide in the wake of rejection.

Love addiction is complicated and highly personal, and every situation is different. Most people, regardless of type, manage to successfully navigate the pain associated with a breakup. Still, it is wise to be aware of your own type and those of your closest friends, and to watch out for each other in the weeks and months following a rejection. Taking proactive steps to ease the trauma can help to ensure that you do not fall into a dangerous pattern.

Which one are you? I’d love to hear some feedback from you.

 

 

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Annabelle – Chapter 10 – Girlfriend

Oh great, we’re “In a relationship” on Facebook.

I could feel things were moving forward with Annabelle. We would text and Facebook message each other when we were apart. We would send each other songs and it was nice. I could tell she had thrown the switch and I was the man in her life now.

It’s funny when you read Michelle compared to this odyssey with Annabelle. Here we are in chapter 10 and she’s just becoming sort of my girlfriend. When you live something you feel it immediately. But you’re in the movie and you can’t really see the whole show. Because you’re just one of the actors. Then you think about it later, and talk about it to your friends, it’s another layer. But when you write about it, you really can see it clearly, even if you can’t remember all of the dates and moments. I think that’s why therapists ask their patients to keep a journal. Writing lets you stand back from the events of your life and really see it for what it is or was.

Writing these stories has really helped me break the shell of my understanding and bring a calm clarity to my life and the journey itself.

Annabelle was in her 20’s and trying to make her way. I could see she was bitter that her parents had spent $100k on her education in college to go the School for the Arts here in Philly. She wanted to be an actress. Like millions before her she had the dream of being a successful actress. Her sister is an emergency room doctor. Her other sister is a lawyer. Both of then seem nuts and can’t keep a man. Her brother flies helicopters for NATO and lives in Texas. Annabelle’s parents had the money to send her to a good school and do whatever their “weird, artsy daughter” wanted to do. I’ve never met her family, because she said she didn’t want me to meet them because she kind of didn’t like them.

I know… Here it comes. Deep water.

This family is a product of dysfunction. Her father has an amazing job and makes a fortune each year. He’s fat and unhealthy and seems like a miserable person that hates his life. They’re from the south so there is some racism and homophobia in that family as well.

Annabelle has an uncle that she loves who’s gay and the family have basically disowned him because “being a faggot” is against God. What the fuck? I’ve met him and he’s a wonderful man.

Annabelle’s dad was always distant so that makes the daughters over achievers to please dad and never really understand men, and have fucked up relationships, because they were never raised by a man who led by example to send his daughters into tomorrow on a solid straight line.

The son usually ends up moving away and barely talking to the family, because dad’s a dick and mom’s tuned out.

Annabelle’s mother was I assume a trophy wife who lives the rich life. She blows money on all kind of stuff and even shoplifts sometimes for the thrill of it. This is a woman who is profoundly unhappy and thinks the rules don’t apply to rich people. Annabelle actually told me that she said that. She never cooked meals for the kids and all they did was eat take out so they’re sort of like wealthy white trash.

I guess this is where Annabelle learned her eating habits. You know how I feel about this. I’m an elegant dude with killer manners and I was appalled to watch Annabelle wolf her meals down when I was with her. She ate like my buddy Church when he’s stressed out and instead of drinking he stuffs his feeling with chow.

But here we have is this very tall somewhat average girl who just isn’t right for New York or Hollywood. They want a type and she just isn’t it.

A million people go to Hollywood and NYC each year thinking they are going to “make it.” Do you know how hard that is to do? It’s just mostly luck and being in the right place at the right time. I lived in LA and wanted to be a metal god in a rock band. It never happened. I’d probably be dead or a complete asshole had it happened.

Matt Leblanc had $17 in his checking account when he landed the role of Joey Tribbiani on the hit sitcom, Friends. He was broke. By the final season he was being paid $1 million an episode. That is lightning striking.

All of these dancers, writers, actors think their going to make it in these cities and maybe about 9 make it a year. Those are less than Powerball lottery odds.

So all of these failed “artists” are bitter when I tell them I’d like another round of drinks, or that I’m going to need these shirts back from the dry cleaners by Wednesday instead of Thursday.

So they huddle together with all of the other failures in their little circle of people and just do whatever they can. It’s really sad. You have to accept the inevitable and go do something else. I have an outgoing personality, so I went into sales and financial services. I was fine. I can comfortably wrap myself in my memories that I gave it a shot and it just didn’t happen. My father used to say, “if you don’t get something in life, you didn’t want it bad enough.”

Okay that’s total bullshit and something he read somewhere. His brother had a great creative mind but my dad just didn’t. No fault no foul. He was just that guy. But he educated himself with books his whole life. But the problem with that is you become the sum of other people’s experiences and thoughts. Not your own. It makes you sound smart and helps you get ahead in life, but there is no creativity in it. He once gave me the greatest compliment he would ever give me when he saw me play guitar. He said. “I love music but you can actually MAKE music.” That was huge to me. I’ll get into that whole thing in another post series that will publish in 2018.

But what I’m saying is, these failed artist types just aren’t very talent so they all cling together for support. That’s a normal reaction. Showbiz is the only vocation that devours its young. It’s sad, but if you choose that life be prepared to work as a waitress a lot.

When they’re with their failed brethren working on some shitty project or stage play that just suck Royal Canadian moose cock and is painful to watch you feel sorry for them as to how silly it is. It’s a shame. They always use words like “Amazing” to describe the performances of the people around them, and it just isn’t true.

I have been and artist (pen and ink) a musician and a writer. There is nothing AMAZING about any of it. They will say things like, Our musical director and pianist is so AMAZING. No. He’s not. He’s just a bitter asshole who is mean to everyone around him as he plinks away at his piano playing the shitty soundtrack to your play that makes no fucking sense.

He’s not at Carnegie Hall, he’s not selling out the Wells Fargo Center. That’s what he wanted, but it never happened, so he’s stuck with your shitty little troupe to just keep going.

People use the word, AMAZING and AWESOME all of the time now. Everyone is misusing it.

There once was a little boy who at 6 years old his teachers said. “I think something is wrong with your son. He hardly speaks. He is unreachable and unteachable. He’s lost in his world of dreams. That little boy was Albert Einstein. Now that motherfucker was AMAZING.

Little myopic, chubby, homosexual Reginald Dwight struggled in his life. That little boy became Sir Elton John. That man is AWESOME.

See the difference? I know it seems like I’m digressing into something else. My last girlfriend Michelle had her challenges in life but on the ground floor and pound for pound she’s a solid lady.

Annabelle is a handful. I feel love and lust for her, but now she’s picked up a camera and like a thousand other swinging dicks in this city calls herself a photographer. She’s struggling to figure out what she’s going to do with the rest of her life or at leat the next 5 years.

She’s a very juvenile 27-year-old. Michelle had worked in business since college. She’s worked for corporations and been in offices and worked with people in real commerce. Annabelle is a failed actress who is trying to make her way as a photographer taking other shitty actors headshots and shooting people’s weddings. It’s a constant struggle for a person who never worked in a real job and spent her childhood making art in her bedroom. If it was good and she got discover it would be a totally different story, but it’s not. It’s the other side of the coin.

This is what I have gotten myself into. I think I’m in love with her. I feel it. But there is a euphoria that is connected to it that isn’t real. It’s not good. I’ve felt this before but the drug of falling in love is so strong with this one that it’s doing things to me.

I had it with Michelle in the beginning as we all do, but with her it settled down into domesticity. That cools the addiction.

I’m older now and I have turned the clock back once again on a young girl. I’m older now and here I go with another 27-year-old who doesn’t know who she is, what she wants and where she is going. This is the problem dating younger women. It’s a vicious circle that I have repeated many times. Michelle was stable. This one is all over the place. Lost.

A leaf blowing in the wind.

But the drug of love takes me and I’m in it now. We don’t make love, we fuck. Annabelle has sex like she does everything else in her life. Like a fool. We have sex like she eats her food. There isn’t a mutual celebration of us sharing our most intimate vessels in union.

Because if the only tool you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.

It’s good. It’s hot. Come on. Even mediocre sex that isn’t what you want is still sex. The fury. The release. Sex is like free beer and pizza but if the pizza is tough and the beer is warm it’s just not the same.

She always had to be working on her photography, because her mind and calendar were unmanageable. But I get it. We’re in different places in our lives. She’s trying to make something. I’m cruising at 51.

There were times she would get so wrapped up in her work that she would come over. I was cooking her a romantic dinner in front of the fireplace. (I’m a deadly cook) She would show up sometimes and say tonight was a work party. That meant that at some point she would be working on her photography stuff. Do that shit at home. Manage your schedule and your work load and be able to turn it off when you’re with a loved one. I can always separate the two. That’s a person. Focus on them tonight.

I quit smoking and it was really easy. I literally stopped buying them. No withdrawal, because I had replaced that addiction with Annabelle. I know I loved her more than she loved me so it was easy. I went from a 36 waist to a 32 waist in 3 months. Yea. I did that for Annabelle.

When somebody really loves you, they love you for you. Period. They dig the person you are right now. But me being in love with the idea of love and not even knowing it was happening to me is a crazy addiction. That was me then.

I am no longer that man. (But still sporting the 32 inch waist, baby!)

I thought this post would be different. My notes said how when she came over and we watched Jurassic Park together. Or how the first time we had sex, I remember looking in her eyes with a sense of teenage nervousness as I slowly slipped her black lace panties down her long slender thighs and having sex with her for the first time. It was great. I was happy to be with her. I was lit the fuck up from being in love with someone.

So the relationship is hot and cold. I’m feeling a little crazy being with Annabelle. That should have been a string of red flags, but like when I started this tome you just can’t see it.

She’d be isolated from me for 10 days at a clip because she was so wrapped up in her stuff. Shoots, working on two plays at a time that were both garbage, and just being a scatter brain. She doesn’t have a good relationship with her dad, but it seems she is very much like him. Just an isolated person that is consumed by whatever she’s working on and to hell with the real people in her life.

She started talking about moving to Belgium out of nowhere and studying animation. (No idea) The next time I saw her (Which was like 3 days later) She said she was going to become a company member of a drag cabaret.  It’s just this one guy that loves to run around in public in a dress, and a few other losers that put on the most godawful shitty musical comedy plays that absolutely blow.

So here I am in love with the idea of love with a girl half my age and I am only feeling three things outside of the sex and dinners.

Frustration, aggravation, and grinding disappointment.

Oh great, we’re “In a relationship” on Facebook.

Fuck. What am I doing?

 

Google the lyrics to this song….

 

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