seeping with the enemy

Usually dibs implies a gentleman’s agreement. Two ascot clad men shaking hands, one vowing to stand aside as the other puts forth his most gallant efforts to woo a dame. Or it’s to secure a spot in the front seat near the air-conditioning vents on a crotch-hot day by screaming "shotgun" like one of those grown men who should’ve outgrown calling shotgun. The kind that still race down the aisles of the supermarket riding the back of the cart as if it were a scooter. The point is, the whole need to call "first dibs" implies that there’s something of value at hand.

When I think back to my relationship with Turner, it’s hard not to also think of Oliver. Turner had dibs because we’d met first.He didn’t call dibs or anything. I mean, not that it should work that way with dating, but when that first guy comes along that you actually want to call you (and who actually does call), you start to hope things might work out. And you kinda favor him because it had just been so damn long since you were that damn happy. I saw the red flags but waved my hand at them, thinking maybe they’re really white flags–urging me to surrender– that somehow got thrown in with that one red sock. I didn’t want to see what I should’ve be seeing. Just let me have this, damn universe!

In the end, I told him I couldn’t see him anymore. I stuck to it. I felt sick. I called Poppa and cried. Why can’t I just meet someone already?! So fucking annoying. I’d kept thinking it might go somewhere, bought the new bra and fun top, those cute earrings. I cooked him things. Assembled salads. Composed a grapefruit brulee (basically just wanted to show off my blowtorch). But all the hair blowouts and new pairs of "they make you look soooo skinny" jeans couldn’t make us work. My friends thought he was a drip. "Actually, Stephanie, we didn’t say ‘drip’. We said ‘dud’." Yeah, but I like duds. "Yeah, milkduds. In your popcorn! Not in the man you’re rolling around with." Who says "rolling around with" anymore?

I told him not to contact me, that it made it too hard, that we couldn’t be friends. I mean it! Then I hit refresh waiting for the emails. Had the cell on vibrate, waiting. And waiting. Then I stopped waiting and started dating Oliver. Started liking Oliver. Wow, maybe this can work. And that’s exactly when the emails and phone calls came. When I was finally over it. Typical.

And that’s when the seep happens. When you think it’s safe to let the past back in because you’re finally composed and happy, and let’s be honest, totally the one in control with the upper hand. You make him eat it. "Sure," I said over the phone, checking out my reflection in a makeup compact, "I’ll meet you for a drink after work, but just one because I’m meeting Oliver for dinner." Salt, meet wound.

Except guys don’t think this at all. All he really hears when I agree to meet him is: she still wants me. Maybe I’ll get laid.



  1. We always want what we cant have. I have found recently in the dating world how I treat men comes back and bites me in the ass if Im not careful.
    Looking forward to the video of Lucas and Abigail. I was scrolling through your flickr looking to see if there were any news one but I didnt see any.
    Cant wait to read the book too :)

  2. Yep.

    Perfect example of age bringing wisdom. Or not. (I still have friends who succumb.)

    Once you've closed the door, you can't even look through the peephole, let alone open the door just a bit. You think you can handle it. After all, you have "hand." Until that very hand is slapping you in the face trying to smack some sense into you.

    It's like smelling a neighbor's simmering brisket that seeps through your front door. Ohhh, I could totally go for that. But it's not the brisket you want, it's the memories it invokes. Friday night dinners with family. But if you actually ate it now, it would give you a stomach ache. Too heavy. Too much.

    But before we know it, we've opened the door…and our hearts. And it's true. They only want to know they can get back into our beds. And we invite them because we only want to know we're still desired. And then we're fucked. Literally and figuratively.

  3. I love when you write these Turner stories. I also love when you post photos of yourself and of the babies. We haven't seen them in a long time. Please?

  4. Maybe you covered this in the archives or past stories about this Turner guy, but did you break up with him because your FRIENDS thought he was dull?

    FROM SK: Do you honestly believe I'm the type of person who'd stop seeing a guy because my friends (boss, parents, relatives, people in general) don't approve?

    And, I did cover it earlier.

  5. To Daily Rant:

    Too funny your comment. Haha! I like the way you capitalize the word "friend"….do you think she knows all her "friends" are snickering behind her back like the school kids did? lol

    "Friends" – what are they to her? Mostly composed of ass-kissers or "acquaintances" posing as "dear friends"

    Too funny

  6. I tried to post this question earlier and can't imagine why you would not show it but I will ask again — who is the child on the cover of your book? I would like to buy it but feel uncomfortable doing so without knowing if this was a photo you staged with a chubby child on the cover.

    FROM SK: The photo on the front cover is not me. It's stock. The photo on the back cover IS me. No, we did not hire a chubby model. Same as many other covers out there, you aim for an image of someone without a face, so the reader can maybe see herself, identify more. No one would have taken such a beautiful shot of me so many years ago. And my hair never would have looked so straight near the water :)

  7. The dibs thing in dating is uncomprehensible to me. After falling madly in love with a guy, he got in a huge fight with his best friend (physical fighting in a public place, pretty embarrassing). Turned out that a few weeks earlier, the best friend called 'shotgun' on wooing me, and got pissed that his friend still made a move and succeeded. Like I didn't have any say in it at all. Idiots.

    And yeah, I also noticed ex-bf's coming back when you're finally no longer hoping that they will. That really sucks.

  8. incredibly true, so true. what is the upper hand, really? so false. i feel like as soon as i have it, i have to use it to slap myself in the face and see reality. barely helps. who doesn't want to feel wanted?

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