Really, I'm Not Going Anywhere or Talk Economics to Me, Baby

I love my fiance. Really, I do. But I simply do not understand why he becomes jealous so easily. A certain amount of jealousy is acceptable and even sweet. If another guy is talking to me in a bar, I think its cute if my fiance comes over to me and puts his arm around me.

But I am virtually unable to mention an ex in front of him if its in an even semi-positive way. I would not do this toward the beginning of a relationship, but we've been together for more than two years--so its getting a bit old. There are a number of ex's that played an important role in my past and with every one of them, there were at least some good times that I do not want forget. So, if I say something about how an ex and I took a trip to Hot Springs and went to a natural spa there, it does not mean that I am considering leaving him to go back to the ex. It just means that I want to share something about my past with the person I want to spend my future with.

And for God's sake, when I say something like "Oh, how I love Paul Krugman," rest assured that I have no impending plans to run off with him. The same goes for any other economist I express admiration for. Also, John Maynard Keynes is very dead and very gay--and I possess neither a propensity for necrophilia nor a penis.

Gotta Go Right Now

As a child, I didn't have the best coordination. I never could hold my pencil correctly and I tied my shoes the weird way (two loops instead of one). Not to mention, both my knees are covered in scars from the zillions of nasty spills I took. I'd like to say that this is one of those things that improved with age, but that would be well not true.

I'm as clumsy now as ever and on any given day, I 'm certain to have at least one knee bruised from tripping on the curb (Seriously, its like watching an episode of when curbs attack). I am completely clumsy, uncoordinated and awkward. This is an unchangeable part of who I am and I accept it but it has resulted in some interesting situations.

For example, I was home from college for spring break one year, while Shrek remained at school. I took this opportunity to spend time with my family and my high school friends.

One night, we were playing drinking board games -- girls vs. boys with the girls' team totally dominating at Simpsons Battle of the Sexes but after several beers, I needed a bathroom break.

I was really in a hurry and somehow in the process of trying to get my belt undone, I managed to jam it really badly. It had one of those slidey buckle things like an old boy scout belt and I managed to slip part of it out of where it was supposed to be and I could not get the thing undone. After unsuccessful attempts, I realized I needed assistance.

I snuck back out and pulled my friend to the side to see if she could get it unjammed. After a few minutes of pulling, she was unable to get it to budge. I discreetly pulled another girl to the side who was also unable to get it undone.

At this point I was in pain I gave up and asked a guy. This was incredibly embarrassing and awkward at the time, but he was able to get my belt off.

The next day, Shrek called and I mentioned what I had been up to over the past couple of days including the belt story which after the fact just seemed really funny to me.

Shrek did not see the humor in the situation. In fact, he spent the next 15 minutes screaming into the phone about what a slut I was.

At least that's what I think he screamed about the whole time. I put the phone down after five minutes to go get a drink of water and when I came back, he was still carrying on. I explained that it wasn't like I asked him to take my pants off -- I just needed someone to assist with my belt so I would not have to piss myself. But this point was lost on him.

Apparently not peeing my pants makes me a slut. But, according to him, my Vineyard Vines tote bag, Rainbow flip-flops and hairbands also made me a slut. I don't think that word means what he thinks it means.

You Don't Own Me

String Bean was a control freak. And I don't mean over just anything, mostly over me and any subsequent girl friends he later possessed.

I needed a favor from a close guy friend of mine, Jason, who I had known for years. I pick up my cell phone and begin clicking through my contacts to find his number. Once, twice, three times, I go through the list. His number isn't there! Fortunately, I had my old cell phone and I looked it up and added it back in my phone. I was perplexed as to how the phone had misplaced the number. Did cell phones get bugs? Could it have deleted itself?

The same situation arose a few days later with ANOTHER of my male friends (Ian) and a mutual one of String Bean's. That number too had mysteriously disappeared from my phone.

Honestly, at the time, I had no idea what had happened. Not too much later though, I catch String Bean scrolling through my phone with a little pouty face on. "How did you get Ian's number?"

"I went by his work and got it back. Somehow my phone deleted him out of the system or something. Isn't that weird?"

"Why the hell do you want his number?"

Umm excuse me? This a$$hole went into my phone and deleted the numbers of the guys I knew because he thought I was having an illicit affair with them or something. (In hindsight, I probably should have. This IS the same guy who pulled the stupid stories...) But that's neither here nor there. What kind of person is so insecure about themselves that they have to go through their girlfriend's phone and physically remove all potential challengers?

To top it off, he did it to his next (and now ex) girlfriend. Here's a transcript of what she sent me (slightly cleaned up... she was pretty angry... They live together but she'll be moving out at the end of the month.)

"So, he started pouting again!! (surprise surprise) when I came home from work today with some boxes for when we move and so he starts pouting and then of course we start talking about it and then we talk about why our relationshiop ended, this a$$hole is saying that I "emotionally cheated" on him with other guys.

I asked him how, and he said that I have very close friendships with guys that took intimacy away from him!

I asked him, if he thought it was ok if girls and guys had a purely close friendship? He said, NO. And he says that guys and girls can never be just friends without someone having more feelings. I said bullshit. Cuz I have 3 guy best friends that have never formed any sort of bond other then friendship and I told him if he seriously thought that he should go check the screws in his brain.

I was so livid and still am. I told him that HE can never have a pure friendship with a girl because he'll want to just sleep with her... he didnt like that too much."

Ugh. Possessive boyfriends are nothing more than future loserexes. And seriously, you have to understand that it's perfectly natural for girls to have guy friends outside of her relationship with you. And that doesn't equal with emotionally cheating, nor should you accuse her of such. That's just stupid. Then again, so is String Bean.

You don't own me. Don't say I can't go with other boys!

The first time

Shrek and I had plans to go out to dinner one Friday. Unfortunately, I had a charity event right before which I ended up leaving early and running back home in order to make our reservations. When I got back to my dorm, he was waiting outside. I let him in and agreed to let him check his e-mail on my computer while I quickly changed clothes.

As soon as he sits-down and sees my wallpaper, he freaks.

Him: "What the hell is this?"
Me: "No idea. Hey, are my pink Michael Kors shoes over there?"
Him: "No, what is this on your computer?"
Me: "No idea, what does it look like?"
Him: "Naked men."
Me: "Are you talking about my wallpaper? They're not naked, they're wearing swimsuits"

It was a black and white photo I had gotten off of the Cosmopolitan website that had three men standing in the water at a beach and in pink letters it said "Have a Cosmo summer!" Totally harmless. I would have shown it to my grandmother and not felt embarrassed.

Him: "They're naked."
Me: "It's not like you can see anything."
Him: "I don't like that you're looking at other men."
Me: "Ok, change it."

Note: Shrek had a poster of Carmen Electra in his dorm in which she is wearing what appears to be a bikini bottom and a chain mail tank top. Her nipples were airbrushed out to make it not completely pornographic. I never said anything about it.

While I was none too pleased with the fact he had a scandalous picture of some skank on his wall, I figured that it really was not a huge deal. I mean, it could have been a whole lot worse. It's not like he had piles of dirty magazines with sticky pages under his bed or anything.

I was pretty irked that he would make such a big deal about a goofy picture on my computer, but decided I didn't want to get in a fight over it, so I just kept getting dressed and let him change the wallpaper to a picture of my dog.

A few minutes pass and I am just about ready to go.

Him: "Who is *reads screen name of a male friend from back home*?"
Me: "Oh, that's Mike. Tell him I'm heading out right now"
Him: "Why does he talk to you like this?"

I come over and read the message. It says "Hi RGB. I miss you. When are you coming back home?"

Me: "He's one of my best friends."
Him: "This is bullshit that your guy friends are so friendly with you!"

He went on to accuse me of sleeping with all my guy friends. This did not elicit the most polite response from me. He stormed out. I waited a few minutes and called him. He broke up with me.

I changed my wallpaper back to the Cosmo guys.

We ended-up getting back together two weeks later.

But not before I made-out with one of his friends against Shrek's car.

It was awesome.

It Must Have Been the Mistletoe

Back in college, when I actually had free time, I used to make greeting cards for birthdays, thank-you notes and any other occasion which merited a card. I don't mean "make" in the sense of printing off my computer, or even using a sheet of computer paper and drawing on it. My cards were all quite tasteful, and carefully crafted.

One year, I had a particularly cute idea of making Christmas cards that would have a sprig of mistletoe tied to the front with a little red ribbon. On the inside would be red lipstick kiss. I think I may have thought up something corny like "Merry Kissmas" to write on the inside under the big red kiss. Well, it was actually most likely something more creative than that, but that was the general idea of the message.

So, I went to the store, bought heavy cardstock, mistletoe, ribbon and adhesive gold strips for a border. These were going to be the cutest cards, ever! I was so excited about it, I started putting them together as soon as I got home. In the midst of all the cutting, gluing and kissing, Shrek's fat ass wandered over to my dorm.

At first he didn't get it. "Why would you kiss a card that is going to a friend?" I explained to him the tradition regarding mistletoe. He told me that my cards were slutty, and that if he received one from a girl, he would assume she was hitting on him. I believe I have addressed this before, but Shrek always thought everyone was hitting on him.

Apparently he missed the memo on how to actually flirt with someone. I mean, seriously. A girl asked to borrow his notes, and he assumed she was really asking to suck his dick. Two girls asked him for the time, and he thought they were asking for a threesome. A guy held the door open for him and apparently that means that he wanted to be pounded in the ass by Shrek.

We got in a fight about the damn cards, and he threw the biggest temper tantrum imaginable about it. I ended up throwing them in the back of a drawer somewhere. Maybe one day I will make them again.

This time, I will send one to him with the message "Kiss my ass, dickhead!"

Too Sexy for Shrek...

I am really pretty. I just want to put that out there. I am not going to beat around the bush and infer that people find me attractive in an attempt to not sound arrogant. After all, I am arrogant. And pretty. Really pretty. I don't mean "pretty" in the way that is exotic or unconventional or subjective. I just am pretty.

With that said, now let me talk about Shrek. The truth is, he wasn't unattractive. CMS will probably comment on how fugly he was, but I think he was slightly above average on the attractiveness scale, but nothing extraordinary. The truth is, I don't even like guys who are amazingly gorgeous. I am not really someone who goes for looks. Anyway, Shrek was not bad-looking, but he was in no way as attractive as I am. His coworkers jokingly discussed how I am too cute for him one night and he found out about it. Then, the sh*t hit the fan.

I thought it was kind of funny, but he was absolutely livid that people would say I was too attractive for him. From that day forward, I never heard the end of stories about how every single time when he goes to the mall back home, at least 6 girls come up to him and give out their numbers without having even spoken with him. I nod, smile and go "is that so? Wow!" Not enough. Next, he comes over and tells me that every sorority on campus invited him to their crush parties (my own excluded) and when invited said that they "want really hot guys to come." Again, nod, smile "how about that." Then, he tells me that a girl in his class asked him out. "How nice. Was she cute?" Next, it's that he believes that he should get a job at the gay club as a shot boy, and he would make a ton of money, because he is so hot. Ok, I nodded and smiled at the time, but I've got to say here that he was very out of shape, and no one would pay to see him without a shirt. Unless they liked fat porn or something. This went on for months when finally, he dropped the bomb. He informed me that he could very easily date someone more attractive than me. Wrong. He went on later to say that he couldn't really.

The point is, I never cared about how attractive he was. If he hadn't wasted so much time with his head up his ass, being jealous of something so superficial, he would seen that. Everyone else could see that. I was willing to let him believe that he was better-looking, smarter and whatever else. Rather than see this, he was so concerned with trying to win a competition against me that I was never participating in.

I have since dated people who are more attractive, smarter, more well-mannered, more cultured and overall better people. He will never date anyone who can even hold a light to me in any way.

Caress me down...

So, Shrek and I somehow got to talking about massages one day, when he revealed a shocking confession. Apparently over the summer, he had gone to get massages once or twice a week!

Not the shocking secret you expected? Yeah, me neither. He went on explain that he hadn't told me because he knew I would be jealous that some other woman was touching his pimpley back. To this day, I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why he was so convinced of this. I told him that didn't bother me at all, and I didn't know why he had been so afraid to tell me. He claimed it was because he would not tolerate me ever getting a professional massage from a man. This seems really weird to me. I mean, what exactly does a massage entail for him? As I write this, I am still confused about his mind-set. To make this easier on me, I am just going to assume they were relief massages, and that's why he went to such great lengths to keep them a secret. Man, do I feel bad for that masseuse. She had to touch his backne, his other parts, and (knowing him) probably got no tip whatsoever.