Confessions of A Naughty Girl

Life's A Bitch, And It's Always Having Midget Trolls

Happy New Year's, everyone. Hope it was a good one.

If yours was anything like mine, it was the best in many years. If yours was anything unlike mine, you are able to recount every minute of it.

I really didn't intend to drink that much, but what can I say, that's what running around the entire day with just a chicken sandwich from Burger King and an iced latte will do for you.

I probably got what I deserved.

And now I am sitting online, surfing my 2006 yearly horoscope, as I do every single January 2nd. I know, I know, horoscopes are shit. But honestly, things have been so crazy around here lately that a little suggestion at what some stuffy British clairvoyant quack suggests could possibly happen will probably give me more direction than the sharpest instinct I own (including my treasured Magic 8 Ball).

The common theme this year in the romance astrology department seems to be letting go of the past.

You think I need to let go of my past, Sherlock? No f*cking shit.

New years are a good opportunity to turn over a new leaf. Out with the old, in with the new. But while contact lenses, clothing, takeout containers, and even condom wrappers are all quite disposable, memories are - in this case, unfortunately - not.

How much does our past really dictate our future? Is it really possible to exorcise ourselves of shit that we've been hanging on to for months, years, or in some cases, decades?

I have thought long and hard about the things I need to let go of, and some are much easier than others. But I am going to do the best I can to let go of everything, because I've realized that it has held me back, to some degree, for a long time. And I'm pretty tired of it. It's time to let it go.

My Wife and I did New Year's together this year, and it was fantastic. We started with a pre-party at another friend's house, and slowly made our way to the bar party. Actually, I'm not sure if it was slowly or quickly, but it sure seemed like it was in slow motion, so let's go with that.

Cute Boy was there. Oh, Cute Boy was definitely there. He was as cute and as fun as ever, and I wanted a piece. I'll admit it, I really did. So with my painstakingly applied "natural" makeup, my blown out hair, and my festive little outfit, I pulled out what was left of my Mojo from 2005 and went to work.

At one point, Cute Boy and I were conversing at the bar, and things were looking pretty good. I had sources notifying me of his interest, I had enough liquid confidence to go for it, and I was wearing really super cute underwear.

But just then, the most curious thing happened. He mentioned that he went to the same small college as my ex-boyfriend, the Midget Troll of 2 years, and when I asked if he knew the MT, his jaw hit the floor. Did he know him? Shit, he was incredibly good friends with him.

Wait, he asks, did I date the MT for two years while I was an undergrad and he was going for his MBA? (Yes.) Did the MT and I live together in college? (Yes, mistakenly, we did.) Did we break up in 2001? (Yes.)

"Well KA," he said to me, with a face full of strange recognition and new understanding, "I know a lot about you."

It turns out, the Midget Troll had pre-emptively soiled my romantic future, because shortly after we broke up, he went to visit Cute Boy (who interestingly enough, I had never met during the course of my relationship with MT), and came down there all crying and shit about how I had ruined his life and how badly I broke his heart.

Does anyone else hear little animated puppets singing "It's A Small World..." right now? Or is that just me.

The good news is that once this little degree of separation was established, we sort of bizarrely went from 0 to 60 on the makeout scale in 2 seconds flat. We made out once or twice, and all over the place. My Wife (aka my Memory, as I had blacked out shortly after Makeout #1) confirmed over brunch at IHOP yesterday morning that Cute Boy and I made out at least 4 or 5 times, and that had social mores permitted dry humping at a New Year's party on the dance floor while "Saturday Night" was playing, we would have probably gone for it. And hey, it was - from what I remember - a fantastic New Year's makeout. I only wish there hadn't been an audience of 50 to witness. Or pictures to prove it. Because that's embarassing, and kind of yucky.

It was probably after Makeout #3 that I decided that yes, I definitely had a bit of a crush on the Cute Boy. I would go out with him. Hell, he had the potential to maybe even, after a few months, be a new boyfriend. After all, he was cute, smart, nice, fun, and unlike most guys that I have dated, or even made out with, (sorry, but I did say most, not all), he was good at kissing the shit out of me.

The next thing I knew, I was being pulled into the corner. A few mumbled words in my ear, and he was gone.

I believe, looking back, that the mumbled words were something to the effect of, "I think you are really great, and I like you a lot, but it weirds me out to know that you dated one of my friends, and I just don't know if I can handle that. I know you broke his heart. That just kind of freaks me out."

My suspicions were confirmed yesterday when the Wife reiterated these sentiments. Apparently he was "thoughtful" enough to mention this to her too, before he bolted for the night, and I was left to pass out - fully clothed and ridiculously, blackout drunk - in Wife's bed at her house.

As my friend Bethany says, "Life's a bitch, and it's always having puppies." But seriously, f*ck me. I thought the word was puppies, not Midget Trolls. Apparently they're one and the same.

Everyone deserves a clean slate, and no one more so than me. I have a seasoned past, and no, I'm not jumping the couch over a lot of it. But seriously, what a blow. I am now being held responsible for relationships that happened 5 years ago! What can I say - I was 20 years old, I was living with my boyfriend, and I didn't want to get married then, or anytime remotely thereafter. I made my choices as best I could, and now, five years later, in a different city and practically a different world, it freaked the Cute Boy out. Give me a f*cking break, man.

Which begs the question: to what extent do choices and experiences like this affect tomorrow? Is the job you have today going to hold you back from the dream job you'll interview for a year from now? Is the guy you're dating the best friend, the brother, the college friend, of someone you'll be wanting to make out with in the middle of a bar on New Year's Eve 2009? And perhaps most importantly, can I stop somehow meeting people that know people that just ruin shit for me?

Perhaps - and the best I can hope for - is that I did my closet cleaning on January 1. Because if not, it's going to be a hell of a year.

posted by KA @ 10:18 PM