Read Online Straight Up and Dirty: A Memoir by Stephanie Klein - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Klein
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grandmother away with a hand. “Stephanie, I’m telling you, I actually believed I was pregnant because I was tongue-kissed by a man. But I tell ya what. I’m happy to tongue kiss any man here tonight!”
“Knock yourself out, Fay.”
“I’m telling you, Stephie, life is short. Live it up while you can. Take a lover.” Oh God, where was Lea when I needed her? “Though maybe that’s not the best idea. Lovers get jealous. I had one once who hunted me down with guns when I left him.” On the word guns , Fay made guns with her thumbs and pointer fingers, then said, “boom, boom!” “Nah, it’s all worth it, so kiss some fellas now, Stephie dear, because the change of life, I don’t care what they tell you, makes you crave a whole lot of boom boom.”
I craved my bed. I didn’t care that I’d be in it alone.
“I think I’m going to go now.” I said it, then smiled, hoping they’d pat me on the shoulder and kiss me goodnight.
“At least stay for some cake. Going home alone is one thing, Stephie, but alone without cake is more depressing than your well running dry.” No, depressing is when a woman refers to her vagina as “a well.” I forced a smile.
I left without trying their wedding cake, and before the bouquet toss. I’d survived my pew tears and their first dance. It was enough. After hearing my grandmother and her sister tell me to “live it up because it goes by so fast,” I wanted to throw a bouquet of a fit. I wanted to scream and make a drunken scene, but there were video cameras and a bridegroom to consider. So I left alone, slipping out the door without good-byes or good wishes.
In bed, Linus licked my tears. I hated that Fay said time went by so fast. When I was suffering, time was stagnant. So now that I was single and dating it was supposed to be rushing right by? If these were to be the best times of my life, I was seriously screwed. This couldn’t be the good stuff, not yet. The good times came in jumps on a sofa until you laughed, in kisses to each other, in a car singing, rolling your eyes laughing at someone you love. It comes in snorts when you stop caring how you sound or look. You stop caring if you’re doing it all wrong because you know. You know in your heart it’s amazing and right. You just know. And you love selflessly—the man, the woman, the kids, the dog, the lack of space. You love it all. That is the good stuff.
I thought I had all of that with Gabe. When I realized I didn’t, that I was living a knock-off marriage, I questioned all my choices. With old people telling me to hurry up and enjoy my life because it goes by so fast, how was I going to find happiness in the moment?
Of course I wanted to make those memories with someone. I wanted to start that life and to make a past with someone who could remember my embarrassing moments, someone who’d roll his eyes and tell me that’s not at all how it happened, then kiss me on the head and love me anyway. We all want that. But maybe it’s not where we’re looking for it.
I didn’t really attend Electra’s wedding alone. I was armed with my III, the three I’d found in family that night. My grandmother grew old with her sister, and mine made me snort and stop caring about my flabby arms and lack of date. Maybe that’s whom we really grow old with, siblings or old friends who link us to our pasts and remind us of who we are.
I knew one thing for certain: my proclivity to care what people thought had gotten old , and had I brought a new rent-a-date, surely he’d have outed me to the charming wait staff. It was about time I borrowed some esteem and left a wedding feeling something other than blue . So yeah, I was alone in bed, but I’d be okay because, really, what would be the point of staging anything, especially for my family? And, when it comes down to it, who was looking anyway? So, I embraced “stag,” despite how wretched and dripping with stigma the word is:
n.
1. The
“Knock yourself out, Fay.”
“I’m telling you, Stephie, life is short. Live it up while you can. Take a lover.” Oh God, where was Lea when I needed her? “Though maybe that’s not the best idea. Lovers get jealous. I had one once who hunted me down with guns when I left him.” On the word guns , Fay made guns with her thumbs and pointer fingers, then said, “boom, boom!” “Nah, it’s all worth it, so kiss some fellas now, Stephie dear, because the change of life, I don’t care what they tell you, makes you crave a whole lot of boom boom.”
I craved my bed. I didn’t care that I’d be in it alone.
“I think I’m going to go now.” I said it, then smiled, hoping they’d pat me on the shoulder and kiss me goodnight.
“At least stay for some cake. Going home alone is one thing, Stephie, but alone without cake is more depressing than your well running dry.” No, depressing is when a woman refers to her vagina as “a well.” I forced a smile.
I left without trying their wedding cake, and before the bouquet toss. I’d survived my pew tears and their first dance. It was enough. After hearing my grandmother and her sister tell me to “live it up because it goes by so fast,” I wanted to throw a bouquet of a fit. I wanted to scream and make a drunken scene, but there were video cameras and a bridegroom to consider. So I left alone, slipping out the door without good-byes or good wishes.
In bed, Linus licked my tears. I hated that Fay said time went by so fast. When I was suffering, time was stagnant. So now that I was single and dating it was supposed to be rushing right by? If these were to be the best times of my life, I was seriously screwed. This couldn’t be the good stuff, not yet. The good times came in jumps on a sofa until you laughed, in kisses to each other, in a car singing, rolling your eyes laughing at someone you love. It comes in snorts when you stop caring how you sound or look. You stop caring if you’re doing it all wrong because you know. You know in your heart it’s amazing and right. You just know. And you love selflessly—the man, the woman, the kids, the dog, the lack of space. You love it all. That is the good stuff.
I thought I had all of that with Gabe. When I realized I didn’t, that I was living a knock-off marriage, I questioned all my choices. With old people telling me to hurry up and enjoy my life because it goes by so fast, how was I going to find happiness in the moment?
Of course I wanted to make those memories with someone. I wanted to start that life and to make a past with someone who could remember my embarrassing moments, someone who’d roll his eyes and tell me that’s not at all how it happened, then kiss me on the head and love me anyway. We all want that. But maybe it’s not where we’re looking for it.
I didn’t really attend Electra’s wedding alone. I was armed with my III, the three I’d found in family that night. My grandmother grew old with her sister, and mine made me snort and stop caring about my flabby arms and lack of date. Maybe that’s whom we really grow old with, siblings or old friends who link us to our pasts and remind us of who we are.
I knew one thing for certain: my proclivity to care what people thought had gotten old , and had I brought a new rent-a-date, surely he’d have outed me to the charming wait staff. It was about time I borrowed some esteem and left a wedding feeling something other than blue . So yeah, I was alone in bed, but I’d be okay because, really, what would be the point of staging anything, especially for my family? And, when it comes down to it, who was looking anyway? So, I embraced “stag,” despite how wretched and dripping with stigma the word is:
n.
1. The
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