RedBull... Always a bad idea.

RedBull should have a bigger warning on the can. Not only does it turn you into a schizophrenic crackhead, it impairs your judgment and ruins your relationships.

One night, while on a date with a guy that I had been dating for a few months, I drank one too many RedBull and Vodka’s. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because, I was tipsy, feeling all kinds of sexy, and ready to rock-n-roll.

Wings took me back to his place for a nightcap. I was an animal. RedBull makes me feel like a warrior. As though I’m a gladiator fighting for my life. That feeling doesn’t just disappear after a few hours. I learned that the hard way.

Wings fell asleep and I was left to watch a really scary movie on TV. He sleeps for 2 hours while I’m terrified. I hate scary movies but I couldn’t find the remote so I was screwed. I was a hot mess - anxious, awake, and feeling like there were murderers under the bed. Not fun.

I decide that while Wings snores his life away, I will make a break for it. I text my friends and alert them of my current predicament. They laugh. I was trapped at Wing’s place, revved on RedBull, trying to escape. It was 4 am. I had no car. He had driven me there. What was my plan once I got outside? To call a cab. I thought it was a genius plan. I was ready to execute.

With each snore, I put on an article of clothing. I was fully dressed and he didn’t wake so I figured I would continue to mask the sound of my movement with his snores. Each time he inhaled, I took a step. It took me damn near an hour to reach the door. I’m almost free. I can taste freedom. I can’t believe I’ve pulled this off. I am escaping from the scary, snoring, super anxious hell I had created for myself by drinking one too many RedBulls. I was minutes away from getting into a cab, going home, and doing whatever the heck I wanted in my altered state.

I turned the door knob. I slowly opened the door. Wings woke up. He asked me where I was going. I was standing in the doorway, crouched in a ninja stance, holding my purse, fully clothed, and I didn’t know what to say. I got caught trying to escape. This was not going to end well.

I told him that I couldn’t sleep. He was not very excited about this. I pleaded for him to go back to bed. I would just try to sleep. I threw myself back into bed. But he knew I was lying. He couldn’t understand how I was still awake. He made me get into the car. He drove me home. It would have been a 10 minute ride back to my place but all the freeway ramps had been closed …since most people are asleep at 4:30 am on a Sunday morning. It took us almost 30 minutes to get to my place. We didn’t talk the entire car ride home.

He had caught me trying to escape from his home at an ungodly hour. For whatever reason, no matter how hard I tried to convince him, he just didn’t believe I was normal. Oopsies.

Lesson learned:

RedBull does not give you wings. It gives you a one way ticket to the single life.

Plastic Wrap me, Baby.

There’s something awesome about running into your ex-boyfriend and knowing that you’ve made him jealous. Whether it’s because you look good that day, or because you told him of your new super amazing boyfriend, making an ex regret not being with you can feel like a huge accomplishment.

Running into my ex was one of the most awkward experiences of my life. I was walking, downtown, to pick up some dinner. I literally walked right into him and Mr. Ed (his new girlfriend – I only call her Mr. Ed because after a quick poll, the majority of people agreed that she resembles a horse). From the looks of it, they too, were walking around looking for dinner.

It’s not like I could run away and pretend I didn’t see him, holding Mr Ed’s hoof while they smiled and giggled down the street. I had to face it. So what did I do? I came up with the most extravagant lifestyle update possible when he asked how I was. It was ridiculous, but it made me feel better. I was still single. I was going to eat dinner at home, alone. I didn’t need him to know that! The look in his eyes when I told him of my new and improved life told me that my fabricated life intrigued him.

A few days later, I get the text. You know, the “it was nice running into you. You look good. I’m glad you’re doing so well” text. Since the ball was in my court, I decided to play. And play hard. I made it my personal mission to win him back. Not that I actually wanted him back, but that secret, evil, totally bitter part of me that was jealous of his new relationship, and wanted to see if he still cared for me.

It took about a week before he agreed to meet up with me for lunch. A quick bite to eat. As friends. He must really have a thing for horses because lunch was like torture for him. He couldn’t stop talking about her. How great she was. How happy he was. I decided to change the subject. To remind him of all the good times we had … and the things, I know for a fact, his new girlfriend doesn’t do. This excited him. I was winning.

He drove me back to my place. Walked me to my door. I asked if he wanted to come inside for a few minutes. He agreed . We ended up talking a bit more. I had him just where I wanted him! If I could just get him to kiss me, then I would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t over me… and I had succeeded in crushing Mr. Ed, that I wasn’t the single loser, that he was worse off than me. He sat down on the couch next to me. I got a little nervous. He leaned in. Then, he whispered… “Do you have any Saran Wrap?”

That is like the LEAST seductive thing to whisper before you kiss someone. I asked him why. His explanation might be, quite possibly, the best explanation for cheating of all time…. He told me that if we put a piece of plastic wrap in between our lips, it wouldn’t be cheating… because… we’re NOT TOUCHING.

I couldn’t go through with it. Not only did I no longer care if he still had feelings for me, I knew that I was trying to seduce a stage 5 creeper.

Lesson Learned:

Saran wrap should only be used to wrap food. Not your face. If someone asks for you to wrap your face with Saran wrap, report him to the authorities, immediately.

Peeping Michelle.

Dear Boyfriend,

I am sorry for scaring you this morning. I know it must have looked bad. You have every right to be creeped out. If I was in your shoes, I would be too. It’s just that I couldn’t sleep. I decided to watch TV on the couch, in my underwear, as to not bother you. After I got tired of the Real Housewives of New Jersey, I got back into bed … and stared at you. Which is what I was doing when you opened your eyes. I’m sorry.

I just want you to know that I am not a troll. I am not trying to steal your breath. I am not a serial killer sizing up whether or not I can make a mask out of your face. I am not a professional stalker that lurks in bushes while you’re at work. I do not stare at you often. You fascinate me, but not that much.

Just know that I am human. I make mistakes. But I couldn’t help myself. You are so handsome. I was just thinking how could a girl like me be lying next to such a miracle of a man? Your soft lips, strong arms, smooth skin…. For that moment, your breath was like a cool ocean breeze, whispering in my ear. There are only a few moments in life where you are blessed with absolute clarity. You can clearly see what is valuable in life. You try to reach out and grab it but it’s just a fistful of sunshine. All you can do is stare and quietly thank God, Buddha, or Jay-Z that you get to at least experience it’s light.

You were my personal sunrise this morning. Thanks for the tan.

That said, I vow to never stare at you again. Next time, I will watch the entire marathon of Real Housewives until you wake up.

Love,

Your not so creepy girlfriend

Pluck You!

Confession: I’m a hairy beast.

Not just like a little bit of peach fuzz… more like I single handedly keep most razor companies in business. That being said, I usually end up dating men with absolutely NO body hair. It’s a strange thing, I know. It’s not like I go around only speaking to men with no visible arm hair. It just happens! I swear!

Whisker literally had less than 20 hairs on his body, not counting his facial hair. Other than his goatee and eyebrows, he had almost no hair on his body. This was really frustrating. Not only did he look like Dr. Evil’s cat – Mr. Bigglesworth – he was softer than most babies. Oh how I envied him.

He may have been soft and hair-free, but Whisker snored like a bear. Had he been a soldier in Iraq, he would have been given a Purple Heart and sent home just to make the snoring stop. My envy combined with his snoring would keep me up all hours of the night. As I watched him sleep, I would think of evil ways to make him stop snoring. I thought of stuffing his mouth with socks or even dousing him with water. But I hate sleeping in wet spots, so that wasn’t going to work. One day, while resting my head on his chest, listening to him snore his life away, I realized that he had exactly 7 hairs surrounding his nipples.

I have more hair on my knuckles than he did on his nipples. Jerk. I decided that I would pluck one of these hairs… all while he slept. I was going to pluck him as if he was a chicken. Best idea ever!

I picked the perfect hair. I positioned my fingers in perfect plucking position. I yanked. He made THE FUNNIEST whimper noise I’d ever heard. I couldn’t help but laugh. Whisker was not awakened by my yanking. Mission accomplished.

That night, I felt a little better about my life. I had plucked one of his 7 hairs; his pride and joy, the only visible proof that he was a man. I slept well that night.

Weeks went by before he noticed a difference. One night while hanging out with a group of friends, Whisker said something about getting old and losing your hair. He mentioned that he used to have a few chest hairs, but now, they’re all falling out. He was sad about this. We all laughed at him. I secretly died inside. He went inside to get more beer. I told all his friends that I secretly pluck his hairs while he sleeps. I re-enacted the noise. They all cheered. They promised to never tell him my evil ways. I really loved his friends.

I wonder if the hairs ever grew back. We were together for almost 2 years. They never came back when I was with him. I sometimes get the urge to send his new girlfriend an email asking about his chest hairs. But that would just make me creepy.

Lesson Learned:

Plucking your man’s chest hairs while he sleeps does not make you a better person. It just makes you even more hairy than him.