When I was in my 20’s I was wild. Those were the days when I was running around with the bad crowd. Naturally I was attracted to the guy would could treat me the worst. I left a good guy to hook up with one of his friends. That was harsh, but I didn’t care because I was in LOVE! Yeah, right.

That love of mine turned out to be a jerk. Ok, I’ll be honest (no judging alright?) I did have a choice to go back with the good guy or stay with the jerk. I thought long and hard about it. The jerk hadn’t turned into a jerk yet, of course, so I only saw the good in him. The pre-drug person he really was. I had slept with them both by this time and that is what I based my decision on, the sex. Well, no, I lied. I based my decision on the size of the penis I was about to committ to. Yup, I chose the guy with the biggest dick. Ironically, he turned out to be the biggest dick I’ve ever met. Huh, ain’t that something?

Anyway, after about a year with the dick jerk his true colors began to show. Now and then, but mostly on Friday nights, he wouldn’t return my calls when I wanted to go out together. He’d leave me hanging when he said he was coming over. He began cheating on me. I’d call his house and his parents or brother would say he wasn’t home or he was asleep. So what did I do? What any rational 20’something girl who was getting dissed would do, I would drive by his house, of course! Not home, my ass! Whatever. I sound patetic, huh? Hey, you agreed not to judge, remember?

I would go home and start paging him LIKE MAD. After awhile he might call back, but not always. So I’d sit in my room, listen to oldies on the radio, cry and have a pity party for one.

One night I was in a fiesty mood when he pulled that shit on me. I got up, got dressed, did my hair and make-up, all while paging him every 5 minutes, of course. I got my shit and headed down stiars. My dad wasn’t home but my mom was. I handed her the cordless phone and a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. I gave her distinct directions to follow Page this number EVERY 5-7 minutes. Always put 0434-411. That was the last 4 digits of our phone number and me wanting to know where the FUCK his ass was. She said Ok, and asked where I was going. I stopped, turned to her with a devilish smile on my freshly made up face and said To look for him.

Before we became a couple we use to be friends. Remember I said I dumped my boyfriend for his friend? I knew all the places where the guys would hang out. I knew each house that we’d party at. So here his ass is out, ignoring ME, being paged from MY house so he had nothing to worry about, right? Yeah, riiiight.

I think it took me about 40 minutes, 3 cigarettes and 2 cokes to find his punk ass. I rolled up in my 1980 Toyota Tercel, bumping my music of course, and straight busted his ass just as he received my last page.

Damn, the look on his face was PRICELESS. The laughter from his friends was the music to my ears! He turned to me and stuttered out Hhhow…wha??…I just…who??? I smiled at him and his friends and said You’ve been getting paged all night by MY MOM.

I’m sure we argued that night then had awesome, drug induced, make-up sex and he promised not to do that to me again. Blah. Blah. Blah. I can’t believe I put up with 5 years of bullshit like that. But I do have to say this, the next time I paged him he called me back!