The Five Stages

I was at Amber on Saturday night reeling from the hour of sleep I got the night before and the several cocktails I had already consumed so far that evening. It being Pink Saturday, this little bar onn Church and Market was slowly filling with all-kindsa-patrons, but I'm in a prime spot in the window huddled with Erica and my old friend Lisa relating the events of the night previous. Lisa asked me, "Are you going to write about this?"
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I probably will."

So here we go.

I would like to frame this story using a device that is named after a quite real affliction that I have recently (about half and hour ago while on the phone with Mary) noticed that I fall into all too often.
The question is: What happens to Miranda when she pursues someone unsuccesfully for a very long time and then finally bags them knowing it will lead to nothing more than that?

The answer?

The Five Stages of Sorting Through Various Repercussions of My Inherent Sluttiness
by: Moxie Moure

1. Shock
"Fuck. I'm so fucking tired. I can't believe it's 7:45 in the fucking morning and I'm walking around downtown on the way to open my fucking store on an hour of sleep. Fuck. Goddammit Miranda, why the fuck did you sleep with a fucking married man? Again? I mean, I know you've had a crush on him for like--months. But does that a wise decision make? FUCK."

2. Storytelling
"Yeah, so dude, I totally hit the married guy last night. Yeah it was crazy. No! I didn't fucking start it, he begged me EUROPE STORY STYLE! Yeah, that's right, I just dropped a fucking Friends reference on your ass. His wife? No idea. Yeah, it was huge, true story. How old is he? Umm...yeah, it doesn't really matter. Okay fine, 40. Don't fucking judge me! I was trying to be fucking responsible--I mean, I stopped it like...four times!!"*

[*Yes, I know. I just said in a previous post that expressing some amount of willpower does not make you valorous. I am very aware of this.]

3. Drunkenness
"Oh my god. His wife is like...fifteen years older than me. Omigod--I'm self sufficient, hot and TWENTY SIX YEARS OLD, and I'm still not good enough for him. Fuck. I'm a fucking idiot. Fuck, where the fuck is Mary? Goddamnit, answer your phone. Omigod, I'm so tired. What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh wait, I know what will fix this...alcohol! You know what it's time for? Emergency Cocktail Meeting. Later? I don't know, how 'bout Amber?"

4. Vengeance
"Well fine then. FUCK IT, and his fucking surfboard that Shane broke too. You know what? Fuck that fucking surfboard. If I get nothing else from this, I will at least never have to hear about that goddamn thing ever again. No more quips from either of them. I mean, if some girl's friend breaks your fucking board and then you fuck her unbeknownst to your wife, I think it should be pretty self evident that in this instance, these two wrongs make a right. The surfboard never fucking existed. That is, if you don't want your wife to find out."

5. Denial
"Fuck it. I don't even like him. This is too fucking complicated. I'm calling Mathisen."



angelica said...

those married men, always coming out of nowhere and letting you right their pony and then jumping back into being nowhere... Hmmm does that make sense? hey at least the surboards taken care of... but next time, maybe the one who broke the surfboard should be the one to sleep with the surfboards owner and get emotionally attached and hurt and leave your poor little black coffee stained heart out of it.. hmph...men. all you wanna do is get a slap in the face, but you get so much more along with it.

angelica said...

that was suppossed to be ride their pony but for some reason my fingers have no brains.