You Just Can’t Make This Up…

I met a man that I fell in love with. A man that against all of my walls and defenses, I fell head over heels for. But then he died. No, I don’t mean I found out that he cheated and that he was dead to me, I mean he passed away 2 hours after my last text message to him. I wish that was the end. I wish that it was a tragic point that I was able to mourn the man I loved. But it didn’t happen that way…

It has been three months since he died. I can still remember the day vividly. I had just switched jobs and he sent me a text while he was at work. He was the type of man to wake me up every morning with a good morning text telling me how much he loved me and missed me. He worked as a cell tower service technician and had messaged me as he was going up the tower. I texted him two hours after that only to find out that two minutes prior to the text he fell. I found it odd that day that he never responded. I waited and called, but he never answered. I didn’t find out until two days later that he had passed away.

I was devastated. I lost it. I couldn’t believe that the man I had started to talk about marriage with was gone. I didn’t get to say goodbye. The worst part was that we hadn’t yet met each other’s families, so they didn’t know about me. I had to reach out via Facebook.

I messaged his mother and she allowed me to go to the funeral… Some days I wish I would have never gone. Then I wouldn’t have found out what I did. When I got there, I noticed a girl my age sitting not too far from the front. She was crying. A picture of the two of them sat next to the casket. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. He was a gorgeous man that women tended to gravitate towards, so I just assumed she was another one of his good friends.

She got up to speak and told the crowd about how she met him and how she loved him. I sat there in silence, crying in part because the man I loved was gone, and crying because suddenly I knew who she was.

Later that day I messaged her on Facebook only to find out that he had been dating both of us at the same time. He had told us he wanted to marry both of us and he had even met her family. It was a whole different aspect of heartbreak. I still don’t know how I feel about all of it.

How do you handle finding out that the man you thought you were going to share your life with was saying the same exact things to another woman? To add a little icing to the cake, I found out from a mutual friend that eight other women had come forward claiming to have been dating him.

It made me sick to my stomach.

Grief was hard enough without adding anger into it. However, I learned something. I learned that I was stronger than I thought I was. I learned that death could not crumple the woman I was.

I went to his grave later and told him what I thought about his lies. I had to smile. The man I thought to be slightly naive and a little uneducated was actually the best liar I had ever met.

He fooled me, but I cannot say I hate him for what he did. It’d be pointless, haha… He’s dead.

The funny thing is, I still miss him sometimes. If he were alive I would have broken up with him and never spoke to him again, but there is something about the permanence of death that gets to me. I had never dealt with death until he died.

I dealt with death in a scientific way. I studied it. I studied what happened to bodies when they die and when they’re buried. I studied a little deeper into my faith and took a serious look at the existence of Heaven and Hell. Still can’t say I’m sold on the idea, but I don’t like the idea that the man I knew is just completely gone.

It seems a waste of life and personality for the essence of a person to simply vanish after death.


I rant now, partly to vent and partly to let out the grief that I have a hard time putting into vocal words. It’s hard to understand grief and loss and love when everything is gone so suddenly.

Too much spice in my love life…

Spicy food and “sexy time” simply do not mix. Ladies, if a man cooks spicy food for you, be very very cautious. Gentlemen, it’s safer to stick with Italian or something else. Nothing ruins simmering passion like the hellfire of spicy food.  That valuable lesson was something I learned very early on in my college love life…

The guy I was seeing at the time, we’ll call him Jeff for the sake of ease, had invited me over for dinner. It was very early on in our relationship and I could tell he was trying to woo me with his ability to cook.

He prepared a mouth-watering meal of steak fajita soft tacos. He dressed it up with sour cream, cheese, grilled onions, and jalapenos…good grief it was tasty. The jalapenos, however, were hotter in flavor than what I was used to.

Dinner passed as well as it could, eating the tacos and both of us trying our best not to make a mess or get caught with a chunk of cheese dangling off of our lips (the sour cream got me).

After dinner, I helped him clean a bit and then we talked for a while before the inevitable occurred. Gentle kisses turned to a make out session and caressing above the waistline slowly migrated southward.

In the midst of being pleasured that’s when it hit…

It wasn’t a sudden pain but rather a gradual sensation that soon became possible to ignore. The rhythmic motion that was supposed to be bringing pleasure began to feel uncomfortable…almost burning-like. Not wanting to let him know anything was amiss, I stayed in the moment trying to pass it off as lack of experience.

The burning sensation in my lower region grew more urgent and throbbing and the pleasurable sensations dissipated completely…and that’s when logic kicked in.

Very calmly but firmly I pulled his hand away from my legs and sat up. I could see the confusion on his face.

“Jeff,” I asked with as much composure as I could muster, “Which hand did you use to pick up the jalapenos?”

 He stared at me for a moment, completely dumbfounded, and then he realized what had just happened. With a horrified gasp he bolted up and enfolded me in a giant hug.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Is it burning? Oh my God. I am so freaking sorry,” he kept repeating, clearly mortified.

I excused myself to use his restroom and tried without success to wipe away the burning…it only makes it worse, in case anyone was wondering…

I sat back on his bed unsure of what to do as he continued to apologize and ask if there was anything he could do.

“I’ve never had this happen before,” he muttered guiltily, “I am so sorry. I’m trying to think what could help.”

Jeff hugged me, furiously thinking as I tried to man up and take the pain without too much complaint.

He must have been thinking too hard as he stared at me and quietly suggested, “You know, when I eat something spicy I drink milk…I have some milk in the fridge if you want to put some down there?”

…..Bless his heart….. I turned down the offer to splash my lady parts with milk and instead opted to be taken back to my dorm.

On the way back to the complex, I looked at him and laughed to myself. It had been the first time I had ever really done anything with a guy so naturally I had to get burned.

Being the sarcastic butthead that I am I looked at him and said, “You know, if you weren’t interested in seeing me again all you had to do was say so. No need to sabotage my vagina…”

Jeff looked back at me horrified and set off on another apology rant.

Needless to say, the date was eventful and yes, I did in fact see him again… with the condition that no jalapenos were used at dinner…

I am NOT Megan Fox in the bedroom…


There are a lot of moments in life, especially in mine, that require a palm-to-face response. In my later teen years, I read a lot of sweetheart romance novels that defined “sexy time” as easy going and passionate. You never saw any of Nora Robert’s characters epically failing at seduction!

I, however, am not one of Nora Robert’s characters. In fact, I am quite the opposite. If there was an anti-Christ of seduction, it would be me! It just doesn’t happen for me. I cannot count the amount of times that I have had a set scene in my head and the execution of it failed with flying colors.

One of the more memorable moments occurred when I tried to strip tease for my boyfriend at the time…

We had been together for a while at that point and I wanted to bump things up to the next level. I spent the afternoon at the mall carefully finding the perfect outfit…I wanted to look Hot, like Megan Fox hot…

I splurged on a sexy pair of underwear and a matching bra and decided I was going to show up in a cute top and leggings (I spent my budget on the undergarments…college problems).

That night I showed up to his place, movies in hand and wearing what I thought to be an enticing outfit. He happily grabbed the movies, gave me a kiss and plopped down to put the movies in. I sat on the couch hoping he’d notice the cleavage that was slightly peeking out of the top I’d chosen….he glanced over but said nothing.

As the movie progressed I grew impatient and leaned in closer with my chest angled towards him…still nothing. “So I bought something new today,” I said trying to get his attention.

“Did you?” he replied back, turning towards me. I asked him if he wanted to see and slightly confused he nodded. I stood up in front of him and as best as I could slowly peeled off my top.

He was paying attention now.

Encouraged, I looked at him, smiled and put my hands on my leggings and started to shimmy them down. As I pulled them down his eyes became super focused and widened.

He shouldn’t be that excited yet, I thought to myself. But something felt wrong. I was getting way too much air in my downtown regions. I looked down and what I saw took a second to register in my head.

The underwear I had bought was thin so it had rolled down with my leggings, leaving my lower area completely exposed…

Anyone else would have gone with it but no, not me. I panicked. I immediately squeaked in embarrassment and sat down as quickly as I could onto the couch while yanking the leggings back up.

My boyfriend fell to the ground laughing. I was mortified. I was not ready to be so bold in bright lighting. To make matters worse I conked my head against the side of the couch as I rolled to hide my face, which only made him laugh harder.

In the end, the night went successfully but he never let me live it down. Needless to say I never tried to strip tease again, and he certainly never asked. But boy how he loved to bring it up…