“Did you really think last night would last forever? Did you really think that guy hung the moon? I know you hate yourself because you knew better, but there’s no use crying over spilled perfume.” I remember listening to Pam Tillis belt this out in 1994. Little did I know that this would become a Ellie Anthem twenty-three years later. I say anthem because at least once a week my friend Lorna says some form of this to me. (Love Lorna, she’s been there done that, gives great advice, lets me make my own mistakes, and embraces my slut-dom)
My first spilled perfume moment was a guy that lived way on the other side of town. He was hot in his profile. He was 5’8, tatts from the Navy, just hot. He tells me he doesn’t have much money but would love for us to cook together and have a couple of drinks. I head to his house with a couple of bottles of liquor he asked me to pick up. He’s short. And skinny. I’m not a height-ist, but was expecting something different. It’s hard to get into someone that I”m scared I will break if I’m ever on top. He also has a roommate on the bottom part of the house, no biggie, but his upstairs apartment has no kitchen. No way to make tacos here. We drink. Have five minutes of terrible sex. He immediately gets up, goes to the couch, and starts watching a terrible Netflix show. I go sit on the couch awkwardly. Now, this was my very first online hook up. I would know now to immediately leave. Instead, I endured a painful hour and a half. Texted Marley and Lorna to let them know I was fine and on the way home. And cried the entire way home.
The advice on today’s post comes from my friend Lorna: “If they’re 5’8 online, they’re 5’5 in person.”