Picture this: You wake up in the arms of the person who's been the leading love of your life story for the past three years. He kisses you goodbye as he leaves you in his bed before departing for a business trip. A few hours later, somewhere within your funny text banter, you get a phone call from a woman informing you that this whole time, he's been living a double life ... and even though the key to his house is in your possession, you're still somehow inadvertently not even the leading lady.
That pretty much sums up my week. The only thing that would've made that life-altering, five-hour-long phone call more eventful is if it were on "Bro Fro I Wanna Know" on 96.1 The Beat.
As it turns out, my "Mr. Big" is nothing but a big asshole, not to mention an MVP of the game -- Most Vindictive Player.
My friend's reaction, after the astonishment wore off, was to take me out. So, I went out like it's my job (oh wait, essentially it is). Well under the circumstances ... worst idea, ever. I'm apparently delusional already -- I need not be drunk too.
You see, I'm not just some party girl. Like any woman, I seek substance, but the sugar-britches that sold me that was nothing but an artificial sweetener. I felt like a closet Debbie Downer -- when anyone asked me what I was up to, I felt like responding with, "Well, since I just found out the last three years of my life was a loveless lie, my heart's been extracting the meaning from every memory as my mind rewinds all the lies and replays them like bad reruns ... but other than that I've been great, how about you?" But instead, I just fake a smile and wish Ashton Kutcher would jump out from behind the bar -- I had been real life Punk'd.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not crying myself to sleep at night. I'm getting on with it, just not in a bar profiting off my broken heart. Though you don't die of deception, you also can't relive a life of lies. But you can rewrite your life -- and I need to take a break from writing about nightlife in order to do that. Because I am not going to find my substance sedated at a party. Take note -- that's the best nightlife advice I can ever offer you. While we all deserve to have fun, we also deserve to be loved.
With all that said, I am taking a leave of absence -- like a maternity leave, but the complete opposite. I'm grabbing my career by the balls and enrolling in classes at Second City Chicago. Because the ambitious, focused, self-determining person Mr. Big pretended to be is who I really am.
Besides that, I've been writing this column every week for the past three years ... my liver needs a vacation. But this isn't last call. You'll hear from me again real soon!