mistakes that you do mean.....

I thought I could stop, erase this stupid journal and move on...but I can't.

Distraction is key: Dan and I had a housewarming party...our main focus was to keep our friends happy and the alcohol flowing...nobody stayed past midnight...I was miserably sick and exhausted by the end. The party was a bust and we had tons of leftover alcohol...well, that might be a plus.

There are no cute pictures of he and I posing in the new place...he made drinks and I played Beatles Rockband. I don't think I ever want to have a party in that stupid apartment again.

November was especially hard, what with the Thanksgiving holiday reminding me of how I no longer want Danny to be a part of my family nor I a part of his.

I was so relieved when he suggested we drive over to our respective parents' homes on Wednesday night...I couldn't wait to just leave him at his parents house and go back to my family in Whittier. It felt comforting...I felt at peace. I felt free!!

I fought the urge to text Edgar...I wanted to prove to myself that he was no good and just in it for the blow jobs...I secretly hoped there'd be more distractions for me....

No distractions came. Friday night after turkey, I muster the courage/vile intentions and text Edgar. Short and sweet:

me: I'm in Whittier right now. I want to see you tomorrow night for coffee. Let's call it an exercise in restraint.

I stuff the phone back in my pocket and try to concentrate on anything else...the T.V., checking my e-mail, hearing the sound of my family talk...distract me, please!

My phone chirps. I gulp. I know it's him.

Edgar: Sure, can't wait.

My head throbs, my heart slams in my chest...my stomach churns in anticipation and a little horror...we hammer out the details. Tomorrow night, 10 pm.

The next day I have to wake up at 8 am in order to meet up with Dan at his parents house...his co-worker Jon has agreed to take us to Reseda so he and Dan can find extra work at a Christmas tree lot and also squeeze in a trip to the bank and pay our rent. Problem is: his friend was not able to give us a ride due to a misunderstanding with dear ol' Dan.

I am stuck having to drive Dan back out to Reseda, eat crappy McDonald's food for breakfast, force to sit through a bank rep try to convince me to get a new credit card (I refuse) and take a $447.50 chunk out of my bank account.

And in the end, they had no work for Dan or Jon. We went out there for nothing. We can't even pay the rent because the landlord is on vacation till Monday. Oh joy! I spend the rest of the morning shuttling Dan between our apartment and Fry's. He tries to return some computer junk and we end making two trips because he forgot some pieces that came with it. I am annoyed but try not to show. My mind keeps wandering to what Edgar will look like...what will he smell like? Will he be cool about it? Why am I not done with him? WHY THE FUCK DID I START THIS SHIT WITH HIM AGAIN?!?

I decide on the long commute back to Whittier that I won't cancel on Edgar. I drop off Dan at his parents house and tell him I'll see him tomorrow Sunday. My nerves are on edge but I've perfected the calm and cool vibe.

It seems like the hours crawl until 10 pm. But eventually it's 9:40 pm and I'm starting to get ready...makeup, hair, earrings, cute top that shows off my cleavage (is it bad I had Dan pick it out, unbeknown to him?)...I fire a text telling Ed to meet me at the Starbucks nearby at 10 sharp. Seconds later...

Edgar: Wow, precise

I smile to myself. I see nothing's changed.

Of course I arrive at Starbucks early...I'm there by 9:59, looking for any sort of distraction. I sit under the hot lights of the coffee shop and dig through my bag, hoping there's something in there I can read or scribble on...I find my planner and start filling in random events, deadlines, etc. I glance up hoping he'll be in soon but nothing...a few couples sit near me: a couple of Mexican 20-somethings talk about nothing in particular...a geriatric white couple read their respective books, with the woman promptly falling asleep leaving her husband to try and snap a picture of her on his phone. I smile. Can they tell what I am about to do? Can they tell I'm a dirty, no-good, rotten scumbag cheater?

I feel hot. I imagine everyone there, including the baristas, are staring at me with scorn. I take my scarf off, my jacket too. I adjust my blouse and fiddle with the beautiful Coach wallet Dan gave me last year. My heart slams to a stop when I hear, "Hey there!" and see Ed standing there in front of me, dressed in a dark gray button up shirt and jeans....he's grown a goatee and wears black long sleeve thermals under his shirt. He looks so fucking hot. "Hi!" I squeak. We sit down and talk for a few minutes, never bothering to buy a cup of coffee.

"How's married life?" he asks. I blush and insist that I am not married. He knows, I know...things are not good. Life is not good. Or else, we wouldn't be here. I ask him if he wants to get out of here, he suggests we go grab a beer and the race is on.

We wind up shuffling off to The 6740, a little pub in Uptown Whittier. He asks me what I want and upon discovering they serve no hard alcohol (I really don't drink beer), I concede and ask for a Newcastle...he decides on a Stella Artois...the bartender waits on payment, Ed asks if I have any cash on me...I visibly roll my eyes and grab my ATM card...it was loud in the bar, I have no idea if he asked that I spot him on his end of the tab or go Dutch...nonetheless, I am not pleased and fork over 13 bucks plus 2 for tip. Yeah, I paid for both of our drinks and promptly asked the nerdy hipster bartender to close the tab out. I feel cheap. Serves me right.

We grab a table by the door and chat each other up. No awkward pauses the whole night...he downs his Stella and I struggle with my Newcastle...I really, really don't like beer. But it helps me keep a smile on my face as I look into his deep brown eyes. I forget it all and concentrate on my posture, adjusting my cleavage and flirting...this is the shit you forget to do when you're in a steady relationship. My single girl tendencies return. We laugh together and boy does it feel good. We high-five every time we both agree on something or find a thing in common...I giggle loudly and claim my praise for this bar because they keep playing Smiths song...he smiles so sweetly, under that black beard of his...he looks like I'd imagine Cortez did. He, fair skinned with a dark goatee...and me, his dark-skinned Malinali...yes, I am the back-stabber, disloyal betrayer. I am his Malinche.

We stay there drinking our beers until the staff kicks us out at midnight...we stumble into the cold Whittier air and make our way to his warm car. I love the feel of being in his car....his trusty two-door white Solara, it's like I never left. I remember all the times I've pleasured him in the front seat and the time we had sex in the backseat. I can't wipe the perverted grin off my face.

He takes me on his usual tour of Downtown Los Angeles...it's amusing to hear him be my tour guide, interlacing his commentary with blush-worthy compliments about my personality and anatomy. L.A. history is one of his passions. We race past the US Bank and City Hall, the buildings of the L.A. city skyline dotted with cute red and green Christmas lights. We hold hands as he speed along the 101 freeway, stopping only to mutter a cuss word or two at bad motorists who cut him off. I don't want to leave him.

He lets me pick the music off his iPod. I ask if he has any Peter Murphy and sure enough he has my favorite song: "Cuts You Up." This is enough to make me want to devour him. We listen to "Modern Man" by Bad Religion, he can't contain his approval of my selection...we then discuss the severity of the situation. We aren't the first to cheat and we won't be the last...but in our story, there is no happily ever after. I tell him my resignation, he insists I try to get out of the lease and become single again. "For what?" I ponder secretly in my head, "It's not like you'll be salvation when I get out."

We stop at the Ralphs in Monterey Park so we can use the restroom. I shiver. I am only a mere distance from Dan's family's house. Is he sleeping? Is he wondering how I am?

At the end of the night, we have solved nothing. I can't get out of my lease until the summer and Ed won't commit to a real relationship. He plans on attending law school in the fall...I vow to return to Whittier and break things off with Dan. I need to be single and stop lying. I can't keep cheating. All of this seems like galaxies away...

Eventually, we park on Bexley in Whittier, behind Sorensen Park. Our usual spot (and at one time, my usual with Dan) for clandestine encounters...he puts the car in park and reaches for my hand, "So much for the exercise in restraint." I agree and we kiss. And kiss. And kiss. He murmurs in my ear, "You smell so good." A pang of excitement warms my body. I kiss his neck, his face, his shoulder blade. Off come the top layers of clothing. Then comes the underwear and bra. He fastens his mouth on my breasts, I reach for his cock. I trace my tongue across his right ear, he rubs my aching pussy through my jeans. Pretty soon I'm sucking him off while "Fascination Street" by the Cure softly plays in the background. His phone rings but I don't stop and he doesn't answer. A few seconds later, he breathlessly sighs, "Now" and I feel him come in my mouth.

After we straighten up and take a few breaths, we talk some more...again, getting really nowhere except further into the seriousness of our situation. He says he won't be a good boyfriend, he's too jealous...I reply that I can't be a good girlfriend since obviously I'm not trust-worthy...the only conclusion we can come to is that, despite how fucked we both really are, this is the best relationship either one of us have ever really had. It's because we only focus on the fun, none of the real heavy stuff that makes people fight and stray away.

He kisses me longingly as we say goodnight. Next time, next time...I will fuck him...because I feel like a drug addict, always trying to get to a bigger and bigger high. I don't know why we chase each other around so much only to lose each other again and again for months at a time.

I come back to real life. I sleep, I eat, I talk, I drive around...I see Dan and it's like I'm sleepwalking until the next time I see Ed. LIAR LIAR LIAR my head pounds as I eat dinner with Dan. He's a really good cook, that Daniel. Why did I have to be this way and why can't I stop?