Unleashed: The True Story of a Recovering Serial Monogamist

A Learned Lesson Is Verified


Reader Alert: s’EX’ual TENSION!


Magician called.


Wow. He actually called me about the two of us having dinner tonight. One would think this was impressive, especially since the boy is flaky and unreliable. One would be wrong. The catch is that he was supposed to verify said dinner by Monday night (three nights ago) and failed to do so. Being the confident woman and non-doormat I now am, I called him on it. He acknowledged his mistake and said, “well, yes; that would make me a flaky bastard, wouldn’t it.”


That’s when I started laughing, a feel-good one deep from my belly, and I just couldn’t stop. I said, yes. Yes it would. And this continued to crack me up and amuse me on so many levels. This was the PRIMARY reason I broke up with Magician. Miss an important birthday? That’s Magician. Miss my law school graduation? That’s Magician. Forget time and time again that we had plans? That’s Magician. Forget to pick up the phone to tell me that he has moved? That’s Magician. And with a girl roomie whom I’d never met? That’s Magician. So this was merely par for the course, and laughter is an excellent dissipater of anger. Right then and there, while I was laughing, I knew I had been correct in my choice to dump him.


As we were on the phone discussing the possibility of “dinner” (coffee and a bagel because the poor boy is.. well, poor), his dad called. Magician had to call me back (he eventually did, once I reminded him almost an hour later), and I thought, perhaps I actually will get food out of this, along with the opportunity to rip him a new one!


Unfortunately, that didn’t turn out to be in the cards because his father (though I love him) came out to dinner with us, so asshole-ripping was not an option. What did exist was a bit of the usual sexual tension… but then again, that never was a problem between us.


Sizzle sizzle.


Once his dad drove away, we got down to brass tacks. Magician hasn’t been present in my life for over two years, but we keep tabs on each other, so he laid it all out for me. Being sweet (again, a pattern with my men), he was concerned about me. He started by asking me questions about my life, to which I promptly and repeatedly reminded him that he hadn’t been around for a while and simply didn’t know who I was anymore. Further, he had given up the right to ask these questions about my personal life. Magician agreed but persisted… Switched tactics and gave me advice “as a friend.” It sounds patronizing but it really wasn’t, and he did give me lots of good food for thought, and he did mean it. I also found out that he’s no longer bopping the twenty-something chick, so he’s single.


Sizzle sizzle.


As the evening came to a close, Magician made a request for me to text him sometime next week – that we needed to spend some time together. When I protested using my work schedule (a legitimate reason), he went so far as to break down exactly how many seconds were in a week, and that there was a one in 10,000 opportunity for me to call. In all honestly, my reaction was a purely defensive one (damn underlying anger).


See, toward the end of our relationship, he basically vanished (poof) for four months, and for part of that time, I didn’t even know where he LIVED (though I knew it was with a girl or two). He called when it was convenient for him, and since then, I have failed to see any real improvement in his behavior. So (bitter – table for one), I informed him I had a lot of work ahead of me this week, but “please babe… calculate for me how many seconds are in, say, four months.”


He visibly winced, paused, looked at me, but he did do the math. Guts.


“And on that note…,” he complimented my skirt again, and in a quiet voice, I promised I’d try to find time to call. I got out of the car, my runner’s legs peeking out from the slit in my skirt.


The sizzle lingered.


Amalie Paris


**Follow me on Twitter – see you there (@AmalieParis)!

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