Fuck Writer's Block ...

I entered what my friends call the “Kanye” stage.

I grew a beard … sort of. It was more like an extended mustache but it did the job. I was going out with a lot of women who I must admit I didn’t care for but the feeling of having someone was better than feeling alone. Everything I thought that I wasn’t in a man I was becoming. It’s so stupid but “Heartless” was like my theme song for a few months.

Erin would send me text messages everyday for a couple of weeks after “the incident” but I tried my hardest to not reply. Deep inside I was hurting like I’ve never hurt before which I guess showed in everything I did although I tried my best to keep it out of my music. I saw what happened to Kanye … nu uh. No way was I going to be persecuted like that!

I did however have a playlist on the iPod which was pretty much all that I listened to. It comprised of songs like:
Maroon 5 – Sweetest Goodbye
Gym Class Heroes – Papercuts
Usher – U Got It Bad
Ne-Yo – So Sick

I think you have the idea.

My friends didn’t think I was doing too well and tried their hardest to cheer me up by bringing weird women over, inviting me to meaningless parties, insulting me. None of it seemed to work though.

After much debating, fighting, arguing, throwing of iPods and a trip to the mall for a new outfit, they were finally able to get me to go out to the club. Even when I wasn’t feeling down I didn’t go to the club, but I figured if I met a supermodel while there it couldn’t be all bad.

After spending my normal hour deciding what I was going to wear (black Levi 501’s, two fitted white tee’s and black and white Supra’s) and a couple of sprays of LaCoste cologne I came at the conclusion that I was ready to get into something.

After doing the usual dances and chatting it up with a few ladies who were pretty beautiful, but no Erin I figured it was time to go. As my two best friends, Mark and Tim started walking towards the corridor I felt a hand tap me on my back. Figuring it was just someone dancing I kept going until …

“Hey! Eric, Eric, slow down,” a familiar voice yelled out from behind me.

I had heard that voice enough to know who it was. I had two thoughts in my head: keep walking and pretend I didn’t hear her or turn around and somehow play it smooth. I knew in my head that the second option wasn’t possible given who I was, but I turned around anyhow.

“Oh hey, what’s up? Long time no hear pal.”

“Well I’ve been texting and calling you,” she exasperated as she playfully hit me on my shoulder. “A lot. I hated how we or uhh … you ended things. You know how I feel about you.”

This was hardly the place where I wanted to have THIS conversation so I tried my best to divert it.

“I got a new phone (I didn’t) so I haven’t been replying to unknown numbers,” I responded, hoping she wouldn’t ask to see my phone.

Because my life sucks, she did.

“Here, let me see it! I’ll put my number back into it!”

In a scene oddly similar to the first time we met, she put her name and number into my phone (again) and handed it back to me.

“I’m going to call you soon, so you better pick up. No excuses this time,” she said.

“Uh, alright. Well look, I think Tim and Mark were on their way out so I better hurry up and catch them before they drive off without me. Nice seeing you though,” and I was gone through the crowd. A quick glance behind me let me know that she was still standing there, watching me walk to the door. I got that feeling in my stomach, and something told me it wasn’t from the shots of Louis XIII that I had.

“Tim, you would NOT believe who I saw in there,” I said as I climbed inside his all black G8.

“Erin,” he said while looking at me through the rearview mirror, smiling.

“Wait, what? How’d you know?”

“I told her to come.”

“The fuck! Why’d you do that? Are you trying to get me to … kill you? Is that it? Cuz you know I’ll go Jim Jones and smack that kufi off of your head.”

For the record Tim doesn’t wear a kufi. He does however wear a Pirates hat that I swear has not left his head since he bought it from Lids 3 years ago.

“Mark and I just wanted you to see her. You know that she isn’t dating ol’ dude anymore right? He was caught cheating on her or whatever, something on TMZ, I don’t know. Whatever, all it means is that you can talk to her now.”

Mark and Tim were the only people outside of Erin and myself (obviously) who knew about our fling. Relationship. Affair.

A tiny buzz went off in my pants pocket. Deciding I was way too tired and just a little too buzzed I didn’t even check it and just went to sleep, sprawled across the seat.

I have no idea how I got INTO my apartment, let alone my bed but I woke up to the sounds of Gym Class Heroes on my iPod stereo. No better way to wake up than to “Pillmatic” after a night of slight debauchery. As is normal I turned to my left and grabbed my phone to see if I had any missed calls and/or texts.

A missed call from a Paris (?) and Devon. Ehh. Hitting the little envelope on the touch screen I checked any missed texts I had.

Mark – “Don’t 4get studio at 3 p.m. your ass better be on time”
Tim – “Studio at 5”

I was just a little bit confused I scrolled down some more.

Erin – “It was nice to see you last night. You looked really good. Look, we have to talk about some things so I’m going to be coming over around 11 alright? And I KNOW you got this bighead.”

Wait, what? She was coming over? At eleven?

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 10:49 and knowing Erin she would be early and before I could even register that thought in my head I heard a knock on my door.

This day couldn’t have started off any worse.