The City of Devils

Yes, the real relationship problem that I have these days is not with the men that I date, it's with the city that I live in. As weird as this concept may seem, it's true. This city makes me feel awful when I cheat on it by traveling to other cities with the hopes of making it my new home, it makes me feel like I'm going to throw up when it gives another woman a better life than me, and most importantly, it treats me like shit the majority of the time and I continue to come back to it. As a matter of fact, I can't imagine being with another city. I would rather be abused by LA than treated like a queen in Lexington, Kentucky. You ask women, why they would choose to stay with the man that smacks her around while there is a man who not only wants to give her the world, but is madly in love with her. The answer is because some women enjoy being emotionally tormented. I never saw myself as one, but now I know that I am. I am learning to except myself as I am. To clarify, I don't like physical abuse, only mental. So, friends, I will never leave LA. I wouldn't even consider Manhattan.

I don't know who declared this city of smog and concrete the City of Angels, but I proclaim it is in fact the City of Devils. The City of Devils, in a "naughty kitty" sort of way. Like, if you're being a bad boy today I am going to need to get you home soon, so that I can spank you a little. No not a little, I want to wear your ass out! It's the Colin Farrell of it all. The left coast being where all of the "hoodlums" traveled to, in search of fulfilling their greedy little desires.

The truth about LA is all of the little demons from all over the world have managed to find their way into the 465 square miles that makes up LOS ANGELES. This is the city of vein. A place where people care more about who they are wearing and what new fancy diet they are on, than they do about being happy. Actually, being happy equals, being hot. So in theory, the hotter you are, the happier you are!

Being the cute, athletic, curvy woman that I am, happiness is suppose to be FAR from my emotional vocabulary. But somehow, in my gigantic size 4, I have managed to become the "jolly" girl. Always full of laughs, fun and every once and a while I like to throw out a good joke.

But still, through the laughter, my suppressed tears are causing me an abundance of sorrow. This pain has caused me to serial date, break the 90 day rule, and find a way to only fall in love with those who will never love me back (which I'm not 100% sure that these are all bad things and no I'm not in denial). Now that I am somewhat aware of the problem, although, still not ready to admit it to myself, I should try and figure out a way to fix it.

Move back to North Carolina, you say? Well, that's just impossible. Although I admit, deep within my soul I am a good southern girl, I actually break out into hives when I go back to that place. The people there are married with children, I actually cringe a little bit at the thought of children being in the same room as me, much less, the idea of actually having my own to care for. This would only cause more pain and suffering for other helpless souls.

Believe it or not, I'm tough but fair. I am doing us all a favor.

Not to mention, there's no Starbucks or Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf in Henderson, NC. Come to think of it, there's no coffee shops at all there. No lattes? Perhaps this is why I break out. Oh yea, and I'd have to trade in Bloomingdale's for JC Penny's. Do we even have a JC Penny's in California? What do they carry there? I imagine it as being this place filled with crocks and miserable employees desperately trying to sell a few pairs of last years Prada's and clinique makeup. Or worst, second hand Prada's and cover girl. AHHHH, can you imagine having to live your life in someone else's shoes? Or even wearing the worst make-up on the planet, that they animal test on? The thought of that makes me see how important, enduring this misery is probably the only way to live.

The truth of the matter is this. I'm in love with having a dysfunctional marriage to Los Angeles. And in my eyes, I prefer living in the blue.