Tag Archives: Groupon

Oh Groupon..

Down a dark deserted hallway

There’s a small windowless room

Where Melanie the Masseuse lies encased in her tomb

Century’s passed since she last uttered a word

Era’s gone by and she has not stirred

She lies there dreaming of a life that once was

Memories are sharp

Digging around with their claws

Being cryogenically frozen in space and time

Her lips and skin blue

Hair matted down like glue

She lays there awake

Her mind never off

She see’s only the darkness behind

an old linen cloth 

The hallway outside brightens and buzzes

The flourescent lights turning on

Her ears perk up

She hushes

“What’s going on?  What’s happening out there?”

Rolling down her cheek is a lonesome frightful tear.

Someone rambles in

her chambers where she lies within

“Hello?  Is someone there?”

Her chin

Quiverin’

“It’s just me your next client.  Do not be alarmed, I’m compliant.

Your clients await you, they’re filing in by the masses.

So get up my dear friend, 

Get up and massage 400 asses.”

I’m waiting for my next client.  It’s 11:09.  She’s late.  Damn.  I hate calling people.  I’ll wait until 11:15, than I’ll call her.

I wrote that ode in the 20 minutes I’ve been sitting here waiting.

Tick tock

Tick tock

Sonuva…

It’s a dark rainy day here on October 12th

It’s payday from Groupon

Now aint that just swell – th

I like getting money instead of waiting in the dark

Being frozen in time, eating up minutes like a shark

Ahhh What am I saying?

Shit where is this lady.

It’s not a lady, it’s a man and I got his voice mail.  This is not good.  I need to be fully booked everyday 6 days a week cause you know why?  You want to know why?  Because I’m pretty much screwed in the ass otherwise.

I’m not just massaging 400 asses – it’s a lot more than that.  A shit ton more.

Groupon wanted to sell a package deal – buy 3 massages for $100.  I get $17.50 a massage plus tip, so I said sure sounds great.

Besides, most people will opt for the one hour.  Buying 3 sessions to get a rub down by someone you don’t know is highly unlikely.  Well, Groupon took it upon themselves to “sell out” of the 60 and 90 minute massage options.  How can you sell out of massages?

I found this out from two of my clients.

“Really?  I had no idea they did that.  How would I sell out of massages?”

So last night I looked online and saw how many of the package deals I sold.  I want to cry.  I want to cry, weep, wither and die.  I want to stick Groupon with a sharp pointy stick in their eye.

I sold 200 of the buy 3 deal.  200!  200 X 3 = well, you do the math.  I have to give 800 massages within the next 5 months.  Break that down day by day that’s 5 clients a day if I work 7 days a week.  5 clients a day, and then I’m getting repeat full priced clients on top of that.

I’m fuuuuuuucked.  Fucked.  Hence the poem.  I am so freaking out right now.  I’m calling Groupon, screw it.  I’m calling them right now.

Damn I’m on hold.  It’s 11:39.  Let’s see how long it takes for them to pick up.

I feel like I’m going to shit my pants.

I desperately need a desk in here.  My back doesn’t hurt after a day a massaging, it only hurts when I type in my blog.  I’m hunched over with the Mac in my lap.  Ouch.  A tv tray is no desk.  It’s not tall enough.

11:42

What song is this?  Is it supposed to keep me calm?  It’s not working.

11:48.  I just got off the phone with them.   The private sale in now turned off – thank the lord Jesus.  I only had 24 more to sell before reaching 400, but 24 x 3 = Well, you do the math.  I’m bad at it.

I’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.  I’m making money, this is a good thing.  It’s what I wanted.  And selling on Groupon requires a huge price in advertising, so I’ll be able to deduct my losses as a business expense – I won’t have to pay much at all for taxes next year.

Instead of getting an accountant to deal with everything, I’m learning how to do it all myself.  I studied the different options, weighed the pro’s and con’s and opted for a sole proprietorship.  It’s versatile and also allows for health insurance deductions.   I won’t have to pay a dime in health insurance.  The massage association offers a plan to insured practitioners, so that’s on my to-do list.

Think about it, why pay an accountant when I can take that money and donate it to charity instead and in the process teach myself the in’s and out’s of the tax world.

I bought Turbo Tax software for sole proprietorship from Amazon for $8.  Laziness is the bane of all human existence.  I’m trying to do the opposite.

Damn I need a desk.  Shit yo.

I’m going to read a little and lay on my back on my Spoonk mat.

spoonk mat

Click on the image if you want one.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Odes, rant

The Mind of Mel

I’m a jeans and T-shirt wearing, no makeup kind of girl.  I never cared much about my clothes or appearance (or anyone else’s for that matter).  I figured that as long as your clothes are clean, fuck it, right?  And forget makeup, I don’t even wash my face!  Am I gross?  I don’t know.  That’s debatable.

But now that I’m making money, I can shop for just about anything I want and the clothes / makeup department are looking mighty tempting.  I never knew I had this side to me and I don’t think I like it.  Am I getting greedy?  Am I becoming a shopaholic?  Why is this happening, am I just bored?

Truth is, I don’t make nearly as much as some people, but this is honestly the most I ever had in my life.  I made $135 today in cold hard cash and I still have one more client coming in and that doesn’t include the 10 grand from Groupon.

That is what I average a day, but it’s only day 27 of Groupon and I’m already getting full-priced paying clients.  It’s an exciting time being me right now.  And it’s only the beginning…

Granted, I am working like a hideous massage monkey on crack.  But clients are rolling in and loving me!  My back doesn’t hurt, my hands feel great and nimble – I’m flying high.  I’m in the zone.

Day 9 of Groupon was the worst.  The phone non-stop ringing, 6 or 7 clients for 9 days straight.  Waking up at 8 am, then going out to the bar.  I was still in my old sleep / bar schedule, so day 9 did me in.  I was literally rolling around on the floor clutching my knee’s to my chest chanting with tears in my eyes “I can’t do this I can’t do this oh my god I can’t do this.”  My back was killing me.

But here I am at day 27.  I made it through the tough parts and acclimated.  Groupon sobered me up and is making me an adult.

Dave wants to meet tonight for a drink.  In my last post I proclaimed that I must stay away from Billy O’s at all costs, but alas it was a false promise.  Cause here I am going.  I haven’t seen Dave since the whole Lisa debauchery, so he probably thinks I’m mad at him or something, which I’m not.  It’s his drama, not mine.  But I can’t win either way.  He’ll be upset to know I don’t care and upset to know if I do care.  I have to roll with the punches.

Spend spend spend.  That’s all I want to do.  I want to go home and shop on Amazon for everything under the sun – that’s all, only everything.

For years now I’ve been wanting a big dragon tattoo put on my back by a very fine artist I graduated high school with.  The only reason I put it off for so long was the price.  Now I have money so I must get dragon on my back.  Yes to dragon.

The zombie apocalypse is approaching, so I need a dragon tattoo to survive.  If you watch zombie movies, you will notice that all the survivors have very defining characteristics.  The majority are lovable, but also have zeal.  And possess some sort of physical appealing trait.  My dragon tattoo will be my appealing trait – who would want me dead having a thing like that on my back?  Not me that’s for sure.  No sir ree.  And since I’m doing yoga, so I’ll also be smokin’ hot.  Cause I’m doing hot yoga…

Who am I kidding, I’ll be the first to get eaten.  Not only get eaten, but I’ll actually surrender and offer myself up to those gory greedy chompers.

I wanted the tattoo long before that book and movie came out, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  As soon as I heard about the book, my heart sank.

“Life is like a daring adventure or nothing”

Said in the words of Helen Keller.

I want to put that quote on top of my foot with little footprints marking my life’s journey.  Shit, I’m going to be covered.

My next client called and said she’d be a half hour late.  She’s cutting into beer time.  Oh well, at least I can blog.

Spend spend spend.  What else can I buy?  Hmmm…..

Nothing.  I can’t think of anything else I want.  That’s no fun.

I need to clean out my closet.  It’s overflowing with clothes – not just my clothes, but everyone else’s.  People give me clothes they don’t want anymore and me being the scavenger that I am, snatch them up.  I’m out of hangers and room.  I’m looking forward to the big clean sweep.  It’s refreshing starting over.  It’s like being back in the beginners mind – having a new set of eyes to see.  It’s actually a perpetual state of mind for me.  To have no clutter – no attachments.  Every day is a new start.

I want to burn sage but I’m afraid of getting yelled at.

I hope the cleaning lady isn’t here today.  The elevator is acting crazy.

I need a more comfortable chair to sit in.

My mom made

Health

Health (Photo credit: 401(K) 2012)

corn chowder last night.  Jealous?

Jeez where is this lady?  My butt hurts and I want beer.

I’m excited to see Dave.  I really  miss the guy, who knew?

Damn I think I’m getting greedy.  I’m becoming a materialistic greedy bastard.  I need to get a grip on this situation ASAP.  You know what I want to do right now?  See exactly how much money I made in cash from these past 27 days.  I wrote down all the cash money clients gave me next to their name.  No, not doing it.  Not important.  I feel vain just by writing about it.  Am I vain or excited?

Come on lady where are you?  I hate this post.  I’m going to stop writing.

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307 Massages

Um, yeah…..

So I really can’t blog for a while, but when I do, the floodgates will open!

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148 Massages

Groupon MyCityDeal

Groupon MyCityDeal (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today was the launch of my groupon ad and all I can tell you is HOLE-LEE-SHIT.  Holy shit.  I’m selling a total of 400 and today alone, I sold 148.

I’m a late sleeper.  I play my video game late into night after coming home from closing the bar – bed time for me is 3am.  Now I have cats calling me as early as 8.  8am!  Does such an hour exist?  My  phone did not stop ringing.  I heard my phone going off, text messages, voice mails…every five minutes my phone made some kind of squeak, burp or hiccup.

I rubbed my eyes and grumbled out of bed.

“Okay I’m up I’m up, what time zone are you people living in?”

Just to get a feel for how often my phone rang, I couldn’t leave it alone to visit the bathroom for my morning rise and shine.  It literally rang every three to five minutes.

Even with all my morning angst and gripings, the beginning of my day felt like Christmas morning.  I woke up to money calling.  That’s how I pictured it – “Oh that’s more money calling me, I better answer.”

I felt the same kind of determination when I first tried Ayahuasca.  “Bring it on!  Is that all you got?!”

(Ayahuasca can be painfully illuminating and terrifying.  I had massive anxiety before diving into that other world).

I went upstairs to make myself some breakfast, and my phone rang four times.  I almost burnt my eggs.  My dad was laughing and being weirdly happy listening to me answer calls while my mom was flummoxed.

Mom – “Jeez, again?  Really?”  She said when my phone rang the fourth time within ten minutes.

I knew this was going to happen, I knew it.  I asked for it.  I can handle it no doubt.

I had six clients today and made $165 cash, not including the $17.50 Groupon gives me per hour.  I worked all day without eating, so here I am now.  Collapsed on my bed, all massaged out.  Melanie the Massaging Monkey should be the name of my business.  I’m a Monkey in the Chinese zodiac and I’m sure monkeys give awesome massages, but I hate picking bugs out of my clients hair.

Anyway, I have to sleep.  I HAVE to.  I get horrible insomnia when I stay up late to write, so it can’t happen tonight.

I hate writing blurbs.  This post is a blurb.  It doesnt’ say much.

What’s important to know here is that I survived my first day of being featured on Groupon.  I have four more days like this one and within the next few weeks, the onslaught will taper off.  That’s the best part – that this is not forever.  I don’t have to work this hard forever, it’s only temporary.  That thought keeps me going.  And as crazy as it sounds, this is actually fun.

I just miss my sleep, miss my beer, miss my video games, and my stinky rumpled Davey…

We went for all-you-can-eat sushi and I accidentally dropped a clump of rice into his Sapporo.  I felt so bad, so what does he do to ease my guilt?

He swallows it down!  He’s the best.

All these sheets are from today.  They broke my hamper 😦

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When life throws you lemons, wet the bed!

Rambo: First Blood Part II

Rambo: First Blood Part II (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dave invited his old friend from high school to hang out with us last Tuesday.  She’s married to a man who doesn’t let her go anywhere or do anything, and it’s up to her to stay at home watching the kids.  Her life sounds exactly like the one I’m desperately avoiding.

She snuck away for a few hours and met Dave and I at Jersey Joe’s.  And in those precious hours at Jersey Joe’s, she confessed that it was the most fun she ever had in her life.

Dave said to me – “Isn’t it crazy she said that?  We do this shit everyday and she said it was the best time of her life?”

Me – “I feel like we take our lives for granted.”

I haven’t blogged in a while.  I’ve been going out and playing video games, sleeping a good solid twelve hours each night (well, almost each night).

I had insomnia a few days ago.  I kept thinking about my upcoming trip to Columbia and how real the trip is starting to feel with each passing hour.  I have only hours left!  In the beginning it was only a vision, an idea – a cool experience to have.  But now the due date is approaching and it’s starting to feel so real that it’s unworldly and unfathomable for me to go.

These past few days I would experience large gaps of time through-out the day where I would forget I was going to Columbia.  But as soon as I remembered, that’s when I felt ice-cold spear-heads splintering into my chest cavity.  I’m not sure if other people have this problem, but whenever there is something in my future approaching that makes me scared shitless, I get jabs of icy shocks in my heart.

It happens when I quit jobs or dump boys – this is the first time I’m feeling it for a trip, though.

So anyway, I lied awake in bed thinking about Columbia and feeling jets of ice pulsing in and out of my ventricles.

“I’m going to be in the Amazon jungle soon, high as a kite from shamanic medicine.  Is this dangerous?  Will I die?”

Then I’d go on YouTube to watch other people’s experiences on similar shamanic retreats and calm myself down.

How tough am I?  I mean really?  This past week I’ve been sizing myself up, assessing my physical endurance and strength.  But when I make a muscle in my bicep, it feels soft.  My wrists are thin and dainty.  My feet flat and my spine crooked.  I’m in no shape to go Rambo if need be.  Did Rambo take place in Columbia?

The only thing that put my heart at ease was my friends telling me I’m going to have the time of my life.  It’s an experience of a lifetime and if I’m brave enough to do it, I should do it and I’ll most likely love it.

I hate hearing negativity from people.  I hate hearing that I’m crazy and it’s a bad idea and that I should stay home – I don’t want all that on my mind when I’m tripping out.  Everyone has been really supportive of me going except for one of my ex-friends who is hell-bent on continuing to make my life miserable.  She went behind my back and talked to my brother about my trip telling him how dangerous it is.  She know’s nothing about Columbia, she’s never been there, and I’m guessing she doesn’t know anyone that ever been there.  She know’s nothing about this trip, but decided to take it upon herself to make my brother believe that I’m going there to die.

My poor brother who wasn’t worried before, now suddenly had the urge to call me up in a panick and try to talk me out of going.  He wanted to take the little money he had saved and give it to me to compensate for my loss.

I was a nervous wreck before he called, so this was the last thing I wanted to hear.  She’s also telling my parents that I’m going to Columbia.  They think I’m going to Florida to visit a friend.  I know the truth would literally kill them, and she know’s that too, but she doesn’t care.

Just when I think her vengeance can’t reach any further, she takes it up a notch.  She also told my brother that I’m not talking to her – ME not talking to HER!  She hasn’t bothered calling me for months and now all of a sudden it’s me – again, as always, it’s me who refuses to speak to her and I’m the one being the indignant prick.  I’m so done with this nonsense – I’m above it and don’t need it in my life.

Well, I’m not kissing anyone’s ass ever again that’s for sure.  That goes for everyone – not just bosses and intolerant bitchy clients.  I’m actually learning to stick up for myself.  Fuck the world.  I have all that I need and will ever need.  And that is belief in one’s own self.

I’m too tired and stressed to write about this anymore.

I was in such a good mood yesterday because my little massage business is rocking out and Groupon contacted me wanting to add me to their featured listings.

I went against everyone telling me not to start my own business (even my own mother), to feeling like I could never go back to what I was doing before.  Waiting tables?  Working a register?  I will never go back.  Not ever.  I will never rely on any job or any boss ever again.  I will never kiss anyone’s ass for as long as I shall live lord hear my prayer.

I’m in love with my business – absolutely in love.  Everything about it I love.  But I always get a euphoric high when starting a new job, so I hope this isn’t the case.  Something tells me it’s not.

My client gave me $100 today for a one-hour massage.  Can you believe that?  $100!  After he left, I cranked open a window in my office and listened to the rain outside and the muffled music from the nearby restaurant – smells of food wafted in drenching my mouth in drool.  I sat down on the stool in front of my makeshift desk (tv tray with a tablecloth draped over it) where I keep my business phone and I set to work on recording a voicemail greeting.

I practiced a few times and gave it a go.  Nope, no good.  I gave it another try – still no.  This went on for 20 or 30 takes.  Speak, listen, delete, speak, listen, delete, speak, delete, speak, delete.  I finally accepted a greeting, hung up the phone, and seconds later my mother calls the business phone.

“What the fuck?”

She always calls.  Its unrelenting and extraordinary frustrating.  The shit she tells me has incalculable amounts of me wanting to punch something.  Well, she called my business phone, I pick up the receiver and hear dead silence.

Me – “Hello?  Hello hello?”

I pressed a bunch of buttons.

Me – “Hello?”

“Shit no, please oh god no.”

The call was gone.

I call her back quickly on my cell.  I’m immediately bombarded with questions.

Mom – “Where are you?  Why didn’t you answer the phone?  It’s raining, do you know how to work the defrost?”

I drank so much last night that I couldn’t drive home.  My friend had to give me a lift.  It was his fault anyway.  He kept buying me whipped cream vodka shots with baileys – they’re like little mudslide shots – so delicious.

So I was stuck driving my mom’s caddy today.

Me – “Yes mom I’ve driven a car before.”

Mom – “What about the wipers?”

Me – “YES, YES!”

Mom – “And what’s this about you going to Columbia?”

Shit she heard my voicemail.  She listened to the whole thing.  Shit shit think think!

Without missing a beat I say – “It sounds more interesting than telling people I’m going to Florida.  I figure this way when people call and hear I’ll be gone for a week, normally they will hang up and I’ll never hear from them again.  At least this way it sounds like I’m doing something very important and they’ll want to meet me and book an appointment just to hear about my trip.  It’s no big deal, I seen documentaries about it and read a lot of books.  I can wing it.”

My mom starts laughing!  I couldn’t believe my ears.  She not only bought it, but thought it was hilarious.  I never could tell what that woman finds amusing.  This one is definitely a shocker.

Me – “Ha ha, I try to make myself sound cool.”

After that humdinger, I text my ex-friend begging her not to tell my parents, but she didn’t listen.  She’s out to get me and won’t stop until I’m six feet under – which according to her, will be in the next few days.  The sad and horrible thing is, if I do manage to come back home alive and well, bursting with stories and wonderful experiences, she would resent me.  She would rather have me come back hurt and broken than for her to be wrong about this trip.  That’s how prideful she is.  Pride is a scary, powerful thing.  I don’t have much of it as you can plainly see.  I respect myself, but I’m not prideful.  She wishes ill will for me and doesn’t even know it.

That’s my life.

What else happened these past few weeks?  Nothing major.  Well, I did wet the bed one night.

Yeah that’s right – I wet the bed.  ME, Melanie, a 32-year-old beer guzzling adventure freak, wet her bed.

I came home drunk, tired from insomnia, and passed out cold for 12 hours straight.  It was towards the end of those twelve hours when I had the pee dream – you know the one, the one where you’re sitting on the toilet in your bathroom and a big friendly pit bull is wagging his nubby tail at you and nudging your leg trying to coax you into peeing?  Yeah, that dream.  It felt so good, but somehow wrong.  “Uhh, yeah, oh feels so good.  It feels good little doggie….Wait, why does this feel wrong?  And what’s with the dog?” I became aware of my dream and what was happening mid-stream.  I looked down at the dog and said to him, “Oh shit…”  I opened my eyes and felt for the damage.

I never wet the bed when I was a kid.  I never had to wear daipers to bed or be scared of sleeping over people’s houses.  No, I had to wait until I’m 32 and sound asleep on a memory foam mattress – One that absorbs EVERYTHING!

Hey, you wanted to know my life, so here it is.  How the hell did I get 60 followers with this nonsense?  Anyway, I probably won’t see you again until after I get back from  my “trip.”  I’ll journal everything, take pictures and video’s and capture the experience as best I can – just like I did for the Nepal post.  I don’t care what happens to me in Columbia, it’s not going to be nearly as bad as the hellish time I had in Nepal.

It’s the people you go with.  Going to new countries, to me, is awesome.  Adventure is awesome.  It’s the people you go with that can make or break your trip.

I’m going to go to the bathroom than go to bed.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Travel

I’m too tired…..

Customers are Ignoring You

Customers are Ignoring You (Photo credit: ronploof)

I truly panicked over money last Tuesday.

I hoped my landlord forgot that I was renting a room from him. I tried to avoid running into him in the halls, but that didn’t work. He’s always there smiling and nodding his head at me saying, “Why hello there Melanie!” His old dog sniffing and nuzzling my leg.

“Hi Micky, good to see you. Hi Einstein.” I bend over to pet his dog.

I met with a Clipper Magazine consultant last Tuesday to try and set up some coupon deals and online vouchers – all done for free until I sell the vouchers online – they take a cut.

I sat in the conference room with the advertising guy while Micky played fetch with Einstein in the hallway.

Advertising guy – “Customers trickle in slowly with these deals, but unlike Groupon and Living Social, our customers stick.”

All advertisers say that their customers stick. Groupon and living social buyers hop from one deal to the next and will most likely never see me again.

He wasn’t very reassuring that I’ll make a lot of money from this. So I panicked.

After the meeting (which lasted an hour), I went upstairs to my mailbox behind the receptionists desk and there I found the invoice for my first months rent.

“Shit….”

I paid Micky my rent using the rest of the money in my saving account and headed to Happy Tuesday to meet Dave and drink my cares away.

“I have to pray. There’s nothing left for me to do but pray. Please god help me. Please god help me.”

So far what I accomplished to set up my business is:

Create a website

Manta

Yelp

Yellow pages

Google maps

Clipper magazine

Plum District

YourBestDeals

I think that’s it. Living Social and Groupon won’t bother talking to me until I’m more established and have a bigger online presence with customer reviews. For now I have to stick with the little guys.

I still need to set up a Facebook page, check out Deal of the Day offers in newspapers, get my name listed on Massage therapist finders (which I’m weary about doing because that’s the first place perverts look).

Instead of doing any of that, I’m laying in bed. I’m over-tired from lack of sleep and stressed about people and clients. My head feels like a big lumpy knot. Beer and laughter are the only things to make it better but I’m too tired for anything. I can barely write.

And I’m wishing that my co-worker remembered to bring me her Assassins Creed game. I would be playing that right now instead of caving into temptations to write.

I’m over tired from lack of sleep. I haven’t slept in two days because of staying up all hours of the night searching YouTube for information about the drugs I’ll be taking in Colombia. The more I research, the more I wish I never signed up for this Spiritual Retreat.

One such drug, or medicine as they call it, is Ayahuasca. It’s the most powerful hallucinogen on the planet. Many people who ingested it, claim that it was the most terrifying experience of their life. It was like living inside a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

Ayahuasca connects you to the spirit world and the visions produced are supposed to enlighten and guide you into your higher self. And for some people, this means confronting their worst fears and overcoming them – to stand up against them and not be afraid. It’s both terrifying and life altering. It breaks down the ego and personality. It shows you your weaknesses. It’s not fun, but it is believed to work better than spending years in self-analysis talking to a therapist.

I’m terrified already. I’m a lot more scared now than the time I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane.

I’m picturing myself being there, sitting cross-legged in a circle of my peers. All of us praying, the musicians chanting and strumming their instruments when the shaman announces to everyone, “Now’s the time. Drink. Drink!”

People vomit and pee their pants. I take off all my clothes and run around naked, jumping into a river to drown. I’ve never been this scared in all my life.

Besides having to face the river of death on my own and being completely broke, I’m also dealing with people who are confusing the hell out of me.

My friend Steph is flying in from Minnesota to visit us, so one of my ex-friends decided to finally contact me after months of cutting me off and leaving my gaping wounds to fester. This is the girl who taken K’s side when I got back from Nepal, yelled at me, blamed me for everything, left me a crying whimpering mess – kicked me out of her house and hasn’t called me since. She left me for dead and now wants to be friends again with no apology on her end. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? I feel like a beaten housewife who keeps taking on abuse. I honestly don’t know what people want from me.

They say I don’t respond or communicate my feelings, but I’m the only one of them who writes a blog confessing everything I have in me. I rip open a vein every time I sit in front of this thing. And from them I get nothing but hate and anger.

I don’t understand people, I’ll never understand them. I’ve done nothing wrong to anybody but I still get beat downs. It makes me so upset. People make me feel autistic.

Last night Kristi also contacted me wanting to be friends again. I like Kristi, she’s a lot of fun but I’m honestly scared to hang out with her again. The first time I can’t respond to her text, the first time I can’t answer her call – I’ll feel utterly guilty and miserable. She’ll get mad at me again. I know she’ll get mad at me again.

These people have obvious problems with me, so why are they even bothering with me? I feel yanked around. Do they care about me or not? I think they’re just bored.

I had a client the other day. I massaged him a few times before, and wasn’t looking forward to massaging him again. He’s a big black guy who keeps asking me out. He’s high on himself thinking that he’s god’s gift to women, so when I tell him I’m not interested, he calls me a lesbian.

Him – “What do you, like girls or somethin’?”

It is one of the most annoying remarks to have to deal with. Not the liking girls part, I can care less about that, but just his narcissistic attitude that something has to be wrong with me if I don’t want to date him. It revolts me. HE revolts me.

Him – “You ever date a black guy before?”

Him – “Why not?”

Refusing him makes me feel racist – that’s what he wants me to feel.

I don’t want to massage him anymore, but I can’t tell my co-workers that. I already told them I didn’t want to work on this other guy (who is also black), so they’ll think I’m a racist. The other black guy that used to request me was super obese, not getting any healthier and telling ME that I’m the one who has to fix him.

“I’ll come in every week if I have to.”

He was so big that he snored while he was awake.

There was nothing sexual with him and I felt completely safe, but massaging him made me miserable. I did it for 2 or 3 years. I can’t fix a persons bad knee’s and hips when all they do all day is sit around and eat, then come to me to complain.

So anyway, that’s my life right now.

Dave told me something last night that I put in my last blog post.

Dave – “Why do you think I keep you around? All I want you for is to get laid.”

He said it jokingly, but then he mentioned my blog and how he was going to get the link from one of my ex-friends, but she decided not to give it to him.

Me – “Did she give it to you?”

Dave looks down at his phone – “Naw she deleted it.”

Me – “She deleted it?”

Dave – “She said she didn’t want me thinking bad of you.”

Me – “Oh.”

Then he went on to tell me that K tells people I’m a liar and that I paid a tour group to take me over the Himalayan pass and that I was completely safe the whole time.

Me – “I didn’t hire anyone! I was lucky to have found them. It was the night before going over the mountain and they overheard my conversation about me doing it alone. They approached ME at the last minute.”

Dave – “Oh well, that’s not what she says.”

She continues to gossip and tell stories about me. Wasn’t I punished enough in Nepal? When’s it going to stop?

People are vicious and spiteful. I can’t handle it. I’m way too sensitive. And maybe I am naive and innocent, it makes it all the worse.

My phone is on silent.

I’m burnt out from late nights out, beer, YouTube, zero money, crazy people, the prospect of facing pure terror. I’m so worn out. It’s 7:31 pm on a Saturday and all I can think about doing is turning off the lights and going to sleep. I hope Kristi doesn’t call. If I miss her phone call, the cycle will repeat itself.

Are these thoughts / fears / worries of mine normal to have for a 32-year-old woman? Or am I on my own here…

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