drunk bar bathroom lecture.

I didn’t hear from Brady all weekend. I don’t know if it was because I destroyed his phone or because we were really done. I was an emotional rollercoaster – one minute I was mad as fuck, then sad, then irritated, then horny, then mad again. I hate to admit that I actually wanted him to reach out to me and grovel and beg for my forgiveness. I am obviously upset about what happened with Jessica, but that doesn’t mean I want to be completely done with him. I like him, you know? Plus I left some valuable things at his house like a pair of sold out Louboutins and my Shiseido night cream. I kinda need those things back. 

On Saturday Preston wanted to go to brunch. I couldn’t wait to tell him what I found in Brady’s phone. I picked him up and we went to a place in Logan and got french toast and Bloody’s. I told him everything that happened, making sure to pause at the dramatic parts and letting it all sink in. Once I was finished with my story, Preston broke into laughter.

“Seriously, Reese? You flipped out on him over that?”

“Is that not reason enough?” I exclaimed.

“Baby love. All that happened before he even met you. Why do you think you have any right to get mad at him?”

“Because!” I paused. “He is still hanging out with her. He introduced me to her as ‘one of the nurses from the hospital’ not ‘the girl who sucked my dick while someone was in the next room dying.'”

Preston gave me a narrowed eyed look. “Didn’t you tell me that you hooked up with Derrick back in college? Did you tell Brady that when you introduced them?

“We didn’t really hook up. We dry humped and he ate me out for like five minutes.” 

BITCH,” Preston said loudly and the people next to us looked over. “You didn’t tell me that he ate your kitty cat.”

“We were drunk. That doesn’t even count.”

“Oh yes it does. You have no right to get mad at Brady when you basically did the same thing, you little whore.”

It’s totally different though, right? 

That evening, we got dressed up and went bar hopping with Kendra. Preston ordered us Bud Lights while I filled her in on the latest.

“So now I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to Brady since,” I concluded. Preston came back to our hightop table and I immediately sucked down half my beer.

“Here we go again,” Kendra rolled her eyes.

“But he probably just can’t call me because his phone is in pieces,” I pointed out.

“He and John actually went to the golf course today. So I’m guessing his phone must be working for them to be able to meet up.”

“Who went to the golf course?” I asked, confused.

“John and Brady,” Kendra said, like that was the most normal thing in the world.

Preston started cackling and clapping his hands together. “This is even juicier than I thought.”

I polished off my beer while letting it sink in. So Brady is deliberately not talking to me. Cool. Maybe we really are done. 

I sent Carly a quick text to get some insider information.

“Are you at Chris’s? Is Brady there?”

She replied, “Hiya babe! Yes I’m at Chris’s and yes Brady is here! You should come over!”

“What’s he doing?” I wanted to know.

“Umm, I don’t know. He’s upstairs. Is everything okay with you two?”

So Brady hadn’t told Carly or Chris what happened. I decided I was going to save that conversation for another time and I put my phone away. 

Since apparently I’m single, I decided I was going to have some fun. I dragged Preston and Kendra to the bar and ordered us shots. 

I started talking to this guy named Drew and his friend. Drew was a cute law student who seemed to be the perfect rebound. The five of us hung out by the bar for a while and I was actually really enjoying hanging out with Drew. He reminded me a lot of Derrick with his teasing sense of humor and desire to be touching me at all times.

He followed me around the bar and made sure that I always had a drink in my hand. It was fun for a few hours until I realized that I really just missed Brady. I wasn’t drunk enough to drunk dial him, but I was drunk enough to be upset and need to go to the bathroom to cry. I brought Kendra with me.

“God, Reese. Get your shit together,” she rolled her eyes.

“Kendra, you have no idea what it’s like,” I cried. “Not everyone can have a successful six year relationship like you.”

“You’re right, they can’t. And you will never have a relationship at all if you bottle up your emotions and then blow up like that.”

I sniffled. 

“You can’t just expect Brady to know what you’re thinking. You have to open up about your feelings.”

“Do you think this is my fault?” I asked.

“Nothing is ever your fault, Reese,” she said sarcastically. “Both of you need to communicate better. And I think you have trust issues. Why did you feel the need to go through his phone anyway?”

I shrugged. I didn’t go through his phone expecting to find out answers about Jessica. I just went through it because it was there.

“Do you think that maybe [ex-boyfriend whose name I refuse to say] kind of scarred you? Maybe he made it hard for you to trust men…”

I considered this. Kendra might be right. I was head over heels in love with my ex (for no reason really) and he did some awful things to me. Maybe I’m just expecting Brady to hurt me because that’s what’s happened in the past. I don’t know. 

I never thought a drunk bar bathroom lecture could be so insightful. She told me that if I wanted to make it work with Brady then we needed to have a serious talk, but I couldn’t expect him to do all the work. She said that I should call him (not at midnight while drunk though) and I told her I would think about it. 

We went home soon after that and I woke up really early on Sunday and went for a run. I know. Like who am I? I’m not sure how far I ran, but I ran for like forty five minutes straight. And it felt really good actually.

I spent most of the day cleaning, doing squats, thinking about donuts, and watching the Wolf of Wall Street (Leo is literally so perfect). I debated calling Brady a few times, but decided that if he wanted to talk he would’ve called me. And besides me breaking his phone, the whole fight is his fault. So it’s his job to contact me.

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