It had been almost eighteen months since my last encounter with Taylor Swift. She left my house after her intense illness that led to a weekend of very little, but still enjoyable, sex. Once she was gone, my girlfriend Samantha was still in complete shock over the whole situation. Before they had met, she could not have imagined the relationship I had with the megastar.
I was rewarded many times after Taylor had left. Samantha and I had been more in love then than we had ever been. Unfortunately, that was the last time we could say that. Once the shine of the sparkles in her eyes had worn off, a run of jealousy had taken over her. Anytime we had sex, she questioned if I was thinking about Taylor or Carrie or any of the other celebrities I had been lucky enough to share a bed with. About two months afterwards, it reached its worst when I had brought up that a promised visitor had never shown up.
"I wonder if Anna Kendrick is ever going to show up," I calmly said, simply making an observation.
What came next was an argument of epic proportions.
"Why do you want that little tramp!? Aren't I good enough for you anymore Dan!?" she screamed at me as she threw a Carrie Underwood CD at my crotch, hitting me in a very bad place.
"You crazy bitch!" I yelled back as I stormed into our bedroom, grabbing all her clothes from the closet and throwing them on the floor.
Samantha stormed in behind me, still yelling and slapping at me. I knew better than to fight her back physically. My hands were busy tossing her clothes at her feet. We continued to scream at each other for nearly an hour. Eventually, I said angry words I still regret saying to this day.
"Not only would I rather fuck Carrie than you, or Taylor than you, I'd rather fuck my own damn sister than your jealous ass!"
I immediately felt sick to my stomach as those words left my mouth. The look on her face is still engrained into my memory. She looked confused, depressed and angry, all at the same time. She spit in my face before grabbing her clothes and throwing them in a suitcase.
"You are sick," she told me as she started to leave. "I thought what we had was real but you are nothing but a filthy pervert. Have fun with your fucking celebrity girlfriends, I don't need you anymore."
I punched the wall as Samantha shut the door. That was the last time I saw her. Now I sit here over a year later. Taylor's popularity had exploded, Carrie had had a baby, nothing had been heard of from Anna or Hayley Williams or Cassadee Pope. My sister was living in California, sharing an apartment with her once-again-girlfriend Lucy Hale. Lucy's music career died before it started and she came back to Carly begging for forgiveness. She instantly forgave her and left the relationship she was in to move in with her tiny dominator in Burbank, CA. All of this happened while I was just a lonely man in Tacoma, Washington, getting high and staying home.
I had gained some weight, not enough to make me fat but I was not anywhere near as in-shape as I had once been. My day consisted of work, pot, food, and video games, not the most adventurous life but the life I felt I was stuck with.
Just as I was heading into the shower before an early bedtime, my cell phone dinged. I picked it up and read, "new text from: Carrie". I opened the message and read that Carrie had asked me to call her, which I did.
"Hey Carrie," I said as she answered.
"Hey Danny, long time no hear," she said in her familiar adorable voice. "How's it hanging?"
"Not so good, Carrie," I told her. "I've not been in a good place lately."
"Really? Taylor told me you had a hot piece for a girlfriend," she said.
"We broke up a long time ago, she got extremely jealous, we fought and I haven't seen her since," I explained. "It's been about a year since she left, I've barely seen another human since then."
"Aww you poor baby," she said in a comforting tone. "No celebs showed up for pot and a pounding?"
"Nope, I've been sex-free since Samantha left," I told her, my voice cracking.
"Hey, I'm going to call you back in a half hour, okay baby?" she told me, seemingly being rushed away.
I hung up the phone and proceeded to take my shower. I started to think what she could possibly have needed to do but I figured it was just baby-related. By the time I was out and dressed, my phone rang once more.
"I was going to try and get you on Taylor's plane to Nashville but she is overseas until next week," Carrie told me. "Instead, I'll buy you a ticket and fly you out here. You can stay with me over the weekend. Mike took Isiah to visit his family, so I'm all by myself."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "He's not going to come back and find me, is he?"
"Oh no honey, I have my own house that he knows nothing about," she told me. "He thinks I'm performing in Detroit with Cassadee. We took pictures in a generic hallway that I'll send to him at night. I hate lying to my husband but he is anti-drugs and I'll die before I give up my green buddy."
"I really miss you, I will definitely fly over," I said with the first ounce of enthusiasm I had in over a year.
"Great! I'll send you flight information in a few and you can fly out tomorrow," she said cheerfully. "I won't be able to pick you up but I'll send a car for you."
"See you then," I said as she hung up.
