If you’re ex-girlfriend became an escort and wrote a tell-all book about her life and when you scoured through “said” book looking for the chapter she dedicated to the influence you had on her life and found….

“I went to New York to visit my actor boyfriend who had just got his first acting gig; a role in a musical where he appeared naked.”

I would expect you to write a blog, too.

I read 40 pages of the book entitled The Price, {you took that name from Arthur Miller, anyway you look at it, it’s a lack of creativity. If you wanted to title your book with some kind of reference to ‘what it cost’ for you to go from a young ingenue with all the promise in the world, to the highest paid escort in New York City, there are a surplus of noun’s at your disposal.}

The Cost, for instance (kinda the same thing as The Price but a different word).

The Expense, (makes one hear the word “sex”).

The Sum, (one syllable, brusque, blunt).

The Damage (suspenseful).

The Expenditure (action film with accountants).

Let me get this right out of the way.

It made me very happy to see you coming out of having sex with men for money, to me going to Borders and picking up your book.

I didn’t purchase your book, though having been your boyfriend for three years I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a tinge of guilt about that. And no, I didn’t check to see if there was a chapter about me before I decided not to buy it. I knew I wasn’t going to buy it a long time ago {probably around the time I visited you in the hospital, when you were getting one foot of your small intestine removed, and you were hooked up to the IV and you said “get out of here, you’re not my boyfriend anymore, and tell your sister (she was 12) to stop calling me, I’m not part of your family.”} That pretty much solidified me never buying a book from you. Ever.

No need to apologize. I know you were under a lot of stress. You were a 19 year old girl in the city finally away from the clutches of your Mother. Doin’ blow. Staying up late and not coming home, plus making all kinds of new friends and wasn’t sure who wanted to help and who wanted something for something else.

Was I curious to see if you mentioned me at all? Of course! I skimmed through the chapters (didn’t see my name), skimmed through the pages (didn’t see my name), checked to see if there was an index (there was no index) then my kid started crying and I became aware I was in the same section where they sell that colorful version of the Kama Sutra (with Indians and Samurai’s fucking) and I felt grimy, so I tucked the book under my arm and took my son to the children’s section.

I read 20 pages of your book in the children’s section of Borders. I was embarrassed to be reading it so I ditched the glossy paper cover picture of your legs, in the music section, and hid the book behind a much larger book. Unfortunately, after being pissed off about not finding more of the book dedicated to me, I was unable to retrieve the cover (someone must have moved it), but I’m sure when they found the book, they put it together with the cover and placed in it’s proper section along Death of a Salesman and The Crucible.

I understand nobody wants to hear about the good times. That doesn’t sell. I don’t attack the public for paying you to write a book about being a call girl. I attack you for not realizing there is a much greater story to be mined in knowing me. We had many loving moments and unique circumstances that had a big impact on your life and deeply influenced your present day thinking, which you seem to have completely left out of the book and if you hadn’t left it out of the book you wouldn’t of had a hard time thinking of a refreshing title, that hasn’t been already used by one the great American Dramatist’s of the 20th century….

Life With Elan, (no one knows me, but it’s still a nice name).

The Chance, (referring to the risk you took following me to New York).

Elan, (curt, simple, all about me).

My Regrets (dish about how you should not have ever broken up with me).

How I Learned to Charge so Much Money For Sex, (basically, thanking me for introducing you to a utopia of love making).

2 things cut from the final version of the draft but worth mentioning.

When we were breaking up and I asked how you changed feelings for me so fast and you said it was because you were listening to that cd of “Dido

The times in winter, when you’d leave the house directly after you showered and parts of your hair became icicles.

Other possible titles…

The Downside, The Drawback, The Minus


This was written at a time when I was confused, hurt, and all the other adjectives one could glimpse from the above written rant. I have since re-met this woman. If I were to rewrite this, it would come out a lot different.  Secondly, she is the same beautiful person I met before any of this happened, but better. She is better for having gone through it. Lastly… her name is Natalie.

3 thoughts on “Bratalie”

  1. I can AND would love to ride either Mondays, Tuesday, and Thursdays for the most part. The Ecuadorians keep asking about you.

  2. I think you should do a ONE MAN SHOW based on this.
    Get Asley Dupree to be your stage manager.
    Ang get Elliott Sptitzer to produce it.

    Call it, “She wasn’t ALWAYS number 1”

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