Confessions of an Ex-Girlfriend Read Online Free

that despite the fact that she is beautiful, intelligent and financially self-sufficient, she can’t seem to find a man in all of NYC capable of delivering a satisfying sexual experience. Having gone through some dry spells myself since moving to NYC, I could sympathize. In fact, we often joked that we could start our own sitcom, called No Sex in the City. Carl had merely been Jade’s latest dating experiment—a musclehead so pumped up on steroids, he couldn’t seem to get a rise out of any other part of his anatomy.
    â€œNo, this is a guy from the gym, too, but he’s the real thing. Gorgeous, in that lean, surfer’s body kind of way.”
    â€œLet me guess…he’s a model.”
    â€œYeah, but he’s very down-to-earth,” she argued, leaning back from the salad she’d barely touched to sip her water.
    Though Jade didn’t like to hear it, I firmly believed her trouble with men began with her selection. She had always been a connoisseur of the beautiful people, which was probably why she was such a high-in-demand stylist in the fashion industry. But what sheapparently hadn’t figured out yet was that that beautiful men all had one thing in common and that was an inability to love—or even desire—anyone more than they loved themselves.
    â€œI know what you’re thinking, Em,” she said, “but this time I have the best of both worlds. Ted is beautiful, but I get the feeling he doesn’t even realize just how beautiful.”
    â€œHence, his career choice.”
    â€œPlease. The guy was living out in the middle of a cornfield in the Midwest when a scout spotted him at a club.”
    â€œThis story sounds familiar.” Why was it that no models ever seemed to actually apply for the glamorous, high-paid jobs they wound up in?
    â€œHe almost seems…innocent,” Jade continued. “I mean, he practically blushed when I gave him my phone number.”
    â€œYou’re kidding?”
    She started to laugh, then lit a cigarette. “So what are you going to do tonight? Go out with Alyssa?” Jade and Alyssa had become fast friends from the moment I introduced them in college, despite their very different personalities.
    â€œNo, no. She’ll probably be doing something with Richard. And there is no way I can deal with a night of hanging with the Happily-Almost-Married.”
    â€œWell, I don’t think you should stay home,” Jade advised. “Want to meet up with me and Ted for drinks?”
    â€œHis name is Ted?”
    â€œI know. Doesn’t it sound almost…harmless?”
    â€œVery boy next door.”
    â€œWell? What do you say? Drinks with me and Ted Terrific?”
    â€œNaw. No, really. I want to stay home. You know. Get into myself again. Maybe I’ll do a little renovating. I’ve been meaning to move my bookshelves. Maybe hang a few pictures.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Jade demanded.
    â€œOf course I’m sure. It’s not like I’ve never spent Saturday night alone before.”
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    Confession: I have not spent Saturday night alone for two years.
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    This wasn’t exactly true, as there had been times when Derrick spent Saturday night home writing, and I spent Saturday night home alone, also writing. Or at least that’s what I told Derrick whenever he suggested we take Saturday off to catch up. “Oh, sure. I’ve been meaning to get started on a short story I’ve been thinking about,” I would always say. After we hung up, I would turn my computer on, and as it booted up, I would start hand-washing all my lingerie or organizing my sock drawer. If things got really desperate, I would take an old toothbrush and some cleanser to the grout in the bathroom. If Derrick happened to call during these binges of avoidance to ask what I was up to, I always replied, “working.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
    Now I didn’t dare turn on the