How Stella Got Her Groove Back Read Free Page A

won’t or can’t deliver you fall short and eventually begin to piss the other person off and years go by and the two of you simply tolerate each other. I wasn’t born to live like this, and especially with a man. I know God didn’t have some master plan where we were supposed to fall in love and then work our asses off to make it work and then it doesn’t and then we end up feeling worse longer than we felt good. There’s something inherently wrong with this whole notion. It seems like everybody is striving for perfection. The perfect fucking spouse who will make you feel perfect. But I know for a fact that no such person exists. I know for a fact that I am far from perfect, but there have been many instances where I didn’t believe that. I fought hard for the right to be right. All I was doing was trying to preserve my right to my own self-image, but I’m here to be whoever I am and if I happen to be a little fucked up then accept me fucked up as I am or leave me the fuck alone. Because if there’s ever going to be a change in my behavior or my personality I will do it myself and I don’t need you nagging me telling me how fucked up I am because you know what? you’re pretty fucked up too.
    I don’t know how long it’s going to take for me not only to fill back up again but to get my engine started. I’ve been divorced now for almost three years and haven’t been on a legitimate date in almost a year even though I have a number to call when I just have to have some even though it’s not passionate but purely maintenance-oriented sex and I thank God he’s married because I wouldn’t want him any other way and these last few months have been tough because he’s turned into such a lazy fuck and he’s pissed at me for not returning his calls and hiding from him really but I’m tired of having sex with him for the sake of getting off because I have to work too hard and he’s started banging me the way he probably bangs his wife, like he’s a slug, and I don’t like kissing him one bit and I’m at the point now where I just can’t do it anymore. Sex should not be cumbersome. And I don’t like the idea of searching for love or trying to conjure up passion. Which is probably one reason why it feels like I’ve lost a lot over these last few years. I know things can never be the way they were (and I wouldn’t dare want it back) but there are a few relatively simple things I’ve stopped doing that I want to put back in my life.
    I wish I could call Delilah. But I can’t. She’d only been my best friend since college and we only talked on the phone every other day and she was the most brilliant person I ever met and we could talk about anything and she lived all the way in Philly and then last year she decides to surprise me and die suddenly from some stupid liver cancer that she didn’t even tell me she had until she was in the fucking hospital and then she was gone the next week and there was a lot of shit we still needed to talk about. A whole lot of stuff. Years and years’ worth of stuff. She knew I was going to miss her ass and I do miss her black ass and the only way I can make the hurt go away is to do one of two things: pretend that she’s still alive and that we’re just not on speaking terms, which we went through from time to time, or pretend that she never existed. Trying to do both has required a great deal of effort and imagination and whenever I’m not looking my heart plummets down real low and I can hardly tolerate the longing.
    So over these next two weeks I want to try to do some make-Stella-feel-good stuff. Which is why I’m planning to do some things I’ve been meaning to do but haven’t for one reason or another. Mostly because I’m always too busy. Always doing something. Work alone has been kicking my ass. It’s been said before, but I’m here to give new meaning to the phrase “I hate my job.”
    I might actually call up a few old friends and sit in a chair and not