It's In The Stars. Buffy Andrews
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
What parent gives their daughter the initials STD? Seriously, Mom, thanks. Just so you know, I hold you personally responsible for ruining my sex life. Who wants to have sex with an STD? Okay. Maybe I’m not being totally fair, but still. Why did you have to give me your maiden name for my middle name? Why couldn’t you have given me your name? Elizabeth is pretty. It softens the Sydney. I’m not going to bitch that you named me after Dad, but Sydney Elizabeth Davies sounds better than Sydney Turner Davies. Just sayin’.
The worst part is when someone recognizes my initials. Like last night. I was celebrating my birthday with my besties and a guy who reeked of whiskey noticed my monogrammed purse (a birthday present from Mom). He stood next to me at the bar, swaying and slurring his words. He pointed to my purse. “Hey,” he blubbered. “You have an STD.” Everyone at the bar turned to look.
“Fuck off.” I told him and held up my purse. “He’s talking about my purse, not me.” I made a beeline for the bathroom where I attempted to remove the monogrammed stitching with the nail clippers I carried in my purse. Damn, Mom. She needs to stop buying me this monogrammed shit. Christ, the towels and bathrobe were bad enough. And I don’t even use the business card holder. And if I couldn’t remove the stitching from this purse, I wouldn’t be using it either.
The STD conversation is like herpes – it can be dormant for a while but when it breaks out, it’s not pretty.
“Where were you?” Victoria asked when I finally returned to our table.
“Some asshole at the bar noticed my monogrammed purse and commented on it. I went to the bathroom to cool off – and to try to pull the stitches out.” I held up my purse. “I obviously wasn’t very successful.”
“You should’ve told him it stands for State Transportation Department and if you see his bovine ass on the road you’re going to Seize The Day and give his sorry ass a ticket,” Frankie said. “That should shut him up.”
I loved hanging with my besties from work, but to be honest, this birthday was a big one. I thought being a quarter of a century old was bad, but twenty-six is worse. I’m now closer to thirty than twenty. Ugh! And I have no special guy in my life. Not that I haven’t tried, but it’s never been easy for me. Guys have told me I come across as cold, but I’m really not. I’m independent and exude confidence, which turns lots of guys off. They want to feel needed. And I do need them. I do. The truth is I put up a front. Deep inside, I’m scared of rejection, of not being accepted for my quirky, OCD self. I’ve been working hard to soften my presence, but when you’ve spent your entire life building walls to protect your heart it’s tough to tear them down and expose the real you.
Frankie, a fellow newspaper reporter, thinks I should try an online dating site. Aunt Tania thinks I should get involved in a community service organization. Bor-ing! And Mom, let’s just say Mom and I have never agreed on anything!
So, I was thinking about taking a more unconventional approach to my dating problem. The idea came to me after I took a call from an angry reader upset because we’d changed the horoscope in the daily newspaper. Unlike the previous one, the new horoscope didn’t include stars. “How am I to know what kind of day I’m going to have?” the caller asked. “Go back to the old horoscope!”
I always seem to get the calls from annoyed readers, and explaining we’d switched horoscopes to save money was the last thing she wanted to hear. When I answered the call, I grabbed a newspaper so I could see what she was referring to. Since it was my birthday, my horoscope was at the top of the listing. I couldn’t help but read it. Turned out I liked what I read. It said I was intelligent and creative. And that a casual friend might be romantically interested in me. I’m hoping it’s the hot guy in advertising with the tight ass and bulging biceps.
Right then, I decided to put my faith in the stars. It was so quirky I figured it might just work. And if it didn’t, I wouldn’t be any worse off than I am now.
So, I’m starting my twenty-sixth year on this planet with my eyes on the sky in the hope it will bring love into my life.
Thursday, July 14
It’s a great day for a new beginning. Let go of your disappointments and fears. Optimism abounds. Focus on building a brighter tomorrow. Tonight: Catch up with friends.
Fist pump! That’s what I’m talking about. Yes! Kind of creepy I got this horoscope today, but I’m not complaining. I take it as a good sign I’m on the right path. So I’m letting go of my disappointments and fears. Dare is my new middle name. I’m optimistic and smiling and… Oh, shit! Boss man was headed my way. I quickly minimized the horoscope on my laptop.
“Davies.” He pointed his sausage finger at me. “Check the letters to the editor today. Someone’s complaining about a gazillion cats living in a house. Might be a story.”
I nodded, trying not to breathe because the air in my cubicle suddenly smelled like week-old garbage that’d been sitting in the sun. Boss man had contaminated it with his oyster breath.
Oyster Breath walked away and I jumped up from my desk to get some fresh air in a clean air zone. I also hit the bathroom, hoping by the time I returned the odor would be gone. But it lingered like a bad cold with a crappy attitude and I knew I’d just have to suffer through it. Note to self: Buy a Super Odor Killer air freshener for cubicle. The Sweet Pea and Lilac scent is no match for Oyster Breath.
I checked the letters to the editor and jotted down the writer’s name. When I moved to this south central Pennsylvania city a year ago, population forty thousand, I’ll admit I was a bit amused by its small town charm. I grew up in an area that bordered New York City, where people mostly kept to themselves. Here, people actually look at you and say hello when you pass them on the street or in the mall. I’m talking complete strangers. It took me a while to get used to the friendliness, but I’m glad I moved here. It definitely beats my last job, which was writing articles for a news website. The only downside is the dry dating pool. I haven’t found a lot of guys I’m interested in – besides the hottie in advertising. Now he definitely has potential. The guy in the cubicle next to mine, not so much. In fact, Matt was annoying the crap out of me.
I was having a tough time concentrating, mostly because he was interviewing someone that was apparently hard of hearing. Matt’s voice boomed in my ear as he repeated each question at least three times.
I flashed him my mean face (lips pulled back, teeth clenched, eyes narrowed) and held up a note I’d scribbled on the back of a meeting agenda: Face to face????
But he just ignored me. I don’t know why he didn’t interview the woman in person – or at least go into one of the small conference rooms so the rest of us wouldn’t be subjected to his stellar interviewing skills.
I held up another sign: Lazy Ass!
He flashed me the finger.
I