Last night very late

as I was sitting here and reading and writing, I got notification that a lovely little dancer friend of mine had written me something on Fakebook. ;)

I think that she is about 30 or something, married, with a cute little girl (mini her) and probably came VERY close to being a real professional ballerina. She's very, very good, but the ballerinas these days are sicker than sick and there's just too much competition.

Anyway, two months ago, I did something horrible. And I mean the kind of horrible that karma pays you a nasty visit to slap your naughty ass and it was completely pre-meditated and I was fully aware that it was wrong and horrible and yet I did it anyway.

I needed a face to send to someone. Just one totally fucked up sexaholic pretending to be in "recovery" and pretending to be monogamous to his poor partner. Yes, it was my predator and yes, I know that its fucked up to play little moronic games with him and yes, I'm trying to work on my unhealthy behavior. I think I still have this burning rage inside me, that I thought I had conquered, but I guess not.

This is what I did.

I needed a face and my little ballerina friend has a particularly cute one and I knew that she was predator's type. (I realize that I'm getting ahead of myself, with my story, but it may be like that sometimes. Predator is an ex-friend of mine who is a sex addict, liar, sociopath)So, ugh... I placed an ad in Craig's Lisp under "casual encounters" (I give great ad! and this was a couple's post, so I wrote it as if I was a man) with pics of a sexy body (not hers, just one I found out in Cali, also on CL) I was merely trying to see if he would respond to the ad which he did, of course, (and so did about 400 other dudes-- another story) and that is when I used a couple pics of my ballerina friend, which I sent ONLY to my predatory SA friend, and no one else. He totally bought it and I even got him to give me his cell phone number. (he's so easy to manipulate, its just not funny and it gives me great sadistic pleasure in being able to pull one over on him!) And NO, I'm not calling him or doing anything else of any nefarious action. Again, it was just an exercise to see how far he would go... and I tell my therapist about all of this. I hate to admit that I have this dark streak inside me. Maybe we all do?

Geeeeezzz, I started this post with a much different intention and then I remembered this amazing sync.

You see... The DAY that predator wrote to me, the me with my friend's face--- Something really horrible DID happen. Not to me, but to my friend!!!

Her little brother was killed in a head on car accident by a drunk woman going the wrong way at 3:00 in the morning... He was already married with two little kids! Oh my.

Now, I was completely racked with guilt, that I had done such a hideous thing and then on top of it, this unspeakable tragedy. In fact, the next evening, I was having a drink and a salad at an outdoor cafe and I confessed all to my BFF-- Elle,(not her real name, who never judges me and would never abandon me, no matter what hideous thing I had done--- I love her to bits!!!) and then as we were paying the bill, I suddenly became so nauseous and sweaty and sick (not the good kind) and then, I thought it would be a better idea to throw up in the rest room instead of all over the other customers, and as I was stumbling, like a drunkard (I had only had 3/4 of one fro margarita) towards the "comfort room"---I saw--- A LINE and that is when I fuckin' passed out... boom.

Oh the drama...paramedics, oxygen, stretcher, ambulance, hospital--- They pumped me full o' juice, ran all of the usual tests, and all came back normal. (no, they didn't do a brain scan) ;) --- husband and autistic child (who decided to have a melt down because he had to WAIT for an hour for the bag to finish) came and then they took me home to recuperate.

In the coming days, I shared a lot of my own grief and experience with my bereaved friend about the days, weeks, months, and years following my own brother's untimely death. I didn't do it out of a sense of guilt. It's just what I do. Normally, I'm a very loving, caring, nurturing, gentle, kind, and generous woman and this is the facet of me, that is dominant. not the other crap.

I haven't seen Jen (not her real name) in ballet class for a while, and I don't really know her other than to say "hi" and maybe a word or two about our respective aches and pains and remedies.

This is what she sent me--- outta the blue.

"hi, Lexie,  having a hard night and thought of you. just wanted to let you know that all those messages have been and still are helpful to me.

see you in class soon? been taking Charmaine at the Y and probably Cynthia in CT."  (not their real names either)

Immediately, I felt something very familiar that I hadn't felt in many, many weeks... The sensation of warm, salty, gentle tears streaming down my cheeks. Blessedly, they weren't the tears of despair, or the tears of a pain that goes so far and deep---that I often feel, but, they were the tears of love and gratitude. There really isn't that much of a difference between love and hate.

The opposite of love is indifference.

I haven't responded to her yet, and I don't know what to say... because I'm afraid those "hard nights" of excruciating loss are here to stay; it never goes away.