Hey There, Delilah... (2 page)

Hi, my name is Delilah Sampson, and I am ‘Frump Girl.’  I earned my nickname in High School, but it was probably well deserved
; ten years later, I have done nothing but continue to perpetuate that recognition.  You see, at five feet two inches, I have always been petite, and I won the genetic lottery in that I never have to work out, can eat whatever I want, and keep my size two figure.   What sucks, although no man has ever complained, is that my size two frame has the impossible job of holding up my thirty-two double D’s. Yeah, that’s right, by the time I was sixteen, I was fully developed, and completely miserable.  All of the guys would stare at me, and all of the girls would make fun of me and call me ‘slut’ and ‘whore.’   I never even kissed a boy at that point, but you know how mean teenage girls are.  So from that day on, I wore the biggest shirts and baggiest pants I owned. I would never show cleavage and avoided all of the parties. Add glasses and braces to the mix, and I became a complete social outcast.

It wasn’t until my senior year, when my best friend, Charlotte
Fisher, moved in next door, that I felt able to hang out and trust a teenage girl again.  We walked to school together, ate lunch together, and did our homework together. On the weekends, we hung out at the mall, went to movies, and listened to music in my basement.  Charlie was actually the one who told me what the kids at school were calling me behind my back.  While they were all gossiping and calling me ‘frump girl,’ she was continuously telling me how beautiful I was, how she was jealous of my body, and how I should not be dressing like I am embarrassed of my “goods.”   I can just hear her now, “Lips, tits, and ass, girlfriend – all of the supermodels are paying for what you were born with. If you got it, flaunt it.”  I love my best friend. She is whom I need right now, so I shoot her a quick text:

Delilah
:  Hey, Charlie. u busy?

Charlie:   Hey , LaLa. What’s up?

Delilah:  Could use a little girl time. Help pick out an outfit for my interview tomorrow?

Charlie:  Where’s Ryan?

Delilah:  Out

Charlie:  Will be there in 10 min

Delilah: Thx, love u

Charlie:   Love u2

Charlie is going to be here any minute, and I don’t know what I am going to tell her about Ryan moving out. We tell each other everything, but I am embarrassed and still very angry.   I met Ryan Richardson our junior year of college. I couldn’t believe he would be interested in frumpy Delilah.  I was so insecure that I didn’t even realize he was interested until Charlie sat me down and gave me the courage to go out with him, and we have been inseparable since.  We were both business majors, so we made sure to take all of the same classes. We ate, slept, studied, and socialized together. You would not see one of us without the other. He was an athlete, and so gorgeous. He was my first everything – kiss, boyfriend, sexual partner, and love.  Our sex life was pretty healthy. I mean, we were in our early twenties, so we did it almost every day.  Nothing crazy or freaky; Ryan did not like to experiment, but he always made sure I came first. And now, here I am, twenty-eight years old with nothing to show for it.  No boyfriend and no job.

Charlie arrived twenty minutes ago and she hasn’t yet realized that Ryan moved out. I distract her with silly gossip and a bottle of wine. We discuss our favorite books and a few reality
TV competitions we both enjoy and I know I can’t hold out any longer.  She is my best friend, the only one who stood by me through my worst high school years.  She never judges me, and I know she will have my back now, too, but I am a little nervous about what she will do to Ryan once she knows.  She never really liked him to begin with, so I am even more embarrassed by the fact that I never saw him for the snake that he is.

“Hey, Charlie.  Do you think you can help me pick out an outfit for tomorrow?  I have a job interview and want to put my best foot forward.”

“Of course.  Wait… what?  What do you mean you have an interview tomorrow?  Did you finally quit that awful job with that bitch boss?  She always treated you like you were her slave, not her secretary.”

“Well, yes and no.” I answer her, not committing to an answer.

“Um, LaLa, it’s either yes or no. You can’t do both,” she said, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Ugh,
okay, are you ready for this? It’s kind of a funny story…”

♫♩♫♩♫♩
♫

My alarm feels like it goes off earlier and earlier every day.  I am sure
that it has something to do with the fact that I hate my job, and that I hate my bitch boss even more.  I have a college degree and I understand the job market sucks right now, that is why I took this job as a secretary, but that doesn’t mean I was hired to fetch her dry cleaning and pick up her dog from the groomer.  I am damn good at what I do, probably the best secretary she will ever have. I just wish I could quit, but Ryan’s company is downsizing, and I may be the breadwinner for a while. Between rent, bills, and student loans, we can’t afford for us to both be out of a job.

“Morning, babe
. Time to get up.” I try to be cheery around Ryan. I don’t want him to think I am unhappy with him, or think that I am a nag.  I complain to him daily about my bitch boss, and I don’t want him to think I am ungrateful for the things that he does for us.

“Good morning, Delilah,” he answers with a groan. He rolls over and heads for the shower. No morning kiss, no playful swat on the butt, no mo
rning sex.  He has seemed off the past couple of weeks, but I just keep chalking it up to him being nervous about his job situation. I mean, we have been together almost eight years now, so I know when he needs a little space.

“How about I come meet you for lunch today?  We can have a nice picnic in the park.
Maybe a little afternoon delight?”  I ask, wagging my eyebrows, hoping to break him out of this funk.

“Sorry, babe.  I already have lunch plans. Why d
on’t you meet up with Charlotte?  Get out of the office for a little while and get away from your boss. You are always saying that you don’t spend enough girl time with her.”   He stops speaking for a moment and just stares at me.  It looks like there is more he wants to say, but he just shakes his head slightly, and heads to the shower.  He didn’t even remember that today is my birthday.  I guess that conversation is over. 

The day is pretty uneventful so far.  I called Charlie on my way to work and we picked a time and place to meet for lunch. She is very lucky to have a cool boss that lets her come and go as she pleases. 
She works at a talent agency that represents many A-list actors like Parker Hamilton. Yummy!  Guess she is lucky in more ways than one. Anyway, as long as her work gets done, he is happy.    As soon as the clock strikes noon, I make my way to meet Charlie for some long overdue girl time.

She greets me with a big hug and kiss then smacks me on my bottom.  “Happy Birthday, old lady!”  Leave it to Charlie to always remember.  Like I said… best friend.

Conversation between us always flows easily. We talk about the men she is dating. If there is one girl who could balance three different men at one time, it is Charlie.  I bring up Ryan, and his odd behavior this morning, as well as the past couple of weeks, and she agrees with me that he is probably under stress from work. She also uses that excuse for him forgetting my birthday.  But as far as I am concerned, there really is no excuse.  I shrug my shoulders and agree, tentatively.  My gut is telling me differently, but I know that Ryan would never do anything to hurt me. He loves me.

It is time to head back to work, and I am dreading it. I keep telling myself that it is Thursday, which means tomorrow is Friday, which means I have a
whole weekend away from the Bitch.  But I am brought back to reality when my brain reminds me that it is still actually Thursday, which means all of my work needs to be done by tomorrow, which means I better make sure there are no last minute changes to any of the files I am working on.

As soon as I get back
to work, I make a quick stop at the ladies’ room then head to the Bitch’s office.  I don’t want any surprises tomorrow that will force me to work late. I am just about to knock on her door when I hear noises. Is she being beaten? Raped? I can’t tell if she is screaming in pleasure or pain. But since I know she would never do something as unprofessional as voluntarily have sex at the office, my endorphins kick in and I ram my shoulder into the door, knocking it open with a loud thud.

If it wasn’t my life that w
as just decimated, I would say the scene before me was nothing short of comical.  Ryan, my live-in boyfriend of eight years, who only likes missionary position, has my bitch boss, who I complain about daily, bent over her desk doggie style.  She has a ball gag in her mouth, looking like a stuffed, baked pig, and he is wearing leather chaps with his ass and cock hanging out.  I know I am going to laugh about this one day, but this mental picture will not escape me any time soon. As soon as they realize that I am staring at them, my mouth gaping open, they start scrambling for clothes.  I am actually pretty proud of myself for the way I handled it.

I walk over toward her desk, pick up her ripped panties, walk them over to her, and say,
“Consider this my resignation.”   Then I turn toward Ryan, shake my head with a knowing smile, look him dead in the eyes, and say, “I quit you, too. Anything of yours still in
my
apartment at 5:00 pm, will be donated or thrown out.  Leave your keys in the mail slot.”   I hold my head high, look straight ahead, and leave.  I walk to my desk, grab the few personal items that I do have there, leave the picture of Ryan and me, and don’t look back.

As the elevator doors slide closed, I catch a quick glance of Ryan running toward me yelling. I can’t make out every word, but it is something like, “I am so sorry.  I love you. Please, let’s talk about this.”  I guess he do
esn’t realize the time to talk was before his cock entered the Bitch. Aw, shit, he wasn’t wearing a condom with her, was he?  Guess I will hit the clinic before I head home. Happy fucking birthday to me!

♫
♩♫♩♫♩
♫

Since this all went down yesterday, I haven’t spoken to anyone about it until now.  I also haven
’t cried or broken anything.  I guess I was still in the denial stage. Now that Charlie is here, and I have rehashed those horrific three minutes, I am feeling a combination of anger, sadness, and self-pity. Add a bottle of wine to the mix, and you can imagine I am not a pretty sight. In fact, I am a hot freaking mess! 

A tissue box appears in front of m
y face; I take a few and sob a “thanks.” Charlie sits back down on the couch – I didn’t even realize she had gotten up – and waits patiently while I bawl my eyes out over everything I just lost. How could I have been so blind? All of the signs were right in front of me. Between the lack of sex, and the distance that was growing between us, I feel like such a fool for not picking up on it sooner.

“I…I feel like I wasted eight years of my life.  I thought we were going to get married. ” I blubber as I dab at the snot running out from my nose.
  I take off my glasses to wipe them down because they are so salt stained from my tears.

Charlie places her hand on my knee and squeezes it. “It’s
okay, LaLa.  You’re going to be fine; you are going to find another man who is going to treat you so much better than Ryan
Dick
ardson ever did,” she says, practically spitting Ryan’s name out of her mouth. I smile slightly at the new nickname she just gave him.  

I sniff and reel in my emotions. Charlie is right, of course. Crying over a slimy snake like Ryan is not going to get me anywhere. I have a job interview tomorrow, and I need to get ready.  I dry off my
face and blow my nose, and Charlie gives me a gentle smile and a nod of approval.

“
That’s my girl. Now, pick yourself up and dust yourself off, because Ryan is an asshole and he has no idea what he is losing. He just doomed himself to a life of misery because he will never find a woman as awesome as you, LaLa. You know he is going to try to come crawling back to you any day now.”

I nod and take a deep breath. I’m
okay. I’m going to be okay. “I need your help picking out an outfit for tomorrow.”

Charlie and I move to my bedroom and open my closet.
She sucks in a sharp breath then turns to look at me, her teeth bared in disgust. I shove my hands on my hips and glare at her.

“What?” I demand.

“Your clothes suck ass,” she says, not one ounce of remorse in her tone.

“Yeah, well…you suck ass,” I mutter. God, that has to be the worst
comeback line I have ever come up with. I am usually much wittier; the whole boyfriend/job situation is throwing me off my game.

Charlie rolls her eyes at me before she starts digging through my stuff. She picks out four outfits a
nd turns me into a runway model, and not a good one I might add.  She makes me put on all four outfits and then walk back and forth in front of her. After the fourth outfit, I am now irritated, so I smack my hands against my thighs.

“Come on, Charlie, pick something,” I huff.

“Your clothes are awful! I’m having a hard time deciding which one is the lesser evil!” She cries, throwing her arms up.

“I
don’t have time to go shopping.” I grunt, crossing my arms…okay, it was more like
resting
my arms on my chest.

Charlie growls. “Fine, just wear the black suit.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

“No, b
ut it’s the best thing you have. You really need to buy new clothes that fit you better.” Charlie sighs, glancing at my closet.

“I
like my clothes, they are comfy.” I pout, smoothing out the shirt I am wearing.

“And that is
how you know that they are crap; cute clothes are not comfy,” Charlie says wryly, her eyes glittering in amusement.

I shrug. “I’d rather be comfy than cute.”

Charlie looks at me as if I just grew another head. “What the hell is wrong with you? Every woman wants to look cute,” she insists.

I roll my eyes. “I have my reasons and you know what they are,
so let’s not go there.”

“Fine, wha
tever, just wear the black suit. You’ll look…acceptable.” She winces at her choice of words.

“You’re such a bitch!
” I chuckle, knowing my best friend means well. Charlie never lies to me, so she will not tell me I look cute or sexy when I clearly don’t.

We l
augh and tease each other some more before she leaves, and I am glad that she came over. She didn’t say too much about Ryan, but she didn’t need to. She was here for me when I needed her, and that is all I have ever asked of her. I am one lucky girl to have such a fantastic friend. I take a deep breath and look down at my black suit where it lays on my bed.

“It’s just you and
me tomorrow. Make me look good, okay?” I say, talking to the suit. “Holy shit, I’m losing my goddamn mind. I’m talking to inanimate objects,” I mutter to myself, raking my hand through my long wavy hair.  And now I am talking to myself. Great!

I clean up the mess that Charlie and I made
and get ready for bed. I need to get a good night of sleep so that I can be at my best tomorrow. If I’m lucky, I will get the job and not have to worry about dipping into my savings. If not, I will officially be the biggest loser, and just might have a nervous breakdown.