Ojai Valley Inn and Spa.

I drove the hour and a half from LA. The weather was perfect. The destination stunning. Parked, walked in, went to the desk, got a key, and met him in the room. He was taking a bubble bath when I arrived. I bent down to kiss him and he smelled of cigarettes and sour sweat. Even the bubbles could not hide. Slightly repulsed I hid my reaction and forged ahead, like a good soldier!

We went to the pool together before our massages at the spa. This place is incredible. I was in awe. The service, the splendor. I have never had a date like this before. I totally excused his rude comments about other people’s bodies in favor of enjoying the luxury. I mean, I went to high school with this guy. He couldn’t be all that bad, right?

I had a massage while he had a massage. It was lovely. Not mind-blowing, but lovely and relaxing. I met Tommy afterward in our robes in the waiting room. I looked around at the people there, all white, and affluent. I have always felt slightly uncomfortable in these situations and have an irrational fear of being found out and chased out by “them” brandishing sliver spoons taken out of their asses. It is the reason I avoid Beverly Hills like the plague. I am sure it has something to do with growing up in an extremely white and affluent small town and always feeling like the outcast, the odd one, the one that does not belong with the others. Broken. Dirty. Bad.

But I am grateful, at the same time, for this new experience and excited to sit with Tommy, talking, in soft velvety robes. I was telling him about my experience with the shaman, who spit rose water in a spray all over my body. when suddenly Tommy spit water from his mouth into my face.





Just happened.

Shocked. Silent. At first. Not sure what to say. What do you say at a time like this?

A beat.
Then I got mad.

Why did you do that?!

I don’t know. I thought it would be funny. You were talking about a shaman spitting water at you so I thought it would be funny if I spit water at you too.

That was not funny. Don’t ever do that again.

It was super uncomfortable after that. I got up and walked back to the women’s locker rooms to change. I told him I would meet him in the lobby.

In the locker room, I stared in the mirror for a long time, feeling like a stranger in my own skin. That was bad. This was bad. But how could I make it good again? Leaving did not seem like an option. But smoking pot certainly did.

In the lobby I told him I wanted to get stoned. As soon as possible. He did not hesitate.

And I was right. Getting stoned made everything better. It even made drinking again seem like a good idea. I mean, fuck it, at this point, sometimes you just have to say, what the fuck.

While getting ready to go to the restaurant a little while later, he was lying face down on the bed, I decided to lay on top of him. As I lowered my body onto him, he released a massive fart that vibrated through my body. He laughed as I rolled off, disgusted and annoyed. He reminds me of my older brother so much. Provoking but endearing all the same. I plowed on. My momma didn’t raise no quitter.

Stoned out of my mind, we strolled through the rolling greenery surrounding the resort. I stopped to kiss him and he made some comment about propriety. I shrugged it off. then he stopped me at some wooden daise and began to show me how he could read energy in people’s bodies. I listened attentively. He lectured aggressively. We carried on eventually.

There were two young girls walking their dogs through the parking lot. He called out to them, calling them over. I was slightly horrified and embarrassed but too stoned to do much about it. He asked them which was the best restaurant in town. They looked terrified, as they should. He seemed creepy and lecherous. Hunched over. Bad posture in his upper back. Stupid ugly face. Horrible style. They told him about some restaurant. Which made no sense as we were going to the one in the resort anyway. I had no idea what he was trying to prove. I decided to investigate a leaf very closely until they left and we continued on.

We ordered and in a split second while ordering I decided to order a beer.

I have not had a drink in two months. I am planning on staying sober from alcohol forever. But stoned and on my own power and in an excruciatingly uncomfortable awkward situation, I think the fact that I only ordered and drank one beer is an achievement.

I ate too much. Of course.

Feeling bloated and buzzed we made it back the room. We had sex. For some reason, even though the sight of him repels me, the sex is good. I don’t get it. At all. He is ugly and puerile and full of hubris and I am enjoying sex very much. It is all I really care about, in a way. He talks dirty. Maybe that is it. I like when guys talk to me during sex. Highland Park was amazing at it. Probably still is.

I didn’t sleep. I can never sleep next to him. I am not comfortable.

The next morning we had breakfast at the same restaurant. The waittress called us Mr. and Mrs. Langdon. I told her we were not married. Tommy took offense at that. He liked the idea. I did not.

Leaving was awkward. I said good-bye in the parking lot.

I drove home perplexed.

Another long highway.


  1. Why would you put your sobriety and self-esteem at risk by being with this guy? In nearly every post, you talk about how you feel uncomfortable, repulsed, disgusted — that you just want to leave. He does things that make you feel disgusted with yourself — but you “plowed on”. Why???? Just for the sex? Are you so uncomfortable with being alone that you’d be with anyone — even if they are classless and clueless? I know you’ve seen a shaman and have a meditation teacher — but maybe it’s time for you to find a good therapist and start to discover and address your fears and self esteem and boundary issues. I don’t agree with your meditation teacher that you “love yourself.” Someone who truly loved themselves would never feel as desperate to be with a man and would never put themselves in situations like this.

    What you went through in your marriage and how it ended was brutal. But your issues started long before that — and using booze, drugs, and one sexual fling after another to try to fill that void is detrimental — not only to yourself, but also to your child.


    1. Thank you so much for taking the time to write that and I totally get it and I TOTALLY agree with you about ALL OF IT! AND…this happened one year ago and at that time I WAS with a good therapist, meditating with a teacher, having done ayahuasca, everything I could think of to heal after my divorce and still….and FUCKING STILL!!! It was a brutal time and writing about it now, when I am so far away from it and have healed so much, is excruciating and humbling and painful, to be honest. I cringe with every post. I post this story so that I hope it helps anyone else struggling in something similar. To know that it is insane when you are in it, even with all the support I had, and I will go more into what everyone was trying to do to help me, and how I eventually was able to walk away. It is a creepy fucking story but it has a good ending!!! I SWEAR! And I love that you care enough to write what you did. And yes, the issues started WAY before I was even in puberty. But that is another story that I will get to at some point. Just rest assured that I do grow and learn and eventually fall in love with me. Just not yet….yikes.


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