Am I a Bitch?

I've been called a lot of names in my life: fag, queen, pussy, baby, fragile, asshole, jackass, and, of course, bitch. The only one I ever thought had a ring of truth to it was bitch. I can be a bitch. I was the Gretchen Weiners of my high school and yes, my best friend was the Regina George. In high school I quickly learned how to manipulate and intimidate people to get what I wanted. I abused peoples trust, lied, gossiped, anything I could do to make sure that I was treated like royalty and everyone else was miserable. I was a perfect angel for adults that kept a close eye on me but a tyrant to my classmates. Yes, back then, I was a bitch.
But when I went to college, I changed and reinvented myself. I'm not sure if it was because I had matured when I stepped onto my college campus or because I had finally gotten away from the poisonous influence that was Sarah (my Regina.) I became a new person; I was nicer to people, forgiving, sincere and loyal. I made new friends and learned all over again what it meant to be a true friend to someone. I wasn't a bitch, I was brutally honest. There's a fine difference, trust me. A bitch says something mean while making it sound sweet. Brutally honest people say mean things because they need to be said.
But now I'm no longer in college and while I don't think that I've reverted to my high school ways, I can't help but wonder if my bitchiness ever went away or just redirected itself to another group.
I never dated in college. I was too busy going to class and getting drunk. I didn't have time for boys. But maybe if I had taken the time for them, I would have noticed this pattern before. I started hooking up on a regular basis when I moved back home with my parents and now I am the king of one night stands. I've hooked up with more guys than I care to count and most of whom I don't even know their names. I'm pretty sure there have been a few guys who's faces I never even saw. Don't get me wrong, anonymous hook ups can be fun and exciting and, I have to admit, make me feel pretty cool. But they're also dangerous and usually creepy or crazy or both.
And now, like most people, I've grown tired of faceless, nameless fucks and have started looking for something real. Someone I can bring home to my parents. Someone that's in it for the long haul. There's just one tiny little kink: I'm a bitch (or at least I used to be.) I'll find a really nice guy that treats me well and is hot as hell, go on one or two dates with him, find something I don't like about him and then just completely ignore him. Like cut off all communication with him, defriend him on Facebook, block him on Skype, unfollow him on twitter, all that fun jazz. (What can I say? I'm a product of the 21st Century.) I've become that guy that never calls you back and leaves you wondering why I won't return your phone calls or texts and when we see each other at Kroger, I turn and walk away. (I can always buy trash bags later but not when you corner me in the paper plate aisle.)
I don't understand why I can't just tell him that its not working out and I think we should see other people. I guess I'm just tired of having that conversation. I'm tired of being convinced that people can change and that it'll get better if I just give it time. If you rub me the wrong way, its over. Just take me ignoring you as a sign that we're through and move on. But does that make me a bitch? Or just sure of what I want?

Maybe I'm a bitch because its my only defense mechanism that's proven to work. Maybe I'm a bitch because I know what I want and I'm not concerned about other people or their feelings when it comes to me getting it. But people being too sensitive about their feelings is another story for another time. Yes, I may be a bitch. But honestly, I think I need to be a bitch when it comes to love. I refuse to let heartbreak jade me. And the way I figure it, you can't get your heartbroken if you don't give it to anyone to break. I'm happy being a bitch. Maybe everyone else needs to get over their stigma of bitches and realize that we're doing what we can to survive. Bitches.

The bag man

Today I saw a man sleeping on the sidewalk. He was tucked away in a doorway, off to the side and hardly noticeable. He was dirty and tired and just wanted to be left alone, or perhaps a dollar if you had one to spare. No one did.
Plastic bags, like the one groceries usually come in, were piled high around him. Some of them held belongings: a blanket with large holes in it, a windbreaker jacket, four left shoes and two right. The other bags just held more bags. As he slept, he rested his head gently on his bags and tried his best to cover himself with the others. He wanted to be invisible.
After a while, a man came out of the building where the bag man slept. He wore a nice, pin striped, navy suit and and expensive looking shoes. He walked over to the bag man, gently nudged him with his shoe and said, "Get up. You can't sleep here. Come on, get up." The bag man didn't move. He laid perfectly still in hopes that the man in the suit would go away. Again, the man in the suit kicked him.
"HEY!" he shouted, "GET UP! LEAVE OR I'LL CALL THE COPS." At this, the bag man stirred. He slowly lifted his head, peered at the man in the suit through sleepy eyes, and slowly rolled over onto his knees. He started to collect his bags and carefully placed them over his shoulder. The man in the suit stood by impatiently tapping his foot.
"Come on. Get your trash and get out of here." said the man in the suit, checking his watch for the third time. The bag man continued to slowly pick up his bags and place them over his shoulder. Once he had collected them all and they hung about him like elegant drapes on a large window, he shuffled away. The man with his suit caught my eye as he turned to go back inside. "Some people," he said, "just need to get a job."
I looked at him and shook my head, " He does have a real job." I pointed to where the bag man had stopped and was now loading his bags into a green recycling bin. "He's picking up after you." The man in the suit scoffed and hurried inside.

Still nervous about this

So, I got some good reviews of the first page (sans the last line) of this thing I'm writing so I'm posting a little more. I don't think I'll post this sequentially any more. I think I'll just post parts as I come to them. Also, I kind of want this thing to be published some day and if I post it all on here, there will be no point to buying the book so...yeah. Here we go...again...Still terrified. haha

It was hot. Scout reached up to wipe the sweat off his forehead that he wasn't quite sure was there or not.
"What a day to wear a polyester tent." he thought as he readjusted the brilliant blue fabric draped around him. His cardboard hat sat awkwardly on his head as it did for everyone else in his graduating class. And  like everyone else, he was growing increasingly bored listening to the vice principal list off the various do's and don'ts  of appropriate behavior for the impending graduation ceremony.
"Why do we even need a dress rehearsal? It's not like wearing this stupid thing changes the way I walk." Scout whispered to Alison Thyme sitting beside him. She completely ignored him and continued to text her best friend sitting three rows ahead of them. Scout sighed, adjusted his robe again, and slouched in his chair.
"What's the point of being funny if no one listens?" he muttered.
"Oh, I heard you," Alison replied without looking up from her phone, "I just don't think you're funny."
"Whatever, Alison. Go back to texting your lesbian lover." The heat was making Scout cranky.  After reading the rules, Vice Principal DaMarco began reading the names of every one of Scout's classmates. Knowing this was going to take another two hours, Scout groaned loudly and continued to slouch and ignore the world except for the first, 19th, and 23rd names. These were his best friends: Mena, Greg and Catherine.


This is terrible. Like for real terrible. Also, boring. So I'm sorry you read it but it's what I have and people have been asking for more so there you go. Bam.