J. Beaman - The Magazine

I have a crush on Amy Boone. Amy is in the Damnations and is more famous than me and more attractive and more talented. Maybe that’s why I have a crush on her. I was talking to a friend of hers about my crush and he said, “I’ve had a crush on Amy for 10 years and I’ve even been drunk enough to tell her a few times. She is everything you could ever want in a woman. So enigmatic, charming, creative. If I had a million dollars and you knew how to get Amy, I would give it to you.”

I like having crushes. Especially crushes that have little hope of fruition. Or none. I don’t really want to date Amy; I just want to have a crush on her. If you keep a crush a crush then it never gets spoiled by reality. The reality is that she might be lame or dumb or bitchy. I know that she is none of those things. Amy is perfect and wonderful.

My crush says so.

J: Doesn’t it make you want to get back together with her? If you were me.
Tim: She did say she wants to have sex with you now. That’s something.
J: Yes it is.
Tim: Why won’t she move out here?
J: Because she has a life. Or wants one.
Tim: She can have one here.
J: Yeah.

Ohh! (profound, gutteral, oh) stake through my heart, jab in the pit of my guilt.

As a fan of your writing, and nosy ex-girlfriend that I am, you would have to expect that I would check out your zine online every 6 months of so…only to discover I feature so negatively. Is that why we’re not friends? I did want to have sex with you. You gave me the best orgasms of my life. I still want to have sex with you! I know what I said, and it was in the interest of being completely honest, despite the hurting. I had problems with sex. It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t that you were fat. I realized long ago that the sex was a huge problem in our relationship, and I just had a real hard time admitting that it was my issue. The sad, sad irony is that my last two boyfriends were skinny. And it just felt like something was missing. Like 50 lbs. I never thought you were my type, and now I only go for J-shaped guys.

I’m sorry I blamed you for dumping me. I’m sorry I was so hard on you.

Now, I hope you realize I’m not trying to heal you, and I’m not trying to just make myself feel better. And I realize that what you blog is for the sake of writing itself, and not a cry for help, or a blatant emotional spew, or an attempt to make ex-girlfriends feel guilty and that you don’t really expect or want a response from said guilty ex-girlfriend. And I don’t really mind being misrepresented. Or painfully accurately represented, because that’s more what it looks like. But pleeeeez can we be friends again? I still think youre brilliant. I really miss you. Talk to me please.

Kisses,

Fat-hater-Sarah