Top Ten Sadomasochistic Things I Do When I’m Back Home in My Small Town

Top Ten Sadomasochistic Things I Do When I’m Back Home in My Small Town

Casually toss out a message to my ex-boyfriend just to see what he’s up to. I didn’t actually want to know he is living a successful life and dating Miss Hawaii with DD tits.

Check every five minutes to see if pics of Kim Kardashian’s wedding are up yet. Wonder why I care/if anybody I know from Minnetonka was invited to the wedding.

Listen to “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits via YouTube for seven hours straight. After psychoanalyzing the 1980s styling and weak chin of the hero, still be jealous of his devotion to that frazzle-haired floozy.

Agree to do small-town things with my mom. After going to the grocery every single day or driving around to look at fallen tree limbs after a thunderstorm, realize I am no better than “them.”

Text my friend who is actively pursuing a career in New York. She shares about her healthy relationship, great jobs, and living in Soho. I share how I live with my parents and saved “a bunch of money” by discovering Blockbuster has 49-cent Sundays. (I have to go to Blockbuster because the Internet here cannot stream fast enough for Netflix or Pandora.)

Max out my five free video views on mobile. Fret about how non-existant my sex life is in my hometown because no matter how desperate I am, I will not bang a pig farmer.

Join a dating website. Set my location to the city I hope to be living in so as not to be discovered by people I actually know. Turn down offers of happy hour from hotties I’ve scammed from 1,000 miles away.

Start trying to smoke. Get discovered by asthmatic mother. Shamefully air out bedroom for two days to remove smoke smell.

Go to public places where I will be seen by townies I grew up with. Bitch on my classmates’ secret FB group how I hate being judged/interrogated by said townies.

Stalk via FB the lives of high school classmates who got knocked up when we were 19.  Realize that their hubbies are handsome and adoring and their lives don’t resemble the shambles on Teen Mom.

Alix Nettnay

Photo by Alan English (Creative Commons)