I love me a good deal. I belong to many discount websites: Goldstar, Groupon, Living Social, Woot, etc. etc…

Last week a friend told me he started working at a new website that allows you to make impulse discounted purchases at that acupuncture place or indoor skydiving joint you've been thinking about trying.

I had to check it out.

I signed up, saw a button to send a free drink from a popular West Hollywood bar to my friends, clicked it and was given the option to import my email contact list. Since I don't even know my mother's email address without my address book, I hit “import.”

To my devastation, clicking that button meant the fancy discount website instantly sent that free drink to every human being I once had some kind of email contact with. There was no “please don't send it to [insert bad memory here]” option.

I sent this free drink to people I love, people I sorta kinda liked a few years ago, and people I never ever want to speak to again. Lawyers, producers, ex's, teachers, EVERYone.

Then the Facebook comments started.
Chris: Hey, thanks for the drink. That was nice!

Tracey: Oh. You sent this to everyone.

Mandi: You just want to get us all drunk and take advantage of us. 😉

Melody: I was wondering why you bought me a drink.
Chris: Oh, I guess I take it back. I was feeling special for a second.
Anne: Well it's not like you sent us all free prostate exams…a free drink is the awesome kind of spam.

Todd: What's wrong with a free prostate exam??
Michael: If I'm getting a free prostate exam, I'm definitely gonna need that drink first…
Mark: Offering free drinks to a sober dude…nice. REAL nice.

I could handle Facebook. The awkward emails? Less tolerable.
Most understood that it was a third-party email and responded to say hi. But the one guy, the one that destroyed my life for three months, the one my boss almost punched in the face at a company party, the narcissist I can't explain dating, the one that made me avoid my favorite clothing store for fear of seeing him. That guy. That guy responded.

To him, this free drink spam proved I was harboring feelings for him.  
From: “Obnoxious Pig Oink Oink” (NarcissisticCheatingAsshole@gmail.com)

To: “Tatiana”

Wow! Thanks for the drink Miss T!
 Been a long time-how are you?
Are you going to join me for that free drink!?

Ya see, Dickhead here was (and probably still is) a cheater. A liar. And (yeah yeah, I shoulda known better) a musician.
He was hot then cold, I was up then down. His flip-flopping kept my stomach in knots and anxiety on high, and I barely ate.
My co-workers kept a chart of my anxiety levels titled, “How is Tatiana Feeling Today?”

Dickhead wanted me to talk dirty to him and refused sex any other way. I, the Puritan, had to learn ASAP or else I'd be without this fulfilling relationship and did what any Puritan pretending to be a porn star would do: Went to YouPorn.com with a pen and pad and took notes on what each teased-up worn-down ho screamed as she faked her orgasm.

“I wanna feel your hard cock going in my pussy…I wanna feel it.”

“Fuck that pussy. I'm gonna play with my pussy while you're big cock is in me.”

“ooh yeah…your dick feels so good. Just like that. Harder.”

“You like your big dick in my pussy? You like that? Tell me!”
This girl was demanding. I liked her style. But when I went into porno mode with a cheat sheet on my palm, Dickhead didn't buy it.

The poor unsatisfied soul left me signs highlighting sexual frustration (and what he did to remedy it), including used condom wrappers – brands I've never heard or nor used – all over his tiny shithole apartment and bookmarked links to Casual Encounters ads seeking “dirty whores” in countries to which Dickhead happened to be traveling.

So I proceeded to drop the weight, feel like crap but look like a Russian supermodel, until my brain couldn't take it. 

If any of you want to drop 12 pounds pretty quickly, I can give you his contact information. But if you ask me, I'd stick to Adderall and Svedka.

LA Weekly