Hot Summer Cool Breeze Part 1

Here is the finished recording of

"Hot Summer Cool Breeze" written by Tanya Eby and Keeley Geary.

This is a fully-produced, professional radio play

with a full running time of 30 minutes.

Please listen, download, and most importantly, share it with your friends.

Why...for no other reason than because it's fun. There are 5 parts, and we're posting them all at once. Enjoy and please leave a comment!

Hot Summer Cool Breeze Pt. 1

Easy Does It -- 4

Chapter 4 

She laughed. She cried. She was drunk.

That night, Julie logged onto CoupleMe.com and began typing in her personal ad. She considered it again. What exactly did she want? Posting for a mate was sort of like ordering a pizza. Did she want another vegetarian, or something with a little meat?

Meat, she thought. This time I want meat.

She typed. Took a sip of wine. Thought: Mmmmm. Merlot is yummy. Took another sip of wine.

What was she supposed to say? The truth? I’m lonely. I’m in love with my ex-boyfriend. I’m totally dependable and predictable, which means…I’m boring. You could feel those things, but you couldn’t write them. She sipped her wine. 

She looked at the picture of Ronny she still kept by her computer. It was her favorite shot of him on the night they met nearly five years ago. He was playing piano for his band, The Two Wets. He stood in a spotlight, head tilted up, his face pinched. It was a familiar expression to Julie since it was the same pose he struck when he had an orgasm, except without the spotlight.  

Julie toasted the picture and gulped. Usually, she’d stop at one glass, because wine tended to make her loopy, but tonight was a special night. She was in search of loopy. She poured another glass, stuck her tongue out at Ronny, and slammed his smug orgasm-face on the table. She couldn’t look at him any more especially since she hadn’t had an orgasm-face in months. 

If she were being honest, and drinking an entire bottle of wine led her to be pretty honest, Julie admitted she felt like that miscellaneous sock at the bottom of the laundry basket, the one you keep washing in hopes that its second half would eventually show up. “Thass me,” she slurred to the computer screen. “I’m a sock. A hole filled socky-sock-sock.” 

Julie tried to pick up her cell phone and call Eve but she was having trouble seeing the buttons clearly. No need. She could post this ad on her own. She didn’t need Eve to hold her hand with everything. She would post this ad!            

She grabbed her “Semen” personal ad and began typing. Maybe she would change her ad. Cheer it up a bit, like Eve said.

She made a small change. Good. Then she thought: I’ll just erase the pottery shards and tweak it. Just tweak it a teeny, tiny bit. Tweak, tweak!

She wrote so quickly she barely knew what she was typing. Her words flew from her in a torrent. She laughed. She cried. She was drunk. She hit “submit”, and then slunk back in her chair for a very quick nap.

                                                            *

Five hours after Julie posted her ad, she awoke still sitting at her computer. There was a paperclip stuck to her forehead and a swollen mailbox brightly signifying mail. Oh my God, she muttered. She picked the paperclip off her forehead and slowly dragged the cursor over the screen. 

114 messages.

Then Julie saw what she had done. “Young Treasure Seeks Seaman on Love’s Sea” became, with the help of her computer’s thesaurus and a fourth glass of merlot: “Easy Lady Requests Guy with Two Socks.”

Worse than that, she’d posted the ad not as a written personal…but as a video.

Blunder Woman -- 78.5

78.5

Digression #23 Conversation With Matt

AKA Fodder for Therapy

            It’s at this point that I have to take a little digression, not exactly a U-turn or what have you, but a little pause while we go down this misadventure road to tell you about a conversation I had with Matt. I’m doing this, yes, in self-defense because when you analyze what he said to me, how he talked to me, maybe then you can understand why I went out of my head. And when I look back on it, it seems ludicrous that there was no physical intimacy happening. And I mean none. No more lip smacking, hand holding, or naked pubis areas touching. No dry humping either, the kind that I made Ken and Barbie do when I was a girl. We were just friends, with hinted at benefits. With Matt, it was always hinted at. In my defense, I offer this conversation taken word for word (which means pieced together from my splotchy memory) that happened a few days after my meeting with Lisa when everything was still in the planning session.

            I went over to his house, which had returned to its former bachelor appearance, where Matt had a dinner all ready for us, sitting on a table with two candles lit. The curry was still in the takeout containers, but I found this profoundly romantic and not a symbol that he wasn’t taking me serious.

            After curry and chit chat, here’s the meat of our conversation that night that we had while I snuggled in his arms between the commercial breaks of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report:

            Matt: This feels good.

            Me: What?

            Matt: You. Here with me.

            Me: Mmmm.

            Matt: And there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.

            Me: Yeah?

            Matt: No, don’t look at me. Just look forward. I just want to talk a bit okay? I just want to ask you some hypothetical questions.

            Me: Er, okay.

(I have to say at this point I was in deep danger of throwing up our curry dinner because my nerves were going absolutely bonkers.)

            Matt: Let’s say you were really good friends with someone and you’d never, say, crossed a line with them physically.

            Me: Yeah?

            Matt: Do you think if you crossed that line that you could still be friends with them?

            (WTF? In Matt-speak I figured out he was asking me if we slept together would it change our relationship. No. It would not. Fuck me now!! Ahem. Sorry for the outburst. I very gently and slowly said the following: )

            Me: If you are very good friends, true friends, real friends, then maybe crossing the line will actually, uhm, enhance your relationship. Maybe you will find something even more wonderful than friendship.

            (Subtext here: Maybe you will find love.)

            (Matt turned my face to look at him then, and then kissed my forehead. It was a wildly chaste gesture.)

            Matt: You’re the coolest girl I know, you know that?

            Me: Yes.

            Then we continued to snuggle until I fell asleep in his arms. An hour later after he’d shaken me asleep, I was in The Beast on the way home dreaming of the time when we’d finally, at long last cross that line. Surely he meant soon. Right?