I Was Cheated On And Can Now Relate To Those Investigation Discovery Shows
This is part 2 of our Talk Nerdy To Me® origin story.
Click here to read part 1.
TLDR: Dated a mentalist, fell in love, and I just found out he cheated on me and the woman I suspected “something was wrong with” is now saying she’s pregnant. Oh, and there have been a rotation of women living in the living room at the same time - totes unrelated to the pregnancy. The anger I felt is what led me to starting this site.
Not knowing what to do, I stormed out of the apartment and sat by the pool crying hysterically not caring at how many “babes in waiting were baking.” (Their skin, not brownies this time.)
I calmed myself down as I walked back over to the apartment.
The door was still open as I walked back in proclaiming, “clearly she is crazy, delusional. I think he needs to know he might have a stalker.”
Their “relationship” was spelled out VERY clearly in the screenshots she sent over.
I saw the words next to his photo (indicating they came from his account) but my mind couldn’t compute nor comprehend what was actually happening.
HOW COULD YOU BE INVOLVED WITH TWO PEOPLE AT THE SAME TIME?! He said he loved me … and that’s the REAL THING!!! How could one person say the same thing to two different people?!
In black and white ... er, it's Facebook, so white and blue ... I still thought this was some big lie … or hack!
Trying to ground me in some form of reality she said, “remember the day you were editing that video and he gave her the dish?”
Yeah, I said.
What do you think they were doing?
He told me he was "breaking things off with her” because she was “getting the wrong idea.”
Not knowing what to say, one of the girls’ got up and left the apartment.
“I can’t do this,” she screamed heading out the door unsure of where she would be living next … but fairly confident it won’t be in this “Hostile harem” for much longer.
SPIT IT OUT I SCREAMED!!!!!
She grabbed my hands and said, well, when you had your back to the door - he came back in a few minutes after leaving and grabbed his car keys.
He motioned to me with his finger to his mouth to not say anything to you.
He later told me that she gave him head in the car.
Logistics then took over, as I realized that while that was happening - I was in the parking spot directly behind them … leaving.
OMG, if it happened in his car then I was there when it happened.
SHAKES HEAD.
Completely shocked that someone who was on tour for creating illusions for people could do something like this ... I SCCRRRREEEAAMMMMEEEEDDDD:
I FELT IT!! I KNEW IN MY GUT SOMETHING WAS VERY VERY WRONG.
WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS?!?!? and does he know who i am?!?
For the first time in my life I felt this SURRGGEEEE of anger mixed with this feeling of vacancy.
Cheating!!! CHEATING!! THIS IS WHAT ALL THOSE LIFETIME MOVIES I GREW UP ON WARNED ME ABOUT. OMG ITS HAPPENING TO ME!!
CHEATER CHEATER BROWNIE PIE EATER …
HAD AN ALMOST GIRLFRIEND BUT COULDN’T KEEP HER.
Also, not smart to cheat on someone while they are in your apartment … he’s lucky I’m a classy broad and did not physically destroy all of the soulless decor and crusty collectables in his apartment.
Had I spent too long in NeverNever Land?
He.was.my.person. I kept saying reassuring myself of my feelings.
The words of the messages he sent burned into the back of my eyeballs … Not only has he said “I love you” to someone else … BUT SAID PERSON THINKS SHE’S PREGNANT WITH HIS CHILD?!??!
What accidental Jerry Springer casting did I just walk myself into?!
He told me over and over how much he didn't like her, and how annoying she was to him.
This isn't happening ...
This isn't happening ...
This isn't happening ...
Given, again, not in his defense - but in an attempt to recall this story as truthful as possible, we weren't in a technical sense in an exclusive relationship.
Yes, we lived together, but that was with a degree of arm pulling on my part. I had however asked him POINT BLANK about Brownie Girl and specifically if he had kissed anyone after me - and he said no.
That part, he did lie about … along with everything else they obviously did together.
I knew I had to call him, I just wasn’t sure about my approach.
The girls’ begged to keep their residency for a few days longer. They knew they’d be out immediately for telling me “the big secret.”
Please please please just don’t tell him it was us.
Uniting for the ONE AND ONLY TIME WITH THEM … I thought, well, they hooked up in the parking garage. The parking garage has cameras. I became homies with the guys who ran security so it wouldn’t be too far fetched that one of them might have seen something on the camera and tried to “help me out.”
Mind you, he was always jealous of how much attention I got from men. I very clearly only had eyes for him, but he was so insecure, and my own naive nature was too unwilling to see it.
I told them going through the security guard and the security footage method was the only way they could preserve their relationship. I have no idea if he will believe it, but it was worth a shot.
Jolted back to reality, I couldn't pretend like all of this wasn't happening - I HAD to confront him.
I took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.
I immediately started sobbing again. I couldn't believe I was doing this - I was confronting the “love of my life” for cheating on me with another woman. Did I suddenly transport myself into a bad Lifetime movie? This has to be a dream. I composed myself, dialed the number, and hit send.
Ring
Ring
Ring
It goes to voicemail. He didn't answer.
I think, I can't do this over text - I need to talk to him NOWWW!!!
I reluctantly sent the following text: "I saw footage you need to know about, and we need to speak NOW!!!"
A tad bit dramatic? Yes. But if I didn't confront him now, I feared I would explode.
I sat back down on the bed and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.
Because of all of the crying ... I slowly drifted to sleep.
That night there were no sheep or sugar plums, instead the lullaby of this isn't happening. this isn't happening. this isn't happening. danced in my head.
I woke up the next morning prepared to take action.
Step 1. Confront the mentalist.
Step 2. Move out.
I was prepared for step one immediately, the only problem was, he hadn't texted me back, nor called me - shocker shocker that he pulled a disappearing act.
I did the only thing I knew how to do - I turned to Facebook.
I learned from working at LiveVideo.com back in 2007 that lifecasting was truly the only form of therapy that ever worked for me. I had spent my entire life in and out of therapy, on and off anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, anti-life. ABSOLUTELY NONE OF IT worked on me.
HELLO UNDIAGNOSED AUTISM, ADHD, AND SYNESTHESIA!!
Something just clicked when I lifecasted, or even just blogged.
There was such a power in sending it out to the universe and releasing it.
I didn't have a blog, so I turned to the only thing I had Facebook notes:
5 minutes after posting this ... my phone rang.
It was the mentalist.
I look down, surprise surprise the mentalist reappears when his “public image” could be impacted.
I answered the phone, and just sobbed incapable of putting to words what I knew.
I just started crying. Like crying, crying. Incoherent, blubbery, I think the words why, what, and how came out of my mouth.
I whhhaaaaalllllllleeedddd.
It was that gut wrenching soul whhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaa.
He stayed on the phone with me, I don't remember him saying anything - he just let me cry. and cry. and cry.
He told me to take deep breaths and that he was going to call the girls.
I don't remember hanging up the phone ... I don't remember anything.
I just remember the girls freaking out when their phones started ringing in the other room.
You answer it!
No you answer it!
OMG What do we say?!
They hot potato-ed their phones …they were both so scared he could reach out and strangle them.
Again, these women had just moved here, had no money, no jobs, were crashing there rent free.
They were sleeping on a queen sized air mattress in the living room, but hey! at least they had a place to stay.
That place was now in jeopardy, they told me a secret ... a really big secret ... and he was calling to find out exactly what I knew.
I can’t tell you how much time passed, or how much more information was shared ... I remember rolling over, and grabbing the phone and calling him back.
I had calmed down, finally.
I asked the only question I could think of asking the person that I utterly adored who just broke my heart into a million pieces - why? ... my voice cracked.
No answer.
Complete and total silence.
Now with his full attention, he commented that I was the one seeking attention by looking for sympathy from my friends.
He reiterated that we were never in a committed relationship.
We had both said for months “I love you,” was that not enough? Was that even true? I wondered.
With one Facebook Message, the little addition I built on his house of cards fell ... the fact that it was over the Brownie Girl that I had a bad feeling on, was the shot of sugar that tickled me pissed.
The fact that my gut warned me so hard, and so strong made all of this THAT MUCH worse.
How could I really NOT know? How is it that people tell me all the time how smart I am, yet I went and got caught up in something like this?
I felt so ashamed .
My parents didn't raise me to be in a relationship like that. Was I really that unsure of myself?
One Facebook message. One fucking Facebook message. It was done. I was done.
I was really really done.
It was time to make the move I knew I needed to make.
Within a day, I found an apartment on Craigslist in a quieter part of LA (less Hustler Hostel … more avocado trees and shady sanctuary).
I immediately placed a cash deposit down on a month to month apartment, and packed up my 2005 midnight blue Beetle Convertible.
In a single swoop, I entered my single self back into a version of reality I was creating for myself.
As I was grabbing the last box from the car (dramatic cliches exist in life) I got another call from the girls’ who were still in the apartment but also on their way out.
We have to tell you one more thing, she said.
Ready for anything life was going to hand to me, “what,” I asked placing the box down?
Remember that time you were in Vegas?
Yes, I said.
Do you remember the women you introduced him to?
(I have a photographic memory so of course I knew) Vaguely - I said, but yeah.
He slept with them too.
ALL OF THEM?!?! I ASKED DISGUSTED?!
More than one was all she said she knew.
EWE I thought not sure if I wanted to vomit more from my mouth or my vagina.
One “might be pregnant Brownie Girl” was enough for me.
THIS?! THIS?! HOW IS IT POSSIBLE FOR A JERRY SPRINGER STYLE life experience TO GET ANY …. TRASHIER?!
::flashback sequence::
See, in September of 2009 I got a casting for a Las Vegas bridal show based on this photo I had on my Model Mayhem account:
Normally, I wouldn’t have gone since Vegas is a four hour drive from LA.
Only this casting happened while the mentalist was performing in Vegas.
I can surprise him! I thought!
I got in the car and drove to Vegas perky as a peach. I was in love, I had a casting, it was bridal … this all had to be a sign.
The mentalist had made the mistake of telling me what hotel he was staying at, and the hawk that I am - I actually found him at the bar chatting up some people after his show.
Needless to say he was shocked.
Like shocked shocked!
I playfully teased, “I told you I had an audition, but I didn't say where!!!“
See, this was me trying to be cute and sneaky to surprise someone that I thought I cared.
Yep. That was me.
He tried his best to control his face when it came to just how shocked he was that I was there. He didn't approach me with this sense of delight, or excitement - it just sort of was.
I think he was processing how the hell to deal with this, to be honest. His manager was with him, and I hadn't met him before - so that part was easy .... he just said, uh, XXXX meet Jen!
I shook his hand.
Again, he showed nothing but genuine delight to meet me.
Good cover.
How long are you here for, he asked?
Just the night. The casting is tomorrow, and then I’ll drive back home. (Remember home at the time meant his apartment.)
The mentalist suggested I should grab a drink.
As I did, I caught the manager eyeing five women (who were also performing at whatever performance they were at).
Not knowing he was married, I walked over to the women to introduce myself (incase he needed an “in”).
We all introduced ourselves as the conversation and libations flowed freely.
The mentalist looked at me with eyes similar to the swords that hung over the bed we shared.
It was obvious he was not pleased I was there.
The three of us went up to his hotel room some time later. The mentalist had always slept on his back with his hands folded. On this night, he literally had his back turned to me.
Whatever plans they had, were now spoiled, and I was the sour milk.
Tears streamed down my face as I fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning, bravely showed my face at the casting and left.
The mentalist had half kissed me, half whatever-ed me.
Crying in my convertible, the Katy Perry song Waking Up In Vegas played over the radio.
(Again, with the dramatic cliches.)
"That's what you get for waking up in Vegas."
Worst. Vegas. Experience. Ever.
::flashback sequence over::
HE SLEPT WITH WOMEN I INTRODUCED HIM TO??!?! I SCREAMED ON THE SIDEWALK.
She continued, “he actually hooked up with one of those girls after you left. He was planning this big night out with his manager, and you ruined his plans.”
What, I thought? Wait, there was more than just the Brownie Girl?? He had like actual sex sex with other people too???
I never understood all of those Investigation Discovery stories about spouses and or partners murdering the other until now.
In that moment, I could have strangled him with my bare hands, but also thought about what version of reality and him that I actually knew.
Who was this person I was sleeping with?
Who was this person I was sleeping next to?
AND HOW MANY OTHER PEOPLE DID HE EXPOSE ME TO?!?!!
Not knowing what to do, but knowing I now had rent to pay, I quickly got a job as a server at the little Kosher restaurant in Beverly Hills that I had worked at before I left LA.
I knew serving was a means to an end, so while I used it to pay bills, I also focused on my future - and all I knew was it involved social media.
Technically, it was called Web 2.0 at that point.
On one of my first days back, my tire blew out just off of Venice Blvd.
I compartmentalized my catastrophized thoughts and focused on the next doable action, calling AAA.
Not a problem, says the guy. We'll send someone out for you. It'll be about an hour.
My body fully defeated with the notion of “what else can happen?”
I did what any other woman that just had her heartbroken would do when she finds herself with unexpected time on her hands ... I proceeded to Facebook creep the mentalist.
(I had unfriended him at that point, but his page was public.)
I got on my Droid, flipped over to his page, and as I did, my eyes bulged out of their sockets like a Warner Brothers cartoon.
Five timestamped minutes prior to clicking on his page, ANOTHER woman had posted on his wall the following message:
I HATE YOU XXXXXXXX!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE AFTER TWO YEARS YOU COULD DO THIS TO ME. EVIL RUNS THROUGH YOUR BLOOD.
I IMMEDIATELY clicked her profile, and sent her a message.
18 minutes later, I got a response.
(Back in 2009 you could message people on Facebook without it going into the “other” folder.)
DISCUSS WHAT THINGS?! I wondered as anxiety, adrenaline, and blood pumped through whatever veins I had that were still active.
I waited for AAA, got home, and closed my bedroom door inside the apartment that was supposed to represent my new life while also taking out the trash from my last one.
I took a deep breath, and clicked the green button.
Ring ring ring …
Hello? comes out of the ear piece.
Damn, she even sounds hot.
Hi, it's Jen.
Jen ... I can't believe it.
I always asked him about you, I had such a feeling that you two were together. Please, tell me everything.
She had no idea how loaded of a question that was.
Well, I said - here's the thing ...
I then proceeded to tell her everything I knew. (See every word written above.)
She starts crying. Horrified at what I am telling her.
She then tells me that she and him had been dating for two years - and she thought they were going to get married. She met his family, they all loved her. (She's from his hometown - or not far, I can't remember.)
She kept crying, and I kept listening. I had no idea what to say to her.
“I want him dead - we have to get revenge,” she said.
I told her that revenge and anger are like throwing a hot stone at someone, you both end up getting burned. The best thing we could do is to wish him well.
I have no idea where this sudden wisdom came from btw.
It just felt nice to not be the one blindsided.
I said over and over, please, just wish him well. We are both going to move on, and we are both going to do bigger and better things.
Yes, this is very sad - and I can't believe this is happening ... but doing something to harm him, or doing something stupid will only hurt you too and tie you emotionally to him longer. We can't do that, we just have to let it go and let it be. Be well mentalist. Be well mentalist. Be well mentalist.
We talked for two hours piecing together the timeline of our “relationships” with the mentalist.
I questioned how much of his time away was actually “on tour” and how many times he was simply with other women.
She said she had been going back and forth to LA up until that summer.
I said, yeah that's when I moved in!
WAIT, OMGGGGG you guys lived together!?!?!?!?
Yeah, I said (on a technicality).
She too had noted that the mentalists’ apartment had tampons, and speciality shampoo. A sign that a woman has recently been there, or IS STILL THERE.
I hung up the phone with her, and sat on the side of my bed and started … laughing.
Like unexpected … HYSTERICAL … laughter.
Social media is the worst thing to happen to someone like him. I kept telling him over and over how much he needed this for his career, and he was reluctant telling me it wouldn’t impact his profession and that “he has to stay mysterious.”
I don't know if she had called him, or what - but a few minutes after I caught my breath, the phone rang and it was the mentalist.
(I’m assuming she messaged him back saying she spoke to me.)
I picked up the phone and continued to laugh in his face.
I wasn't even mad anymore, I said to him - “you've got to be kidding me.”
“You're a mind reader right? How did you not see THIS one coming?”
I then surprised myself by asking him how he was feeling.
He started crying. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. I miss you. I love you.
I kept saying over and over and over, be well.
He got more angry, “how can you say that to me?”
I said, “how could YOU do this to people? Who are you? You told us both you loved us. How can that be possible?”
“Please don't leave me” - he said, “please don't leave me.”
I said, “there's nothing to leave. We weren't together.”
I asked him about brownie girl.
“Is she really pregnant?”
He said he didn't know. He told her to have an abortion if she is - but he had a feeling she was just doing something like this to establish a connection with him.
I said, I was over it - and this conversation wasn't going to happen. I needed to move on with my life, and start to put the pieces back together.
I hung up the phone and started crying.
He was hurting, I was hurting.
Why did I ever have to find out about that Facebook email? How can I go back to NeverNever land as in this NeverNever happened?!
All of these events actually happened over a very short period of time.
June of 2009 to early November (to be exact).
Everything was about him, and because my own self esteem was in such a shit place, I in turn placed my value in him and built him up to make myself feel better.
A couple days after my epic telephone conversation, I attended a party for the end of the #140Conf (November 3, 2009).
I looked around at Billy Bush, Arriana Huffington, Soleil Moon Frye, aka Punky Brewster, and had this MASSIVE SHOT of just BAM; nerds are going to be hot.
As a tech veteran, and having just worked for both Verizon (technically a subsidary called Celluphone) and Livevideo.com - I knew the scene!!
THIS. WAS. DIFFERENT. As an undiagnosed autistic woman - I IMMEDIATELY recognized a new pattern.
The time is now.
The time is now.
The time is now.
If nerds are going to be hot, I knew I could rally the troops!
It was in THAT VERY MOMENT that I had this epiphany of, yes yes yes - let's do this.
I'm going to launch a website!!
I went home, sat on my roommates bed - as mine was still in storage, and came up with the name Talk Nerdy To Me, Lover.
I was playing around with "talk nerdy to me" since I thought that was cheeky, but the domain was taken.
I then thought ... who do I want to talk nerdy to me ... sure, my lovers!
I sat there that night and secured the domain, customized the template - and BAM!
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
I might not have seen what you were capable of, but you have NO IDEA what I am capable of.
The mentalist was convinced social media was a fad. Being born with advanced cognitive abilities and specifically excellence in pattern recognition - I KNEW WHAT I WAS SEEING!! And being able to timestamp those trends would add value to whatever I was going to do next professionally.
I didn't care if it was going to be successful, I just had an idea, and a LOT of adversarial-growth-energy to put into it.
I then turned very inward and thought about my life in general. Since this felt like a “hard reboot” - what else can I reboot that I might not be considering.
I was 25 at the time, so this is also called a quarter-life crisis.
Having suicide ideations (and two attempts) previously, I knew I didn’t want to ACTUALLY DIE … I just didn’t know what it meant to ACTUALLY LIVE.
Death is the end (independent of religious/ spiritual beliefs). I thought about the day after you commit suicide. I thought about that next morning. The labels of “daughter, sister, friend, co-worker” would be removed.
What if I did that now? I thought.
Logically, my brain went to “well, what feels good?” Social media. Every breath and every thought I had led me right back to … social media.
That's why our official hashtag became #nerdsunite - because I had no one, or nothing to hold on to. I just wanted to rally the nerds, and unite us!
In this website, I finally found a place to put all of this energy that I had.
Liberated, but still grieving a loss, I woke up sometime later to my phone beeping - it was a text ... from the mentalist.
He said he missed me.
I took a deep breath, while I contemplated what to text back.
Do I even text back? This whole thing, man - it's taken so much out of me.
Tears streamed down my face as I typed "my heart hurts. please, make my heart stop hurting."
I know, babe - I know, he texted back.
He told me to stop being silly, and to come over, as he had just come back from tour.
Come over? What was happening?! How can you text that to me?! I was so vulnerable, and wanting so much of all of this to just go away.
I didn't want to think, I didn't want to feel, I didn't want to process ... I just wanted social media, it was the only thing that made me feel good.
WWHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY did this have to happen, I thought!!! Can't I go back? Can't I PLEASEEE JUST GO BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!
I broke down and texted him later that evening. "I miss my best friend," I typed.
He texts me back, "come over. be here now."
I think about it ... and think about it ... grab my keys, and walk out the door.
I drove over to Hollywood, and approached the same garage where the “secret” blowjob happened.
in post-traumatic penis shock, i said “There it is, again. THAT garage.”
Stop it, Jen. Just do it. You miss him - talk to him.
I didn't want to punch him, I didn't want to hurt him at all - I just wanted that same old feeling to come back.
I pulled into a parking spot (and not the one I had parked in previously), and sent him a text - "I'm here. Come down."
Leaving my dignity in the car, I anxiously waited for him to come downstairs, ready to bolt back at any minute. (To which direction is questionable.)
What am I doing? What am I doing? I just want this feeling back. If I look at him, everything will go back to normal - I know it. Just let all of this go back to normal, please.
He opened the door, and while opening his arms to embrace - I fell into them.
It wasn't even a hug, it was more of a full body collapse.
He kissed my forehead, and said - “let's go little lady.”
I sat in his apartment and stared into space; I was an emotional astronaut floating around in zero gravity.
He never apologized, he never said anything really. He just brushed it all off like none of it happened.
The air was so thick - it was suffocating.
He was different. I was different. The space was different (there was only one remaining female farmer).
Why am I here? What do I want out of this scenario?
I piped up and said, so I started this website.
He goes oh yeah? What's the name of it?
It's called "Talk Nerdy To Me, Lover."
He goes, I'm glad you're starting a site - but I don't like the name. It's too long, people won't remember it.
I broke down and said - I really miss my best friend. How could you do this to me?
He began holding me.
There was nothing in this scenario that was warm and inviting in any regard ... his touch was cold and vacant; the butterflies were gone.
He kept saying over and over, stop doing this to yourself. I didn't go anywhere, look I'm right here. We can make all of this go away, and start seeing each other again if you want to.
Wait, hold the phone - was he really trying to rationalize all that he just put me through? SERIOUSLY?!?!?!!
I got up and said that I have to go.
Don't leave me he says, as he started to cry.
I walked back over to comfort and hold him.
SHHH - it's okay. It's okay ... It's okay babe.
He kissed me.
And I woke up in his bed.
I got up the next morning with this immediate feeling of WHHHAAATTT THHHHEEE FUUUCKKKKK DDIIIDDD IIIII JUUUSSTTTT DOOOOOO???
I had posted all that went down on Facebook, told all of my friends, family … even the lady in the grocery store.
I have a website … and a new life …
I was a blubbery mess to the entire world - and had total diarrhea of the mouth in just spewing out all of the details of everything.
MORTIFIED at my actions, I got in my beetle and started to pull away.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You're so stupid, Jen. How could you ever sit there and think that you're smart. Who does this? Who does this after someone does that to them? I rounded the corner - stupid. stupid. stupid.
I come to a stop, and realized I needed his clicker to buzz me out of the gate.
I picked up the phone to call him - “Hi, sorry, forgot I don't have a clicker anymore.
I'll be right down, he says.
He walks down the stairs, as he clicked open the gate.
He smiled and waved - bye. I see him mouth “I love you” in the rear view mirror.
Just pull away Jen Friel ... PULL THE FUCK AWAY!!!!!!!!! LEAVE HIM IN THE REAR VIEW MIRROR.
(My inner voice of wisdom speaks in the third person when its trying to get my attention.)
All during this whole mentalist debacle, my actual first “love” contacted me saying he was moving back from San Francisco and wanted us to be in a committed relationship and potentially move in together.
Something that came completely out of left field for me considering we had never even dated “officially.”
This is a story for another day, but a convenient person to have available while healing a grieving heart.
To stop seeing the mentalist, a good defense needed to be a good offense. I knew the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else.
Tinder was a solid three years away from being invented, and having been gone from LA for seven months, I didn’t exactly have any lead gen in my dating pipeline.
Later that week I called my first love and said:
Me: Hi. *insert girliest of girly voices* What are you doing later?
Him: Going to Jones - wanna come?
We met up in West Hollywood later that night, and as I took one look at my first love, (who I hadn’t seen in over a year) and thought yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. This ... this right here, is EXACTLY what I needed. Someone who I loved, who I cared about … to care about me again!!
I sat down, and a few minutes later we were joined by some of his friends (as they had these plans prior - I was the unannounced guest).
I wasn’t just “Jen” or “a Jen” I was “THE JEN.”
He introduced me as “this is the Jen I was telling you about.”
I let the adoration soak in and drench my ego.
I had an amazing dinner, followed by a couple of drinks, followed by me leaving my car in West Hollywood, and waking up in his bed in the Valley.
We spooned the entire night, the whole nine - but I took one look in his eyes that morning, and I realized all I was going to do to him was the same thing the mentalist did to me.
This guy loved me. Like loved. loved. loved. loved. loved. me. I knew what that feeling felt like, and I couldn't in good conscious do that to another person.
We went out for breakfast, and I just sat there in this weird haze.
I didn't have the heart to tell him all that I just went through with the mentalist, when he asked me about my “last relationship” I brushed it off by saying, yeah well - it didn't work out.
Who cares, moving on.
You look so good.
(Which btw, he genuinely did. He had finally gotten his act together, and just - wow. This guy is just a gorgeous human being in general.)
He sat across the table and looked at me so lovingly … like in this moment … in the valley … at a super shitty greasy spoon diner … his life was complete.
He was working at a job that he enjoyed, and now the girl that he loved was back in his life again (… he verbatim said that).
WORST. REBOUND. IDEA. EVER.
I am totally going to break this guys heart. What was I thinking. OMMMGGGGGGGGGGG!!!
He drove me back to my car, and I said goodbye.
He asked when we can hang out again, and I said I wasn’t sure. I explained to him that I just picked up a bunch of new clients, and was figuring out all of the scheduling out. I said I would call him, but that I also really appreciated last night, and reiterated how much it meant to me. (Mostly to my ego … obvi.)
He smiled and said, “oh I know.”
I proceeded to do the only thing I knew how to do - work.
When we first started I would literally sit there on tweetdeck with a keyword search for "nerd" open - and literally @reply everyone and just throw our tag #nerdsunite in! People would read that and go, wtf!?! #nerdsunite?! That's awesome! Then they'd click my profile, read my bio, which had this website in it - and bam. People started to come by and say hello.
It was a couple weeks before I heard boo out of anyone or anything involved with the Mentalist ... that was until I got an email from Brownie Girl on Facebook.
I click the message - it reads:
HI!!!! I can't believe what the mentalist did to all of us!! This is so horrible. I'd love to call you and talk to you about everything you know to piece the timeline together like you did with XXXXXX. Here's my number: 555-5555
P.S. He's such a jerk!!
I proceeded to scream into my monitor, as if I had some super advanced Dragon Naturally Speaking product (voice to text software pre-Siri) - I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!!! GET OUT OF MY FACE!!!!! GET OUT OF MY FAAAAACCEEEEE!!!!
Realizing, I could just close the message, I then collected myself … choosing to go back to the grind of launching this website.
I worked.
and worked.
and worked.
and worked.
I realized to move on from him, I had to do just that.
I decided to take the Mentalist’s phone number out of my phone, and even remove the “Womanizer” ringtone I had purchased.
(You used to have to purchase songs to make them your ringtone.)
I needed to be done. For good.
I can’t change other people’s actions, but I can change my own.
I remember holding my phone in my hand, and thinking - this is it Jen. Are you sure? If you delete, and he never calls you ... you're screwed?
Yes, I said … Clearly a LOT of screwing has been going on at least here, I can do something about it.
Delete.
A few more months went by ... and then a few days before Valentines Day I got a text from (I assumed) the mentalist saying, “someone as special as you deserves a Valentines Day wish days before the actual date.”
I laughed, and clicked delete.
I had bumped into a mutual friend of ours just a few weeks prior, and when I asked how he was doing - it was this look of, the same ol' same ol'.
He told me how elated the mentalist was that he was going to spend Valentines Day with a pin up that’s been featured on Nicki Ritchie’s The Dirty website.
Is there a control Z option as well in this scenario? Can I like, undo you entirely from my life?
Being so “obsessed” with social media paid off in a big way …. a week after Valentines’ day, I was selected as one of the two agents for Chapter Two in the Ford Fiesta Movement.
Having worked for one of the founders of Myspace on his startup LiveVideo came in handy as I had “fans, and a following” pre those words holding meaning digitally.
It was awesome - Ford instead of taking a bail out at the time of the market crash, decided to give “kids in social media” a car, a gas card, and a series of missions to compete in.
The first version we had of the car was a stick, so I had to learn how to drive stick … so I was then flown to Deerborn Michigan where I learned with a professional race car driver on the Ford race track.
The caption reads “having a camera crew film me while learning stick WHILE on the Ford test driving track was less scary than with my dad when I was 16. Nailed it in five minutes, only stalled once. SCORE!”
(Yes, learning to drive stick on a track was easy … having the car dropped off during rush hour outside of the Beverly Center? Not so easy … I did not make friends with the other cars on the road.)
Ford proved that social media product placement could sell cars. It was a GENIUS move (shout out to Scott Monty and my partner Sam Proof) and genuinely changed my life.
I now have a car, and a gas card, because of what I love doing.
What ELSE can I get?!?! I wondered …
Sometime around a point where I genuinely didn’t care … I got a phone call ... not a text ... a phone call ... unsure of the number, I let it go to voicemail.
Hi, it's me. Something happened, I got really fucked up. I have this show that I have to do but I can't see out of my right eye and I have no idea how I am supposed to drive up there.
Now, normally - anyone in this world would have prolly heard that, laughed, and said - karma is a bitch. But no, I have a heart, a big one ... I hadn't talked to him in a while, and clearly something was really wrong … as he never. ever. ever. called me.
Taking that into account AND given my newly acquired car and gas card in hand, it was literally my job to have an adventure … so the idea of gloating how well I was doing WHILE following my passion (which he poo pooed) ….
“What happened,” I asked while calling him back.
It's an allergy or something - I don't really know, but my eye is patched up and I can't see anything, but I really need to do this show tonight, I need the money.
I asked him where the show was and he said it was about three hours away.
Laying it on REAL thick what he was asking I reiterated … you want me to drive you ... in my corporate sponsored car ... for 3 hours???
Then he cuts out the bullshit and says - Jen, you are my only hope. Please.
Ohh how I love the sound of a mentalist begging.
True to his word, (this time) he did have a patch over his eye.
I’m not entirely convinced he wasn’t punched, all I know is he refused to talk about it.
Trying to find some sort of something out of this experience, I turned on my fav Sirius station 90s on 9 - and started singing along to cheesy 90s songs. For those 3 hours, I had my best friend back. That intimate relationship that I had with this one person that I had with no one else in the world at this very moment.
The show was the same show I had seen countless times before.
Leaning into the “adventure” part of the experience, I even agreed to be his assistant on stage.
The show had organized for him to have a hotel room that night, but I told him I was cool to drive back. I had discovered on my many Fiesta adventures that I could drive until approximately 2:30am.
The LAST THING I wanted to do was be in a new location with the same ol’ same ol’.
Fortunately, he slept most of the way back. I would wake him up periodically to keep me company.
When we got back to his apartment, and I was unbelievably beat. Beat isn't even the word - I felt two steps away from death. I had just driven six hours for someone I REALLY DESPISE, yet clearly, I am seeking some sort of closure and or am more sadistic than I thought taking deep enjoyment in having him see me succeed.
You can’t drive anymore, just spend the night, he said.
I didn't know what to say. I know what that had meant in the past, and I wasn't looking to go down that path again - however, I was very honestly scared to even just drive a few miles back to the house as I was so tired.
I said, fine, I'll stay.
I slept in his bed that night ... the bed we used to share ... and all I did was sleep.
I woke up the next morning, said I was glad I could be of service, and left his apartment. There was no big dramatic moment of good bye - be well, nada. It just was. The time had come for me to leave (and this time he remembered to click me out of the garage).
I didn't hear from him again for a little bit.
I again, deleted his number from my phone out of not wanting to randomly drunk dial him one night - which I was guilty of more than a few times.
I didn't expect anything of him out of that point - I stepped out of this romanticized, fantasy life that I had envisioned him in being a part of, and welcomed the reality that I had a brand, a website, and something I was REALLY FUCKING PROUD OF outside of a boy, outside of my family, and outside of my friends.
I had something to do, this passion, this purpose, this DRIVE unlike anything I had ever felt in my ENTIRE LIFEEEEEEEEEE!!!! The electricity of social media when it first came out was exhilarating.
I was doing something because I was inspired, and because I wanted to do something. I can do this ... I can get to people with this website, and the response that I got was incredible. I want more.
I decided at that point, that I wanted to stop working for other people.
Social media was changing the world, and the world was my "low hanging fruit."
If that is my constant in this current place, I can do something epic - market and promote it upon execution, while at the same time continually do things that I enjoy!
This sounds like such a win/win it's not even funny.
Who cares where I end up, who cares what ends up happening ... “the journey is the destination.”
Right?! Isn’t that the meme that everyone posts?!
What if I actually lived it?!
I decided at that moment to give up my apartment, and start sleeping in the Fiesta.
The term influncer marketing was about five years away … so I called it “bartering social media to live as a corporate sponsored minimalist.
Having Ford as my “lead brand” led to others, and very quickly I had food, water, bedding, and clothing sponsors. (I RELENTLESSLY emailed as I “borrowed” wifi and electricity from Cafe Solar in Hollywood).
Whats going to stop me other than ME!!!!! I had the clarity to see I was the only person standing in my way.
There were a series of missions required by Ford, and one of the missions was to throw an “online and offline party.” Basically, host an event and then livestream it.
My partner in the Fiesta Movement was a big deal on Stickam, so that part we got down ... I thought, well, we have to throw the offline component at some bar in Hollywood - why not do it at a hotel bar, and we can negotiate a rate with the hotel to get a place to stay for the weekend.
I then called in some favors from some social media buddies over at the Shangri-La Hotel in Santa Monica, and alas!
I spent my very first three days without a home in the penthouse suite with an ocean view.
After the weekend was up, I started sleeping in the Ford Fiesta down in Venice (by Lincoln and rose - adjacent to the Venice Family Center) and focused only on working on this site, and this brand. Cafe Solar stayed open til midnight, so I would work and drive to Venice. I would sleep for 7 hours (although in the passenger's seat as I never wanted to fall asleep in the drivers seat so I wouldn't falsely condition my brain that way), wake up (because frankly, its Venice - there are people walking ... you could not possibly sleep longer than 7 hours), drive back over to Cafe Solar in Hollywood and plug away. It was weird, I never had to shower in a public shower, every day I had a new friend here, or a new friend there, that said, hey! come kick it. I was honest in my approach, everyone knew what I was doing as I marketed it upon execution - so I had nothing but this HUGE outpouring of people within LA wanting to help out.
The first night I slept in the Fiesta was the best night sleep I’ve ever had. I just “knew” so deeply that what I was doing was going to be big.
I trusted my marketing skills, and trusted that if people could just know what I was doing - good karma could take care of the rest.
A couple weeks go by, and I get a text from the mentalist (who clearly checked out the website he made fun of).
“What are you doing? Why are you sleeping in your car? Come talk to me this afternoon.”
I stared down at my phone, surprised at what I was seeing. Is this really happening? Because one thing I am NOT is a damsel in distress. I am doing this because it makes me happy - and whatever it looks like to other people, will just have to look that way to other people.
I texted him back, and said alrite, I'll be by later.
I got to his place, and he invites me to stay with him until I get back on my feet.
Back on my feet, I thought? I feel like for the first time I am actually standing on my feet?!?
He said, it's not safe for me to do what I'm doing.
I said, have you seen the car I am sleeping in??? Who is going to mess with the chick that has koi fish on the side of her car? And the website for the campaign she is working for on the bumper?!
Go Jen Go!!!
But at the same time, I did miss sleeping in a bed - and not knowing if I was going to shower each day was getting to be a bit stressful.
I took him up on his offer ... BUUUTTT I said to him under one condition - I have to barter something.
I am doing this experiment strictly on seeing how far passion and purpose can carry me. What can I do to help you?
Help me with my website, and help me come up with a social media strategy for this side company that I have.
And there you go, the mentalist actually did something kind.
Being back in that apartment though motivated me more than ever to just get out.
I wasn't going to stay there long - I knew that, he knew that ... but true to his word he took care of me for those couple weeks.
I branded my experiment the “Unapologetically Awesome Tour” at the time so Ford wouldn’t know “exactly” what I was doing. I signed a very long contract to obtain said car, and my livelihood now depended on it.
While at his place, I made sure to check in on Foursquare and would frequently go downstairs to the Verizon store (next to the Borders) to change all of the devices to TalkNerdyToMeLover.com. I used to work in cellular sales for Verizon - so I liked the idea of bridging my old self with my new self … and a unique view is a unique view. I’ll take ‘em where I can get ‘em.
I quickly made friends at both the Verizon store, and even became the mayor of the mentalist’s building on Foursquare.
See, Foursquare was location based social media that you could also sync up to Twitter. You earned badges and could oust people with each checkin.
When you ousted someone it would publish the tweet with the @name of the person you ousted.
Newly minted as the mayor, I clicked the profile link of the “old mayor” and SWOONED.
He. Was. Hot.
Like hot hot. I call his level of hot “Adonis.”
The Mentalist was going through his own feast and famine at the time, and had his wifi shut off due to lack of payment.
I tweeted the now ousted mayor asking if I could use his wifi.
He politely agreed as we privately messaged.
He DMed me his apartment number, and a couple minutes later, I knocked on his door.
Doves might as well have flown out behind him as he opened the door.
Oh.My.God. He is even hotter than his twitter avatar.
How is that possible?!?!
stunned, i quickly realized I had no make up on, was in a questionably smelly hoodie and was now borrowing wifi from the hot guy i ousted as mayor of the building he lives in.
Yep. This is happening.
He then friended me on all other social networks, and after a date at the Velvet Margarita I realized I had feelings for a new guy, and that THIS was actually happening.
Being emotionally available himself, he too fell for me and we began a hardcore lust for one another.
I respected his brain, his body … and everything else that came with it.
I changed my temporary location from the Mentalist’s apartment to his. (Literally, not digitally.)
Our lusty affair lasted a little over a month. I was genuinely into him, but his timing was off.
I declared that I was going to barter social media to live, and if I keep living rent free in a guy’s apartment it would negate the vision that I had for myself and for my life.
I had met another woman through a casting we did for the Fiesta Movement, and she offered for me to stay with her in a very large condo she was renting. I knew that this made the most sense to not just “give” myself to another guy but to focus on growing my own roots and discovering what that even looked like.
So … Where is everyone now??
After I originally posted this story back in 2011, I got a message on FB from the woman I was on the phone with:
Here are some more receipts of our conversations …
She’s super lovely. She and I liked posts for a while - and for many years exchanged happy birthday messages. I don’t see her content as much in my feed, but she’s still awesome and seems really happy.
Brownie Girl? I also checked out her IG feed. She has over 250K followers on the gram. I don’t know what Chrome extension I downloaded, but it shows engagement on peoples’ pages.
Here’s hers:
She apparently did become an “official” actress. (Her handle has the word official in it.)
She’s holding an Emmy in her hand in one photo crediting some company suite for her invite to an event which featured an Emmy that people could take photos with.
She also may or may not have married a Getty Image photographer because all of her posts are spoken in third person and feature the Getty watermark.
The Fresh From the Farm women? I bumped into one of them at the Playboy Mansion Halloween party back in 2012. We were by the grotto and she approached me with a lot of anger. “How dare you call me stupid,” she said.
“Did I write what happened accurately?”
“Yes,” she said.
Here are the FB messages from the other FFTF woman:
The guy I ousted on Foursquare? We’re still good friends!! We checkin every six months or so - he’s amazing … I still think the world of him and also recognize it was bad timing.
As for the Mentalist?
He and I grabbed drinks after it was announced in the trades that my blog had been in a four way bidding war between NBC, ABC, CBS, and FOX.
He was on a dating app, and of course, in a relationship. After bragging about my accomplishments, I pulled a Julia Roberts Rodeo-drive-moment of showcasing off what a “big mistake” he had made.
I had no idea at the time, but one of the guys that I met at the Verizon store OWNED THE TALK NERDY TO ME DOMAIN.
Not only did I start this site from a broken heart, but the DOMAIN HOLDER FOR THE BRAND THAT I CREATED was working a few floors below while I did it.
He messaged me in 2011 and said this …
ANYONE IN THE WORLD CAN PURCHASE A DOMAIN.
At the time there were 220 million domain names.
The odds of being in the same country? 1 in 195.
The odds of being in the same state? 1 in 50.
The odds of being in the same city? 1 in 482.
The odds of KNOWING the person in the same city? 1 in 3.849 million.
The odds of dating such a jerk who didn’t listen to me on the trends I knew I was seeing, and launching it out of the sheer spite … only then to realize THE PLACE I LAUNCHED IT FROM WAS THE APARTMENT BUILDING DIRECTLY ABOVE THE PERSON WHO OWNED THE DOMAIN?!?!
That’s synesthesia baby … dear internet I’d be honored to reintroduce myself (with extremely revelent IP ya’ll).
I can’t be mad at other people wanting to share what I’ve built if I’m not sharing it myself. ;)
As a result of these (then) series of posts, I decided that anytime I felt “angst” and that I “couldn’t talk about something …” that that would be the very next thing I would post about.
It created a transparency unlike anything I had experienced before which was extremely liberating.
This experience gave me the confidence to not only speak my own truth, but very publicly release it.
I had no idea so many other people would resonate with it, but I’m really thankful.
