[sinclairfan]

My name is Susan.  This past weekend, I got into a vicious catfight with my best friend Andrea.  I thought writing about it would help me understand how, so here goes.

Andrea is my best friend, but, I now realize, she has also sometimes been my frenemy.  I'm 46, and she's 36, which is an awkward age difference for best friends.  She's pretty, with dark hair; I'm pretty, with blonde hair--i think she's always wanted blonde hair.  She's always commented on and tried to touch my hair. 

Sometimes innocently.  But usually in a creepy way--trykkng to smell it, feel it, caress it.  One time, while we were still friends, we had a little too much to drink, and she was being way too affectionate and touchy-feely.  I finally blurted out, "if you want blonde hair so much, why don't you color yours, dyke?".  I don't even know where that came from.  I know that dyke is an unacceptable LGBT slur.  I'm not like that--I'm not uncomfortable with LGBT people.

But, at that moment, I was uncomfortable with Andrea.  She shot me a glare which I would see again in August 2017.

In 2012, she got divorced.  We never talked about why she got divorced--I found that odd.  She disappeared for a bit after that, and I gave her space.  But then she overcompensated and was always wanting to do things with me, and to have our girls play together.  From 2014 to 2016, I let her have too much freedom with my house and my time. 

In late 2016, my husband's psychological disorders became too much for me, and I told him we needed to divorce.  He couldn't take the loss of status, and fought me every step of the way.  It cost me a fortune in legal fees, and I had to increase my hours at work.  But I downsized to a sensible home, and found Match.com.  The increase in work hours and the dating left less time for Andrea.  She wasn't happy about this, and started making bitchy comments to me.

In July 2017, she started dating my ex-husband.  They dated in his bed--they never went out.  So how did I know they were dating, you ask?

Because Andrea told me.  Constantly.  And she thought it was "funny".

It's the funniest thing, Susan.  Sleeping with your ex.

It's so funny, Susan, I was never attracted to him when you were with him.

Isn't it funny explaining to my daughter why I'm with him all weekend?  Does YOUR daughter find it funny?

Susan, you never told me how crazy he gets in bed.  Or maybe he's just on a post-divorce bender.  Aren't guys funny like that?

Like nails on a chalkboard.  I actually wished Andrea was back to obsessing about my blonde hair.

And now it was time for me to shoot her a glare.

On Saturday, she said something else about my ex was funny.  Which wasn't.  So I got some backbone, and just shot her a stare.  It was on between her and me, and she knew it.

Her:  Susan, are you uncomfortable with me dating your ex?

Me:  Andrea, what do YOU think?

Her:  Susan, I didn't seek this.  You know that, right?

Me:  Actually, I Don't know that, Andrea.

Her:  Susan, I didn't cause your divorce.

<<<<Our continuing to use each others first names was escalating the tension, giving the argument a personal dimension.>>>>

Me:  We're not talking about my divorce, Andrea.  Just like we never talked about yours.

Andrea:  You never wanted to talk about mine, Susan.  As of not talking about it would stop the same thing from happening to YOU.

Susan:  Ok, Andrea.  This conversation is just.. weird.  This situation is just weirder.  Our whole friendship is weird, and if We're not even friends, then all you are to me is my ex-husband's new girl who's trying to play nice with the ex for the sake of the kids.

I don't know why I brought the kids up, but it made Andrea reach out her hand to try to, I think, calm the whole argument.  And it may have worked.

Except she touched my hair.  It may have been an accident, but I Don't think so.  And I was afraid to object verbally, because of the whole "dyke" incident from way back--i didn't trust myself to not slip up and use some slur which would embarrass me later, and which Andrea would use against me with my ex.

So I grabbed her hand.  My nails dug into her wrist more aggressively than I was intending.  We stared at each other.

Andrea then tried to touch my hair with her other hand.  And dug into that wrist just as hard.  Ok, maybe harder.

I knew right then we were going to fight.  God, how did this bitch not know, you Don't sleep with a friend's ex.  I was angry at myself for letting it get this far, for not standing up for myself.

My new place had limited furniture, so there was plenty of room to fight.  We somehow both sensed this, and locked eyes.

And locked our nails into each others hair.

We rolled onto the floor, calling each others bitch and whore and cxnt and shrew.  Shrew--i Don't even know where that one came from.

I also realized how long it had been since I'd had sex.  The skin on skin sensation of Andrea's legs wrapping around mine was one i hadn't felt for months.

Andrea's top slid off, and I saw her breasts.  10 years younger than mine.  I started clawing them mercilessly.  This was now a pure and simple catfight, two frenemies fighting over what they had avoided discussing.

Andrea's starting screeching about the topic I knew would come next.  If my "carpet" matched my "drapes".  It does--pure blonde.  I was proud, and wanted her to see.  I wriggled out of my shorts.  I could tell she was angry at what she saw.  I loved it.

Getting scratched there--ithat, I didn't love.  Now I was angry too.  We started slapping each other in the face.  The sound exhilarated me, encouraging me to slap harder.

I sensed how alone we were.  I had been in girlfights before, but those always got broken up.  There was no one to end our fight but us.

"You fucking bitch, Andrea," I found myself saying.  "You didn't have to sleep with him to get me to fight you.  Why didn't you just say you wanted to fight."

"You were afraid to fight me, you dumb bleach blonde."  Um, ok, when was I afraid?  And how is my blonde from bleach?  You can clearly see it Isn't.

Andrea were now clearly past the point of ever making up.  Past the point of our girls ever playing together.

I wanted to rub my blonde hair in her face.  Literally, I knew what I needed to do.

Once I stopped worrying about ever being friends with Andrea again, I was able to get on top of her and straddle her.  I was then able to sit on her face, and I just started grinding.  The feeling of control was exhilarating.

The dynamic between us changed.  I was now in control of the room.  And the fight came out of Andrea.  I probably could have done just about anything to her at that point.  But I thought of our girls, and I couldn't.  I knew if I "went there", I would always need to hurt other people, other women, well, not hurt, but dominate them. I didn't want to be like that.

At least not because of Andrea.

Plus, I sort of just wanted her out of my place now.  To leave me.  Leave my ex.

I told her, "Get out, Andrea.  You bitch."

She called me a bitch back.  We looked at each other again, wondering if the fight might restart.

Maybe it should have.  I never 100% understood that woman.  Relaxing to her was always a struggle.

But she got dressed and left.

That's my story.  Writing about it didn't really help.

But it didn't hurt, either.  That's something.

THE END

[sidekick]

Another great story start Sinclairfan. You're one of the very best here. I love the women talking to each other while they're fighting. I'll be eagerly anticipating the next encounter.

[gmenn]

Another great story start Sinclairfan. You're one of the very best here. I love the women talking to each other while they're fighting. I'll be eagerly anticipating the next encounter.

I miss your stories!!

[sinclairfan]

From:  Andrea
To:  Susan
Date:  Mon August 14, 2017. 10:35PM
Subject:  You're a two-faced coward

So, now that our girls apparently aren't going to be doing school projects together, I went into Google Docs to retrieve my daughter's work, and i discovered your lovely little essay.
You 2-faced 100% bitch.  How dare you write about me like that.
Bitch, I'm not going to go through every lie and delusion in your blonde pea-brain.  Let me spell out the highlights for you.
1.  I'm not obsessed with your blonde hair.  Women who are friends can touch each other affectionately without it leading to chowing down on each other.  I was felling the split ends on that did hear you call your hair to figure out why it's so dry and to help you.
2.  I was being open with you that your ex husband was fucking me.  It would have ended as soon as you said anything.  But of course you needed to be a pathetic wallflower and act all high and mighty and float above it all.  Like you always have, bitch.  Step up, cxnt.  SPEAK for once.
3. You think we were BEST friends?  Really?  Bitch, on your best day you were my 5th best friend.  Tops.  You bring nothing to the table friend-wise, Susan.  NOTHING.
4.  You didn't win that catfight.  You did nothing that hurt me, and I drew blood from your nose and your kitty.  You think you showed me anything that scares me?
5.  Your husband would take an hour in bed with me over a week with you.  ANY MAN would.
I will tell this TO YOUR FACE anytime you want.  You're right about one thing--your new place has lots of room to fight.  Let's not wait.  Let's do Tuedsday.  Say, noon?
Xoxoxo,
Andrea


From:  Susan
To:  Andrea
Date Tues 8/15/17. 7:10am
Subject:  Fine

Fine.  Noon.  My place.
And you're right.  I have been 2-faced.  So here's what I think of you.
I think you always wanted to fuck my husband.  And yet you never got with him until I let him go.
Isn't that what "sloppy seconds" are?
Bitch.
Susan

[sinclairfan]

My name is Andrea.

I don't know who will read this.  Maybe Susan will.  If she does, I say, "Good, bitch.  Good.  Read away."

But if she doesn't, That's fine, too.  Just writing this is enough.

This afternoon, I went "Full Lifetime" on another woman.  Lifetime is a cable channel that shows women's dramas, for those of you who don't know.

What's going "Full Lifetime" mean?

It means all out catfighting with a woman.

A woman as crazy as you are.  Scratch that.  Not crazy.  As amped up on estrogen as you are.

It means arranging a fight with her.  And before the fight, you take a shower, and get as pretty and ready as a first sleepover with a new man.  Because you're going to be as naked with her as a sleepover with a new man.

It means, before the fight, going out to your house with a hose and spraying a hornet's nest that's starting under your soffit.  A and running to avoid the stings.

Like the scratches and bites and slaps you won't be able to avoid in the catfight.

You can only hope you'll give her, the bitch, double what she gives you.

I did.

I fucked up Susan.

She was ready.  But I was readier.  And 10 years younger.

10 more years to fuck the man she used to fuck.

Or, to ditch him if I want.  Before marrying him.  Avoiding the life mistake she made.

And to rub her face in it.  Everyday.  For the rest of our lives.

And the only way she can make it stop......is to fight me again.  But to beat me next time.

Which she won't.

No way.

No fucking way.

Admit it, Susan

Bitch. 

[ralbright2010]

You really get that primal feel from these stories and with an economical use if words. I can feel the animosity. Don't t know how you do it Sinclair Fan but well done!

[sinclairfan]

It's Susan here.

Andrea, if you're reading this--either you banged your head in our fight, or you're drunker than when you came to my place with liquor so thick on your breath that if I had lit a match your whole digestive tract would have combusted.

Lifetime movie?  That's what that fight was like to you?

Ok, so first, those fights last, what, 30 seconds tops?  Versus ours lasting a half hour.  Of which, what, 25 minutes was you stopping to catch your breath?  Too much weed, sweetie?

Second, I thought in Andrea-land, drawing blood is how someone wins the catfight.  Say, from the lower lips, the cheeks, the shoulders?

Third, that's how you "clean up" for an overnight sleepover date?  (Are you in fucking fifth grade?)  Full bush under the pits, Andrea?  Or is that just how fast it grows on you?  Is your walk of shame with your elbows tucked close?

How about we fight some time without the sliding scale of who wins?  What do you say, bitch?



From:  Andrea
To:  Susan
Date:  Wed Aug 16, 2017. 12:11pm
Subject:  Rules

Fine.  Last woman standing.  Noon Wednesday.

[Bite Me]

It's good, but I'll argue that you don't know the definition of short. 

[sinclairfan]

Susan's fight log:

I get out of the hot tub, getting ready to fight Andrea at noon.  Sleeping with another woman's ex is provocative.  But want to know what else is?  Having free time to fight, and a place to fight, is itself provocative.  To not have a fight with a woman when you both have the time, and there's an available place, is in effect telling her that you're afraid to fight her.

Which is unacceptable.

My mind wanders back to other actions which are provocative.

I think back to college, in 1989, freshman year.  I grew up outside Peoria, and went to college close at home, at Bradley.  I studied chemistry with a boy in my dorm.  He had a girlfriend going to school in Wisconsin.  Me studying chemistry with him was provocative.  She and I both knew it, without saying it.

I knew she was coming to visit him one weekend.  I told him, "Want me to come say hi to her?  I don't want to cause any problems."  That was a lie.  A bold face lie.  She and I already had a "problem".  My studying chemistry with him was a problem.  A challenge to her.  A provocation.

I loved it.  I still do.

I spent hours wondering--should I put my hair in a ponytail when I meet her?  Will she put hers in a ponytail.  Will that mean we both came to catfight?

What if both of us have our hair down?

What if both of us are in sweats?  Will that mean we're both telling each other we want to fight?

Andrea and I have been telling each other for 3 to 5 years that we want to fight.

Now, we're just verbalizinh the words, instead of communicating thru code--provocative catfight code.

I want to fight you Andrea.

But, then, you already knew that, didn't you?

The Bradley girl in 1989 knew.  And so did I.

We met in the coed bathroom in my chemistry study buddy's dorm on a drunken Saturday night.  We pulled hair and kicked in front of 10 college boys and girls.  The boy we were fighting over missed the fight.  The crowd pulled us apart just when the fight was getting good.  We never saw each other again--I studied for chemistry more effectively without a partner, I decided.

I spend all morning thinking about that college fight.

28 years ago.

28 years from now, what will my memories be of my fights with Andrea?

[sinclairfan]

Susan's fight log:

Girlfighting has changed so much in 28 years.

My chemistry study buddy had a hard time staying in touch with his girlfriend.  No cellphones, no texting, no Snapchat.  There was landline telephone, but that was expensive.  Sometimes parents would buy $50 pre-paid phone cards, but those would get depleted fast--that only bought you a couple of hours of calls tops. 

So he and his girlfriend would go days and weeks without hearing each others voices, without seeing each others faces, except for old photos.  Nothing like today, where they'd be able to Snapchat nudes of each other, and then sext to it.

So, since he couldn't sext with his absent girlfriend, what did he do?  He studied Chem 101 with me.  Undressing me with his eyes the whole time.  I could tell.  Comparing my cleavage to his girlfriend's.  Wondering the whole time what my nipples looked like compared to hers.  Were mine wider?  Linker?  Were my breasts firmer to hold than hers?

Then I'd leave, and he'd climb into bed and jackoff.  To the memory of my face, my tits.  That he had been checking out our entire Chem 101 study session.

He'd think of her while jacking off, too.  So, in a way, I'd practically forced my way into their bed.

She knew all this of course.  Because at her school, she had seen freshman college boys in their element in their dorm rooms.  She knew they would use studying as an excuse to get a girl in their dorm room.  Today it would turn into a hookup, but 1989 was more innocent and that didn't necessarily happen.  While the girl was still there, the topic might stick to studying.  But once the girl left, the boy would jack off.

So when Nancy (that was the girlfriend's name) found out her boyfriend had found me as a Chem 101 study buddy at Bradley, she knew what the deal was between her and me.  That she and i were now rivals on a collision course. 

The I was "sizing her up".  Looking at Polaroids of her.  (That's what we had in 1989 instead of selfies.)  That I was warming in my mind who would win a catfight between me and her.

That I was figuring out where she and I could fight.  The dorm room itself was possible but unlikely.  1989 college dorm rooms were tiny compared to today's Taj Mahals.

She knew I lived in the Peoria area, that I had decided to stay close to home for college.  So I would know parks and parking lots where she and I could fight.  The only problem was getting there--I had no car at school.  Bradley had few parking options in 1989.

Nancy had no car either at her school in Wisconsin (Beloit College-- found that out fast).  When she would visit Bradley, she'd take a bus.

I thought about maybe fighting her at my house outside Peoria.  I thought about it a lot.  Honestly, I'd obsess about it.

Anytime I'd be home, I'd masturbate to the thought of Nancy and me catfighting in the house.  In my bedroom.  In the living room.  In the den.  In the kitchen.  In the backyard.

I fantasized about Nancy calling my study buddy's dorm room one night.  He's down the hall in the bathroom, so I answer.  It's 1989, so phones don't have caller I'd.  But I suspect It's her.  I answer.  She goes, "You must be Susan.  How's Chem 101 going?  I heard It's hard."

Hard like your boyfriend's cock when he's studying with me, Nancy and I would both be thinking.  I'd tell her I heard she was coming some weekend.  She and I really must get together.  I could have an old high school friend drive me and you, Nancy, to my house.  We can "chat" in private there.  Discuss the Chem 101 study arrangements.  I know you must have something to tell me about it, Nancy.  Sweetie.  Bitch.

Instead, she and I just fought in the coed bathroom on campus.

The fight at home would have been so much more satisfying.  So primal.  When you decide to keep a college freshman boyfriend and try and pull off the ling distance relationship thing, especially in 1989, It's because you're planning on marrying the boy.

She would have fought me like a hellcat.

And I would have fought her like one right back.

Right back at ya, Nancy.  You bitch.

What a fight that would have been.

[sinclairfan]

Andrea's fight log......

Cute story, Susan.  So, basically, you "went away" to college in your hometown, then didn't sleep with or even kiss your first college boyfriend.  Why am I not surprised?

But perhaps I judge too harshly.  18 can be an awkward age.

I went far away to college.  Basically as far as you can go and still be on the continent.  I went to San Diego State in fall 1999.  For somewhat stupid reasons.  I wanted to be around warm and sun.  I wanted to be at a party school, meaning somewhere you could get B's without hitting the books too hard.  And West coast schools had a later academic year--I wanted an extra month of work to earn some pocket change.  That extra month seems like a big deal when you're 18.

I knew as soon as I got there that I wouldn't last 4 years at San Diego State.  The drive was too inconvenient.  And when you fly, you can't bring bulky stuff.

So I was depressed right away.  I knew I needed to figure out how to transfer fast, before I burnt all my college savings.  I felt like every day was a countdown to poverty.  I started drinking, but that was depleting my extra month of summer earnings, which made me even more depressed.  So I started smoking weed.

There was a male grad student, cute as fuck, helping me find a school to transfer to that would accept my SDSU credits.  Since I had one foot out the door, I guess he rationalized that it wasn't sexual harassment to fuck me, so he didn't resist when I came on to him.  Or maybe vulnerable girl students were just his thing.

Because his other girl was a 22 year old name Jennifer, who was just starting grad school at SDSU.  She had gotten her bachelor's in the spring from UC Riverside.  She had long, pretty red hair.  She was a natural blonde, but colored it red for some reason.  Sort of, I don't know, toying with some sort of goth thing, but not quite taking the plunge.

She had major money issues as well.  She was in grad school to avoid dealing with the real world.  Sort of like a girl-who-couldn't-grow-up thing.  Except she was in no position financially to indulge in that sort of thing.

She met my coucilor because she shared an office with him.  They were banging each other.  She vaguely knew who I was, and knew I was a threat. I guess the 4 year age difference allowed us to tolerate each other.  If he wanted an 18 year old at the end, i would get him.  If he wanted a 22 year old, she would get him.

One day, I went to his apartment to pick up some weed from him.  He was running late.  Really late.  So late, that while I was waiting, Jennifer knocked on the door.  Awkward.  As. Fuck.

Because now she knew that I had a key to his place, and she didn't.

She didn't want to let me see that this bothered her, so she overcompensated and said, "I'm waiting inside for him" in a way that bothered me.  I said that I felt responsible for his place until he arrived, and she would have to leave (she was now inside).  She said that if he came and asked her to leave, she would, but " until then, I'm not going anywhere."

I think verbalizing him asking her to leave made her realize that would cement her total humiliation, to a freshman, and she knew she couldn't let it come to that.  She dropped her books, and we started pulling hair and kicking.  We fell on the floor in a heap, a total hairpull stalemate.  I could smell her breath, neither wanting to be the one to give.  We stayed locked together for a couple minutes until he walked in.

And he picked her.  She was the girlfriend, and I was the side chick.  My freshman year disaster was now complete.

I wished I had at least given her an ass whipping.  That at least would have made it worth it.



From:  Susan
To:  Andrea
Date:  Wed 8/16/2017. 10:25am
Subject:  Me vs Nancy, You vs Jennifer

Andrea--seems we have something (else) in common.  An unresolved catfight from freshman year of college.

I have a proposition for you.  I try and contact Nancy, and you try and contact Jennifer.

See if either of them still think there are unresolved issues.

I dare you,
Susan





From:  Andrea
To:  Susan
Date:  Wed Aug 16, 2017. 10:45am
Subject:  I'm game

Count me in.

We, of course, keep each other updated on progress.

Xoxoxo,
Andrea

[sinclairfan]

From:  Susan
To:  Nancy
Date:  Thursday August 17, 2017. 8:32am
Subject:  Remember me?

Nancy--how are you?  I debated about the least stalkerish way to reach out to you, and I thought email might be better than phone.  But if you'd prefer to chat by phone, my number is xxx-xxx-xxxx.

We met at Bradley University in 1989--you were at Beloit.  By looking up your class year there, I found you on LinkedIn.  Vice President at GE--wow.  Congratulations.  And retired at 46?  Or, at least retired from the corporate rat race?  Very impressive.  I do hope you're happy.

That's sort of why I'm writing.  I got divorced last year.  And I've had opportunity to do "meaning of life" reflecting.  And one of the things I'm thinking about is you.

I don't know if you remember, but you visited your boyfriend at Bradley in 1989.  You and I got into a fight there, in the bathroom.  I don't know if you remember that or not.

If you don't, or don't want to talk about it, I understand.

But I'm kinda hoping if we could talk about.  What happened next between you and him?  Did that, I don't know, change the course of your life in some way?  Does it feel like a loose end to you?

I hope to hear from you soon.





From:  Andrea
To:  Jennifer
Date:  Thurs 8/17/17. 8:50am
Subject:  A blast from your past

Jennifer--my name is Andrea.  We "met" 18 years ago at San Diego State.  I see from Facebook you're still in California.  I'm jealous--I tried to get rooted there, but it didn't take.

A lot of my life hasn't gone as I expected.  I'm a single mom now--I never would have expected that.

Let me get to the point.  I feel like you and I have things we need to discuss.  Or, at least, I feel like I have things I need to tell you.  And older mom I know had a similar situation to what you and I had, and let time go by without addressing it.

You and I let 18 years go by, but I don't want to let it go any longer.

Can we talk?  By phone?  By Skype?

I have some things to say, and think you might, too.

Talk soon,
Andrea

[ralbright2010]

This could be really interesting. Very imaginative approach!

[sinclairfan]

Skype conversation, Thurs 8/17/17 8:05pm

Susan:  Hello?

Nancy:  Hello?  Susan, is that you?

Susan:  Yes...Nancy?  Wow, you look amazing.

Nancy:  Thanks.  You, too, by the way.  I'm not just saying that.  It's been awhile.

Susan:  I know.  Where does the time go?

N:  No kidding, huh?

S:  Nancy, your career is, like, amazing.  How did you do it?

N:  Oh, GE?  Oh, there's no magic.  Give up your life, 120 hours a week at a time.  Did you know there's 168 hours in a week?  Then t hey relocate you to Kentucky, and lay you off.

S:  Ouch.  So, that was in, what, 2014?

N:  Yep, 2014.  Washed up at 44.  "Out of runway," they call it.

S:  Well, I'm still impressed.  I crashed and burned last year, if it makes you feel any better.

N:  Career?  Marriage?

S:  Check.  Check.  Picking up the pieces.  Speaking of which....what ever happened to you marriage wise.

N:  GE marriage in 1998, GE divorce in 2005.

S:  Seven year itch?

N:  Hardly.  Relocation to Kentucky.  For my career.  And he didn't want to come.

S:  Leave it to guys.  Speaking of which.....

N:....yes, speaking of which....that's why we're really talking, right?....

S: .....well, yes.....Nancy.....I've been thinking about our fight at Bradley.....in 1989....

N......what about it?....

S:......i have....questions about it....where do I start?.....

N:.....start anywhere.....i won't reach thru the screen....i promise....

S:   ha ha....eccept, that sort of us my question....or one of them.....i remember looking at Polaroids of you....wondering if we would fight.....did you, wonder if you and I would fight?....when you found out I was studying with your boyfriend?.....

N:  Susan, Susan.  When he and I talked on the phone, all we talked about was you.

S:  Like,....what about me.

N:   Well, your name for one.  Was it Susan?  Why not Sue?  Did everyone call you Susan?  Or just him?

S:  Really?  What else?

N:  Where were you from?  What did you look like?

S:  No way for him to send you pics back then, huh?

N:  I know?  Isn't it amazing?

S:  Did you think I was pretty.

N:  He denied it profusely.  Which obviously meant, yes, you were. Did you think I was pretty.

S:  I thought you were GORGEOUS.

N:  But you still studies with him?

S:  I did......i assumed I would stop....but....i couldn't

N:....And yet you didn't sleep with him?.....

S:  I know....i think back now.....Sex was different back then....at least in my home town.....Had you and him slept with each other a lot?

N:  Not a lot...but you and he didn't even kiss?..

S:  I know......i liked that he was, you know, getting off.....like, checking me out....i didn't grow up with brothers....i was just learning the guys, like, jerk off at 3 on a Thursday afternoon...you know? ....that was new to me.....new, and news.....that was enough for then...

N:  .....well, in hindsight.....i sort of played into that.....by talking to you our entire call, that pretty much got him ready to hang up and jack off to you, didn't it?....

S:  ....probably....but, I guess, Nancy.....I'm wondering about you.....did you think we would eventually fight?....

N:  ....i guess.....i guess I probably should have thought about that more......i mean, you know, howe to compete with someone who had face to face access to him.....

S:  .....so, confronting me in person, and fighting me, was one way to compete?.....

N:  One way,....i suppose....what about you-- did you think we would fight?......

S:....Oh, Nancy.....if you only knew.....i masturbated about it...was that gross?  Should I have said that?.....

N:  .....no, it's ok...that's why we're Skyping, right?.....like, masturbated, how?....like you and I, what?, sexfighting?....

S:....Not so much sexfighting.  But not fistfghting, either.....like, going to my house in Peoria, and, like, catfighting....like, scratching and shit.....

N.....mmmm....thast's, like, more than a little hot....so, like when you heard I was coming, did you assume it would happen that weekend?....

S:....i knew that I would regret if we didn't....

N:....this conversation is.....mmm....beyond hot.....

S:.....mmmm...mmm....Nancy, can I just cut to the chase?....i can't take this anymore?....

N: ....What?...ask me.....

S:  I want to catfight you.  Hard.

N:....i want to, too......mmmm....

S:  Like, Nancy....i want to know who would win......

N.....mmmmm.....yes....yes....

S....mmm......Nancy...mmmm

N....when?   Just tell me when...i'll fly there....

S:.....mmmm.....when can you be here?

N:   you won't back out?

S:   Not for anything...mmm..mmmm...

N:.  Next Monday.  The 21st.  I heard the eclipse is passing through Illinois.

S:  Oh, Gawd...mm....mmm...mmm...i can't wait...

N....me neither.....let's catfight Monday....

S:   ....oh yesssssss.......

[sinclairfan]

Text conversation Fri 8/18/2017. 12:12am

Jennifer:  Hello?  Is this Andrea?

Andrea:  Yes, hello.  Thank you for texting.  I'm up.

J:  Oh, ok, good.  Your note didn't say where you are or what time zone you're in.

A:  Central time.  I'm in Illinois.  West of Chicago.

J:  Oh, wow.  I'm trying to think--where were you from originally?  How'd you end up there?

A:  Well I was born in Mississisauga, Canada.  Ontario.  But then I went to high school outside Cincinnati.  The airport there is what gave me the idea I could handle the San Diego State travel.  Dumb idea.

J:  Oh, ok.  I do remember associating Canada with you, somehow.  I couldn't remember the details.  Do you have a pic of yourself now?  Can you send it?

A:  Sure.  Let's see, I'll take one literally right now.  Me in bed.  Here it is.

J:  Pretty.  Such long hair.

A:  Oh, thanks.  Is your Facebook up to date?  With the blonde?  When did you give up the red?

J:  Oh, I go back and forth.  I'll probably do red this fall.  So, wait, you're divorced?  How long?

A:  Oh, it's been awhile.  If you count the separation.  To tell you the truth, we got married in 2006 and were separated by 2012.  I tried to stretch it out to the Social Security 10-year milestone but couldn't make it.  How about you?  The d-word?

J:  Similar to you.  I married someone from Riverside in 2005.  Then, in 2006, mortgage hell happened here.  Even if you made your payments, the neighborhood was tanking from the foreclosures all around.  We mailed in our keys in 2007.  Then we pretty much separated.  It took till 2010 for the paperwork to be final on the divorce.

A:  I'm sorry.  But not really.  That's sort of why I wrote.

J:  I was just thinking that I'm sorry but not really either.

A:  Like, do you think we've been sending bad karma at each other all these years?  Jen, do you think about what happened at SDSU?

J:  I sort of do.  I tried to forget it, but I can't.

A:  I feel like I need to "start over", but, like you say, the paperwork hasn't come thru yet.  I have this lingering hurtful anger towards you.

J:  I'm hurt about that too.  That you were 18.  Do you know how humiliating it is to be losing a guy to an 18 year old?  I was finally grown up, and here I am swatting off, I don't know, someone not grown up.

A:  Did you ever try and contact me?

J:   Not seriously.  I thought if I forgot about you, that would be best.  But it hasn't been.  Obviously.

A:  I have a friend here.  A frenemy I guess.  She and I had a fight, a catfight.  It helped us work thru how we feel.

J:  So I take it you think we should finish that fight we had?

A:  I kinda want to, yeah.

J:  So, we're far away.  Would you come here?

A:  I have a daughter, and school just started.  Can you come here?  Is it the money?

J:  40 years old and I have to think about flying.  And I don't even have the kid to worry about.  Ok, no, I need to do this.  For more than one reason.  When were you thinking?

A:  So, I think I can make the trip worth your while.  I know this is short notice, but if you can be here by Monday the 21st, you know that frenemy I mentioned?  She's gonna be fighting ...here, this woman.  The redhead.

J:  Oh wow.  They're both pretty.  They're gonna fight each other?

A:  Yeah.  Wanna watch?  I know I do.

J:   Actually, that sounds amazing.  So, we watch them, then they watch us?

A:  if you want.

J:  I do, let me think.  Yeah, tomorrow's Friday.  And I can get off work next week.  O'Hare for the airport?  And what town for the hotel?

A:  The fights will be at her place, so plan on Woodstock.

J:  Got it.  So show up Monday?  I'll text you when I'm checked in.

A:  Ok, good.  I'm glad we talked.

J:  I am.  But not really.

A:  Ha ha.  I know what you mean.  Can I have a pic?

J:  To send to your friend, right?  And her opponent?

A:  How'd you know?

J:  I told you.  I know what you mean.  Here-- check out this one.

A:  Topless.  I take it you're gonna want topless ones of them?

J:  If you can get them.

A:  I'll see what I can do.

J:  Thanks.  This should be....interesting.

A:  It is already.

J:  It is....isn't it?  Thanks for the topless one of you.  It reminded me you still have a 4 year age advantage on me.

A:  But I'm a mom--that evens it up.

J:  We'll see.

A:  Yes, we will, won't we?

J:  We will.  G2g.  Send me topless of your friend and her opponent.

A:  Ok.




From:  Andrea
To:  Susan
Date:  Fri 8/18/2017. 1:31am
Subject:  Attached

Attached are topless pics of Jen and me.  She can fight Monday at your place, after you and Nancy fight.  You can shred these with Nancy if she sends one of herself.  And one of you, of course.