Gigantic Men Who Promise To Make Me Feel Better

A sexy Los Angeles adventure

When your heart is broken you don’t act rationally. You don’t perceive the world accurately. You’re in a different dimension, see. A broken heart is an altered state.

I was back in Los Angeles for the holidays, and I was in this altered state called heartbreak. I had been injured, broken, wrecked. It was equivalent to having been in a bad accident.

Which is why I responded the way I did to these giant billboards of men who were promising to make me feel better.

Can you blame me? I mean, look at this guy. Imagine that you’re in an altered state, having suffered a relationship accident or injury, and you look up at this giant hunk of man who promises to make everything better.

“I’ll tell you who hurt me,” I responded to the super handsome man, whose name it turns out was Razavi. “My stupid ex-boyfriend, that’s who. Can you help me?”

He didn’t respond. But I went on my phone and I typed in Razavi and a web site came up with a live chat feature.

“Please help me,” I chatted.

There was a delay.

“Have you been injured in an accident?” came the kind of AI-seeming reply.

“Yes,” I typed.

“Where did this injury occur?” the live chat asked me.

“Spain,” I typed. “Barcelona. My boyfriend dumped me because, well, he said I was crazy.”

There was no response for a while. Then the live chat typed this:

“I’m sorry, we do not have offices in Spain. Thank you for your inquiry.”

Damn. If only they had offices in Spain, this guy Razavi could have helped me. Bummer.

I drove on. I was driving around in circles, if you must know. I had nowhere to go. And nowhere to be. I was just in pain.

And then I looked up. It was another giant man. This one was even more handsome than Razavi. His name was Pirnia. And his last name, I guess was Law. Pirnia Law was so hot. Even though I was heartbroken and not at all into sex right then, I started to feel a little turned on.

“Trust your amoo,” said Pirnia Law. I guess he was my amoo. And I could trust him.

I started fantasizing. I can’t help it. It happens when I’m horny. I imagine Pirnia takes me to some fancy hotel on the beach. You know, it’s got a little balcony that looks out on the waves.

“Well, Pirnia, my amoo,” I say to him. “What are you gonna do now?”

And Pirnia takes off those sun glasses. He looks at me with piercing brown eyes.

“I’m going to make love to you all night long, Christine,” he says. “How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like a plan, my amoo,” I say. And I pucker up for our first kiss. I can hardly even remember my dumb ex-boyfriend’s name any more. My amoo is healing me.

HONK HONK!

The car behind me was really laying on the horn. God, people in LA can really be assholes, you know that?

Totally snapped me out of my fantasy. I wasn’t with my amoo in the hotel room any more. I was on Beverly Boulevard in a line of LA traffic.

I started to feel that familiar ache again. The hurting in the heart. The pain, oh the pain. The regret, the sorrow and yes, the fantasy of vengeance. I won’t tell you how, but I fantasized about cutting my ex-boyfriend, um, down to size. With a knife. That’s right.

I was so pissed and so hurt and then I looked at the city bus ahead of me. There was another one of these gigolos promising to help me. Gosh, when did they make male prostitution legal in LA, anyhow? A lot has happened in this city since I left almost two years ago. But I’m all for it. Male gigolos should be allowed to advertise on buses.

I felt better for a moment, then I realized he was speaking Spanish. I don’t want a Spanish-speaking boyfriend. Anything but Spanish. My ex-boyfriend, Carlos, yeah, he was an accidente. A real mishap. I wish I’d never met him.

“Forget it!” I said. “Leave me alone!”

I pulled around the bus, trying to get away. But what did I see ?— another giant man who was promising to make me feel better.

“Sweet James. Huh! I bet you’re real sweet, at first. But then, after you’ve gotten what you wanted from me, yeah, a taste of this sweet honey, then you turn sour, don’t you, James? Sour James. That’s your real name.”

A pedestrian was looking at me real strange, because, see, I had my window down and I was yelling up at the billboard.

“You’re not sweet! You’re just not!” I was yelling.”

I was losing it.

“Forget it!” I said. “I don’t want any of these gigolos.”

I did a crazy U-turn in busy traffic. And I started driving toward the ocean. What was I going to do, throw myself in the water? I don't know. I was desperate, see. At the end of my tether. It all seemed so hopeless. So damn hopeless.

Then I looked up. And I saw her.

“Something wrong, honey?” sexy Anh Phoon purred at me. “Mrrrrrowww!”

“No!” I responded. “Everything’s fine, Anh. You made all the pain go away.”

I took out my pen to write her number down. But then I didn’t need to write it, because it was so easy to remember. 866-GOT PAIN.

Oh yeah. But we should change that number now, Anh. TO 866-HAD PAIN.

Cause Anh is making all my pain just go away. She might not have smart looking spectacles, like that phony Sweet James. Or a sexy Spanish accent like that Accidentes guy. Or cool shades like Pirnia Law. Or that smug arms folded in front of him look like Razavi.

But check her out with the one hand on her hip. Girl got attitude. Sass. And sex appeal up the wazoo. And she knows what to do with her tongue.

“Oh Anh, don’t stop,” I sighed. “Don’t stop! Please don't stop!”

“Stop!” I heard someone yell.

And yeah, I went through the red light and T-boned a Mercedes. Damn.

So now, I don’t need a new boyfriend or a new girlfriend. I need a lawyer. Fast.

Know any good ones?