S1E1: There Was No Dex

In our first episode, Heidi introduces the podcast, reads the dedication and trigger warnings, and covers the two prologues and first chapters of Pretty Red Flags — including why she wrote a character who never actually existed.

Transcript

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I'm Heidi Stark, and this is Pretty Red Flags, the podcast. This is the dedication to my book, Pretty Red Flags, and I mean every word. To the survivors, the people who have escaped, the people who are still going through it, the people who are not quite ready to get out yet. And for those who never made it out of life. For those who never go through it, and to the people who say, Why didn't you just leave? You're lucky as fuck. And please stop saying, Why didn't you just leave? This podcast is three things in one. A true crime podcast, because this book is a fictionalized version of what happened in my life, a book plug, because you're going to get to care of a book, a duet, even, and it's palatable. And a survivor testimony, because you're going to hear more about what was going through this survivor's mind as things were happening and what's happened since. After all, healing doesn't happen overnight. I'm going to share the trigger warnings with you now. Mental health matters in this book is very heavy. It's an intense, pitch-black novel with very triggering situations involving graphic descriptions of domestic violence and other violent situations. This is a long list, so I'll mention some of them here. The full list will be shared in the show notes. Please take this warning seriously. Attempted murder and suicide, blackmail, bullying, captivity and confinement, cheating, child abuse mention, coercive control, death of a friend, dissociation and associative episodes, drink spiking, drug and alcohol addiction and recovery, dragging and drug use, dubcon, emotional and financial abuse, grievous bodily harm, infertility, intrusive thoughts, kidnapping, mental health issues, mention of past sexual assault, murder, narcissistic abuse, nonconsensual sex, paranoia, pedophilia allegations, PTSD, physical abuse causing serious injury, racism, schizophrenia, self-harm, sexism and misogyny, sexual coercion, sexual assault, flood shaming, stalking. If you or anyone you know is experiencing domestic violence and needs support, please call 1-800-799-7233 or if you can't speak safely, log onto the Fotline.org or text Love Is to 1866-331-9474. I'm calling this episode of this podcast There Was No Dex. Because I wrote this book to have the beats of a dark romance originally. I wanted it to have a happily ever after, to cut through some of the darkness and to give people hope. Dex didn't exist in my real story. It was healing to write him as if he had. I'm not sure if you've heard about internal family systems, and it's totally okay if you haven't. It's a topic relatively new to me too. And we might get into it more in later episodes. But what I can tell you is that it involves parts of you known as some of them are known as protective parts. And in writing Dex, I channeled what a protector might have been in my personal real life situation. Typically in this podcast, I'll read a chapter or two each episode, and most of these chapters are written pretty close to how things actually happen. But knowing that Dex wasn't real, and he's quite involved in the start of this book, this episode's going to run a little different. We'll cover the prologues. There are two, and we'll cover the first couple of chapters. We'll see how timing goes and go through that. Prologue one, a long time ago. I've had pressures on older guys before, but nothing like this. I mean, sure, I've liked boys in my year before. Guys a little older than me by six to eighteen months. When you're younger, this age gap feels like a world of difference. But this this is different. This isn't just the boy I see at school or some cute guy on a TV show. This is Dex, my brother's best friend. Dex is a whole man, not some boy still figuring out how to talk to a girl. He's confident, funny, adventurous, and accomplished in a way that makes my heart race every time he comes around. And he's engaged, happily engaged, apparently. But that doesn't stop me from thinking about him. And to say I'm crushing hard is an understatement. At least a crush is what her mother calls it. At first I didn't know what it was that I was feeling. I thought maybe he was just like a bonus big brother, the way he's always laughed with me, since I was little spinning me around or throwing me over his shoulder and pretending to drop me. Almost reverse it's all innocent fun. But as I've grown older it's morphed into something else, for me. There's nothing sisterly about the way my heart pounds when he touches me, or how I feel when he looks at me in the eye, with his own hazel and gold flaked marine masterpieces. It's something deeper, something exciting and forbidden. I can't help it. When no one's looking, I write our initials inside the drawer of my desk, tiny little DNM, it's really hard. Or on the corner of my notebooks, like I'm casting some secret spell that'll make him notice me in the way I want. But he's too good, too decent to ever cross that line. Even though his tattoo covered body says total bad words creams otherwise. I'd never been close to a guy with tattoos before Dex. And I like them. He's kind, but never creepy. Like my mother warns me some guys can be. He treats me like his friend's kid's sister. When my brother ditches attending my school plays or dance concerts at the last minute, Dex still shows up. In my senior year, he even bought me flowers at a school play. But they're not romantic. I know that. He just feels bad that my brother's a douche canoe who always lets me down. And I know that should be enough. More than enough. But it's not. I remember the first time I met his fiance. She seemed fine, perfectly nice even, pretty. But the minute I saw her standing next to him, holding his hand, something inside me shriveled. I hated her. It wasn't fear. I knew that. But she was the obstacle in the way of my schoolgirl daydream. I'd never admit it to anyone, especially not Dex or my brother. But part of me wanted her to disappear. Just like in some magical movie where the princess finally gets the guy. It doesn't help that Dex is so different from any of the guys I know from school. He's got this whole life outside of our small world. He's not stuck in some boring job or routine. No, he's always coming and going, doing who knows what for his secretive, adventurous career. It's like he has all these layers I want to peel back and understand. Well, I'm stuck zaeduming in school. He's living life free and unbothered. I wonder what it's like to be that grown up to have all this experience. Before Dex, I thought maybe I'd just marry my dad one day. Isn't that what all little girls want at some point? That's the only template for love I've had until he walked into my life. Now there's someone else filling my head. But that doesn't stop me from being confused. One minute I'm doodling Dex in the margins of my notebook, and the next I'm distracted by the cute guys at school. There's Matthew in my math class with the dimples when he smiles, Brian in Science with the shaggy hair, and Dylan in English, who looks like one of my favorite actors on TV. I mean, how can a girl focus with all that around it? Still, Dex stands apart. He's not just another teenage crush. He's the one I secretly imagine when I think about the future, even though I know it's impossible. He's off limits, too old, too engage too everything. But that doesn't stop my feelings. It just adds to the thrill of it all, like some big, exciting secret I keep to myself. I dream of the impossible that one day someone like Dex, someone worldly and adventurous, will look at me the way I look at. Maybe it won't be, maybe it'll be someone else. But deep down I'll always know where that feeling came from. I'll always remember the first guy who made my heart flutter in that impossible, forbidden way. And one day I'll find my own version of Dex. Or at least I hope I will. So I longed to find this hyper protector of my brother or one of his friends. Obviously, not the romantic part of my brother, but with a 15-year age gap with him, I held him in really high esteem. All I can remember in terms of his actual friends is his one good friend who would run around saying, Why buying a cow when you can get the milk for free? Which my mum had to explain to me when I was pretty young. There was one cool guy, go a hairdresser, and he did me the kindness of running and hopping into my mum's car that I was sitting in outside of his hair salon, and he chopped off the unfortunate rat's tail that my stylist assisted that I get. So no, Dex very much did not exist in my life. And my relationship with my brother and the excitement of seeing him, followed by all the inevitable letdowns, I think they really did help shape my view of me. So there was prologue one. Now we're gonna read prologue two. Several years ago in the past, mother, you're so lucky we adopted you. Your birth mother could have chosen the other option. But she chose us to be your parents, and we chose you to be our child, me. I'm lucky I exist and wanted mother, yes, exactly. If we didn't adopt you, you would have grown up on a farm with seven brothers and sisters, and your mother would have been your sister, and your stepfather would also be your grandfather, and he would have been physically and emotionally abusive. You're so lucky we chose you. I love you so much. Me, thank you so much. I'm grateful, and I love you so much too. My reaction to this excerpt is this is very true from my life, and these are the messages my mother would tell me frequently when I was growing up. There's something about being adopted that makes you feel like you need to constantly be thankful that somebody took you in. And my mum certainly used to rub that in a lot, whether she intended to or not. Several years ago, a mining red business at my favorite place in town to grab a drink, the old Irish dive bar many people don't even know exist. It's very wood forward, I guess you could say. A long battle-style bar that runs the entire length of the front room, lined with nondescript fastels. The walls have ornate wooden detailing at the top, and the back of the bar has built-in wood shelves. Whoever designed this place really loves wood. They have all the typical brews you'd expect for an Irish bar, a bunch of bears on tap, a ton of Irish whiskey, and then some weird choices, like a big ass bottle of blue curaca. There has to be a story about it, but it's not what I've asked, even though I've talked to the people who work here for many, many hours on end. And one of my favorite things is the notice board, where the staff members place notes for each other and put out pictures of them doing silly things. Face painting, bad karaoke, and so on. I love sitting down at the end of the bar so I can be nosy and read it all. Because the staff here have all become my friends. They love to make silly check names for me, and it's become a bit of a competition. Puns on my name. Margo with the flow, let the good times Margo. Let it Margo. Margo your own way, Margo Navy a star. And my personal favorite, Margo all night long. I feel at home here. I can come and sit up for a stressful day at work. My phone lines up. Please don't be a work email. I can't take any more for the day. Probably some ridiculous tender anyway. Dex. Hey Marg, I'm in town. Want to grab a mark? I roll my eyes, but I can't stop from smiling. Dex is just as punny as the team here. Ooh, who are you talking to? Pamela, one of my favourite bartenders in the world asks. I see that look on your face. You're positively beaming. Ah, it's no one. I can feel myself blushing. Doesn't look like a no one. She works. And you're a beat red by the way. Your face matches your hair. I feel my face getting even hotter. No, no, it's my dickhead brother's best friend. It sounds like he's in town. He likes making puns out of my name just like you guys. She laughs. Sounds like a real doll. Why don't you get him to come by? I grin. Maybe I will. I text him the address. Me. It's not really a margarita kind of place, but I know you like whiskey and they have plenty of that. Half an hour later I'm looking through my phone and half reading some random article about celebrities behaving badly when I hear a familiar voice booming from the entrance. Well, if it isn't Margarita sitting at an Irish zide bar in all her red-fitted glory, and shop to find you in an establishment such as this. Everyone in the entire bar seems to stop what they're doing and turn to look at him. And I mean, I can't blame them. I'm staring too. He's very easy on the eyes, and I swear to get even more at trait with every time I see him. He has a depth tan, must have been working outside again, and he's tall as fuck. I'm thinking six foot four or so, but I've never asked. He's absolutely covered in tattoos and have long light brown hair pulled back in his signature man bun. And then there's his smile that can make a nun question her life choices. He's holding his motorcycle helmet under his arm. Oh my god, I forgot he rides a motorcycle. Killed me now. I blush and shake my head as he approaches me. Hopping off my barstool, I turn to face and then he wraps me in a bed hug. It's a long hug with a little bit of twisting, and I heal my bones crap in a good way. I never want to let him go. Dex has always been an epic hugger ever since I was little. I think he builds a little bit of chiropractor stuff into his squeezes because I always come away from crushing, feeling a little more aligned and a lot warmer than it was. Gosh, he says, looking me up and down. You're looking great, Maud. How long's it been? Like six years? And what's all this flowery stuff you put on, eh? I thought you hate flowers. He grins at me. You look good in it, though. I blush, suddenly self-conscious. I'm still dressed in my corporate work clothes, although I try to keep it as business as casual as possible without breaching the dress code. But work slacks and a flowery top and cap sleeves are definitely not my preferred look. Oh, thanks, I say, swiping a loose strand of hair from my face. I gesture at my outfit. You've got to deal, you've got to deal on these portfrits. I glance at him again and feel a little shy when he catches staring. Um, you look good too. Really good. The words make me blush again. He's wearing a leather jacket over a collared pledge shirt, grey jeans of the skinny kind, which cling to his giant quads and highlight his um package. And yeah, I think it must have been six years. Have you talked to Danny recently? He laughs and shakes his head. Nah, he's off doing his thing. I try not to bother him and say out of the drama. You know what he's like. Oh, I definitely do. My brother Danny is, after all, the reason Dex and I know each other. Danny's a lot older than me, and he and Dex grew up together in New Zealand in the same school neighborhood after Dex's dad got a work transfer from the US. They were really close as kids, but I guess after a certain amount of time around my brother, Dex started to see his true colours, which is fair enough because I've distanced myself from him too, and only engage in polite exchanges around the holidays. It helps being in a totally different country and in a different time zone. Eventually, Dex moved backstayside where I found myself too, and he occasionally reaches out to see what I'm doing. But he's right, time flies. It really must have been a four or six years since I last saw him. Well, it's so good to see you, Margot, truly, says Dex. And I find myself getting lost in his eyes. The amount of times I put about him when I was growing up, even though he was old enough to be, well, a lot older than me, but not old enough to be my dad at least. Still, I know the only reason he showed an interest in me was because he was friends with my older brother, and he's someone who knows how to be polite. I blush and inwardly cringe as I remain forcing him and my brother to sit through my many awkward dance performances, put on Bonia, my friend. God, I'm lucky he gives me the time of day anymore now that he's not obligated. Camilla walks past and I catch her winking at me from behind the bar. She can feel it too. There's always been a chemistry between us, some kind of connection. But Dex would never cross that line. Even though my brother Danny is far from perfect, Dex operates by a code of honour. He wouldn't hit on his best friend Kid's sister. And besides, last I heard he was still engaged. She might even be married now. So uh what's new? Helen's what's her name? Stephanie? A strange look passes over Dex's face. I could swear he's blushing too. Oh, we uh things didn't work out between us. Oh wow, I'm sorry. I thought you were gonna say you were married with like three kids. He smiles and I detect a hint of sadness. Well, let's say don't bullet. I get the sense he doesn't want to talk about it, so we don't press any further. How about you, Mark? He quirks a brow. With your beauty and brains and your deranged sense of humor, I'm sure you have a line of guys waiting for you around the block. I groan. Oh my god, the dating scene is so bad in the city. I have a million horror stories that I could share with you. But you'd have to have all night. I won't bore you. He laughs and shakes his head. Fair enough. The rest of the evening goes well. We pay up at the Irish bar and head to another place of light music. We dance, which feels really good. It's not something I normally do, but the live music and the few drinks we've had have got me feeling a little loose. The bass is heavy and I'm enjoying the way it's vibrating through my body. It's a release out of the hell we have had at work. At one point, Dix pulls me close and I find myself melting into him. The music flows and I glance up at him. There's a spark between us, more intense than anything I felt before. I tilt my head up and I think he's gonna kiss me. But right as our lips are about to touch, he pulls away. I I should get going, he says. I'm still jet lagged and I have a meeting person in the morning. Oh god. I've read the signs completely wrong. Dex, wait, I sorry, Mother, I gotta go. Yes, up in Urba and get home safe, okay? It's late. And the six foot four godlike man takes off into the crowd, weaving his way through the array of dancers and out the door, vanished from my life just as quickly as he re-entered it. Ugh. If only men like him existed around here, and if only Dex wasn't my brother's best friend. So my reaction to this scene in this chapter prologue, there definitely was no Dex, as I've mentioned before. But he was a very good board Irish bar that I spent a lot of time at when I lived in Washington, DC. And it included a Pamela, still one of my favorite people. I wanted to pay homage to a location that felt like home and people that became my student family while I was figuring life out. Before I had to figure out all the later shit that would come that happened in this book. Little did I know, little naive Heidi. So now we're gonna get into it. The book, like I said, this is the fictionalized version, and 99.999% of it's true. And I will share more as we continue. Chapter one, the past. Friend. I'm so glad you broke up with your boyfriend. He reminded me of the cookie monster. Me. He did? Because he had blue hair. Friend. That probably helped, but it was his entire personality. Just like the cookie monster. Or maybe Beavis and Butthead, but I'm not sure which is which. Me. You didn't say anything for the last three and a half years, but you're telling me this now. This is important information, friend. Well, I knew you wouldn't have listened. None of us do when we're in it. So I hundred percent remember her saying that and having this feeling of like inwardly cringing, like we really thought this about my partner for years and didn't say anything. But it was an important coming-abate moment for me over the next few years if I realized how true that was. And if she had said anything to me at the time, I probably wouldn't have listened, and it probably would have come back by her. But yeah, we'll we'll get into that a little bit more as we continue. In the present. I'm on Zoom with my friend Stacy, sipping wine during our virtual happy hour. We live on opposite sides of the country, so it can be a little challenging to find times of work, but we make it happen when we can. The glow from the screen feels warm and familiar. Almost like we're sitting across from each other in a bar, but without the background conversation. Listen, Stacy begins tentatively. I didn't want to say anything, but your ex seemed nice. It's just spit it out, I urge her. I won't be offended, I promise. Besides, I'm pretty sure I know where this is headed. She inhales deeply. Okay, it's just that you're so outgoing and he wasn't. Seemed like the weird pairing. I laugh, shaking my head. It seems like everyone's been waiting for me to break up with him to share their thoughts. Ever since I broke up with John after a pretty stable six-year relationship, everyone is coming under the woodwork. Wouldn't it be more helpful for people to share their thoughts like this while you were still in the relationship? But I guess my friend was right back in the day when I broke up with my first serious boyfriend. I wouldn't have listened. When I divorced two of my three former husbands, they were the same way. Except for the second one, everyone loved him. True, Stacy's voice softened, but I still think he did the right thing. That sums it up, I shark. He's a great guy, but there wasn't a romantic spot. We did have sex for five years. She practically spits her drink out and starts coughing. People now don't choke, I say, trying not to laugh. She coughs and walk. Five years, like half a decade. Yes, I reply, that's the one. Shit, she said, My sweet friend, I'm getting way more action than you and I'm single. I shake my head and laugh, but it feels a bit of sweet. Yeah. There were some great things about the relationship, but it just wasn't romantic. He's a good person, just not my person, if that makes sense. It totally does, she increases. You can love and care for someone without being in love with them. And you two did seem like great companions. I always enjoyed seeing your travel picks. She humps thoughtfully. But you two should. But you totally should get to feel desire to feel adorned without having to ask. I was definitely missing that piece on not taking a notice of my wine. We genuinely enjoyed each other's company, but I could count on him to pay him a share of his bills and King's a generous person, fun to travel with. But I want to feel like my partner is attracted to me. I feel like that's important. It's not everything, but it is part of a healthy relationship, most people. Well, again, I think you did the right thing, even though I know it was hard, she says. And I see big things for you. What a time to really think about what you want without having to consider someone else. She's so right. After years of planning everything with another person's preferences in mind, I get to think selfishly. There are so many places I want to go and so many things I'd like to do. Luckily, I can do my job from anywhere in the country, so that leaves a huge amount of possibilities. I have some more big decisions to make. The next day I call my friend Rebecca, definitely made the right decision, and I'm super proud of you. She said, Sometimes when a relationship feels comfortable and safe, we don't stop and really ask ourselves, is this my person? And then suddenly years and years have gone by, we realize we've been trapped in an unfulfilling relationship. But you're taking the initiative to get out of it now, which will free you up to find your true person. Her words are deep and they hit me square in the chest. She's not just talking to me, she's speaking from her own life. Her relationship is a tangled of resentments and compromises. And I know she's projecting a little, but still her words ring true. I could have stayed in my comfort bubble for the rest of my life and things would have been okay. I would have paid my share of the bills and could trust him to do the same. I'd have a built-in travel buddy. We both like cats, we both like good food. But the spark would always be missing. I just need to figure out where to go next, they'd say. I don't want to stay here. Wherever I decide, I just need to get through the next few weeks of awkwardness until we can end the lease. Luckily, he's arranged to be away on a work project for most of the time, so it's just me and my cat and his cat. Oh, breakups are so awkward when you're living together, I understand. Yes. So a few more weeks, and then I can guess the next chapter of Margo can begin. Seriously, Ben Mark, this is a defining time for you that you may never have again, and that not many people ever get anything. This is your time to be selfish. The gap will close, but right now you're untethered. You can literally look to the universe and go anywhere, do anything without having to worry about it. Partner or kids or any of that other stuff that tends to keep people stuck in one place. Her words send a thrill through me, a jolted electricity. I've been following other people's plans for so long, his job, his preferences, that I've barely considered what I actually want. But now suddenly the whole world feels open and full of possibilities and idea starts to form. It's something I've thought about for years, but I've never thought possible, at least not yet. I've always wanted to live on a tropical beach, specifically Sunset K, a tiny archipelago off the California coast. My parents used to take me there every summer, and those memories are some of the happiest of my life. Lazy days on the sand, the smell of sunscreen and salt water, beach walks and nights filled with bonfires and laughter. Back when dad was still alive and my parents still cared for each other. It was always a Sunday dream, one I shared with my mother, something I thought I'd do when I was older, retired. Maybe ten or so years from now. But now I'm thinking, what if Sunday could be now? I've been dreaming of moving to the beach for a long time, I'd say aloud, exciting in Dublin just beneath the surface. What if I move to something? Rebecca lets out a delighted squeal. Yes, do it. What's stopping you? And just like that, a switch flips in my mind. Nothing is stopping me. I can do my corporate job from anywhere in the country, and I've been writing more on the side. I can continue to build out my backlist. This could be the beginning of something incredible. We chat some more and then I hang up, and there's a lot on my mind. The more I think about it, the more I realise island life is what I want. Writing books on the beach, enjoying warm weather year-round. It's my idea of pure bliss. My heart beats faster as the idea takes hold. I open my laptop and start researching. Housing options, pet friendly rentals, how to get my cat saver through clienting. He's been across the world with me and lived in multiple states, and he's definitely coming with me on this next chapter. Sunset Caves, your unique ecosystem, makes things a little more complicated. It's why they have so many beautiful tropical fish and birds. So there's an extra stepping stone to get him there. But that's fine. I'm used to quarantine because New Zealand has always been the same way. Nothing I can't handle. Saber cooled out beside me, lifts his head as I scratch behind his ears. How do you feel about living at the beach, little buddy? I asked her to grin. He lets out a soft meow, brushing his ear forced leg out of my hand. As per rumbling like a tiny motor. Good boy, I smile him. Let's make this happen. I feel lighter, like for the first time in years of weight of compromise and obligation away. It's not just about escaping a relationship, but it's about stepping into the life I've always dreamed of. One where I wake up every morning to the sound of the ocean, write my stories under the sun, go for a sunrise and sunset surfs, and feel the warmth of freedom on my skin. My dream life was that it's within reach. This is my chance, my reset button, the beginning of the next chapter, and I'm ready to dive in. So clearly I was feeling a lot of hope, and something that one of my friends said really sunk in for me. And that was that I had this moment in time where I could do whatever I wanted. And I didn't have anything tying me to a location. I got to think for this moment about where I wanted to be, and that the window wouldn't last forever, and it was gonna close really quickly. But then I got to be in the now and really focus on what I wanted. And I just remember those words and the feeling of hope and thought of sunset cave and popped into my mind. As you may have guessed, sunset cave in real life as Hawaii at somewhere I went with my parents going up. That will come up in the book. But it holds a special place in my heart. The culture is very similar to that within New Zealand. The weather is gorgeous, it's just a dream location for me. And so the opportunity to make that happen much earlier than I expected. Not waiting until I retired was just incredible. Chapter 2 The Past. You really applied for an apartment, sight unseen. Me. Sure did, friend, damn your brain. Me. I've done a very waste of all time, so I do my due diligence and research the hell out of every place online. Friend. Wow. Well, that's very brave. Like I said, I hope it works out the way you want it to. At present. I find the perfect apartment right in the center of Sunset K's booming resort area. It's in a brand new building on a white floor with a secure 24-7 concealer service and a bunch of amenities, including a state-of-the-art gym, a gorgeous pool, and multiple outdoor courtyards. They seem to host a range of events and place an emphasis on community as well, which should be good for making friends. It's surrounded by a bunch of popular restaurants and bars and shops, and even has what looks like a really nice market on one of the last floors. This entire place is designed for convenience, and it's in an area I'm very familiar with. I had so many nice memories of this part of Sunset Case specifically. Time on the beach, reading by the pool, teasing my dad about bodysurfing at the gay beach. He was adamant it had the best wax. Ice cream and McDonald's happy meals for dinner. It might not sound like much, but to me these trips were everything. New Zealand didn't handle a lot of the same things back then that Americans did. Even the Happy Meal toys are better. And now I get the opportunity to return as a grown-up and make this place of wonderful memories my home. I'm so freaking excited. I double check reviews, and people are highly complimentary of their amenities and the convenient location of the building. It's managed by a well-known, reputable property management company. It feels that this is a fairly low-risk decision from my perspective. Because of the ownership by a larger company, I also feel good about Sabre and have paperwork. In my experience, companies like this are generally far more used to dealing with emotional support animals and less likely than an individual landlord to give you a hard time about it. So I contact the leasing agent and she's friendly and professional, urging me to get my application in before prices go up in a few days. Anxiety pulls at me. Work has been really stressful, and I've had to conduct several rounds of layoffs in the preceding month. It's been depressing and extremely overwhelming, and I'm finding myself easily anxious at even the most straightforward things. But this is an exciting thing to be stressed about. There are many apartments available because it's a new building. They ask her about various floor plans and views from different parts of the building. You shouldn't definitely go for apartment twenty three C, she says without hesitation. Oh, why's that? Her answer is almost too quick. I glance at the floor plan and don't see anything particularly special about that specific apartment. It's just the best of the remaining apartments, she explains. The view is really nice. I think you'll just love that one. Not many of the apartments get their view of Strawberry Kid and the ocean as well as the mountain range. You should definitely pick that one. Oh, okay. I was kind of interested in 24E. It looks like the view should be about the same. Seriously, don't waste your time. She said 23C is the one to get. The view's much better, and the layout just makes a lot more sense. She's oddly persistent about this particular apartment, but without being there to set for myself, I take her word for it. I can see by the four plans that the points she's making about the layout are accurate, although they don't seem all that different from each other. What do I know? She's the one with boots on the ground. I apply for 23C based on her recommendation and wait with eager anticipation. The next day she notifies me that I've been approved. I get sabre added to the lease as my emotional support cat, providing the necessary paperwork for that. Renter's insurance check, signing a bunch of waivers for the property check. From a logistics point from set, at least from the Sunset K perspective. New apartment, new life. Now I just need to write out the rest of my time in San Francisco and pack up my life here to facilitate my move. More stress, but I see a very sweet sunshine-filled light emerging on the other side. I spend a little time thinking about how I want to see a chapter of my life to be, who I want to be, what I want and what I don't. It's time to be intentional. After making a list, I realize I definitely want more adventure, less unnecessary stress, and to feel like I can express myself more freely. And I can't stop thinking about how that plays out in terms of physical expression with my body. The ideas of getting my nipples pierced as well as the sleep that I always want to won't leave my mind. So I give myself a day or two to think about it, whether I'm really sure these are things I want as part of my new life. Do some research and put myself in for fo. I'm a little apprehensive about the pain associated with the nipple bear thing, but I've always had an okay pain tolerance, and I can't help but imagine what my breasts will look like with gorgeous little silver vase running through foe's nipples. I know without a doubt they'll look hot and sexy and make me feel empowered as well as being more sensitive as a result. The tinglet thought of it. It's always seemed like something that badass women get done. And in this next phase of my life, I most definitely plan on being a bad. And the sleeve tattoo is something I've contemplated for years. I think black and white tattoos are so gorgeous. And I find an artist in the mission district to consult with. He's from Brazil and he loves the idea that I want to get a tropical theme tattoo done in San Francisco that will link my mood from there to sunset cat. Over the next week, I get both done. My piercer is an exquisitely alternative woman who gives me total roller duty vibes, and I immediately feel comfortable letting him shove sharp needles through my nipple. From her experience, nipple piercings are empowering. And I love it when she tells me they're an intimate piercing that I have control over in terms of whether I choose to show them to the world or not on any given day. You could wear some bikini if you want the bars to show through, so people are very aware you have them. And on other days, you can choose to wear something with a bit more padding, you get to apply. She gives me solid advice on aftercare, and I leave the studio feeling like a million bucks. And the tattoo grows well too. It takes about six hours in total. And my tattoo artists chat the entire time on every topic because they've got. I don't mind the pain at all, in effect, and quite enjoy the sensation of the needles distributing all over my alpha art, creating wild patterns of plumeria, hibiscus, and gorgeous detailed leaves. He's animated, funny, interested in dark romance, and possibly even more excited about my move to Sunset K than me. Looking at myself in the mirror, I already feel like I'm stepping into my new life, and I couldn't be more eager to start the next day. So again, I was really intentional about the move. And you know, looking back, I planned out some carefully, and I researched the apartment. There were a few builds in downtown Waikiki, and this was one of them. And so they were offering specials and it had the amenities. The location was amazing. The leasing agent was so persistent about that particular unit, and more will emerge sooner cost of the book, but it ends up being a very important part in trauma bonding, not to give too much away. And yeah, I was just very intentional about what I wanted from this new life, and I think that that empowered me and also made me susceptible to certain things as well. So we'll do chapter three now as well, and then we will wrap things up for this episode and talk about what's gonna happen next time. With work colleagues at Hankey Hour a few months before the moon. Colleague one, who's your whole past person? Colleague two, I really like it. Alexander Scathguard. Colleague one, more good choice. He's hot. Margot, what about you? Me. Me? I don't really have one. Colleague two. Come on, there must be a celebrity find attractive. Me thinking about it. Maybe Steve Peacock back in the day when you were in home and away. Colleague one. Let me see a picture. Oh, you like tattooed surface, Margot. I see you. The present. The days drag on, the countdowns of my move, looming high in my mind. I let my work know that I'm moving, and suddenly there's an unanticipated issue that threatens to derail my entire move. We're not set up in that part of the state, they say. Anywhere except Sunset K would be fine, but you can't move here. I'm gulpsmacked. But there are people who work from there now, and that's okay. I was literally in a meeting with someone working from here the other day that's been here like a year and it hasn't been an issue. Well, that's not official. We weren't aware of it because they clearly didn't follow the proper process, and we don't want you to offer it. It's our prerogative as a company market. The decision is final. If you live there, you can't work for us anymore. Are you serious? I plead. I've signed a lease, the move is happening. This is so unfair. Meetings are held, and many very senior people advocate for me, but a couple of senior execs won't budge on their very arbitrary decision. I'm shocked, and there's part of me that feels defeated. Like it might just be easier to figure things out and stay in the same city. But I'm deadly unhappy with my work. And if I found another job here, I'd just be saying that. The city's great, but I'm in desperate need of a fresh start. I only moved here because of my now ex's job limitation. Staying here is just not feasible for me. So I crunch the numbers based on this new scenario. And I figure out that if I catch up my stock, I have enough to support myself getting set up on the island while pursuing writing full-time. As scary as it is, I take it as a sign from the universe that I'm meant to make the jump. I was always planning on doing it at some stage. And after the year I've had, I'm ready to be out of the corporate world and to do the work that sustains my soul. Like it or not, ready or not, I'm about to become a full-time author much earlier than anticipated. Over the following few weeks, my brain starts to get a little loopy. My ex has to come back and stay at the apartment for a few days here and there. We're amicable and respectful of each other and our belongings, but it's awkward living in the same place as someone you've just broken up with. No matter how much we avoid each other, there are little interactions that feel brutal after years of a close relationship. It's just bad. And weird shit keeps happening. Like while my ex is staying over, I let him stay in the bedroom while I sleep on the very comfort couch. Some guy I haven't spoken to in literally over a decade starts blowing up my phone and calling me late at night just to say hi. I tell him to piss off, but I'm on edge the entire time. Just trying to make things okay and get through us both being here to spray up. And work has become awful at that phase where everyone knows I'm leaving. So they've started excluding meeting, leaving me out of conversations that might have longevity beyond my last day. So I spend a lot of time sitting here, drumming my fingers on my desk, thinking about my decision, mentally figuring out I'm going to pack up this apartment. I'm in absolute purgatory. What I'd get to be doing something useful. And I'd spend the time writing, but I'm in such emotional turmoil with the unexpected job loss, the move, that of course the breakup after six years, that there's no way I could write anything remotely coherent. So instairs, I pick up my belly used roller skates and I skate around my apartment. I watch YouTube videos to help me with my basic skills, and before long I'm working on test stops to transition. Round and around the kitchen aisle, I go, gradually getting more confident on eight meal. And that's really all I do skate, occasionally remember to eat, feed the cats, and watch my shows. Anything to stop my mind from thinking. Because right now, thinking brings only sadness and pain. Even though I have sunset K to look forward to, time is dragging, and it feels like torture not being able to just move here and start the next chapter of my life. So that was chapter three. I do want to give a shout out to my ex of six years for handling a breakup with such grace. It was, of course, awkward because everything where we both had to be in the same part together, but there was a level of respect that through the course of this book I came to appreciate so much more just the maturity with which the situation was handled, even though it was awkward. Yeah. Especially in America, if you leave a job and you give more than like a week of talk notice, like the freeze out is real, but you feel that you have to be working, but they're not giving you anything to do. And I just gate, gay, gate. The only thing I had that would make me not go completely banana is it. In the next episode, we are going to move to chapter four, obviously. We're gonna meet the character who's realized how it has had the most profound impact on my life. So stay tuned. But maybe take a bubble bath beforehand, because this is going to be a descent of absolute madness. I'm warning you. Until next time. And remember, you're not crazy, you're not too much, and it was never your fault.