"You Can't Stay a Saint in This City"

“Isn’t it beautiful? I’m naming him Hudson Beaumont” I say as Mike and I admire the new car in my driveway.

“We should take it out for a drive.” Mike suggests as I run my hand along the hood. I’ve always been kind of a car person my Bentley was my little black dress, it went with everything. But this car, this car was like a pair of white hot jeans that made your ass look amazing and your legs endless.

“It’s still pretty warm do you want to go down to Venice beach?” That’s what I love about LA, almost every day is beach weather.

“Sure, I’ll meet you back out here in ten minutes.” Mike says causing me to be super psyched about finally having somewhere to wear the Juicy Couture bikini I bought literally the day before I was put on my budget.
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“It drives like a dream,” I tell Mike as we pull into the beach’s parking lot.

“Well considering how much you paid for it, I’m surprised it doesn’t fly.” Mike says opening the back door to let out our dogs.

Since it’s a Thursday afternoon the beach is basically empty, except for a model-esque girl sun tanning in a hot pink bikini and some old retirees eating sandwiches on a log.

“See some of the best things in life are free.” Mike says taking off his shirt oddly enough, I mirror his action and pull off my Roberto Cavalli caftan.

“I’m a bad person; I lied to my boyfriend about my financial situation.” A total deal breaker according to Suze Orman.

“What did you do?” Mike asks as Arnold chases a highlighter yellow Frisbee around in the sand.

“I paid off my mortgage last week.”

“I heard your furniture line is already sold out across the country, congrats.”

“That’s not how I paid it off” I scoop a handful of sand and allow it to slip through my finger. “I finally renewed my contract with Bravo for another two years which got a signing bonus that I used to pay for Hudson Beaumont and my house.”

“Why’d you lie?”

“Because it clearly bothers him that I make more money than him.” I’m sure plenty of guys would be bothered by this like that guy who’s dating Oprah Winfrey. Steadman? Yeah Steadman.

“It wouldn’t bother me.” Mike says puncturing a giant hole in my argument.

“Really?”

“Nope, better you spending your money than mine.”

“You really know how to tug at the heart strings don’t ya?” comment sarcastically. I like that Milan is chivalrous and opens doors for me and stuff but it bothers me that he’d want me to quit my job here to move in with him in Boston. I mean we wouldn’t exactly be broke as a single income household but I like being able to hand over my American Express Black Card with my own name embossed into the titanium. “I know every couple has their rough patches and touchy subjects, money and place of residence happen to be ours, but I can’t help but realize that this isn’t what I’ve always thought dating him would be like.”

“If you really did love someone and they love you back you’d be willing to sacrifice almost everything to make it work.”

“I guess,” I say rubbing the sand onto my calves for exfoliation.

“I mean look at Mike Fisher, he had it made in Ottawa, he was the assistant captain and everyone in that city knew his name But. he was willing to move to Nashville where everyone knows him as the guy who married Carrie Underwood and have everyone call him a pussy for not staying in Ottawa.”

“I hate Nashville’s new jerseys. I swear no one on that team looks good in yellow it washes them out.” I say as I trace my name in the sand. “It must’ve been hard to leave your relationship when you got traded.”

“I wasn’t dating anyone at the time. Not all guys are looking to settle down. Some guys are like you and just want to take it day by day without making any commitments.”

I think for a moment and retrace my relationship time line: Milan, Milly, Milan again. “I’m always either in a relationship or not there’s never any in-between.”

“Really? Well I guess you’re still young, you still have time for your slutty phrase, although most of the time it happens in your senior year of high school but you seem to be a late bloomer. Honestly Ambrosia? You’ve gone on dates just to meet new people?”

“I don’t know if you recall, Mike but I don’t make the greatest first impressions. Is dating different when you’re famous?”

“I guess it’s easier to get dates and everyone has more incentive to make a good impression on you and to seem fun and low-key. I guess delivering your season tickets was the first sign that things had changed.” Mike glances at his watch “Come on Ambrosia time for you to eat, doctor’s orders.” He says pulling me up and leading me to the confession stand. I told Mike about my ‘issue’ after I had come home from the doctors and told me at if I wanted to gain weight I should eat some protein bars, um no thank you.

“I have a hamburger with a fried egg and avocado, a strawberry milk shake, and onion rings and I have a Caesar salad with grilled chicken.” The cashier holding our food accidentally gives Mike the giant bag of deep fried goodness and hands the salad to me. But I guess who could really blame him. Biting into my hamburger, this definitely seems like a much better way of gaining weight.