March 28

Fuck Roger. I don't know what I ever saw in that prick. Can't believe that lately I've been thinking about how I'd love to be married to him. You can't marry someone who doesn't even trust you! You can't even love someone who doesn't trust you! Guess I never loved him then. And he certainly never loved me. Guess I was just a good enough screw to keep around for awhile.

God, how could he!? He's been manipulating my time for months now... I've barely seen any men other than him, gay guys, the pervs at the club and Mark! But, apparently, since I ran into the guy who played Paul all the way back in high school, I've been cheating on him since Christmas. Forget I spent a month going through withdrawal. Forget that I've barely left his side, except for when he got moody and made me leave. Forget that I love him more than anything. Forget the fact that I could have possibly had a life before him! Because if Roger Davis says something it must be so.

I am never setting foot in that loft again. If Mark wants to hang out with me, or try to do some lameass re-matchmaking, he'll have to come down here.

But, you know, I am in the perfect mood to write about after I found out about being sick. I was okay when I found out about HIV. I took my medicine like a good little girl and went to Life Support meetings with Angel. Then-AIDS. Damn, I didn't even know how long I had HIV for before then... I could have gotten it the first time I had sex at 15 for all I knew. This was a death sentence.

Riley's little world of living under influence suddenly was beginning to look very good to me. If I was going to die, I might as well enjoy my time.

I remember my first time. Angel had dragged me to yet another Life Support meeting, which I was beginning to despise. We were all dying and I would have bet my entire wardrobe that we all regretted being sick. Basically the whole meeting was babbling junk that nobody actually believed. I think Angel sensed it was a crap day so she kept trying to hint for me to invite her to stay over. I think she even bought me a chocolate bar. I let her walk me home.

I had been sent to get Riley's drugs a few times while I was still with him, so of course I knew where the dealers were. Good old dealers, out late at night, early in the morning... and recognizing me. I am a pretty girl after all. It felt so good the first time too... The only way to forget about AIDS.

Met my next boyfriend through drugs too. Actually... he was my dealer. I wasn't going to die alone. Tommy Linzer-known to everyone else as "The Man"-26 and another "AIDS victim". There was no love... but there was affection... lust and it was a function relationship. He got sex and I got discounted/free drugs. I knew he got... favours from other customers, but I did think "boyfriend" because we did go on a few "dates". Plus, I remember... instances. Once, I remember him affectionately referring to me as his "little crackwhore", patting my ass, then sending me off to meet with an "important customer". He was too far gone to go himself. The customer was Roger. I remember his spiky-bleached hair and the whiny wannabe-Latina hanging off his arm. "Rogeeee, I'm starting to come down." "Roooogg, this isn't the normal guy, why isn't this the normal guy?" He'd never remember now... I think he was wasted at the time anyway.

That's also about when I started stripping. Even with my connection, I wasn't making enough waitressing. And, frankly, I was fucking glad to get out of that job. Stripping was fun... I loved the attention and at least I was performing for a living. A girl like me could make tons of money doing that.

By the way, Mr. Davis-if you ever read this-I clearly remember you at the club. In fact, I know I'd given you at least 4 lap dances before we "met" on Christmas Eve. Big spender too.

Hypocrite, I bet he's there now.

Not that I care. I despise that man.

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Author's Note: Ha ha! Bitter Mimi is fun! And I still want reviews...

Disclaimer: Mimi, Angel, Mark, Roger, April and The Man are Jonathan Larson's.

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