Booty Nomad - Scott Mebus

How could I have loved the Eater of Souls, you might ask? She played games with my head, she mocked my insecurities, she refused to have sex with me because she said she felt like her dog was watching. Her dog was in New Jersey. She just felt like he was watching. You know, across space and time. He was that kind of dog.

But despite all this she was perfect for me. That is, until one day I woke up and looked over at her sleeping face and noticed something. I was unhappy. I loved her, I ache for her to this day, but I wasn't happy. So I did the hardest and most courageous thing I have ever done. I broke up with her a month later by e-mail. Okay, in many ways, I'm small. But I'm trying to get bigger.

David's a wreck. He doesn't know how to get over the Eater of Souls. He slept with someone else a week later (that was like poking the fresh wound with a salt shaker); he's tried looking at his female friends in a new light ('it would make it so much easier if I already knew the next girl of my dreams'); his friend Annie baked him cookies (she's wonderful, but like a sister); and he's hung out a lot with Jim (who has a kinky thing going with some internet Goth chicks). So far, though, he still feels the Eater there, like a phantom limb after a painful amputation.

And then he meets the Goddess. She's funny; she's beautiful; she works with problem children, for goodness sake: she's perfect. David's clearly got about a one in a million chance of not screwing this up . . .