Surviving The 305 - Part I &II

by Morgan Osman September 03, 2020 38 Comments

When I started to write this blog, I realized it was going to be quite lengthy and detailed. Going back to my “college“ years took me on a really fucking wild ride. As I started to write this, I thought, “Oh my god, how did I survive?" How the fuck did I survive the 305! I moved to Florida at the ripe age of 18, and stayed there for seven years before moving to Los Angeles (at 25.) Not until I started writing this did I realize how erratic and out of control my life was. It makes for a great story now, but I really don’t know how the how I managed to not only get out of there but, to be where I am today. I often miss Miami, my best friends, and the beautiful beaches. I can honestly say I had the absolute best time of my life, and I’ve even considered moving back many times. It’s not the same city it was when I left but, I’m also not the same person I was when I left. With that being said, I’ve decided to split this blog post into two posts; it’s just way too much chaos not to. So! Let’s start at the top. At 18 years old, I started working at the Hooters in Connecticut and made friends with a few girls who were about four years older than me who decided to move to Miami. I let them go first, and soon I followed. But the thing was, they didn’t move to Miami; they moved to North Lauderdale. For those who don’t know, North Lauderdale isn’t exactly Miami. It’s like saying Manhattan to Staten Island. No comparison. I had no car, no money, and no job. When I arrived at the apartment, she had an air mattress, half full of air, and nothing else. She lived in the middle of nowhere, and of course, I was immediately homesick but, I also was so happy to be in FL. We slept on a half-inflated air mattress for about a month. I don’t even remember how we moved out but, we did. First on the list was a job, and I was hired at the Hooters in Fort Lauderdale on A1A. My roommate and I had a very bizarre friendship. We worked at the same Hooters, the same shifts, and we were close friends, yet she STILL wouldn’t bring me to and from work. I would have to ask my other co-workers for rides and often took the bus in my full Hooters uniform ya know, the tiny orange shorts and high socks. Yea, that. I have an excellent memory, but for some reason, there’s a lot of gaps in these years. All I remember is I was always broke, I smoked a pack of Newports a day, and I moved back to Connecticut twice before I finally moved to FL for good. She and I moved around a lot, and we worked at a few different Hooters before we finally made our way down to Miami. Outside of work, she and I partied together non stop, and we were pretty close. I had a fake ID from Connecticut that looked nothing like me that said I was 27. We worked at the Hooters in the Hardrock Casino in Hollywood, FL. Not Hollywood, California. Hollywood, Florida. We would go out after work and get so drunk and high I literally don’t remember much. One night we decided it would be a great idea to get matching heart tattoos on our shoulders. We each get a red heart on BOTH of our shoulders. HUH?! WHY! And we drew them ourselves. They were so stupid we woke up and didn’t even remember getting them, AND we weren’t allowed tattoos at work. We had to wear band-aids on our shoulders to cover them EVERY shift. Disgusting. I had them removed a few years ago. Another night, we took GHB and I got violently sick and while my friend was trying to park in a parking garage. I opened my door, and it legit came off on a pole. He wasn't all the way parked when I opened it. It caught on the huge cement pole and ripped right off the hinges of his girlfriends (my best friend) brand new Lexus. Wild! Anyway! After countless nights out, they took my fake ID from me, this I remember so vividly. I remember walking up to the door guy and knowing I wasn’t going to get in, and they kept it. After that, I had moved back to Connecticut and then to NYC. I was living with two girls I didn’t know at all. I later found out one was a stripper, and one was an escort. I started working at the Hooters in Manhattan while living with them in the tiniest pink apartment in Queens. I was all over the place. My life was a disaster. I’m deliberately skipping a lot of information because I could go on forever but, let’s just say it was wild. We would sniff Ketamine, aka Special K [ Description: Ketamine is a medication mainly used for starting and maintaining anesthesia. It induces a trance-like state while providing pain relief, sedation, and memory loss. Other uses include sedation in intensive care and treatment of pain and depression. Wikipedia ] in the bathroom at work. Sniffing K, walking around Hooters like zombies serving people food. I'm laughing (now) because it was so fun but, writing it feels so weird. We would get so fucked up and end up out for days and days at a time. I would take the train from Queens to work in Manhattan with 99% of my belongings on my back in a bag every shift. It was a black and white checkered Betsey Johnson bag and lived out of it. I was in NY for maybe two months, and it was the dead of winter. I’ll never forget, I wore fake uggs with no hard sole on the bottom (more like slippers), and they would get soaking wet, and my feet would be frozen. My ex-boyfriend would drop (around) $100 off to me every other week. He was a DJ that was much older than me and ended up dating my sister. Yes, my sister. My boyfriend and my sister seriously dated, weird, I know. Even weirder, I’ve never spoken about my sister, so let’s just leave that there. I often forget about her but, her ex recently DM me and apparently she reads this. I don’t know or care...MAYBE one day I’ll tell that story but, that story is worth a lot more than your $2.49. Trust me.   

HOOTERS DAYS:

I was working in Manhattan when I got an email that they were casting for a reality show called Bad Girls Club. I had watched the show every Tuesday for years. I was obsessed with it. I didn’t have cable, so I would go watch it at my friend's house. I vividly remember telling her, “I’m going to be on this show one day.” Years later, here I was, standing in line at the casting for the show. Hundreds of girls stood in a line wrapped around the block of a huge corporate NYC building. I walked all the way to the front of the line as if I had already been chosen. I had on the cheapest fake leather boots, tie-dye leggings, a fake leather jacket, long jet black ratty hair extensions, and a serious ego. They interviewed us in groups of 10. After skipping the entire line, they escorted me into the room with the other girls. We each went around the room answering a few questions when they told everyone they could leave, except me. I made it through the first round. I couldn’t believe it. In hindsight - I CAN BELIEVE IT but, then I was shocked. The 2nd interview was two days later, where they filmed us individually for over an hour. In the interview, they said, “This year the show doesn’t take place in LA, it’s in Miami.” I almost fell out of the chair. I had been dying to get back down to Miami but didn’t have a way. I was like “Wow! This is really happening.” They handed me a packet to fill out and said “Don’t lose it, see you in Miami.” I still didn’t know if I was 100% picked for the show but, I knew I needed to be in Miami if I even stood a chance. I didn’t have a way back down to Miami. How the fuck was I going to pull this off?! I was so excited that I left the packet on the train lost, never to be found again. I told my roommates "We HAVE to get back down to Miami," and the escort, that I didn’t know was an escort, said “I have a friends house we can stay at in Fort Lauderdale.” (about 40 min from Miami) I vaguely remember the move but, next thing you know I was in a house in Fort Lauderdale sharing a bedroom with her. It was a 3 bedroom house and the other rooms were decorated (very juvenile) but empty. I didn’t know why. After a few days, I got a job working at a pain clinic\pill mill. My friend worked there and wanted to quit so I took her position. I would take a taxi to work everyday, and then one day I realized there was a “house” driver. This Haitian dude used to give the girls (by now a few girls had moved in and out of the house) rides. He drove a white Taurus and I didn’t know where he would bring them but, I didn’t care. I minded my business and asked him if I gave him $20 if he would bring me to and from work. He did for a few weeks before my (escort) friend came up to me and said “The guy who owns the house wants you to leave. You can’t use his driver, he isn’t making money off of you.” I was so confused because I still didn’t catch on to what she meant. I was proud to have a job at the pain clinic and it was just supposed to be temporary until Bad Girls Club called, so I hoped. I abruptly had to move out of there with one suitcase and my black and white checkered bag. I moved in with a couple in Miami. I was making $900 a week from the pain clinic plus about $2000 a week in tips. Tips at a doctors office weird, I know. People would pay to cut other people in line, and we would pocket the money. I got so good at this I would leave my coworkers sunroof cracked and I would tell the people to drop the tip in the car so that my boss wouldn’t catch me on the cameras. This is a whole other topic that I could go on forever about but, basically years later we found out it was like a Ponzi Scheme. These pill mills popped up on every corner in Broward county, Florida. They illegally forged peoples MRI’s and paid doctors to diagnose people with severe back pain and prescribed them OxyContin - hardcore narcotics. Any and every one came. Hundreds of patients a day. I worked the front desk and had no idea it was all fake/illegal. I knew it wasn’t exactly correct, but I didn’t know the MRI’s were fake. My job was to simply check the patient in, what happened in doctors room wasn’t my business. The owner and his wife were so nice. When I was abruptly kicked out of the whore house, (that I didn’t know I was in) my boss would drive out of his way to pick me up in Miami and bring me back up North Florida to work at the pain clinic. He did this every morning. The apartment I moved into in Miami was so nice. It was a huge 3 bedroom brand new South Beach Penthouse and I had my own room - BUT of course, there was a catch. It had already gone into eviction. My friend told me I could move in but, I’d have to pay $900 a month even though they had already been legally kicked out. I made $900 a week, before my tips, so it was fine with me. I was just trying to survive before Bad Girls Club. 

Throwback, IDK When:

I finally received the call that I was waiting for. The producers of the show called and said I would be one of the cast members and not to tell anyone. In just a few short weeks, the show would start filming. I informed my boss that I would be leaving, and it was perfect timing to get out of that apartment. While I was living there, the couple was constantly fighting, and he was abusive towards his girlfriend. It was so uncomfortable I couldn’t wait to leave. Here is where I’ve decided to skip the whole part about Bad Girls Club because that is a blog on its own. I went on the show, and I left the show. Everything in between will be discussed at a later date. Was I homeless upon arrival, no. Was I homeless when I left the show, no. I moved in with my boyfriend, who appeared on the show, and we stayed together for three years. Anyway, moving on. After the show, I went back to the same occupation at the pain clinic. I stayed there for a few months before it abruptly closed, and a serious investigation began with the FBI. I wanted nothing to do with that and started to look for a new job immediately. I think just before the age of 22, I started bartending at a nightclub called Mansion. Let’s not forget that during all of this, I was a heavy recreational drug user (if that makes sense,) and still living out of one suitcase and one bag at my boyfriends. Every chance we got, we were taking ecstasy or cocaine but, somehow still functioning. Don’t ask me how but, I always made it to work, and I always made it home safe. I weigh 120 pounds, I’ve never really weighed more, and I have mixed and done countless drugs for days and days at a time. I don’t think I’ll be able to explain the level of debauchery and chaos, but, at the same time, I feel like it was my “college” years. People do the most insane shit in their early 20s, and I had no guidance. I was just trying to survive and make the best of it. While working at Mansion, I never drank. We were allowed to drink but, I chose not to. I would go home to my boyfriend every night at 5AM, crawl into bed, and do it again the next day. My boyfriend worked a corporate job, and Monday through Thursday, we were “normal.” Friday - Sunday, we took drugs and stayed out for days at a time. In Miami, the nightlife never stopped. It shouldn’t even be called nightlife because it continued all throughout the day. We would start on Friday night, and we would come home Monday morning. My boyfriend and I met at a pool party/rave, and from the day we met, we never left each other side for three years. Our relationship was absolute chaos. He was semi-controlling mixed with egotistical, and I was just desperate for somewhere to live mixed with infatuated by his ego. We met partying, and that was the foundation of our relationship. Anytime that we were out together, we had the best time ever. He was my best friend. Past that, I don’t think we had much in common. In these three years, I got a roommate in the same building as my boyfriend so that we weren’t always on top of each other. I put my belongings with my roommate, but I stayed with my boyfriend. The more nights I worked, the more he went out alone, which inevitably lead him to cheat on me. I’ll never forget, I was bartending, and a girl came up to me and said, “I sucked your boyfriends dick in the hallway.” That was it. From that day on, I was an absolute beast. We broke up, I moved in with the roommate permanently, and I partied non stop. I would drink before work, take Adderall, drink at work, smoke cigarettes and do coke every night. Literally, every night. I got into countless fights at work. I was known all around Miami for fighting, which is so comical to me now. I have way too much surgery to be getting into fights - although we never know with me. I had so much built-up anger I just didn’t give one fuck. If you guys think I don’t give a fuck now, you definitely would be scared to see me then. As I write this, it's just so cringe. I would get into so many fights that one-night club refused to hire me because they knew this. The person running the night club said, “You beat my girlfriend up. We can’t hire you.” [[I’m cracking up by the way.]] I got into physical fights at after-hours clubs, outside of my own job on the street, inside my workplace and one of the most embarrassing times, with a new boyfriend. I had met a guy in Mexico at a rave, and we started dating when we got back to Miami. On one of the nights out with him, he said, “Morgan, please don’t get into a fight.” Not but 10 minutes later, in front of his corporate coworkers, was I on the ground fighting with some random girl. We started the fight at one night-club, and somehow she ended up with my cell phone. She was to meet me and give the cell phone back at another night club. She came, and we started physically fighting again. We had never met each other. There was no reason for us to be fighting. I find this absolutely hilarious as I write it. What the fuck was going on?! It’s not funny. To sum it up - for years I partied, and for years I got into fights. There’s a lot in between but, let’s skip to the good part. That guy and I dated for about eight months when he told me I needed to stop partying so much. I would go to work, get so fucked up, and not go home. We didn’t live together. By now, I had my own apartment that was actually really nice. It was $4000 a month. He said, “Something’s going to happen to you, you have to be careful.” A story was circling the beach about a couple who got into a fight at an after-hours spot in Miami, and the boyfriend left the girlfriend at the club. When the girlfriend left, she was killed, chopped up, and later found in a dumpster. He was worried something would happen to me if I didn’t take better care of myself. I would go to these after-hours places and leave in a taxi alone for years and years. I didn’t think anything would ever happen to me. Boy, was I wrong. He had just bought me my first nice piece of jewelry for my birthday. I begged him for a Rolex. I knew he didn’t want to buy it, but he did. Not even a week later, I was leaving after hours because I lost my purse inside, but, right before doing so, we found it. After almost losing my purse that night, I jumped in a taxi alone, and I woke up on the side of the road, luckily close to my apartment. I hadn’t realized it, but the taxi driver robbed me. A bit shaken up and confused, I went upstairs to my apartment and passed out. When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t believe what had happened. My passport, purse, cell phone and Rolex was gone. How I didn’t notice before is beyond me. I fell asleep in the taxi, and when I came to the next morning, I was distraught. My boyfriend and I were already on a break and I couldn’t dare tell him the news. Since I didn’t have a phone I couldn’t reach anyone. I jumped in the car and went to see a friend of mine who later became a (sort of) boyfriend of mine. So, is your head spinning yet? Because mine is. This was the life I lived day in and day out from 18 until about 24. Obviously, Rolex guy wasn’t happy and we broke up. This “friend” of mine asked if he could move into my apartment temporarily. He was from California and needed a place to stay while he looked for an apartment in Miami. He just turned 21 years old. I said yes, and he moved into my living room. Obviously, we started dating. Sort of. This “relationship” was very bizarre. I got pregnant by him in less than a month…

TO BE CONTINUED !

Part 2 - Saturday, Sept 12th.

 

Bad Girls Club (That's Me, In The Middle):

"Working" at Mansion AKA Partying:

Liana and I:

(We worked and partied together. She didn't party as hard as I, no one did. We both worked at Mansion, and we both made it out alive...barely.) She has an amazing blog I've linked for you guys.

https://www.lianawho.com/welcome-to-my-blog/

 

Miami age 21-24:

 

 

Sincerely,

That Bitch! 

 

PART 2 Baby: 

October 2012.

I had just finished my 8 month relationship with Rolex guy when I started a very messy chapter of my life. Literally, the day I ended everything with him was the day another “man” entered my life. Well, he wasn’t a man at all. He was a kid. I had met him when he was 18 on a night out in Miami. I didn’t know he was 18 years old and I didn’t see him again for the next three years. I don’t remember where I ran back into him but, when he was 21 years old he popped back up, and this time for a while. He asked if he could stay in my living room while he looked for an apartment in Miami. I know I’m “Still That Bitch” but, I’m actually not really a bitch at all. Given how I grew up, I have such a soft spot for people - especially people in need. Without thinking twice, I said yes, and he moved in that day. His version of move-in was some T-shirts, sweatpants and sneakers. Like I said, he was a kid. A good looking kid at least. We went out every single night Monday through Sunday, got absolutely wasted and hooked up. It was never supposed to be a relationship from either of us, it kind of just happened because he was in my living room. This went on for only a few weeks before my (Miami) life changed forever. If you haven’t noticed, I take Halloween very serious. I love dressing up and in Miami we were super sexy and partied our asses off every year. That year, I went to the night club Story with my girlfriend, my best friend of nine years. As we were walking through the night club a surgeon I “knew,” who had preformed surgery on me, approached us. I say “knew” because I didn’t know him at all. All I knew was he was a great surgeon, married and lived a fun life. I didn’t know anything past that. Him and his wife were always out TOGETHER. She was beautiful but, I didn’t know much about her either. He walked up to us and said “I’m sorry I don’t have room at my table for you two, would you like me to go to the bar and buy you a drink.” I immediately said “No, no thank you we’re fine,” and walked away. We never wanted to be at their table, we were just passing by. I remember my gut telling me something was off even though it was simply a kind gesture “Can I get you girls a drink.” I’m not stupid, and I thought it was a bit bizarre that he would offer to bring us to the bar and get us a drink. Anyway. Maybe an hour or two later, we bumped into him again walking through the club, and he asked for my number. I (again) found it a bit strange and I was nervous but, I thought maybe it’s for something businesswise or who fucking knows. Maybe I wasn’t even thinking at all and I was just high and drunk, but I do remember it not sitting that well with me. I gave him my number and went home. The next night I received a text message from him asking if we wanted to join his table again at the same night club. I assumed his wife would be with him, honestly and truly I didn’t have any bad intentions. - [Side-note: this couple throws extravagant Halloween parties every year so it wasn’t strange that he was inviting me out on Halloween.] One year while leaving their party, he yelled “Morgan is the most beautiful woman in Miami” and she casually laughed it off and said “Oh ———— shut up let’s go.” That was a year or two prior. I never thought anything of it, and I didn’t even realize he knew my name. Anyway. My girlfriend and I got all dressed up and met him outside of my building. I lived just two blocks from the night club, I went to this club five times a week and would walk home. I thought “No big deal right?” Wrong! This night changed my life forever. And by forever I actually mean forever because as I write this as a 32-year-old woman it is still fresh like it just happened. The events that transpired after this simple night out have carried over the last 8/9 years of my life. I feel compelled to write about this to 1. clear the air and 2. I think it’s important for me to know that I was the victim. Yes, I was the victim. Let’s continue. His wife was not with him that night. He was with a group of friends from Los Angeles, all couples. Again again again, this was strange. I now know. In the moment it didn’t feel right but, you don’t know what to do. It also wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had I. We partied all night and I think my girlfriend and I snuck out at one point or another. Maybe he dropped us off, I don’t remember. A day or two later he text me asking if I would go to dinner with him. As many red flags as there were I just never in my wildest dreams imagined that this man had any “desires” for me. His wife IS (not was) beautiful, his life was fun, everyone knows him and everyone knows me. I didn’t think it was possible for it to be anything more than a harmless dinner. In case you forgot about the kid living in my living room, he caught wind of this and was not happy about it. When I told him I was going to dinner he threw the biggest fit but, I assured him it was simply dinner. This kid became very obsessed with me over the next few months but, I’ll get to that in a minute. The doctor picked me up for dinner in his Range Rover and we went to a spot that him and his wife go to weekly, The Forge. How the hell was I supposed to think anything (harmful) of it. I was 24 years old. I had no surgery except a boob job. Who the fuck doesn’t have a boob job by 24?! That’s it. Tiny teeth, big nose, little lips, no ass, dark hair and broke. Not to mention, I towered over him. His wife is covered in surgery head to toe, blonde, designer everything and short (like him.) We sat down to dinner and I just spit it out right then and there “What do you want from me, does your wife know that you’re here?” I’ll never forget how calm he was. Well, he’s a calm guy in general, but yea. He calmly said “Yes, of course she knows. I don’t want anything from you don’t worry. Just an innocent dinner between friends.” But, we weren’t friends - at all. I had only interacted with him once when he did my surgery and he didn’t flirt with me. After assuring me that his wife knew we were there I immediately thought “Do they want to have a threesome with me? Maybe they are swingers.” I heard around the beach that they were but again, they weren’t in my “circle.” The dinner was harmless and he dropped me back off without touching me or making me uncomfortable. And here is where the BOMB was dropped. The next day, I got a call from him asking if I wanted to go to lunch on the weekend. Clearly I said yes, he picked me up and we went off of the beach downtown Miami to this little lunch spot. Now, downtown is nice but, at the time it wasn’t. Immediate red flag. Why were we going somewhere unknown as if we were hiding. We sat down to lunch and the FIRST thing he said to me was “I’m leaving my wife for you.” THE FIRST FUCKING THING. We never even kissed. We didn’t even know each others fucking middle name. I don’t know. All I know is I was BEYOND shocked. I mean to my core. By now, the kid living with me was really starting to give me a hard time. In general. It started to feel like a relationship when it was never supposed to be. Back to the lunch, the doctor asked “Do you have a boyfriend?” I said no, and he proceeded to tell me that him and his wife had not had intercourse in over three months, he wanted children but she pretended to have fertility issues, and how she scheduled all of her appointments at night so she didn’t have to see him when he got home from work blah blah blah. You get it. He unloaded and I WAS NOT ready. I genuinely found myself so confused and wondered “Why me?!” Why!!!!!!!! I later pieced together why me. For starters, her and I have the same birthday. Fun fact - The mother of Plein’s son and I have the same birthday as well. You get it. Also, the surgeons wife and I supposedly have a similar upbringing and lived a similar party life. He met her in Vegas, she lived in a studio apartment, offered her a Bentley and she went running to Miami. He was baffled when the same didn’t work for me. Over the next month he sent me hundreds of flowers a day, offered me a G Wagon (at my age and in my tax bracket, that was a really big deal) shopping and gifts nonstop, eventually taking my girlfriend and I to Vegas. I never took him up on the car and I never went shopping. I easily could have but, I didn’t. I planned Vegas around my girlfriends birthday in November purposely so it looked like that was why I was going to the little kid. He wasn’t stupid, and little did I know, he had already hacked my iCloud. I also wanted my girlfriend to come so I could be sure we had two rooms and I didn’t end up alone with the doctor. I was not into the doctor as much as he was in to me. I actually started to have serious feelings for the kid in the living room LOL and the doctor slowly became a burden. My girlfriend and I flew to Vegas. On our first night out we passed the Chanel boutique where the doctor said he wanted to take me the next day. We partied all night long and the doctor and I went back to the hotel together. We went to his room and I don’t know what happened to her. To be very clear, he always insisted his wife knew and that she had agreed to separate. She was to move to Fischer Island and he was building a new home on Star Island. Once back in the room together, I remember he attempted to kiss me and I kind of pulled away. He could tell I wasn’t feeling it and he didn’t pressure me. I mean, it was our first time alone together so I don’t think he expected that I just take my clothes off. I was never promiscuous, and all of this was just so bizarre to me. I definitely wasn’t turned on. I was beyond nervous and confused. I didn’t sleep in his room that night. I went back to my girlfriends room and passed out. The next day he took me to Chanel and I got my first Chanel bag. I later sold it to pay my rent. The kid living with me didn’t believe my girlfriendand I had gone innocently to Las Vegas. He hacked my iCloud but, I didn’t know. He was very well aware that I was with the doctor. The more I lied the more infuriated he became. I was lying because I didn’t actually  want to be there. I don’t know how and I don’t know why but there I was, in Las Vegas, with someone else’s husband not knowing what the fuck I was doing. Nothing sexual transpired and we all went back to Miami.

Once back in Miami, him and I developed more of a relationship but still not intimate. By now, some people were aware of the situation and I remember thinking “This isn’t going to end well.“ What the surgeon and his wife didn’t know is that I got pregnant by the kid in the living room. So, while I was ENTANGLED in a marriage, I was also pregnant by a “homeless” little 21 year old from California. I didn’t know I was pregnant yet, and I continued to see the doctor a few times a week for dinners. He even came to my apartment once and I cooked us dinner, stuffed peppers to be exact lol. The relationship never developed and you could feel the awkwardness. One night, I was out doing a ton of drugs with a guy that knew the both of us. He said “What the fuck are you doing Morgan? You know this is really bad and it’s not going to look good for you.” I was so high. I remember the guilt set in, mixed with the confusion, mixed with defense. I said “It’s not me I swear. I don’t even want to talk about it. It’s nothing.” To me, it was NOTHING. It was one big fucking headache, that’s what it was. I didn’t give a shit about his wife finding out because he SWORE she knew. I cared about the little kid finding out more. The surgeon insisted that his wife knew “I am leaving you for Morgan.” Seriously. That’s what he told me time and time again - He told her to her face “I am leaving you for Morgan.” So much so, that one night while him and I were out at a nightclub together, she was right across the room in front of us and he didn’t even flinch. Obviously by now, I believed him. I mean, she flat out saw him and I out together and neither of them reacted. I would beat a bitch to the ground if she was with my husband. A few nights later, he pulled up in front of my building and showed me a hand written note that she had left on the counter for him. On a small piece of paper, about five pages actually, she poured her (fake) heart out. He laughed at the note and said it was all bullshit she was just scared because she didn’t want to receive (only) $10,000 a month and not move into their new mansion on Star Island. At the time the home was being built, he had sent me all of the renderings and was telling me that I would move in there and this would be my closet and asked me what finishes I wanted. Let’s just say, I definitely wouldn’t have went with the tacky blue mosaic tiles. I had it all in my email but, I didn’t want her life. I didn’t want this drama. I literally found myself in the biggest messiest pile of shit I have ever been in. I had been through a lot of shit but, this was the first time I realized that this was going to be some seriously life-changing shit. You cannot involve yourself in someone’s relationship of seven years and think you’re going to come out scot-free. I knew this. I’m no idiot. So I said to him “You and your wife are going to end up back together and I’m am going to be the villain. I’m going to look like I tried to steal someone’s husband.” He assured me this would never happen. I knew that he was just so fucking naive and oblivious to what was going on around him. And that’s the thing with him, he was/is a super naive nice person. She runs the show, not him. It’s VERY obvious. Remember, I said her and I have the same birthday and we’re really similar? Yea. Let me tell you something. She knew every thing that was going on and knew how to manipulate the entire situation so that she looked like the victim and I looked like a homewrecker. She even had a short lived relationship with a football player. The doctor laughed about it, he wasn't moved in the slightest. He was really over her and really wanted out. She hacked his iCloud, the little kid hacked my iCloud and for the next I don’t know - month, it was pure hell. It became a huge web of lies, the beach started to find out and I started to feel the repercussions. The little kid was so angry and bitter that he reached out to the wife and they had a dinner together. While the surgeon and I were at dinner, the wife and the little 21 year old were also at a dinner. I said to the surgeon “Your wife is not happy and I think her and the kid (living with me) are at dinner together.” The doctor stupidly did not believe me. He literally made me prove that they were out together because that’s how fucking naive he was. Around Thanksgiving, I found out I was pregnant. The same day I had an abortion. While I was coming out of the local anesthesia, I text the doctor that I had dental work. Since I was so “out of it,” the little kid grabbed my phone and saw me text the doctor. He was absolutely repulsed. He couldn’t believe I was texting someone else after just aborting his child. In hindsight, it sounds/looks so bad but, in the moment it really wasn’t that serious to me. I wasn’t gonna have a kid by a 21-year-old. And I wasn’t going to be with the doctor. I didn’t really give a shit about any of it. This obviously pushed the kid over the edge. We got back to the apartment and he put my cell phone in the toilet while I was still bleeding from the abortion. I bleached all of his clothes, threw them in the hallway and kicked him out.  I sort of told the doctor what happened and he bought me a new phone. As we approached December, this started to become really heavy. A lot of small events took place in the following weeks. Everything happened so fast. Every single day something new transpired and I was exhausted. I was living so many lives without even meaning to, without even being happy or fulfilled. Nothing in any of the situations was benefiting me. Not the kid, not the surgeon and not myself. It was a nightmare and I didn’t know how to get out. On one hand, I was flattered but uninterested. On the other hand, I was pissed but intrigued. I’m not going to lie. I wanted to know the “end” because the “middle” was a pointless disaster. The end was near but it’s never REALLY ended. I don’t think this blog post will help but, this is MY chance to tell MY side. On one of the last times him and I went out together, he said to me "You don't like me, you don't even kiss me." That's how innocent I was. Not entirely, but given everything, I was pretty innocent. He sort of crawled back to his wife and our last encounter was New Years Eve 2013. Diddy was having his annual New Year’s Eve Party on Star Island, Miami. I was on cocaine as I left work (bartending) at Mansion to go to the party. I arrived in booty shorts, fishnets and thigh high boots - my work uniform. They didn’t want to let me in at the door because they said it was a formal event (and I was dressed like skank trash.) After begging, they let me in. It was a set up. The kid was by the pool and so was the wife. She started SCREAMING at the top her lungs and throwing her body all over. She too was on drugs per usual. “Get her out! Get her out! Where is ————“ She was furious that I was there and I could understand why. She was screaming for her husband and I just kept saying “I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. I never meant any of this.” I never did mean any of it. I truly was (still am) sorry that any of it happened. Her husband came running over, picked her up and dragged her out. I’m 99% sure, that was the end. I don’t really remember.

Over the next days, weeks, months AND years this went on to haunt me. Every single chance she got to embarrass or harass me she did. On social media her and her friends were relentless. In person, I would mop the floor with her (aka beat her ass) but, I never felt that way because I knew I was wrong. So every time she was a bully bitch in public, I let it slide. Every single time. I put my head down and walked away. FOR YEARS. Do you know how hard this is in front of your peers. People I knew for 7/10 years. Even with my temper, I took it. No one knew my side. I've never got to tell it. They only know what the "rich housewife" claims happened. Since moving out of Miami, she never let up. This is the part I don’t understand. Why? Why would she want to carry on like this for SO LONG?! I said sorry. I DIDN’T sleep with him. I didn’t persuade him to leave her. Believe it or not, I STILL wouldn’t want that man and he’s a great man. Just because someone is rich or nice doesn’t mean he’s for you. I knew the moment I crossed paths with him he would never be for me. I could have easily had sex with him, had a 3/4 month affair, went shopping and maybe even ended their marriage. But no. Not my style. She pretended everything was perfect with him while she took all of her anger out on me. She’s much older than me and I just find it pathetic that STILL to this day, she hasn’t let it go. I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy? But I don’t think so. If you ask me they are. He was wrong to pursue me and she IS wrong for dragging it for this long. This 1000% pushed me out of Miami. When I got to LA I didn’t realize that she had already spread the “news.” Many housewives knew and people were talking. I was bullied by a girl on Shahs of Sunset (a popular reality show) at a birthday party because of this story. She is currently going through divorce. Rumor has it, her Persian man is controlling and she couldn’t take another minute of it. Karma? - I left the party in an Uber hysterical. Another time, about four years ago, while visiting Miami, the wife took it upon herself to stalk my Instagram stories, find me at SoHo house and taunt me with about seven other women. The music went off and she started screaming at the top of her lungs “Morgan Osman is a fucking whore, you’re a fucking whore.” By now I had enough. I was done being nice and apologizing. I screamed back at her “Shouldn’t you be at home taking care of your child (she desperately had a surrogate to save the marriage) it’s not my fucking fault your husband didn’t want you.” Yupp. I said that. I was so sick of this woman’s bullying and all of the drama that came with it, I snapped. She’s a pussy and would never say that shit to my face. It’s always hiding behind some security guard. But I’m smarter than that. I tipped the security guard $100 and RAN right into her face. She was outside of SoHo house waiting for her Escalade when I just caught her. I got nose to nose with her and told her that “I’m going to beat your fucking face in if you don’t shut the fuck up” because I was so fucking sick of her. Her little posse stopped me and so did a different security guard. I think that was our last altercation in person. As I finish this post I know it’s been quite passive aggressive because every time I want to say sorry, I’m reminded of how much pain and stress the situation caused me. I can honestly say that I don’t think it caused their marriage nearly as much pain or problems. OK, for 3/4 months her husband "hypothetically" had an affair. But I’m here to say that it was not an affair and they have now been together for well over 11 years. If anything, I made their marriage stronger. She has since gone on to have two (surrogate) children. They seem happy, although I’m constantly told otherwise. And I can imagine after this she will make it a point to prove they are just SOOOO PERFECT. Yea yea. Mhmmmmm. Everyone knows they aren’t. Legit, everyone. I was recently told that she said she “Could maybe be in the same room as me.” Ha! If only she knew. I DON’T want to be in the same room as her. What a cheeky peace offering that I am supposed accept? No. Not unless it's mature and genuine. I’m so sorry for my part and I will forever and ever tell her that. But what you won’t do is continue to spread lies and defame me because you don’t want you/your husband to look bad. Facts are facts. And that’s just that. That was really long but, if you can’t tell it was important that I let it out. It has literally lingered like a dark cloud for the last almost 9 years. This segues perfectly into my next post -  “Did you get paid after talking about me or are you still broke?” Not to be taken literal but, did you? The world runs on rumors, drama, lies and defamation. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day someone is killing themselves or ashamed of themselves based on what other people think of them. We have gotten so used to disrespecting each other and hurting one another to such extremes. If you ask me, her and I could have talked it out personally and went our separate ways a long fucking time ago. She wanted to drag it out. She wanted to ruin me. She can’t or couldn’t, I’m not sure, except the fact that her husband was guilty as well. However they repaired the relationship and whatever happens behind closed doors is on them. I’m happy to put it behind me and move on. I recently, about two months ago, was at a business meeting when I was reminded of this horrific time in my life. The guy said “You know why I didn’t work with you years ago? Because "Shahs of Sunset" girl told me not to, she told me you were with someone’s husband in Miami.” It’s just never ending. So as I close this out I’ve said my peace - I can’t wait to blog about bullying and mental health. Thank you all for following this twisted, fucked up, really hard to explain chapter in my life.

If you’re wondering what happened to the kid in the living room, we “broke up” and he also went on a huge hate spree. He became friends with every single person that I was not friends with. He slandered my name all over. I would say rightfully so, but no. We had literally (maybe) been together for three months and it was never a real relationship. Obviously, when you’re with someone 24.7 feelings develop but, it stopped there. He too went on to bully me all over the world in all different circles for years. He once punched me in my face in Ibiza at 10am leaving a club. He laid me out in the parking lot like 3 years later. Weird, huh. He ran all over California spreading hate lies. All that good stuff. The only funny/good thing is, he introduced me to Ravi. Small world. I met Ravi with this kid nearly 8 years ago. THE END! 

 

Sincerely,

That Bitch!

- If you or someone you know is afraid of me telling my story (involving them), they should(n't) be. I'm just so fucking elated to have this platform and I plan on continuously using it to entertain, enlighten, spread knowledge and speak my truth. X

 

 

 

 

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