Chelsea Handler: My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands

Even Nathan couldn't talk back to such an imposing force as LW. LW had James Earl Jones's exact voice and was well over six feet tall, with shoulders you could balance a midget on. Realizing he had no chance against this man, and that by resisting or trying to speak he would just come off looking like an asshole, Nathan had to surrender.

"You're right," he said, with his head down where it belonged.

"Now we're getting somewhere," James Earl Jones said.

"It's just so hard because she works all the time," Nathan said, trying to turn the tables, but I wasn't about to let him overtake me.

"What do you do, dear?" asked Val.

"I work with the blind mostly. Some deafs too," I told her.

Nathan spat a little of his drink out.

"See that? He thinks it's funny. He makes fun of them," I said.

"I do not think it's funny. I don't…" he told Val and LW, trying to regain composure. "I just… I just want her… to be home more."

"I bear that," LW said.

"Beulah, what exactly do you do with the blind?" Val asked.

"I help them compete in relay races," was the next thing I said.

LW put a piece of sushi in his mouth as Val looked at me with a furrowed brow. "And what do you do?" Val asked Nathan.

"I manage musicians," he said.

"Barely," I said. "He only has one band." This part was true, but now it made me look like the asshole. And I had a feeling Val and LW weren't buying my story and I needed to do some damage control.

"I'm sorry, honey. I know you're trying, but what we do for a living isn't the problem. It's the time alone." I looked at Val and LW. "He never wants to have sex and when he does… well…"I drifted off so as to seem unsure about telling them.

"What is it, dear?" asked Val.

Nathan jumped in. "We have plenty of sex," he said haphazardly.

"Yeah, but not the way I like it," I said, then looked at Val and LW with a victim's pained expression. "All he ever wants to do is anal."

Nathan hopped up from the table and raced away as Val stared at me with horror in her eyes. LW lowered his head with one hand held over his forehead.

"I should go find my husband," I said and excused myself.

I strolled around for a few minutes, looking for David Stevenson. When I spotted him lingering by the buffet, I waved across the room and headed in his direction. He made a quick about-face and took off in the other direction.

I went looking for Nathan and found him standing in a corner, with his arms crossed, talking to an older gentleman. I took out my head scarf that I had since been using as a napkin, wrapped it around my forehead, and tied it in a big knot like an Indian chieftain. Then I sauntered up to Nathan and the man and said, "Hello, honey. Who is this you're talking to?"

"Oh, this was my dean, Dean Edwards." Nathan introduced us with a look that said, "Don't say anything" but I was over Nathan and I was over this party, so after a couple of minutes of small talk I leaned in.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have to go take a dump."

Nathan and I met outside by the valet moments later, at which point we had no choice but to laugh uncontrollably until I actually started to wet myself. I hadn't peed in my pants in months! But that had been in Vegas and I was asleep so it didn't really count.

Exactly one week later, I went to a Lakers game on a date. As I walked down the aisle, I bumped directly into Larry William. "Hello, sweetie, how are you?" he asked.

"Oh, wow!" I said, "Hi! Your son must be playing against the Lakers." Larry nodded. "How are you?" I asked.

"Great. Are you here with your husband?" he asked, right in front of my date.

"No, actually we…" There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, which LW, Val, and I had been through before, and then I said, "separated, we separated." Then I leaned in and whispered in LW's ear, "I think he's gay."

LW whispered back in my ear, "I think you might be right."

I introduced my date to LW and Val, and when we parted Val gave me a hug and whispered to me, "We'll pray for you."

"Please do," I responded.

My date and I went to find our seats. When we sat down he turned to me and said, "Well, that's terrific news. How long have you been married?"

IT WAS VALENTINE'S Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romantic movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night.

At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all the time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer.

Then, within the two hour time frame of the movie, the couple meet, fall in love, fall out of love, break up, and then just before the end of the movie, they happen to bump into each other by "coincidence" somewhere absolutely absurd, like by the river. This never happens in real life. The last time I bumped into an ex-boyfriend was at three o'clock in the morning at Rite Aid. I was ringing up Gas-X and corn removers.

Usually, I like to celebrate Valentine's Day by hot-air ballooning around the greater Los Angeles area and pointing out all the different apartment buildings I've slept in. This Valentine's Day was different because I was still in a deep funk from being dumped by a man with skinnier legs than me. If you've ever seen the hind legs of a German shepherd trotting away from you, then you know what my ex-boyfriend's calves looked like.

I had been dating my landlord for about nine months before the breakup. He wasn't the Schneider of One Day at a Time type of landlord, running around the building with a tool belt and a detective's mustache. He was a clean-cut, good-looking, bashful type of guy with a harmless disposition. He owned the building and the one directly next door, which he lived in. After meeting him for the very first time, while signing my lease, I called Ivory to give her the news. "I'm going to have to start dating my landlord."

"Really? Is he hot?" she asked.

"It's not hot. It's something else. He's shy and it's going to take some work. I think he might be scared of me. I'll have to wear him down."

And that's exactly what I did. I called him repeatedly with emergencies such as my pilot light going off (after I blew it out) and my sliding shower doors falling off their tracks (after I dislodged them). This would time and time again lead to coffee and/or a meal. After hanging out together for a couple of months and him not making a move, I finally confronted him. "Listen, landlord man, what's the story here? Are we going to start dating or what? I've got a crush on you and I'm not interested in any new friendships. The only reason I'm hanging out with you all the time is to get in your pants. And I'm exhausted." I had never put so much work into a relationship that hadn't even begun. "Either we become a couple or no more Chelsea."

"Let me think about it," he said.

Two days later he showed up at one of my stand-up shows. "You want to come back to my place?" he asked me afterward, as he walked me outside.

"Yes," I said and found myself skipping for the very first time since puberty.

My landlord was a soft-spoken type and we got along great-but we also fought a lot. He wasn't like any guy I had ever dated before. He was ultraconservative, insecure, and unsure of almost every decision he made. But at the same time he was also thoughtful, very funny, and really good at math. He wanted to spend almost every minute with me, which didn't annoy me like I thought it would.