My coffee is too Dark Today

I’m drinking coffee out of a mug that I bought at a casino after my boyfriend and I broke into the chapel to fuck in it, only to leave and realize that we had been right in front of the security camera the whole time.

According to Esther Perel in Mating in Captivity, most affairs don’t last past the marriage that they are a part of. I wonder what this means for the boy.

Ironically, he’s taken a liking to these shoes (I dangerously clicked away – I do love dressing my men, or at least I like my men dressed well and god knows how incompetent they are at doing a god damn fucking thing, but I don’t want to spend all my time looking at shoes.) and I can already feel the lack of excitement when I see that he’s texted, and when I saw the shoes I immediately thought of other more useful things I could spend 400 bucks on, and then considered how I might be able to go about reselling this ring I bought for him, debated whether or not I should place the order for the custom Halloween themed bondage equipment I was going to have made, etc etc etc.

Looking at it, I am a really awesome girlfriend, and the boy is kind of not in my league on that. At all. My boyfriend was actually an awesome boyfriend, and I know this as I drink out of this mug from one of our least expensive vacations.

And god knows if I pick one man for the rest of my life, I need someone who knows how to eat pussy. Because wt actual f is with a grown man who doesn’t.

Maybe I took the opportunity to break up with him because I needed something more to think about than this disaster that is happening in my body. Maybe I’m sick of having to fake happiness. I just want one last shot at life, after this court case, after everything. I’m not old, but to be honest, I was dating an old man, and maybe life would be different if I went out on a limb and had an actual relationship.

I feel a scratchy hand like feeling stroke the back of my heart, one finger extending to stroke the bottom of my esophagus. I know what it means, but it’s a fear rather than hope.

I will see my ex next month, in court. I saw him in December.

I miss my boyfriend now, and thinking of my ex, I don’t miss him with the same intensity. Is this what rebounds are for? Was this all just a 5 year rebound?

Why the fuck am I so slow… this post failed to take off, and just as I get my wits about me, my coffee is done.

If you buy a man shoes, he will walk out of your life wearing those same shoes

My Haitian girlfriend, who is giving me a headache right now and blowing up my phone with a bunch of drama that I can not tell is exactly what percentage fabricated and what percentage self manufactured (omg same) reminded me of this proverb last weekend in the midst of being a thorough pain in my ass.

I kind of don’t care if he does. I just hope he takes good care of those shoes.

I love the shoes I bought my boyfriend.

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