I did a little better today, not much but still.
I completed my workout last night, and did some very essential things, took melatonin (but just remembered that I didn’t take my vitamins yesterday, but will today) and the boy let me know that he scheduled a nice getaway for us later on in the month.
I’m not sure if I want to text my brother about father’s day plans, though I miss him dearly. I’m not sure if I want to text my academic friend about the apartment that’s going up for rent later this month, though I do want to be a good friend. I’m not sure if I want to text my side dude back today, because I have things to do and don’t want to fuck him.
Last night I dreamed of work, real work. I have to handle that as well.
I’m slow today, groggy. Not sure why, but I do want to shake it. I hope this helps, but so far it hasn’t.
Last night, after everything else, I wrote up the outline for the conversation that I’m supposed to have with the boy this weekend. Unlike my most recent ex (I have to come up with a new moniker for him, the only ex I have is *the* ex… and besides, I miss him and will probably email him a “now that it’s over” email at some point when I have time) he did not try to get out of the conversation, he was actually looking forward to it, and I put it off.
Talking about the boy energizes me, drives me forward in ways that nothing else here does. While he does crowd my thoughts, I definitely should be thinking about other things, at least it clears the fog from my brain where I can’t think anything at all. Maybe I got Coronavirus. Maybe I should offer the upstairs apartment to my side dude instead, so he can fully realize how much I love this boy by listening to us loudly fucking (and sometimes fighting) every weekend.
That would be cruel, and I never want to be cruel to him. I do want him to get at this cheap rent, though. I definitely don’t want to have it taken by some new new york asshole. Or worse, that beached whale <=== this is my new moniker for the chick who wants to sleep with my boy. Although it might serve her right to listen to us fucking all night. Go ahead Karen, call the fucking cops on me. But then again, the more he sees her, the higher probability that he’ll go do something stupid, and then I’ll have to deal with seeing him after I turn him away and he only goes to her apartment, and I’ll be preoccupied with making sure that I have a steady stream of superior (I don’t feel that way but I will put on like I do) men running in and out of my apartment so that he thoroughly knows that I have moved all the way the fuck on and have no problem accessing a pool of much larger dicks (omg why is he so preoccupied with his dick) and really don’t care about his anymore. I swear on whatever is worthy of this oath that I will not touch his dick again if it ever touches her, because I hope they both get herpes, and therefore I have to make sure that I don’t.
Fear makes me mean.
Yeah, we both have the potential to get hurt here, badly. But I’m not trying to live my life running from that fear anymore.Easy for you to say boy, you don’t know what I’m afraid of. You don’t know what fear I’m running from. I bet he thinks he does, screaming at me about sleeping with his friend. However, he’s either unaware of human psychology, or not as scared as I am – I wouldn’t even mention it, because I know that will only make him want to do it more, and will let him know that he has one sore spot of vulnerability in me, a hole in my armor. And god fucking damn my ex for making me so scared to show a soft spot.
I just went over to rework a little bit of the outline, which I will send out to the boy after I’m sure that I’m coherent enough to handle his response
I just realized that I don’t want to sleep with the boy’s friend, at all. I mean, kind of, but that would definitely be the kind of affair that wouldn’t last past the relationship it destroyed. I’d just be sitting there wondering the whole time if it was worth wrecking things with the boy just to get his friend’s dick, knowing full well that it wasn’t… just like he’d be doing if he fucked the beached whale. Trying to pretend that it was all worth it, so he didn’t feel like such a fool, pulling out all the stops and diving headlong into one of the worst ideas he’s ever had, just to try and justify ruining the best thing he’s ever had…
I wonder if my ex feels that way about me. I kind of feel that way about my most recent ex (I have to think of a new moniker, but I like the fact that having two exes means that my ex has less power over me – I do have to thank my most recent ex for that. Although that’s why he needs a new moniker, he’s too good to share one with my ex). Best sex of my life. But I knew it wasn’t going to last… being cruel, his expiration date was rapidly approaching, and fml I don’t want to be a widow before I’m 50, god knows he probably wouldn’t get his act together to add me to his will in time.
This post isn’t hitting today, but it’s fine. Not every day does.
I do feel much better than yesterday, though. A lot less stressed, I got stuff done. It’s a shame that there’s so much more to do.
I wonder how much I’ll get done.