I’m afraid he’s stupid. And I’m not really afraid, I know he is. I’m so disappointed. My most recent ex was stupid too, that was one of the biggest problems. But this one is stupid and cantankerous, so the stupid behavior that my last ex displayed only in arguments is stupid behavior that I have to see constantly when I’m with a cantankerous bitch.
Tag: Wolf Like Me – TV on the Radio
I don’t know if I believe in love, but I do certainly believe in the longing for it.
I should have stayed in New York for Friday, so that I could sleep with my favorite client again, and that is the God’s motherfucking honest truth right there. That is what should have happened, and that is the lesson that I need to remember. I just hope it’s not too late for me.
15 Minutes of Shame
I’ve been mourning my relationship, not the boy really, and mourning for myself. I’m really still not over my first ex. I was speaking to a friend (who I should call) who said the same thing about hers, a woman. That she has been in several relationships, but still never able to find the same spark as the first one. I feel the same, however I would say more than a spark (I obviously have been extremely attracted to each of my men) I have not been able to find the same hope and drive. That feeling that whatever happens we’ll be together, and we’re going to make something happen.
Oh No Not Again
The boy is like that. He will cheat on me, even though he knows what he can and can’t do, because he is trying to prove that inane pedantic validity of one of stupid points that rides on nothing but a technicality. Wtf, you’d really put your dick on the line to prove a point? You’d put me on the line to prove a point? I’m fairly sure one day he will.
There is something to think about there – while a lot of my baggage is clearly mine, and I have talked about a lot of it, a lot of the baggage was his, and now I can be rid of it. That’s actually wonderful news! Speaking of, I dreamed of his sister last night, one of them, the craziest one, although I’m pretty sure he’s now holding the title for the psycho of the family.
It calms me. As does recounting this past, all this past that is a part of me and will never belong to my ex. There, he was not there for everything it’s not like my whole life is ending. He never knew me. There was so much he never knew, and I am still all of that. My collarbones hurt, pinching in towards my throat on that place that I love so much on a man, and yes on him. On the place that I know, from my previous studies, autistic and aspergers patients focus on instead of the face in social interactions. On the place where animals focus, on the place where you must be sure to control when you’re facing down dogs so that they know that you are dominant, and you have orders for them.
There’s a strapon in my dishwasher
My life would be so much easier if I just learned to love him. Instead, I tried to end this post 3 sips early, just because I always hit a brick wall when I think of him. He’s the only person that I can text my point for the day that would understand what I mean, and think about a reasonable response. For me, and for himself. He’s the only person that ever found me actually useful in the actual way I wish I was. He really is everything I’ve been looking for, but maybe I’m just enjoying the search. I wish I could just love him. Fuck it, I just downed half a cup in a single gulp, I need to bail.
My coffee is too Dark Today
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.
How to Breed Betta Fish
He went outside to the parking lot, they were waiting outside, her in a white tank top and birthday tiara (I shouldn’t have to explain this to anyone). My girlfriend, the person who threw the whole party, was of course nowhere to be found.
His daughter, in the same weird outfit, was holding the door for him.
I realized that this dog looked like the real life version of my favorite, only favorite, stuffed animal that I had when I was a kid. He’s still half eaten, boxed up in the basement, and probably exactly as soft as I remember. I should go get him.