Ah, yes. A key decision in any “relationship” — do I end it now while I’m pretty sure I can handle it, or let it ride until it crashes and burns in the most damaging possible way?
Pfft. JK, it’s not actually a question. Y’all know I’ll suffer for a good story — let’s dance, Feelings!
Kidding. The beauty of having played the He’s Just Not That Into You home game for 2 years a while back is that I can see it easily now. Plus ending the 10-year relationship right before THAT… I mean, it can’t hurt TOO much if this one ends. “We’re done? Oh, OK, cool. I’ll have more time to clean.”
But it turns out the “slut shame” doesn’t come from the sex. It comes from sex being all there is — from me not being feelings-worthy for whatever reason, from being kept around solely for my ability to wet a dick.
I’m not built for that. I don’t need Edward Lewis, but I damn sure ain’t settlin’ for Stuckey.
I acknowledge the possibility that I’m hormonal and misinterpreting, but I think I’m right. If I can’t tell that you, um, like me, or want to spend time with me, that is legit insane-making for my membranes.
I deleted (not blocked) his number, and, with it, my ability to text him anything belligerent and cunty. He’s still free to contact me, though, so we’ll see what happens.
Hm… Though I guess I probably should’ve seen what happened before I spent the weekend getting myself over this based on these assumptions… Oops. Ah, well. Call it preventive care.
No, “That Guy” and “Unfunny Ginger Comedian” are NOT among the “people I may know” on your site. They ARE among the “people I’ve slept with.” Maybe start a separate suggestion list? But hey, thanks for making me consider all THAT again in the span of 5 minutes.
At least That Guy and I COULD have been friends if things hadn’t gone all stupid. But “learning experience” be damned, the comedian was just an almost impressively bad life choice. The only memorable things about that “relationship” were learning:
A. That it’s possible for a man to appear bored while I’m naked and riding him. (I HOPE I can chalk that up to his seemingly rampant control issues, but maybe I’m just bad at being on top.)
B. About orgasm denial via his goddamn Jedi mastery of the Hitachi Magic Wand.*
No, really. Thanks a pantload, Facebook.
* I have no idea what kind of dark sorcery y’all summon to determine when we’re on the verge of orgasm, but damn. I salute you. You’re doing God’s work.
This morning between snoozes I told my alarm clock first to go to hell, then to blow me, then to die in a fire.
It’s gonna be a great day, you guys! ☀️
I haven’t even finished my coffee and already today has been rife with odd coincidences. Mostly fun, but one especially unwelcome…
Remember that time an acquaintance stole one of my (very innocent) Facebook photos and used it as his profile photo on a fairly gross porn site?
Um, yeah, this morning I got an email that he’d accepted my invitation to be friends on Yelp. I cannot tell you the last time I even used Yelp, let alone friend requested this asshole, but best believe that shit just got shut down.
Text from a friend about a man who’d wronged her: “Motherfucker ALWAYS manages to pop back into my life somehow JUST when I’ve let my guard down. Seriously, it’s almost impressive. He’s like the herpes of people.”