After working a split shift yesterday that completely ruined my Saturday and crawling into bed around 2am, I awoke at around 9:30am with the chime of a new text message ringing next to my ear. I groggily looked at my phone and saw that I had two new messages. The first was from Rocker, telling me good morning, which he does daily. The second was from ex-BFF asking me what I was doing today. I slid my phone closed, went to pee, and fell back asleep until 1pm.
When I woke again, I had another text from ex-BFF, asking pretty much the same question as in his first message. I didn't want to talk to him because I didn't want him to come over. He had texted me earlier in the week, asking why I didn't talk to him anymore, was he that bad or something, he said jokingly. I told him I had just been busy and when he asked what I was doing for the next few days, I came up with excuses that would last me until Saturday. Sunday afternoon, I replied that I wasn't doing much, just had a lot of homework to finish. "Oh yeah? Can you do me a favor," he asked. Hmm. I asked him what kind of favor he needed and he replied that he was $100 short on his credit card bill and asked if I could spare him any money to help him out. In the same text, he ended it saying that he wanted to come out to hang out, if I wanted him to. What the fuck? Are you really asking me for money? Really?! I was pissed off and told him that I couldn't help him out, even though I probably could afford to.
The balls on him...I just can't even fucking form a coherent sentence because I can't believe he had the audacity to ask me for money. After not talking for two years and then hooking up, you think that we have the type of relationship where I would lend you money? Are you fucking kidding me? I told him to ask his fucking mother for money if he needed it and didn't talk to him for the rest of the day and I'm sincerely hoping that I don't have to deal with his broke ass again.
It's not that I wouldn't lend a friend money if they needed it for an emergency, but he's not really a friend and it's not an emergency, it's bad planning and irresponsible spending. Fuck him.
In other news, nothing much has been going on lately. I'm running myself ragged with being an RA, working part-time, and taking 19 credit hours. All while trying to sleep on a consistent basis and have an orgasm or two once a week when I can actually take the time to turn on some porn or fantasize about something.
I've become obsessed with a website called F my life, aka fuck my life. You all should check it out for a quick laugh, especially when you're feeling not so great. www.fmylife.com If I wrote an FML story, it would read: Today I realized that I bit off more than I could chew, so much so that I now have to decide between sleeping, eating, and masturbating. Sleeping wins. FML.
Insert noise of exasperation here.
Rocker and I are fine, if you're wondering. He sent me a cute e-card this morning. It had a picture of an old couple sitting at a piano and it said, "I can't remember our song." In the message, he said, "Wait, yes I can. I'm playing it right now and thinking of you." Awww...what freaking adorable, boyfriendish behavior. Sometime this week, I'm going to have to have the "talk" with him. The splendid, "what are we/where do you see this going" talk that is going to hopefully take place over texting because I'm retarded when it comes to talking about something serious on the phone. In person, I'm alright, but on the phone, I can't do it. I stutter and sound ridiculous and would most likely end up telling him to just forget I mentioned it.
It would be helpful to know where we're at because then I could tell ex-BFF that I have a serious thing going on and he would back off and I'd like to rub it in a few of my friend's faces who have been on my case about not taking relationships seriously and all this other bullshit. Well, sorry I'm not engaged at 21, fuckers. Your relationship probably won't last anyway, but go ahead and bask in your I-met-my-soulmate-in-college idealogy before it turns into I-only-slept-with-one-person-my-whole-life-and-now-I-hook-up-with-strangers-from-Craigslist middle-aged mantra. I know you can sense my hostility here, but I really despise when people get on their high fucking horses about finding love and all this perfect, gooey, bullshit to single people. Please, I can almost gurantee that I'm having more fun than you. I don't get in fights daily about stupid shit, I don't worry about the future of being a Mrs. something and having to deal with already obsessive future mother-in-laws. Don't pity me; I am the one you should be envying as I can hookup with whomever I want, do what I want during my four years of freedom from responsibility, and not have to be suffocated at parties that your awkward boyfriend tags along to because you want him to socialize.
Godddddamnit, now I got angry for no reason. Fuck you, blog, you're supposed to calm me down, not incite me.
Ah well. I guess I'll go masturbate furiously before my sleep deprivation finally takes over and I pass out with a hand in my underwear and books spread across my bed.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Feeling Poemy
Today when I sat down in my fine arts class, a class that you can bet your ass I'm only taking to fulfill one of my liberal arts requirements, I settled in for what I knew was going to be a long, boring hour and fifteen minutes. I opened my pink binder and flipped through the pages to land on a blank sheet of wide-ruled notebook paper. I started writing down random phrases that popped into my head as my teacher played Orpheus on the projection screen. They were all cutesy little phrases, nothing significant, nothing heart felt. They reminded me of drawing "I heart *****" on my hands when I was in junior high to signify that I liked someone, the number of astericks coinciding with the number of letters in the boy's name. It was a big thing to do at my school. Anyway, I kind of smiled as I remembered doing stupid shit like that and how drawing hearts and shamrocks around my little poems was just as juvenile as the aforementioned hand art, but it still released a certain urge for creative writing that I felt at the moment.
When I got back from classes for the day, I looked through some of the poems and short stories I've written over the years and found one in particular that stuck out to me. I don't remember exactly how long ago I wrote the poem, but I think it was around freshman year when I was in a bout of depression, and although the poem that I wrote during this time didn't reflect anything that I was doing at the time, it did represent how I dealt with my depression in the past. I don't have a title for the poem, as I rarely ever do; I often think that it's harder to title something than it is to write it because you want to peak interest, yet summarize what's going on in the work. There's my introduction for it, though.
Re-reading the poem now makes me a little sad in a retrospective way because I wish the girl that I was then could see the future in a more optimistic way. There's times now when I feel insecure, but I don't cut anymore and I can usually battle through the depression without having morbid thoughts flood my mind for hours or days on end. The most depressed that I ever was was during the time I was 16 1/2 to 18 years old. I know a lot of it stemmed from dealing with a heart issue and withdrawing from regular high school to do homeschooling, but I also felt that it was more than that. Maybe it was that I had a valid excuse to be depressed that I finally allowed myself to outwardly express it. I've always been a worry-wart as my mom and grandma would say, but the older I got, the more I felt like I was losing control of the careful exterior that I put out. I was happy with being labeled a smart, pretty jock. I wanted that label and I worked hard to maintain it. When it was revoked from me so abruptly, I felt like I lost my identity and I really didn't know how to deal with myself in an introspective way. I'm grateful that being sick allowed me to truly get to know myself and to realize that I genuinely like the person that I am even if I do sometimes feel shitty about life/myself.
I'm not sure what brought all this up, but there's a little piece of me that will always be a little girl who's so unsure of herself and hides behind a confident, almost bitchy exterior. But I feel that more than growing up at this point, I'm growing into myself. Maybe I've had an amazing epiphany, maybe it's something that everyone goes through.
On a more situational rather than reflective note, I was talking to Rocker today and he asked me if my school was off this particular street that is a main street throughout the southwest suburbs of Chicago. Yep, I replied. "Okay...well I have a surprise for you, then." I immediately got flustered, I'm not a huge fan of surprises. I like to know what's going on so I can prepare myself for it. "Tell me what it is," I said. He refused for awhile, saying that it wouldn't be a surprise if I knew about it duhhhhhhh. I told him that I didn't like surprises, so to please fill me in. He told me that he had planned on driving out to my school after he got off of work on Wednesday at like 11:30pm. On Wednesdays, I work until 12am, so I guess he figured it'd be around that time when he got here. I didn't respond right away and I think he was kind of hurt by it. It's not that I don't want to finally meet him, it's just an awkward setting to do it. What the fuck are we going to do at midnight at my school? The only thing I can think of is going to my room and watching a movie, but I know he has work early the next day, and it feels like that would be too intimate to do as a first date thing. I look at him as more than just a potential fuck buddy, and as previous posts have stated, that's the typical ice breaker I use with boys that come over to hook up.
When we got off of the phone, he texted me and said that I sounded really excited about it, obvious sarcasm. I knew that I reacted badly, but I just got nervous all the sudden of awkwardly trying to adjust to seeing/talking to him in person that I couldn't form a good reaction to it. I texted him back and said that it wasn't that I didn't want to see him, I just didn't know what he expected us to do on a Wednesday night at my school. He said that we'll pick a day to go out then and I told him okay, whenever he wanted, but he didn't reply back. I don't know if it was because he had gotten to his guitar lesson, or just because he was pissed at my less than enthusiastic reaction. It feels odd to think we're finally going to meet after we've been talking so much without seeing each other. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm much smoother via Internet or on the phone than I am in person. I'm probably making this into a much bigger deal than he feels about it, but whatever, I can't help it.
It does kind of boggle my mind to think that he's not nervous about it at all and he thinks that just coming over without having a plan of doing anything would go over well. Maybe he's really just that confident that we have a good connection or something, I don't know. Maybe he thinks we won't have to talk because we'll just hook up. I don't know. As far as I can tell, we won't meet for at least another week because I'm on call Friday and working Saturday night and he works on Sundays, so that leads us into another week. I feel like I'm already dating him without the physical benefits, so why am I unnerved by putting a 3D figure to my boy on the phone?
When I got back from classes for the day, I looked through some of the poems and short stories I've written over the years and found one in particular that stuck out to me. I don't remember exactly how long ago I wrote the poem, but I think it was around freshman year when I was in a bout of depression, and although the poem that I wrote during this time didn't reflect anything that I was doing at the time, it did represent how I dealt with my depression in the past. I don't have a title for the poem, as I rarely ever do; I often think that it's harder to title something than it is to write it because you want to peak interest, yet summarize what's going on in the work. There's my introduction for it, though.
I'm staring at a steak knife,
Because I couldn't find my lighter,
I'm going to see blood today,
instead of fire.
I'm feeling alone, once again,
Today I'll ease the pain,
by slicing into my skin.
I'll watch the blood bubble,
then soak it in a towel,
I'll look at the towel and wipe the tears from my eyes,
as I throw my pain away.
I'm going to see blood today so that I don't feel the hurt,
I'm not aiming for the vein, but if I hit it it'll do no harm.
The serrated edges hurt as they pucker into my skin,
As the blood starts to dribble, I'm finally in a position to win.
I dig deeper because I can still feel the lump in my chest,
Re-reading the poem now makes me a little sad in a retrospective way because I wish the girl that I was then could see the future in a more optimistic way. There's times now when I feel insecure, but I don't cut anymore and I can usually battle through the depression without having morbid thoughts flood my mind for hours or days on end. The most depressed that I ever was was during the time I was 16 1/2 to 18 years old. I know a lot of it stemmed from dealing with a heart issue and withdrawing from regular high school to do homeschooling, but I also felt that it was more than that. Maybe it was that I had a valid excuse to be depressed that I finally allowed myself to outwardly express it. I've always been a worry-wart as my mom and grandma would say, but the older I got, the more I felt like I was losing control of the careful exterior that I put out. I was happy with being labeled a smart, pretty jock. I wanted that label and I worked hard to maintain it. When it was revoked from me so abruptly, I felt like I lost my identity and I really didn't know how to deal with myself in an introspective way. I'm grateful that being sick allowed me to truly get to know myself and to realize that I genuinely like the person that I am even if I do sometimes feel shitty about life/myself.
I'm not sure what brought all this up, but there's a little piece of me that will always be a little girl who's so unsure of herself and hides behind a confident, almost bitchy exterior. But I feel that more than growing up at this point, I'm growing into myself. Maybe I've had an amazing epiphany, maybe it's something that everyone goes through.
On a more situational rather than reflective note, I was talking to Rocker today and he asked me if my school was off this particular street that is a main street throughout the southwest suburbs of Chicago. Yep, I replied. "Okay...well I have a surprise for you, then." I immediately got flustered, I'm not a huge fan of surprises. I like to know what's going on so I can prepare myself for it. "Tell me what it is," I said. He refused for awhile, saying that it wouldn't be a surprise if I knew about it duhhhhhhh. I told him that I didn't like surprises, so to please fill me in. He told me that he had planned on driving out to my school after he got off of work on Wednesday at like 11:30pm. On Wednesdays, I work until 12am, so I guess he figured it'd be around that time when he got here. I didn't respond right away and I think he was kind of hurt by it. It's not that I don't want to finally meet him, it's just an awkward setting to do it. What the fuck are we going to do at midnight at my school? The only thing I can think of is going to my room and watching a movie, but I know he has work early the next day, and it feels like that would be too intimate to do as a first date thing. I look at him as more than just a potential fuck buddy, and as previous posts have stated, that's the typical ice breaker I use with boys that come over to hook up.
When we got off of the phone, he texted me and said that I sounded really excited about it, obvious sarcasm. I knew that I reacted badly, but I just got nervous all the sudden of awkwardly trying to adjust to seeing/talking to him in person that I couldn't form a good reaction to it. I texted him back and said that it wasn't that I didn't want to see him, I just didn't know what he expected us to do on a Wednesday night at my school. He said that we'll pick a day to go out then and I told him okay, whenever he wanted, but he didn't reply back. I don't know if it was because he had gotten to his guitar lesson, or just because he was pissed at my less than enthusiastic reaction. It feels odd to think we're finally going to meet after we've been talking so much without seeing each other. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm much smoother via Internet or on the phone than I am in person. I'm probably making this into a much bigger deal than he feels about it, but whatever, I can't help it.
It does kind of boggle my mind to think that he's not nervous about it at all and he thinks that just coming over without having a plan of doing anything would go over well. Maybe he's really just that confident that we have a good connection or something, I don't know. Maybe he thinks we won't have to talk because we'll just hook up. I don't know. As far as I can tell, we won't meet for at least another week because I'm on call Friday and working Saturday night and he works on Sundays, so that leads us into another week. I feel like I'm already dating him without the physical benefits, so why am I unnerved by putting a 3D figure to my boy on the phone?
Sunday, February 15, 2009
February Confusion
My Valentine's Day sucked, thanks for asking. I worked in the afternoon and talked to Rocker for about an hour during work. He told me happy Valentine's Day and all, but didn't ask me out or anything like I had hoped he would. I asked what he was doing tonight, hopefully hinting at our meeting up, but he had plans with bromance, who lives a few hours away. Whatever. I was disappointed and it was hard to hide. He asked me what was wrong, but I didn't say what I was feeling and assured him that I was fine and that I'd talk to him later that night. He texted me when he left bromance's house and told me he'd call me when he got home. I never heard from him the rest of the night, even after I sent him a picture message of me wearing this lacey black little number with my hand strategically placed by my crotch.
I was sad that I didn't hear from him and it made me suspicious because of the previous incident of him telling the online world that he had a girlfriend. Various scenarios ran through my head and they all included him playing me. I imagined him being with his girlfriend and having his phone turned off so she wouldn't know I texted him. I got more pissed as the night went on and then finally fell asleep. I woke up around 11am with a text message from him saying, "That pic you sent me almost made me crash." Hmm...so you got the picture while you were driving, but just decided not to respond? Right. He knew something was wrong with my short responses and I told him that I was just sad that I hadn't heard from him last night. He apologized and told me that he passed out when he got home. Yeah, right. I haven't heard from him since, apparently he is working at the bar, but I don't even know if I trust that. I have a feeling that something isn't quite right and I don't know what it is, or maybe I'm just denying what I think it is.
Like I said in my other post, he's usually talking to me all the time, which makes it even more suspicious when I don't hear from him for a day when I usually talk to him 4-5 times a day. Maybe I'm being too suspicious or maybe I'm just being smart. I know if I ask him he will tell me that he's not dating anyone, but will I believe it? I can't start something with someone whom I don't trust, but I feel like something already has started between us. I'm getting too attached to someone that I don't even know and it's making me feel ridiculous.
In other great news, I went over to my aunt's house tonight for dinner. After we ate, she asked me to go outside with her and talk. I had no idea what it would be about, surely nothing serious, but I was completely wrong. I knew it was going to be bad when she started out, "So, I don't really know how to approach you about this." Oh, fuck. What now? This aunt and I have always been pretty close, but it wasn't like I told her everything about my life or she told me stuff about hers, so I really had no idea what this would be about. Enter Facebook. My aunt recently requested me as a Facebook friend and I accepted, thinking nothing of it. I wrote a note that had been going around Facebook about 25 things that your friends might not know about you. My aunt had read it and she told me that it really hurt her, not that she was hurt by anything it said, but that she was hurt for me. I didn't really know what she was talking about. I didn't write anything that significant about it. I soon figured out the two things that had gotten to her: One was my statement that the first boy I ever truly cared about broke my heart and the second person to break my heart was my dad. I didn't mention in the note that my dad broke my heart because he cheated on my mom, I just left it open-ended. The next statement that got to her was when I said that I know next to nothing about my paternal grandparents (Her parents) and that I was fine with that.
I knew when she told me that she was upset about that that this was going to be a long conversation. My mom and my paternal grandparents have never really gotten along from what I remember. My mom says that my grandma tried to pay my dad $500 not to marry my mom and that's where the trouble begins. For as long as I can remember, there has been animosity between my grandma and my mom and it has only gotten worse over the years. My older sister and I were the first grandchildren that my paternal grandparents had and they spoiled us for a long time until my cousins started being born. After their births, especially my aunts giving birth, it seemed like my sisters and I weren't important anymore. I remember going to my mom and asking why grandpa and grandma didn't love us anymore. The relationships between us seemed to disintegrate after that. My sisters and I didn't frequent their house as much anymore and grandpa and grandma never really stopped by. By the time my maternal grandma moved in with us due to her failing health, I didn't really care that I didn't have a relationships with my paternal grandparents because I felt as if my maternal grandma loved me enough for both of them. To make a long story short, I only saw my paternal grandparents on Christmas Eve and Easter even though they live in the same town as I do and are often at my aunt's house, who lives a block away from us. I never really gave it much more thought than accepting what my mom said had happened between them.
When my aunt started talking to me tonight, she told me that she knows there's three sides to every story and she's not asking me to not believe what my mom has said, but to try and see other perspectives, too. I just nodded because if I start to talk when I'm feeling a lot of emotions all I do is start crying and can't form coherent sentences. It's really annoying and I wish I could be a pretty cryer, but I'm not. My nose runs, my eyes turn red, and my face puffs up. I'm not a graceful cryer in any way. She continued, telling me that she understands where grandma is coming from and where my mom is coming from because she's been exposed to both sides. She encouraged me to make contact with my grandma and try and get to know her because she knows that my grandma would love to get to know me. I just kind of nodded again, thinking that if my grandma was so interested in getting to know me that she would have made the effort to come and see my college once in three years of being here or would have stopped by my house once in a great while instead of zipping past my street and going to my aunt's house 10 seconds away. Resentment bubbled out of me because I felt like it wasn't my responsibility to foster a relationship with my grandparents, it should have come naturally.
My aunt agreed that it wasn't my responsibility to talk to her and get to know her, but said that they wouldn't be around forever and didn't want me to regret not getting to know them while I had the chance. I could see her point in that, but I told her that my mom would without a doubt feel betrayed if I did this. My aunt said that she didn't need to know about it, but I could never keep anything from my mom, I respect her too much to ever do something and feel like I have to hide it from her. Nothing is worth hurting my mother for. My aunt continued, telling me little tidbits of information that evoked some sympathy for my grandma. Like I said before, I literally know nothing about her. I know her middle name and maiden name, but that's about it. Oh, and I know that she was born on the day that Pearl Harbor happened. Literally that is all I could tell you about her. My aunt told me how she was beaten as a kid a lot and how her dad had held a gun to one of her sister's heads when she was a kid and begged him to kill her instead of her sister. She also told me how other shit happened with my jaja (Polish for grandpa and my great-grandma's 2nd husband) and that it was a lot to deal with for a kid. I understood it, but I didn't make excuses for her. My mom had a terrible childhood that involved being raped by her father many times and then having my grandma not believe her, but somehow she still managed to be a loving person. I compared these two women in my head and I couldn't help but give my mom favor, bias or not.
We then talked about my grandpa being an alcoholic and how each of his siblings is also/was also an alcholic. I didn't even know he more siblings than a sister or that his brother died five months and five days after his dad had a heart attack. I asked my aunt how bad grandpa's alcoholism was because I can never tell if he's sober or completely trashed. He always has ruddy, Irish-red skin and yellow-tinged eyes no matter what it seems like. She said that it was bad and had always been bad for as long as she can remember, but that no one ever talks about it or does anything about it. I didn't say much after that, I know I can't get to know him. There's not time and there's not motivation.
We then talked about my dad, mostly about his affair. I told her that it felt like he betrayed all of us and that it was hard for me to stomach the fact that my mom had any shortcomings that would lead my dad to seek love elsewhere and she said she completely understood and told me about her and my uncle separating, which was a family rumor that I never really knew the truth about until now. I was really amazed that she was sharing all this information with me and I appreciated it, but I don't know if I can do anything with it. I'd like to have a relationship with my grandparents, but at this point in time, I don't feel that it's necessary. I've been fine without them, so what's the point? I'd even settle just for not feeling like an outsider at their house for christ's sake. But right now, I can't justify taking the time to force a relationship that I'm not even sure my grandparents would want. They seem pretty satisfied by having a good relationship with the rest of their grandchildren, why would they need one with me? When I see them, they ask me how school is, but that's basically it and even that is generic. Strangers ask you that. They know nothing about my life, what interests me, what I like to do for fun, who I've dated, etc. I don't think that they have ever met any of my friends even and I've had the same best friend for 16 years.
It feels better to have gotten that out of my mind and onto this blog, but it still hurts a little, deep in my soul there's a clenching that I can't get rid of. It hurts to know so much about my mom's family, but know absolutely nothing about my dad's. It hurts to acknowledge that there have been events out of my control that have made a relationship impossible with some members of my family. I can't tell my mom what my aunt and I talked about because she would instantly be pissed at my aunt, and although I don't think that would be appropriate, I know that's how it would be. She'd tell me to do what I wanted, but deep down I know she would be hurt if I suddenly grew this amazing relationship with my dad's mother.
It's been an emotionally draining day and I'll be happy when it ends. I could have gone without this fucking talk, but shit like this happens. My aunt was concerned that she was overstepping her boundaries and that I was an adult and I'd do what I want, but she was just upset that I felt this way about my grandparents. I feel flustered and exhausted from crying and I feel like none of this makes sense, but it feels better to write it out, so I suppose I'll just have to deal with the nonsensical sentences later because for now I want to eat Girl Scout Cookies with ice cold milk and lay in my bed and watch something that will make me cry out all of my tears.
I was sad that I didn't hear from him and it made me suspicious because of the previous incident of him telling the online world that he had a girlfriend. Various scenarios ran through my head and they all included him playing me. I imagined him being with his girlfriend and having his phone turned off so she wouldn't know I texted him. I got more pissed as the night went on and then finally fell asleep. I woke up around 11am with a text message from him saying, "That pic you sent me almost made me crash." Hmm...so you got the picture while you were driving, but just decided not to respond? Right. He knew something was wrong with my short responses and I told him that I was just sad that I hadn't heard from him last night. He apologized and told me that he passed out when he got home. Yeah, right. I haven't heard from him since, apparently he is working at the bar, but I don't even know if I trust that. I have a feeling that something isn't quite right and I don't know what it is, or maybe I'm just denying what I think it is.
Like I said in my other post, he's usually talking to me all the time, which makes it even more suspicious when I don't hear from him for a day when I usually talk to him 4-5 times a day. Maybe I'm being too suspicious or maybe I'm just being smart. I know if I ask him he will tell me that he's not dating anyone, but will I believe it? I can't start something with someone whom I don't trust, but I feel like something already has started between us. I'm getting too attached to someone that I don't even know and it's making me feel ridiculous.
In other great news, I went over to my aunt's house tonight for dinner. After we ate, she asked me to go outside with her and talk. I had no idea what it would be about, surely nothing serious, but I was completely wrong. I knew it was going to be bad when she started out, "So, I don't really know how to approach you about this." Oh, fuck. What now? This aunt and I have always been pretty close, but it wasn't like I told her everything about my life or she told me stuff about hers, so I really had no idea what this would be about. Enter Facebook. My aunt recently requested me as a Facebook friend and I accepted, thinking nothing of it. I wrote a note that had been going around Facebook about 25 things that your friends might not know about you. My aunt had read it and she told me that it really hurt her, not that she was hurt by anything it said, but that she was hurt for me. I didn't really know what she was talking about. I didn't write anything that significant about it. I soon figured out the two things that had gotten to her: One was my statement that the first boy I ever truly cared about broke my heart and the second person to break my heart was my dad. I didn't mention in the note that my dad broke my heart because he cheated on my mom, I just left it open-ended. The next statement that got to her was when I said that I know next to nothing about my paternal grandparents (Her parents) and that I was fine with that.
I knew when she told me that she was upset about that that this was going to be a long conversation. My mom and my paternal grandparents have never really gotten along from what I remember. My mom says that my grandma tried to pay my dad $500 not to marry my mom and that's where the trouble begins. For as long as I can remember, there has been animosity between my grandma and my mom and it has only gotten worse over the years. My older sister and I were the first grandchildren that my paternal grandparents had and they spoiled us for a long time until my cousins started being born. After their births, especially my aunts giving birth, it seemed like my sisters and I weren't important anymore. I remember going to my mom and asking why grandpa and grandma didn't love us anymore. The relationships between us seemed to disintegrate after that. My sisters and I didn't frequent their house as much anymore and grandpa and grandma never really stopped by. By the time my maternal grandma moved in with us due to her failing health, I didn't really care that I didn't have a relationships with my paternal grandparents because I felt as if my maternal grandma loved me enough for both of them. To make a long story short, I only saw my paternal grandparents on Christmas Eve and Easter even though they live in the same town as I do and are often at my aunt's house, who lives a block away from us. I never really gave it much more thought than accepting what my mom said had happened between them.
When my aunt started talking to me tonight, she told me that she knows there's three sides to every story and she's not asking me to not believe what my mom has said, but to try and see other perspectives, too. I just nodded because if I start to talk when I'm feeling a lot of emotions all I do is start crying and can't form coherent sentences. It's really annoying and I wish I could be a pretty cryer, but I'm not. My nose runs, my eyes turn red, and my face puffs up. I'm not a graceful cryer in any way. She continued, telling me that she understands where grandma is coming from and where my mom is coming from because she's been exposed to both sides. She encouraged me to make contact with my grandma and try and get to know her because she knows that my grandma would love to get to know me. I just kind of nodded again, thinking that if my grandma was so interested in getting to know me that she would have made the effort to come and see my college once in three years of being here or would have stopped by my house once in a great while instead of zipping past my street and going to my aunt's house 10 seconds away. Resentment bubbled out of me because I felt like it wasn't my responsibility to foster a relationship with my grandparents, it should have come naturally.
My aunt agreed that it wasn't my responsibility to talk to her and get to know her, but said that they wouldn't be around forever and didn't want me to regret not getting to know them while I had the chance. I could see her point in that, but I told her that my mom would without a doubt feel betrayed if I did this. My aunt said that she didn't need to know about it, but I could never keep anything from my mom, I respect her too much to ever do something and feel like I have to hide it from her. Nothing is worth hurting my mother for. My aunt continued, telling me little tidbits of information that evoked some sympathy for my grandma. Like I said before, I literally know nothing about her. I know her middle name and maiden name, but that's about it. Oh, and I know that she was born on the day that Pearl Harbor happened. Literally that is all I could tell you about her. My aunt told me how she was beaten as a kid a lot and how her dad had held a gun to one of her sister's heads when she was a kid and begged him to kill her instead of her sister. She also told me how other shit happened with my jaja (Polish for grandpa and my great-grandma's 2nd husband) and that it was a lot to deal with for a kid. I understood it, but I didn't make excuses for her. My mom had a terrible childhood that involved being raped by her father many times and then having my grandma not believe her, but somehow she still managed to be a loving person. I compared these two women in my head and I couldn't help but give my mom favor, bias or not.
We then talked about my grandpa being an alcoholic and how each of his siblings is also/was also an alcholic. I didn't even know he more siblings than a sister or that his brother died five months and five days after his dad had a heart attack. I asked my aunt how bad grandpa's alcoholism was because I can never tell if he's sober or completely trashed. He always has ruddy, Irish-red skin and yellow-tinged eyes no matter what it seems like. She said that it was bad and had always been bad for as long as she can remember, but that no one ever talks about it or does anything about it. I didn't say much after that, I know I can't get to know him. There's not time and there's not motivation.
We then talked about my dad, mostly about his affair. I told her that it felt like he betrayed all of us and that it was hard for me to stomach the fact that my mom had any shortcomings that would lead my dad to seek love elsewhere and she said she completely understood and told me about her and my uncle separating, which was a family rumor that I never really knew the truth about until now. I was really amazed that she was sharing all this information with me and I appreciated it, but I don't know if I can do anything with it. I'd like to have a relationship with my grandparents, but at this point in time, I don't feel that it's necessary. I've been fine without them, so what's the point? I'd even settle just for not feeling like an outsider at their house for christ's sake. But right now, I can't justify taking the time to force a relationship that I'm not even sure my grandparents would want. They seem pretty satisfied by having a good relationship with the rest of their grandchildren, why would they need one with me? When I see them, they ask me how school is, but that's basically it and even that is generic. Strangers ask you that. They know nothing about my life, what interests me, what I like to do for fun, who I've dated, etc. I don't think that they have ever met any of my friends even and I've had the same best friend for 16 years.
It feels better to have gotten that out of my mind and onto this blog, but it still hurts a little, deep in my soul there's a clenching that I can't get rid of. It hurts to know so much about my mom's family, but know absolutely nothing about my dad's. It hurts to acknowledge that there have been events out of my control that have made a relationship impossible with some members of my family. I can't tell my mom what my aunt and I talked about because she would instantly be pissed at my aunt, and although I don't think that would be appropriate, I know that's how it would be. She'd tell me to do what I wanted, but deep down I know she would be hurt if I suddenly grew this amazing relationship with my dad's mother.
It's been an emotionally draining day and I'll be happy when it ends. I could have gone without this fucking talk, but shit like this happens. My aunt was concerned that she was overstepping her boundaries and that I was an adult and I'd do what I want, but she was just upset that I felt this way about my grandparents. I feel flustered and exhausted from crying and I feel like none of this makes sense, but it feels better to write it out, so I suppose I'll just have to deal with the nonsensical sentences later because for now I want to eat Girl Scout Cookies with ice cold milk and lay in my bed and watch something that will make me cry out all of my tears.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Valentine Schmalentine.
I suppose as any blogger is doing, they're thinking of a particular Valentine's Day story that they can either say how horrible it was or how spectacular it was. I've never really had either. I would say that all of my Valentine's Days have been completely mediocre and bland. I've been single during some, taken during some, sick during some, slept through some, etc. Thinking back, it's hard for me to even remember a lot of them and the one that is sticking out happened in 7th grade. Ooooh, story time!
In 7th grade by Valentine's Day I was 13 years old and I had a hot body. I was one of those girls that developed basically overnight and it seemed to happen the summer before 7th grade. I had always had an athletic body, but it was never womanly in any way until that summer before teenagedom. I don't remember ever wearing an A cup, ever. It might be because when I first grew my boobies I would only wear sports bras because they were more comfortable and flattened out the awkward peach pit shaped nip/boob that was going on. When I got real tits, my mom made me buy some real bras, which all sucked as they had underwires. By 7th grade, I was a C cup with curvy hips and a tight ass. It didn't really occur to me that I had a hot body until I didn't have it anymore, but I was definitely aware of my body and the reactions it could have. I did the whole polo shirt thing where I'd unbutton as many buttons as I could get away with without having to go see the dean and I'd talk to boys while sitting and crossing my arms to squish my boobs together to show them some cleavage. It was easy, fun, and I liked the attention. Even with my hot bod, I didn't have a boyfriend at the time (I was technically allowed to date, but it wasn't like I was doing anything with boys at that age). I liked a few guys, including ex-BFF, but nothing really materialized.
With that being said, I wasn't expecting much to happen on Valentine's Day. My junior high had always done a sucker sale to raise money for the school around this time, and I knew that I would get suckers from my girlfriends, but it was always a big deal if you got one from a guy. Suckers were delivered during homeroom the day of Valentine's Day and every girl wanted to be the girl that got the most in the class. As I looked at my accumulated pile, I felt pretty good about it. I usually averaged 5-8 suckers depending on who was pissy or cheap at the time. I don't remember how many suckers I had that year, but I distinctly remember being surprised by one. Attached to the sucker, there was a "To/From" sticker. It was addressed to me, my full first name, which was weird because usually everyone called me by my shortened nickname and it said "From: Anonymous" although anonymous was spelled wrong, it looked more like the person who was sounding out the word anonymous was thinking of hippopotamus. I tried to analyze the handwriting and concluded that it was a boy from the retarded spelling and chicken scratch font. The big question was who could it be. As the day went on and more of my girlfriends found out about Mr. Anonymous, they felt it was their duty as my friend to find out who the romantic man was that would not release his name.
They asked every boy that was in our group and of course the answer was no. I couldn't think of anyone outside the group that would have done it, but still to this day, I wonder who it was. Whoever it was, I hope they know that it really made me feel special, even if it was just a stupid sucker. Little things sometimes mean the most and this is one example of it.
This Valentine's Day, 8 years later, I really don't have any plans. I might go out with a few girlfriends, but that's any Saturday really. I won't feel bad about it because I don't really give a fuck about Valentine's Day as a holiday or whatever, but I suppose one day I will and I'm hoping that day is very far in the future.
The only update I have about my love life, or lack thereof is that Rocker broadened his vocabulary horizons last night when we had phone sex again. He actually said pussy and fuck, which was a plus because I don't think my dirty mind could get off again if he just kept saying things like licking and kissing. He was at work last night and he was a little bored because the bar he moonlights at was slow. I asked if he wanted to play a game with me, if he could guess what color bra I was wearing, I'd send him a picture showing it. He guessed correctly, black, so I sent him a picture of my shirt unbuttoned, exposing my bra. He called me right after and told me how nice my boobies were. Yes, he did say boobies and I told him he wasn't 10, so he couldn't say that. Then he said tits, so I was okay with it. We still talk everyday, several times a day, but still no mention of when we're meeting. I don't know if we both don't want to bring it up for fear that the other isn't ready or what, but it is kind of driving me crazy since my friends have figured out that I'm interested in someone and are doing the typical demanding to meet him thing.
I'm trying my best to be patient, but only talking about hooking up is starting to frustrate me. Meanwhile, I haven't heard from ex-BFF so I'm grateful for that as it's one more complication I don't have to worry about. But for now, I'm off to paint my nails hooker red. Hope you all have a good holiday if you're celebrating it, if not, have a good weekend anyways.
In 7th grade by Valentine's Day I was 13 years old and I had a hot body. I was one of those girls that developed basically overnight and it seemed to happen the summer before 7th grade. I had always had an athletic body, but it was never womanly in any way until that summer before teenagedom. I don't remember ever wearing an A cup, ever. It might be because when I first grew my boobies I would only wear sports bras because they were more comfortable and flattened out the awkward peach pit shaped nip/boob that was going on. When I got real tits, my mom made me buy some real bras, which all sucked as they had underwires. By 7th grade, I was a C cup with curvy hips and a tight ass. It didn't really occur to me that I had a hot body until I didn't have it anymore, but I was definitely aware of my body and the reactions it could have. I did the whole polo shirt thing where I'd unbutton as many buttons as I could get away with without having to go see the dean and I'd talk to boys while sitting and crossing my arms to squish my boobs together to show them some cleavage. It was easy, fun, and I liked the attention. Even with my hot bod, I didn't have a boyfriend at the time (I was technically allowed to date, but it wasn't like I was doing anything with boys at that age). I liked a few guys, including ex-BFF, but nothing really materialized.
With that being said, I wasn't expecting much to happen on Valentine's Day. My junior high had always done a sucker sale to raise money for the school around this time, and I knew that I would get suckers from my girlfriends, but it was always a big deal if you got one from a guy. Suckers were delivered during homeroom the day of Valentine's Day and every girl wanted to be the girl that got the most in the class. As I looked at my accumulated pile, I felt pretty good about it. I usually averaged 5-8 suckers depending on who was pissy or cheap at the time. I don't remember how many suckers I had that year, but I distinctly remember being surprised by one. Attached to the sucker, there was a "To/From" sticker. It was addressed to me, my full first name, which was weird because usually everyone called me by my shortened nickname and it said "From: Anonymous" although anonymous was spelled wrong, it looked more like the person who was sounding out the word anonymous was thinking of hippopotamus. I tried to analyze the handwriting and concluded that it was a boy from the retarded spelling and chicken scratch font. The big question was who could it be. As the day went on and more of my girlfriends found out about Mr. Anonymous, they felt it was their duty as my friend to find out who the romantic man was that would not release his name.
They asked every boy that was in our group and of course the answer was no. I couldn't think of anyone outside the group that would have done it, but still to this day, I wonder who it was. Whoever it was, I hope they know that it really made me feel special, even if it was just a stupid sucker. Little things sometimes mean the most and this is one example of it.
This Valentine's Day, 8 years later, I really don't have any plans. I might go out with a few girlfriends, but that's any Saturday really. I won't feel bad about it because I don't really give a fuck about Valentine's Day as a holiday or whatever, but I suppose one day I will and I'm hoping that day is very far in the future.
The only update I have about my love life, or lack thereof is that Rocker broadened his vocabulary horizons last night when we had phone sex again. He actually said pussy and fuck, which was a plus because I don't think my dirty mind could get off again if he just kept saying things like licking and kissing. He was at work last night and he was a little bored because the bar he moonlights at was slow. I asked if he wanted to play a game with me, if he could guess what color bra I was wearing, I'd send him a picture showing it. He guessed correctly, black, so I sent him a picture of my shirt unbuttoned, exposing my bra. He called me right after and told me how nice my boobies were. Yes, he did say boobies and I told him he wasn't 10, so he couldn't say that. Then he said tits, so I was okay with it. We still talk everyday, several times a day, but still no mention of when we're meeting. I don't know if we both don't want to bring it up for fear that the other isn't ready or what, but it is kind of driving me crazy since my friends have figured out that I'm interested in someone and are doing the typical demanding to meet him thing.
I'm trying my best to be patient, but only talking about hooking up is starting to frustrate me. Meanwhile, I haven't heard from ex-BFF so I'm grateful for that as it's one more complication I don't have to worry about. But for now, I'm off to paint my nails hooker red. Hope you all have a good holiday if you're celebrating it, if not, have a good weekend anyways.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Breaking down the wall
I've found a new passion in dancing intoxicated like I'm fucking Shakira or something. Thursday night a few girlfriends and I went out to the bar for $3 you call its and some quality chick time. I told them about what I did with Ex-Bff and they all just kind of took it in, not really judging me, which was appreciated. They asked me what about Rocker and I just said well, we're not official and left it at that.
As we got more cheap alcohol in us, we became a little more loose with our dancing. It's always funny to me how bars work. There's always a dancefloor where, at the beginning of the night, there's a small group of girls who are probably already drunk or just too confident to care that they look like idiots dancing while everyone else is just sitting around, then as the night goes on, more girls venture out to the dancefloor and there forms a wall of men who are creepily, if unconsciously, staring at them. The same thing happened on Thursday. My friends and I really like to dance but we didn't want to be lumped into the same scope as the four older women snapping their fingers and trying to sexily sway their mom-hips, so we waited until the bar got a little more crowded before we went on the dancefloor. The night went on, we drank and danced more, and two of my friends' boyfriends showed up, so they got all smoochie with them while my other friend and I stayed on the dancefloor.
I texted Rocker to see what he had been up to. Right before I got to the bar, he had called me to see what I was doing that night. I told him that I was having a girls' night out with some of my bitches and he kind of just laughed and said he was doing the same with the boys, but he was at rehearsal and not a bar. He asked me what I was wearing and I told him an outfit and he was like, okay, you're trying to tease me, that's fine. I told him that I'd call him later as I stepped into the bar and hung up. A few minutes later he texted me and told me that he was thinking about me. "Oh yeah? What are you thinking?" I asked, trying my fucking best to break him out of his shell.
I've been desperately trying to get Rocker to appease my horniness and have had no luck thus far, but I still tried. Persistence pays off, no? He asked me again what I was wearing, so I finally told him that I was wearing a longer silvery shirt with black pants and black heels and a belt cinched at the waist. He seemed pleased with that and I asked what he was wearing. "Jeans. No shirt. Too hot."
I re-read what he wrote. What the fuck is he wearing no shirt for...but then I remembered he was at rehearsal. And then I remembered that he was playing guitar. And then my mind put two and two together and the image of him playing guitar with only jeans on, sweating and rocking out popped into my mind and I got even more turned on than my usual consistent horniness. "What the fuck, take a picture for me," I told him but he said he would when he got home. I asked if he would play for me sometime with no shirt on and he said he would, so I pressed further, "What about no pants?" I asked. He said, "Just the guitar?" I smiled at my little conquest and told him that he had now committed to it, so he had to do it for me and he said that he promised he would. I patted myself on the back for the small step I was making to get him to take my bait.
"What do I get if I do that?" he asked.
"What do you want?" I said, wanting to gauge his response to see if he could even potentially handle me.
"I don't know. A kiss?" Fuckkkkkkk. What did I have to do to get this guy to say something dirty to me? It was really starting to piss me off.
"Only a kiss? Hmm." I said.
"You.." I really didn't know what this meant, so I said so, telling him that he was going to have to be more specific.
"I wanna kiss you all over," He said. Ahh finally, a promising response!
"That's more like it," I said with pride, "You're finally taking my bait. Tell me what else you want."
We exchanged little texts with not a whole lot of sex in them, but enough to make me hopeful. When I got back to my dorm room, he texted me again since I hadn't responded for quite some time to his previous text. I don't remember how we started talking about anything sexual at this point, but he asked me to tell him one of my fantasies. So I did. I went into detail about how I always thought it would be hot to go into a guy's office at work, lock the door and have him fuck me from behind across his desk, trying to keep quiet so we don't get caught. Maybe it's a little secretary fetish I have, I don't know, but I always thought that would be hot to do. I asked him to tell me one of his fantasies and he gave me the "you in a short skirt and heels" thing. Duh. I had already known that about him. Plus, that's a pretty generic fantasy. What guy doesn't want to fuck a girl with some FMPs and a tiny skirt on? I told him to tell me something else that he wanted. He responded that he thought it would be hot for me to be in control, "dom style" he said, which I assume means dominatrix. Hmm..never did anything like that. He told me that he wanted me to give him head and I told him flat out that he would be ruined for other women if my mouth of magic got on his cock. He seemed interested by this and asked if I was really that good. I thought about it, and barring my experience from last Saturday, giving head while I was congested and sick, I told him that I was pretty fucking amazing.
I can't remember how the conversation ended, but one of us probably fell asleep. During the day on Friday while I was in class he asked me if I was serious about last night and I replied that I was always serious. We talked for about a half hour in the afternoon while he was still at work because he had to leave right after work to go to the gig that his band had that night to set up and everything. While I was at dinner, he left me a voicemail, singing the chorus to "Kiss You All Over," which was ridiculously cutesy and funny, but somehow sexy at the same time.
I thought about him at night since I had nothing to do as I was the RA on-call, meaning I couldn't leave campus, couldn't engage in illegal activities on-campus, and a bunch of other boring stuff. He called me while he was on his way home from the venue and I could tell he was a little buzzed. He talked about the concert for awhile and I told him to call me when he got home because I wanted him to focus on the road, so we hung up. He must have got the picture that I'd sent him awhile earlier about the new shoes that I wanted, these sexy heels with ankle cuffs. He texted me and asked me if I was going to get them. I told him to focus on the road and not the shoes, but he kept asking me how much they were. I told him I wasn't talking to him until he got home, so he finally quit texting me and called me from his house when he got there.
He asked me what I was wearing and I was too tired to come up with a lie about what sexy lingerie I was wearing so I told him the truth: An oversized tshirt. Really hot, right? I asked him what he was wearing and he told me boxers and socks. I had to fucking laugh at that, I thought my oversized tshirt comment was bad. I reminded him that I did not yet have a picture of him that he promised me the night before of him playing the guitar with no shirt on. He told me he'd take it and a few minutes later I got a picture message with him, completely nude, only one of his guitars covering up his junk. At first I really didn't know how to respond, so I joked around because that's what I do in situations like these. I told him that he used the wrong guitar (the one in the picture was a flying-V) because he had told me that the V would cover the most up. He laughed and told me fine, he'd take a picture without the fucking guitar at all. I really didn't think he would, but a few minutes later, I got a picture of him, completely fucking nude, cock out and everything. I was totally surprised by this and didn't know how to respond.
I told him that I was impressed that he had actually done that and I was like what happened to the shy boy that I knew, or were you just playing dumb with me when I'd drop hints and little sexual innuendos? I could almost hear his fucking smile through the phone and all he said was maybe he was playing dumb. I callled him a tease and he asked me how I liked the picture. I shifted my eyes and tried to think of an appropriate response. What actually came out was, "It was nice, like I said, I was impressed." Fuck. That's not what I wanted to say at all.
"Nice?" He asked. "Wow...that hurts a little." He'd called me on my vague response and now I was totally fucked.
"What do you want me to say? You have the most magnificient, biggest cock I've ever seen in my entire life," I said. That wasn't good either, now he thinks I'm being condescending probably and thinks he has a tiny dick.
Luckily, he laughed and said something about it "being floppy" and I told him to never say anything like that again because it was gross. He brought up the shoes again and how he thought they were really fucking hot. He started saying some other things, I can't for the life of me remember what they were or even the gist of what they would have been about. All I remember is getting wet and starting to to slide my hand down my stomach as he kept talking. I remember havng the feeling that I knew we were going to have phone sex, but I didn't know how to make the first move, and luckily enough he did. He asked if I was getting wet and I told him I already was really wet.
"Are you rubbing yourself down there?" He asked. In my mind I kind of laughed. Down there? Really? Are we 15 and can't say pussy? But, I wanted to play along, so I ignored his relative clean language even though I like when a guy can talk really dirty to me.
"Do you want me to?" I asked, trying to be sexy. I think it worked because I heard a little groan and then he said, "Yeah. Do it."
I moaned into the phone as my fingers grazed over my clit. Fina-fucking-lly! I thought...it only took me like six weeks for you to get to this point. I told him to stroke his cock and asked him what he was thinking about.
"I'm thinking about you right now. Are you thinking about me?" He asked. I told him I was thinking about him and he had such a hot body and that I wish I was there with him so I could show him how I wanted him. I heard the phone moving and I smiled because I knew it meant he was stroking himself faster and I was going to get him off before we even had our first date.
We kept going for awhile and I was super wet, sliding my fingers in me without any resistance and pulling them out soaked in my own juices. "Are you close, baby?" He asked. I was close and I heard him grunt and sigh as he came. I was still going and I told him to keep talking to me, not to stop talking to me. "Are you gonna cum? C'mon baby, I want you to cum for me," He said. God that was so hot, hearing him say that made me lose it and I came, moaning into the phone as my body spasmed. We were silent for a few seconds, me trying to catch my breath, him doing I don't know what. We talked for a few minutes and I told him that I was glad he finally broke down his wall of aloofness. We said goodnight and I masturbated again, not feeling quite satisfied yet. I finally fell asleep, smiling as I closed my eyes.
The next day I had work and then went to dinner with a few girlfriends and then we drank in my room, a little girls' night. We got wasted in no time. We split a bottle of UV Blue, the college girl's kryptonite, and when we finished that, we opened my bottle of Bacardi and downed that, too. We were all in fleece pants and tshirts. My hair was greasy and I wasn't wearing any makeup, needless to say, I was fucking sexy. I grabbed my red leather belt and put it on over my tshirt to glam my drunk self up a bit. We walked around my floor and found a couple of my residents who laughed at me and then gave me some Absolut and orange juice. We hung out with them for awhile before I went back to my room to see if Rocker had called. He wasn't feeling well today and I figured he was still asleep, but I wanted him to talk to me. He finally called and we talked for about twenty minutes before he said he was going to go back to bed. I got a little pissed because I've been sick since last Saturday and still stayed up to talk to him, so I told him whatever, go to bed. I'm such a bitch when I'm drunk and not getting what I want.
I didn't feel bad about it at all. He texted me and said, "Goodnight, Sunshine" a little nickname we have for each other and my bitchy self said, "Yup. Later" God, I'm such a cunt when I don't get my way. He asked me what was wrong and I told him nothing, to go to bed. I forgot about it until this afternoon when he texted me and said hello and asked if I was mad at him. He called me right after he sent it and I asked why he thought I'd be mad at him. "Well, I felt bad about the way I hung up last night...I didn't mean to be so abrupt, I just really was feeling sick," He said. I couldn't believe that he was apologizing because he didn't do anything wrong. Wow, I'm a total bitch to him and then he apologizes for it....weird. I told him not to feel bad, that I was just being a bitch and we continued talking for awhile. I knew he had to go to work in a couple hours, but I really wish he could have come over so we could just cuddle together in bed all day. I didn't say that, I have a hard time verbalizing my thoughts when they're tender like that because I'm afraid of them getting rejected, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than us to just be in bed together, cuddling, being sick together with Kleenexs surrounding us and a cheesy movie on TBS.
He's at work still and I keep thinking about him and periodically checking my phone to see if he's texted me. I can't wait for him to call me when he gets off work because I already miss his voice. I want to know how he's feeling and how work went. I want to tell him that I missed him and that I've been thinking about him all day. I want to demand that he come over right now so we can just talk and cuddle, but I know he can't since he has work in the morning. I don't know where this is going at all, but I do genuinely like him and I haven't felt a connection like this in awhile. Part of me wants to ask him where he sees this going, but then again, I don't want to put any pressure on it because I don't know what I would say to any of his responses.
For now, I'm just glad that I broke him down into having phone sex with me and at least talking a little dirty, although I will have to work on his vocabulary because if he says something about me "pulsating down there" I'm going to have to laugh.
As we got more cheap alcohol in us, we became a little more loose with our dancing. It's always funny to me how bars work. There's always a dancefloor where, at the beginning of the night, there's a small group of girls who are probably already drunk or just too confident to care that they look like idiots dancing while everyone else is just sitting around, then as the night goes on, more girls venture out to the dancefloor and there forms a wall of men who are creepily, if unconsciously, staring at them. The same thing happened on Thursday. My friends and I really like to dance but we didn't want to be lumped into the same scope as the four older women snapping their fingers and trying to sexily sway their mom-hips, so we waited until the bar got a little more crowded before we went on the dancefloor. The night went on, we drank and danced more, and two of my friends' boyfriends showed up, so they got all smoochie with them while my other friend and I stayed on the dancefloor.
I texted Rocker to see what he had been up to. Right before I got to the bar, he had called me to see what I was doing that night. I told him that I was having a girls' night out with some of my bitches and he kind of just laughed and said he was doing the same with the boys, but he was at rehearsal and not a bar. He asked me what I was wearing and I told him an outfit and he was like, okay, you're trying to tease me, that's fine. I told him that I'd call him later as I stepped into the bar and hung up. A few minutes later he texted me and told me that he was thinking about me. "Oh yeah? What are you thinking?" I asked, trying my fucking best to break him out of his shell.
I've been desperately trying to get Rocker to appease my horniness and have had no luck thus far, but I still tried. Persistence pays off, no? He asked me again what I was wearing, so I finally told him that I was wearing a longer silvery shirt with black pants and black heels and a belt cinched at the waist. He seemed pleased with that and I asked what he was wearing. "Jeans. No shirt. Too hot."
I re-read what he wrote. What the fuck is he wearing no shirt for...but then I remembered he was at rehearsal. And then I remembered that he was playing guitar. And then my mind put two and two together and the image of him playing guitar with only jeans on, sweating and rocking out popped into my mind and I got even more turned on than my usual consistent horniness. "What the fuck, take a picture for me," I told him but he said he would when he got home. I asked if he would play for me sometime with no shirt on and he said he would, so I pressed further, "What about no pants?" I asked. He said, "Just the guitar?" I smiled at my little conquest and told him that he had now committed to it, so he had to do it for me and he said that he promised he would. I patted myself on the back for the small step I was making to get him to take my bait.
"What do I get if I do that?" he asked.
"What do you want?" I said, wanting to gauge his response to see if he could even potentially handle me.
"I don't know. A kiss?" Fuckkkkkkk. What did I have to do to get this guy to say something dirty to me? It was really starting to piss me off.
"Only a kiss? Hmm." I said.
"You.." I really didn't know what this meant, so I said so, telling him that he was going to have to be more specific.
"I wanna kiss you all over," He said. Ahh finally, a promising response!
"That's more like it," I said with pride, "You're finally taking my bait. Tell me what else you want."
We exchanged little texts with not a whole lot of sex in them, but enough to make me hopeful. When I got back to my dorm room, he texted me again since I hadn't responded for quite some time to his previous text. I don't remember how we started talking about anything sexual at this point, but he asked me to tell him one of my fantasies. So I did. I went into detail about how I always thought it would be hot to go into a guy's office at work, lock the door and have him fuck me from behind across his desk, trying to keep quiet so we don't get caught. Maybe it's a little secretary fetish I have, I don't know, but I always thought that would be hot to do. I asked him to tell me one of his fantasies and he gave me the "you in a short skirt and heels" thing. Duh. I had already known that about him. Plus, that's a pretty generic fantasy. What guy doesn't want to fuck a girl with some FMPs and a tiny skirt on? I told him to tell me something else that he wanted. He responded that he thought it would be hot for me to be in control, "dom style" he said, which I assume means dominatrix. Hmm..never did anything like that. He told me that he wanted me to give him head and I told him flat out that he would be ruined for other women if my mouth of magic got on his cock. He seemed interested by this and asked if I was really that good. I thought about it, and barring my experience from last Saturday, giving head while I was congested and sick, I told him that I was pretty fucking amazing.
I can't remember how the conversation ended, but one of us probably fell asleep. During the day on Friday while I was in class he asked me if I was serious about last night and I replied that I was always serious. We talked for about a half hour in the afternoon while he was still at work because he had to leave right after work to go to the gig that his band had that night to set up and everything. While I was at dinner, he left me a voicemail, singing the chorus to "Kiss You All Over," which was ridiculously cutesy and funny, but somehow sexy at the same time.
I thought about him at night since I had nothing to do as I was the RA on-call, meaning I couldn't leave campus, couldn't engage in illegal activities on-campus, and a bunch of other boring stuff. He called me while he was on his way home from the venue and I could tell he was a little buzzed. He talked about the concert for awhile and I told him to call me when he got home because I wanted him to focus on the road, so we hung up. He must have got the picture that I'd sent him awhile earlier about the new shoes that I wanted, these sexy heels with ankle cuffs. He texted me and asked me if I was going to get them. I told him to focus on the road and not the shoes, but he kept asking me how much they were. I told him I wasn't talking to him until he got home, so he finally quit texting me and called me from his house when he got there.
He asked me what I was wearing and I was too tired to come up with a lie about what sexy lingerie I was wearing so I told him the truth: An oversized tshirt. Really hot, right? I asked him what he was wearing and he told me boxers and socks. I had to fucking laugh at that, I thought my oversized tshirt comment was bad. I reminded him that I did not yet have a picture of him that he promised me the night before of him playing the guitar with no shirt on. He told me he'd take it and a few minutes later I got a picture message with him, completely nude, only one of his guitars covering up his junk. At first I really didn't know how to respond, so I joked around because that's what I do in situations like these. I told him that he used the wrong guitar (the one in the picture was a flying-V) because he had told me that the V would cover the most up. He laughed and told me fine, he'd take a picture without the fucking guitar at all. I really didn't think he would, but a few minutes later, I got a picture of him, completely fucking nude, cock out and everything. I was totally surprised by this and didn't know how to respond.
I told him that I was impressed that he had actually done that and I was like what happened to the shy boy that I knew, or were you just playing dumb with me when I'd drop hints and little sexual innuendos? I could almost hear his fucking smile through the phone and all he said was maybe he was playing dumb. I callled him a tease and he asked me how I liked the picture. I shifted my eyes and tried to think of an appropriate response. What actually came out was, "It was nice, like I said, I was impressed." Fuck. That's not what I wanted to say at all.
"Nice?" He asked. "Wow...that hurts a little." He'd called me on my vague response and now I was totally fucked.
"What do you want me to say? You have the most magnificient, biggest cock I've ever seen in my entire life," I said. That wasn't good either, now he thinks I'm being condescending probably and thinks he has a tiny dick.
Luckily, he laughed and said something about it "being floppy" and I told him to never say anything like that again because it was gross. He brought up the shoes again and how he thought they were really fucking hot. He started saying some other things, I can't for the life of me remember what they were or even the gist of what they would have been about. All I remember is getting wet and starting to to slide my hand down my stomach as he kept talking. I remember havng the feeling that I knew we were going to have phone sex, but I didn't know how to make the first move, and luckily enough he did. He asked if I was getting wet and I told him I already was really wet.
"Are you rubbing yourself down there?" He asked. In my mind I kind of laughed. Down there? Really? Are we 15 and can't say pussy? But, I wanted to play along, so I ignored his relative clean language even though I like when a guy can talk really dirty to me.
"Do you want me to?" I asked, trying to be sexy. I think it worked because I heard a little groan and then he said, "Yeah. Do it."
I moaned into the phone as my fingers grazed over my clit. Fina-fucking-lly! I thought...it only took me like six weeks for you to get to this point. I told him to stroke his cock and asked him what he was thinking about.
"I'm thinking about you right now. Are you thinking about me?" He asked. I told him I was thinking about him and he had such a hot body and that I wish I was there with him so I could show him how I wanted him. I heard the phone moving and I smiled because I knew it meant he was stroking himself faster and I was going to get him off before we even had our first date.
We kept going for awhile and I was super wet, sliding my fingers in me without any resistance and pulling them out soaked in my own juices. "Are you close, baby?" He asked. I was close and I heard him grunt and sigh as he came. I was still going and I told him to keep talking to me, not to stop talking to me. "Are you gonna cum? C'mon baby, I want you to cum for me," He said. God that was so hot, hearing him say that made me lose it and I came, moaning into the phone as my body spasmed. We were silent for a few seconds, me trying to catch my breath, him doing I don't know what. We talked for a few minutes and I told him that I was glad he finally broke down his wall of aloofness. We said goodnight and I masturbated again, not feeling quite satisfied yet. I finally fell asleep, smiling as I closed my eyes.
The next day I had work and then went to dinner with a few girlfriends and then we drank in my room, a little girls' night. We got wasted in no time. We split a bottle of UV Blue, the college girl's kryptonite, and when we finished that, we opened my bottle of Bacardi and downed that, too. We were all in fleece pants and tshirts. My hair was greasy and I wasn't wearing any makeup, needless to say, I was fucking sexy. I grabbed my red leather belt and put it on over my tshirt to glam my drunk self up a bit. We walked around my floor and found a couple of my residents who laughed at me and then gave me some Absolut and orange juice. We hung out with them for awhile before I went back to my room to see if Rocker had called. He wasn't feeling well today and I figured he was still asleep, but I wanted him to talk to me. He finally called and we talked for about twenty minutes before he said he was going to go back to bed. I got a little pissed because I've been sick since last Saturday and still stayed up to talk to him, so I told him whatever, go to bed. I'm such a bitch when I'm drunk and not getting what I want.
I didn't feel bad about it at all. He texted me and said, "Goodnight, Sunshine" a little nickname we have for each other and my bitchy self said, "Yup. Later" God, I'm such a cunt when I don't get my way. He asked me what was wrong and I told him nothing, to go to bed. I forgot about it until this afternoon when he texted me and said hello and asked if I was mad at him. He called me right after he sent it and I asked why he thought I'd be mad at him. "Well, I felt bad about the way I hung up last night...I didn't mean to be so abrupt, I just really was feeling sick," He said. I couldn't believe that he was apologizing because he didn't do anything wrong. Wow, I'm a total bitch to him and then he apologizes for it....weird. I told him not to feel bad, that I was just being a bitch and we continued talking for awhile. I knew he had to go to work in a couple hours, but I really wish he could have come over so we could just cuddle together in bed all day. I didn't say that, I have a hard time verbalizing my thoughts when they're tender like that because I'm afraid of them getting rejected, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than us to just be in bed together, cuddling, being sick together with Kleenexs surrounding us and a cheesy movie on TBS.
He's at work still and I keep thinking about him and periodically checking my phone to see if he's texted me. I can't wait for him to call me when he gets off work because I already miss his voice. I want to know how he's feeling and how work went. I want to tell him that I missed him and that I've been thinking about him all day. I want to demand that he come over right now so we can just talk and cuddle, but I know he can't since he has work in the morning. I don't know where this is going at all, but I do genuinely like him and I haven't felt a connection like this in awhile. Part of me wants to ask him where he sees this going, but then again, I don't want to put any pressure on it because I don't know what I would say to any of his responses.
For now, I'm just glad that I broke him down into having phone sex with me and at least talking a little dirty, although I will have to work on his vocabulary because if he says something about me "pulsating down there" I'm going to have to laugh.
Monday, February 2, 2009
You Know, I Always Imagined What You Would Look Like Naked
As I mentioned in my previous post, I invited Ex-BFF over on Saturday night. Between the few hours when I had invited him over and when he actually arrived, I had called my best friend to get her advice. I told her the situation and asked her if she thought it would be shitty of me to hook up with Ex-BFF (who she knows) when I talk to Rocker like I do (who she does not know, nor does she know we "met" online). She asked if Rocker and I were getting to the point where we think we might become official or if we were building up trust. I really didn't know how to answer that. I guess we've been building up trust, but we could both be fucking each other over and neither one of us would be the wiser. So, I told her that we're pretty casual, just flirty, nothing had happened. "Well, go have fun then. But, I know you've always liked ex-BFF and everything and you can't help who you like, just don't get hooked on him. You can do so much better," she said. I just kind of laughed and said thanks, but I suppose I felt the same way.
Earlier that day I had been feeling like shit with a sore throat and head cold type thing. Knowing this, I still had ex-BFF come over. He showed up and we kind of awkwardly bullshitted about nothing important. I hadn't seen him in about two years and I was disappointed in his appearance. He had lost a lot of his muscle mass and looked like he had shrunk a good three inches, but I suppose that could be just an illusion from losing his muscle. I sized him up and wasn't really feeling it, so I just thought fuck it, put in a movie and lay down on my bed with him.
I was laying with my head on his chest and his one arm cradled around my neck and shoulder. He started stroking my chest and inched his way not so subtly to my tits. I got a little wet while he was doing this, but found it all kind of awkward. I mean, this was the same kid that I had watched eat glue when we were in 4th grade. The one whose poems I had to proof-read for dumb spelling mistakes before he would give them to a girl he liked throughout junior high.
I put my hand on his thigh as he turned me towards him and started kissing me. He wasn't a bad kisser, but again, I couldn't help the image of him gulping down some Elmer's from popping into my head or various other unappealing things I had seen him do throughout our years of knowing each other.
We continued to kiss as he pulled my skirt up a little (not that it needed much help, it was damn near exposing me already) and moved my panties to the side as he started to stroke my clit. A little sidenote: Why does every boy in my age group think that they can just start rubbing my clit like they're trying to get out a fucking stain in their mom's white carpet? It's painful and pisses me off when they do that. I always have to tell them go softer, and this may scare them or something because then they'll start finger fucking me and thus totally forget about my poor little clit. She's never treated right, dammit.
Anyway, he started fingering me. He did it roughly, very roughly and I arched my back and reached my one arm behind me to grab the headboard of my bed. "You like that, baby?" he asked. Well, I don't really know yet I thought. I just sort of nodded and kissed him again as he kept going. "Want me to go deeper?" He asked. This got a response out of me. I moaned and told him yeah as he plunged his fingers in me. This went on for a little while but came to a stop when he asked if I wanted his cock. Fuck, I really hadn't thought about us having sex. Did he really think that I was going to give it up that easily? Thinking about my response now kind of makes me laugh, but what the hell. I told him no and kind of awkwardly laughed as I rolled on top of him and asked him if he wanted me to suck him off. He responded by taking off his boxers.
His dick was average, not really disappointing or thrilling, just kind of eh. I should have known that I wouldn't have been able to give my usual mindblowing beej since I wasn't feeling well, but I didn't expect it to be this bad. I could barely keep going for more than 25 seconds at a time before my saliva and his pre-cum would overflow my mouth and need to be swallowed down while I took a breath as my nose was completely stuffed with really attractive snot and sickness boogies.
I made him switch positions so that instead of us both lying on the bed and me propping myself up, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and I was squatting on the floor. This didn't get much better for me and I'm sure it wasn't that great for him. I didn't really care at this point and I was amazed at myself. Why the fuck do I want this to be over so quickly? I kept repeating that as my body just wanted to stop. I'll be the first person to tell you that I love to give head. There's nothing bad about it and I really like making a guy go crazy over my mouth. I just wasn't into it this time. Mostly because I was sick, I think, but maybe also because I wasn't just flat-out super attracted to him like I thought I would be.
Mid-way through he asked me if I wanted him to titty-fuck me. I shook my head no. What the fuck is wrong with you?! my mind screamed. You love this shit! I know, I know. Calm down, you bitch. I was having a mental war as he told me that he was getting close. I tried to at least make the climax good, but I think it fell flat. He came and everything, but I just didn't really feel any excitement oozing off of him like most guys do. Maybe he's just a quiet cummer. I really hate that. Make some noise, fucker, appreciate what I'm doing for you with a moan or something.
When he was done and after I had swallowed and wiped my mouth, we lay back down and I just kept thinking to myself how awful that was. Not that I was disgusted by it or anything, but I was highly disappointed in my less than stellar performance. Part of me wanted to scream out that I was sick and couldn't breathe out of my nose, but I didn't. It would be an easy exit if he thought that I wasn't good at giving head; I probably wouldn't have to worry about him calling me for a late night hookup if that was the case.
We continued watching the movie and he asked me if I had any food. Ummm..what..the..fuck? I told him I had some cereal that he could have, but that was about it. He ate the last of my Cinnamon Toast Crunch as I lay in bed, sending a text to Rocker. Rocker didn't reply and I didn't try again. I wanted to be proactive about him contacting me though, so I suppose that's why I texted him in the first place, so that if he called or something I would be prepared. When the movie was over, ex-BFF asked me how my schedule looked and I vaguely answered. He mentioned that he'd probably stop by when he was out here now and again and told me to give him a call sometime. We briefly kissed and hugged as he left.
I closed the door and rolled my eyes as I changed, taking off my skirt and wet panties and putting on the crappiest most comfortable sweatpants that I have. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my hands. I could smell him on me and I wanted the evidence gone. On the walk back to my dorm, one of my residents asked if that was my boyfriend. I shook my head and kept walking, not wanting to explain and not wanting them to ask any questions that I didn't feel like answering.
I laid back down on my bed and found that I was still wet. Even now I'm a little wet writing about it, but I don't think anything of it, at least not as anything more than a normal physical reaction to hooking up with someone. I knew when I closed the door on ex-BFF that I wouldn't call him and that I probably wouldn't answer his calls. I know my best friend will call and ask me how it went and she'll be satisfied that there is absolutely no chance that I could ever become attached to ex-BFF. She'll thank the Lord and tell me that I can do much better and that at least he is out of my system for good and I'll have to agree with her.
I'm a little disappointed that all my years of having a crush on him meant nothing when I actually got the opportunity to get into his pants. Maybe I was expecting this great spectacle of passion because of the sexual tension that had been pent up between us for years. Whatever it was that I was expecting didn't happen, and although I realize that it's okay to be disappointed sometimes, there's still a feeling of it should have been more or meant something more. But there's not and it didn't mean anything.
At least I know that I have nothing to tell Rocker. When I talked to Rocker yesterday and today, I didn't even think about what had happened with ex-BFF. It was a non-issue in my mind. Is that terrible? I mean in all technical ways of thinking, I didn't cheat on Rocker. I would be pissed if he did the same thing to me, but I can't wrap my mind around the notion that what I did was truly wrong, especially after its unsatisfying outcome. The only time I thought about it in regards to Rocker was when he said something about being too nice to people and I told him that I'm always a bitch to people so that I get what I want. I had a mental flash of me looking up into ex-BFF's eyes as I had his cock in my mouth. I shook my head, shaking the image out of my mind like a fucking etch-a-sketch.
I'm still waiting to meet Rocker but I'm trying not to put any expectations on it. Great if things work out and we become this happy schmoopie-pie couple, but if things don't work out, then I don't want to be disappointed.
In other news, I had this fucking great dream last night thanks to my consumption of Nyquil. Nyquil fucks with my already fucked up dreams. I mean, if I had a menage a trois with Mr. Freeze and Batman in a normal dream (Mr. Freeze was amazing in my dream by the way, and no I did not get ice burn or anything) then how can a dream be more fucked up? Well, enter Nyquil and throw a big orgy into my subconscious. There were five total people in the orgy of my dreams, including me. No one that I knew, but I sure as hell got to know them in my dream. It makes me wonder about the meaning of dreaming about having orgies and stuff. I have had a bunch of menage a trois dreams, but nothing like this one with dicks, ass, and tits all over the freaking place. I was like a kid in a candy store if the candy store was really selling gorgeous boobies and nice, hard cock.
I may be a tad crazy, but that's life, folks.
Earlier that day I had been feeling like shit with a sore throat and head cold type thing. Knowing this, I still had ex-BFF come over. He showed up and we kind of awkwardly bullshitted about nothing important. I hadn't seen him in about two years and I was disappointed in his appearance. He had lost a lot of his muscle mass and looked like he had shrunk a good three inches, but I suppose that could be just an illusion from losing his muscle. I sized him up and wasn't really feeling it, so I just thought fuck it, put in a movie and lay down on my bed with him.
I was laying with my head on his chest and his one arm cradled around my neck and shoulder. He started stroking my chest and inched his way not so subtly to my tits. I got a little wet while he was doing this, but found it all kind of awkward. I mean, this was the same kid that I had watched eat glue when we were in 4th grade. The one whose poems I had to proof-read for dumb spelling mistakes before he would give them to a girl he liked throughout junior high.
I put my hand on his thigh as he turned me towards him and started kissing me. He wasn't a bad kisser, but again, I couldn't help the image of him gulping down some Elmer's from popping into my head or various other unappealing things I had seen him do throughout our years of knowing each other.
We continued to kiss as he pulled my skirt up a little (not that it needed much help, it was damn near exposing me already) and moved my panties to the side as he started to stroke my clit. A little sidenote: Why does every boy in my age group think that they can just start rubbing my clit like they're trying to get out a fucking stain in their mom's white carpet? It's painful and pisses me off when they do that. I always have to tell them go softer, and this may scare them or something because then they'll start finger fucking me and thus totally forget about my poor little clit. She's never treated right, dammit.
Anyway, he started fingering me. He did it roughly, very roughly and I arched my back and reached my one arm behind me to grab the headboard of my bed. "You like that, baby?" he asked. Well, I don't really know yet I thought. I just sort of nodded and kissed him again as he kept going. "Want me to go deeper?" He asked. This got a response out of me. I moaned and told him yeah as he plunged his fingers in me. This went on for a little while but came to a stop when he asked if I wanted his cock. Fuck, I really hadn't thought about us having sex. Did he really think that I was going to give it up that easily? Thinking about my response now kind of makes me laugh, but what the hell. I told him no and kind of awkwardly laughed as I rolled on top of him and asked him if he wanted me to suck him off. He responded by taking off his boxers.
His dick was average, not really disappointing or thrilling, just kind of eh. I should have known that I wouldn't have been able to give my usual mindblowing beej since I wasn't feeling well, but I didn't expect it to be this bad. I could barely keep going for more than 25 seconds at a time before my saliva and his pre-cum would overflow my mouth and need to be swallowed down while I took a breath as my nose was completely stuffed with really attractive snot and sickness boogies.
I made him switch positions so that instead of us both lying on the bed and me propping myself up, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and I was squatting on the floor. This didn't get much better for me and I'm sure it wasn't that great for him. I didn't really care at this point and I was amazed at myself. Why the fuck do I want this to be over so quickly? I kept repeating that as my body just wanted to stop. I'll be the first person to tell you that I love to give head. There's nothing bad about it and I really like making a guy go crazy over my mouth. I just wasn't into it this time. Mostly because I was sick, I think, but maybe also because I wasn't just flat-out super attracted to him like I thought I would be.
Mid-way through he asked me if I wanted him to titty-fuck me. I shook my head no. What the fuck is wrong with you?! my mind screamed. You love this shit! I know, I know. Calm down, you bitch. I was having a mental war as he told me that he was getting close. I tried to at least make the climax good, but I think it fell flat. He came and everything, but I just didn't really feel any excitement oozing off of him like most guys do. Maybe he's just a quiet cummer. I really hate that. Make some noise, fucker, appreciate what I'm doing for you with a moan or something.
When he was done and after I had swallowed and wiped my mouth, we lay back down and I just kept thinking to myself how awful that was. Not that I was disgusted by it or anything, but I was highly disappointed in my less than stellar performance. Part of me wanted to scream out that I was sick and couldn't breathe out of my nose, but I didn't. It would be an easy exit if he thought that I wasn't good at giving head; I probably wouldn't have to worry about him calling me for a late night hookup if that was the case.
We continued watching the movie and he asked me if I had any food. Ummm..what..the..fuck? I told him I had some cereal that he could have, but that was about it. He ate the last of my Cinnamon Toast Crunch as I lay in bed, sending a text to Rocker. Rocker didn't reply and I didn't try again. I wanted to be proactive about him contacting me though, so I suppose that's why I texted him in the first place, so that if he called or something I would be prepared. When the movie was over, ex-BFF asked me how my schedule looked and I vaguely answered. He mentioned that he'd probably stop by when he was out here now and again and told me to give him a call sometime. We briefly kissed and hugged as he left.
I closed the door and rolled my eyes as I changed, taking off my skirt and wet panties and putting on the crappiest most comfortable sweatpants that I have. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my hands. I could smell him on me and I wanted the evidence gone. On the walk back to my dorm, one of my residents asked if that was my boyfriend. I shook my head and kept walking, not wanting to explain and not wanting them to ask any questions that I didn't feel like answering.
I laid back down on my bed and found that I was still wet. Even now I'm a little wet writing about it, but I don't think anything of it, at least not as anything more than a normal physical reaction to hooking up with someone. I knew when I closed the door on ex-BFF that I wouldn't call him and that I probably wouldn't answer his calls. I know my best friend will call and ask me how it went and she'll be satisfied that there is absolutely no chance that I could ever become attached to ex-BFF. She'll thank the Lord and tell me that I can do much better and that at least he is out of my system for good and I'll have to agree with her.
I'm a little disappointed that all my years of having a crush on him meant nothing when I actually got the opportunity to get into his pants. Maybe I was expecting this great spectacle of passion because of the sexual tension that had been pent up between us for years. Whatever it was that I was expecting didn't happen, and although I realize that it's okay to be disappointed sometimes, there's still a feeling of it should have been more or meant something more. But there's not and it didn't mean anything.
At least I know that I have nothing to tell Rocker. When I talked to Rocker yesterday and today, I didn't even think about what had happened with ex-BFF. It was a non-issue in my mind. Is that terrible? I mean in all technical ways of thinking, I didn't cheat on Rocker. I would be pissed if he did the same thing to me, but I can't wrap my mind around the notion that what I did was truly wrong, especially after its unsatisfying outcome. The only time I thought about it in regards to Rocker was when he said something about being too nice to people and I told him that I'm always a bitch to people so that I get what I want. I had a mental flash of me looking up into ex-BFF's eyes as I had his cock in my mouth. I shook my head, shaking the image out of my mind like a fucking etch-a-sketch.
I'm still waiting to meet Rocker but I'm trying not to put any expectations on it. Great if things work out and we become this happy schmoopie-pie couple, but if things don't work out, then I don't want to be disappointed.
In other news, I had this fucking great dream last night thanks to my consumption of Nyquil. Nyquil fucks with my already fucked up dreams. I mean, if I had a menage a trois with Mr. Freeze and Batman in a normal dream (Mr. Freeze was amazing in my dream by the way, and no I did not get ice burn or anything) then how can a dream be more fucked up? Well, enter Nyquil and throw a big orgy into my subconscious. There were five total people in the orgy of my dreams, including me. No one that I knew, but I sure as hell got to know them in my dream. It makes me wonder about the meaning of dreaming about having orgies and stuff. I have had a bunch of menage a trois dreams, but nothing like this one with dicks, ass, and tits all over the freaking place. I was like a kid in a candy store if the candy store was really selling gorgeous boobies and nice, hard cock.
I may be a tad crazy, but that's life, folks.
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