Writing My Wrongs

I went to Louisville and had a relatively good time. Casual and relaxed.
He wanted me to go to a work function and I packed for it…but thought about it and was like…I don’t want to meet his friends or his family…coworkers included. I came to spend time with him, not everyone connected with him.
It was a lazy weekend. He took me out to the country, I mean the very middle of the country in Kentucky and 2 hours later, we are at the...


We took a tour and got to dip our own bottles in red wax. I thought it was cool even though the only time I drank Makers Mark was when I was out with my boss and I was trying to impress him when I ordered my drink neat. He was impressed and me…well my throat burned like I had poured acid down it and my stomach felt like hell in the pit of my belly.

I left that Monday and realized that this was probably going to be a return trip because I realize that I like country life. Or at least I think I do. I liked Charlotte or maybe I liked who was in Charlotte. I liked Charlotte…I think. I think I liked the thought of Charlotte. I like the thought of a country guy, a southern man.

I was back in NYC for 2 days before California came to New York. I wasn’t prepared. It was an ex that came for a “meeting” for his job. He was here Wednesday thru Monday. He stayed at my place 2 days and again…I wasn’t prepared. I don’t get how you love someone practically 20 years later. I don’t get it. I know he had grandiose visions of he and I getting back together. I’d heard him year after year telling me he still loved me…but I didn’t believe it. It’s exhausting trying to maintain a friendship with someone that wants to be your life-mate.

And finally…we come to Sexy Chocolate aka Just Chocolate.
I think I may be in some sort of infatuated state with him. I want him to want me the way I want him. Which is contradictory to the fact that I don’t think he is good for me.
But then…didn’t we all know I would say something like that.
Don’t we all know that I can’t equate myself with thinking I deserve some sort of wonderful instead of giving out my wonderfulness in bits and pieces to random ass.
Not really a question…no need to give your buck 76…lol

So tonight I had a date with someone that…might be ok to spend some time with. He is from Eygpt. His name is Mohamed, with Barack’s middle name. When I got into his car, he was playing Hall & Oats. I liked him for that. No rap, no smooth jazz, no crying R&B…

…I have some TMI info.
I don’t masturbate…nearly as much as I should.
Now, I do have “items” that encourage self pleasure…and let’s say I pulled one out this afternoon…
I turned down some quality poncha Friday night from the SNS…(I am somewhat holding out for Sexy Chocolate)…and I also had California in town…so why am I breaking out my “items” when I had the real life thing in my home? Well…
Right now I am just not in the mood for having a man inside of me. I haven’t had sex since…the last time I had sex.
So...I self pleasured today.
I had the strongest orgasm I have had in …ever…so intense…that is gave me a headache.
Now that is pitiful.
I am about to sex someone up soon…’cause masturbating to the point that it gives headaches is totally counter-productive.
The strain on my neck and head were so bad I was about to throw away my bullet. Almost. Not quite.

Bloomingdale’s has put up their Christmas windows. The tree at Rockefellar is up but not let yet.

There are some things about myself that I love…and then there are some things that make me sort of wince. But I realize that…I am who I am. I could improve on those things that make me wince but then…those are the things that set me apart from others. And if I changed those things…then I’d be damn near perfect…and tell me truthfully, who the hell wants to be around someone that’s perfect?

That would leave others resenting me and sooner than later I’d drop off the invite list. I’d rather be imperfect…and be comforted by the fact that we are all imperfect instead of thinking about being that one muthaeffa that’s walking around all extra perfect and shit stuff. Being mediocre on a grand scale is nothing to turn your nose up at.
Reminds me of a conversation Zed and I had about being the middle of the middle. [Stratification, October 26th, 2006]

Lately, I find myself finding reasons to use words like lest and shall or unbeknownst and thou. I think it’s my unconscious way of preserving a romantic time of speaking. I also find myself using pet names that make no sense…and I use them at the end of every text I send…

I am headed to Louisville this weekend.
I think I am spending entirely too much time back in the DC area. Matter of fact, I have gone back and visited more since I moved back to NYC then I did in the months before I moved to MD.

I met a man. We've had some dates. I named him Sexy Chocolate. He’s 6’3, with a formidable hard sexy body…and he’s a pretty dark skinned hunk of lovin’. You know, chocolate is a natural aphrodisiac. And when I met him...all I wanted to do was roll around in his chocolateness...immerse myself in him. He was everything I liked and despite the fact that he was a gemini...I wanted him bad. No, bad!


Our first date I think I kept one of my body parts touching one of his body parts the majority of the evening.

Being with him made me want to see...well...I was ready to see if I was ready. Not like make a commitment or anything…but…just to see if I might be open to all that it might come with.
Budda, S.C. has convinced me that…
I am ready to have someone around but not necessarily for the commitment thing.
Then again, I am putting too much emphasis on “commitment”…I think that is always the part that scares me. Like…I’m really going to have to stay committed even if I don’t like you anymore?!?

The other night I made dinner. He came over after helping his sister move all day so he jumped in the shower. I closed the door to the hallway that leads to the bathroom and I sat in the livingroom and giggled at the fact that the man that I wanted in my home…was really here.
I felt like a schoolgirl…fiddlin’ with my hair and straightening my shirt and trying to find the most sexy, yet cute way to sit on the couch. Jumped from couch to loveseat to see which would be better. I settled on the couch and sat to one end to see if he’d sit by me or…sit somewhere closer to the other end.
He chose to practically sit on top of me with his damp body.
I wanted to ask him if he wanted me to rub baby oil on his smooth chocolate muscles back, but ended up just sitting there watching him while contracting my coochie muscles in anticipation of what I would one day feel when I decided that I wanted him between my legs. I didn't want to risk molesting him on my couch...in the livingroom...while in the middle of a World Series game...
But here he was...with nothing but a towel around his waist...and my actions were...stuttered. I froze up.

So, I just sat on my hands and we sat and watched the World Series…we talked about randomness, much of what I don’t remember because I swear I only heard what I wanted to hear and most of what I thought he said…was no where near what he said.
I heard, "I like you, I like you, I like you…aaaaa llloooootttt Bloopty!"
…and then around 2am he looks at me and I could see that things were about to go another direction and I wasn’t sure if all that I had anticipated, was really what I was ready for right at this moment.
You see, I wanted him sexually when I met him. Wanted to taste him and touch him and feel the weight of his body on me as he he slowly went in and...
...but now that that could very well happen this night...I was caught off guard. I didn't think it would happen this soon...I wasn't ready. Not mentally.
You see, it was much easier to just want him; crave him...without any real follow through.
I know...I've been told time and time again that I am a...contradiction.
The only time I've ever been this way was with the last Gemini I was with. The one who I wanted to marry, who wanted to marry me...the relationship I sabatoged apurpose. The one man that I'd probably get misty-eyed if I ever saw again.

I already knew but I asked anyway…”you aren’t going home, are you?” And he nodded his head no and told me he was tired from moving. I wanted him to stay. But, now that it was time for him to actually lay his head in my bed…I was scurred.
Silly I know, but…silly I am.
We moved into the bedroom and his big body took up my entire bed…but I climbed over that big ol' chocolate mountain and we went to sleep, with me half on him and him half smothering me with his big trunk of an arm. It felt good.
With that said. It also felt awkward and I woke up wishing he had driven the 2 hours back home the night before. At least he doesn't snore.
I am only 5’5…but when I sleep, I sleep all over my entire bed. Having someone in my bed just irritates me sometimes. In this single life, I haven't gotten used to waking up to someones face. I know I will one day but...
I can see at this point in my life that if I ever got married again, I am going to need to have a guest room because the first couple of years months…I am not going to like sleeping next to someone every night. I need my space.

Next day…
I got a phone call from someone even sweeter than Sexy Chocolate.
Hopefully I will be able to see the new sweetness when I get back in town.

Last night I had another strange dream…Sean Combs was in it…and he wanted me…bad. Heeheehee
Then there was this chick that I haven’t spoke to in about 4 years… And a dude I had about 3 dates with who this chick gave my blog addy to after I said something “not too nice” about him. I didn’t find that out until a year later but whatever at that point. Anyway…so in this dream…chick and dude were trying to do me dirty, so to speak. Spreading lies and sabotaging everything I was involved in. So, Diddy came over and he was all over me trying to be apart of my world…and I was like, all right then Sean. So, I made him take me to obscure spots and tried to hide him so that these two shady ass mutheffin scheisters didn’t sabotage my new love interest. The last I remember is that he bashed in the head of the chick and the dude just went away and forgot all about me. Sean and I ended up moving into my grandmothers old house and he quit the “business” and he grew old and puttered around, growing tomatoes in the backyard.

~~~~
I know I have been the slacker on not keeping up with this blog. Even when I do, it’s filled with random nothingness…and void of humor, interesting content and/or anything worthwhile…
…I just don’t have a desire to expose myself anymore… [that's not true]
…next month will be 6 months that I have lived back in NYC…and although it was the best thing for me to do at the time…a part of me wishes that I didn’t have to move. Kev and I were talking and I was mentioning to him that looking back over all the men that I had dated, or had a relationship with…I’ve never had any regrets. Well that holds true for all but one. I regret ever having met the person, from the beginning of the year, from the past year and a half. I don’t feel any anger or angst towards him…I just regret the time that could have been better spent doing something else…anything…even knitting or say…picking boogers.
Anything would have been better than wasting time with him. Nothing can be done about it now…
I am a lot more proactive in choosing who I want to spend time in…rather than what I used to do, which was just making myself available to who liked me first and more.

I enjoy spending time with myself and with my girl friends. I have even removed myself from spending a lot of time with my male friends like I used to. I have proved to myself that I am not in need…that whoever and whatever I choose is out of want. Maybe that is why Sexy Chocolate is now just Chocolate and Sweeter-Than-Chocolate is just now Marc...lol I am still going through this process...but it's nice to have a man men around that make me feel like a princess.

I am off to the Dugout, across from the Yankee stadium, to watch (what I know will be) the last game of the World Series. I am sure I will be tipsy before the game ever starts. I will need to pace myself…lol

Go Yankees!

I was well for 6 days in a row. Then I got sick again. Once again, I am bed ridden and delirious. Well...delirious/delusional...whatever. A month of being sick; my social life has dwindled down to nada. Wack!

I like the fact that my bathroom has a window that faces the main street. I don’t know but in the morning I like hearing the noises of the morning’s hustle and bustle. It’s bright in the shower and it really makes it jump start my imagination as to how I can come up with another way to fuck up a beautiful day.
I am so evil sometimes.

It’s in my shower that I always have random thoughts. Nothing really ever being connected…just thoughts that come and go.

Random thoughts today:
1. if I were a man, would I treat a woman good
2. would I rather be in love or not in love
3. why do I look better in vibrant colors versus muted ones when I definitely have red undertones which should be contrasting with the vibrant colors
4. I recognize that I usually take the road that is probably not the safest
5. I wish the shower had better water pressure
6. do I want to be waking up to the same person for the rest of my life
7. the last time I had sex was the very...
8. why would I need to make a whole box of speghetti noodles for myself
9. why do I have a weird attraction to spaghetti noodles and thoughts of rolling around in a vat of them
10. do I really want California coming to New York

There is a band (DaveMatthewsBand) that has a song that has no words…so everytime they play it at a concert, it is always different lyrics. I like that, but I like DMB. It reminds me of my sophomore year in high school when I was hanging out with white girls like they were my kin. The music reminds me of that phase were I was listening to ska music and going to hear zydeco music while high on LSD. My sophomore year in high school was something kin to a walk on the wild side in a white mans world…just for a while. It was a time where I was rebelling against my father, I stole for no reason, I ditched classes, I dated NBA players that were ridiculously to old for me, I drank hard, I spent time in juevy, I was my very worse in the 10th grade. The very worse that I have ever been and at this point, ever was.

I look back on that year and I used to hate myself for putting my daddy through that but…I recognize that without those experiences…I wouldn’t be me. I am glad they only lasted a year and not my entire teenage years. Oddly, I slipped right back into being the square I was before that year…and I went back to being the quiet goody two-shoes.

So…I am missing a pairing knife from my knife set. For the very life of me I can’t think of where it is…could be. Again with the over active imagination, I start to think of black-outs and being some sort of avenger of evil…out stalking bad men with a pairing knife. Or, maybe I just paired someone who was good but still deserved a good knifing.

It’s better to be killed by someone you know on accident, then by someone you don’t know on purpose. – Peter Griffin

Seriously, where’s my knife?
*and I should stop watching tv if all I can remember to quote is TheFamilyGuy*

And as a parting word…
I will find my own way out.

The back of my thighs are killing me. I obviously did some sort of movement that could be construed as a work out of some sort but…it could be that my old and fat ass is just out of shape. I’d realized that I have actually been lying dormant for a good month now. What with being sick and all…and then just the fact that the most activity I do is taking a shower…moving around to make sure that I am getting all the necessary areas as clean as possible. Which I have to admit…is a workout in and of itself…and that’s pretty pathetic to have to admit that I tire myself out when I take a shower.
I am out of shape, definitely.

This is another entry in my relationship dialogue.


There is a certain time of day, when the sky is a soft lavender and the world hasn’t quite awaken to the morning chirps of birds as they twitter about from branch to branch…
The sun hasn’t made itself known to a brand new day…it sits under the black veil of night that’s slowly fading…
It’s at that time, that I sometimes, feel alone.

Alone doesn’t mean lonely…it means, alone.

The lavender time of day is when I like to have sex. Not quite the morning…so after the slow grind has made me softly moan and curled my toes, and made me bite my bottom lip in ecstasy, I have time to drift off to another place and drift between awake and contented bliss before the sun peaks out over the tops of skyscrapers and hits my bedroom window. My mind is on little else than rest, satiation, and relaxing.

Being single, well…my mornings aren’t always filled with lavender love. I’m alone, awake with thoughts and promises, checklists and errands, duties and calls to be made start to invade the start to my day. I’m alone, thinking of the things that will determine whether this day will be a success. And before I know it, I am wishing for the sun to rise so I can get a jump start.

I miss those soft lavender skies…as much as I miss that golden time of day when all that was done for the day can not be taken back and where I am comforted in knowing I didn’t get through the day by myself, as I lay in the comfort of someone’s arms and feel relatively safe in knowing someone has my back, as much as, I have theirs.

With that said…

I know that life-long relationships aren’t for everyone. I have a deep down feeling that they aren’t necessarily for me. That doesn’t take away from the fact that I’d like to be in a relationship from time to time. As beautiful and fulfilling as I know that a relationship can be…it is hard work. I’m all for putting in grunt work, I’m all for rolling up the sleeves and maybe even having to get mired knee deep in some bullshit in order to get to the good stuff.

But… I feel like some labor laws have been broken by the amount of work I’ve had to put forth in the past. I need some comp time to recoup, otherwise I’m going to have to count my losses and retire.

I have been here for 5 hours and I am feeling like I live here again.
I had planned a full weekend around my cousin’s event, of course.
I have cancelled all of them except Sunday’s football day with …Ken.
I’ve never liked that name. So...blah. Kenny is childish to me and Kenneth is…long…and for some reason names that end with “th” are so…highfaluting.
I ain’t into highfaluting.
Or maybe I am but not when it comes to names…lol

I am going to be in the DC area for the next 3 weekends so…me not keeping my “appointments” is no cause for worry. The more I think about it…I started wondering about my dating habits of late. What the reason was behind me dating…and whether I was making decisions based off of need, want, or my past.

Here is the run-down…
I am dating people that I know I am not going to get into long term relationships with. I think I am too committed to not being committed that I have started choosing people that aren’t really that interesting to me, out of state or like me, aren’t really committed to being committed.

I personally don’t think I am in a position to be in a committed relationship, which morally means…I shouldn’t be dating. Because as it stands…I am juggling some people’s feelings right now and at some point…I’m going to drop the ball. Why you ask? Because at the end of the day…I just don’t care anymore. I can take it or leave it and most times…I am ready to leave it before I even get started.

I guess I don’t really see things for what they are until I start telling people what’s going on with these men. As I start going down the list…I start seeing where…morally…I need to step the fuck back because someone is going to get their feelings/pride/or ego hurt…and it hasn’t been me…so far.

I recently had a conversation with someone about knowing when you shouldn’t be dating. I was saying…if you’re broke…and you are trying to date…stop it. If you can’t afford to treat a woman they way you know you have/should…then you probably shouldn’t be dating until you get your funds/mind/priorities right.
Well, of course I was applying it to men…broke ass men specifically. I am not high maintenance…sort of…but there are certain things that I expect us to do if we are dating…before we even get to the relationship part of the deal. If you can’t do those things…then you probably shouldn’t be dating me…Bloop.
Not saying you shouldn’t be dating anyone per se…but…definitely not me.

I happened to tell a guy that the other night after a "date".
I was going to pay the parking...he didn’t ask me to…I was just going to do it. Well, when I reached for my wallet it wasn’t there. I'd left my wallet in another purse. He made a comment about me purposely doing that, so that he’d have to pay for everything.
Huhn?
…so I get this right…because right now it sounds all wrong…let me see if I can get some clarification…
You mean to tell me…
YOU think I came out on a date that you asked me on…expecting to pay for something?
And YOU think that since I didn’t want to have to pay, that I left my wallet at home?
Is this what you are insinuating?
What the hell kind of woman is this man used to dating for him to think 1. I was going to pay for a date HE asked me on and 2. that I’m that gully that I’d plan to leave my wallet at home…with no cash…putting myself in jeopardy in case shit went south…just to avoid paying for something?
Ass.

*crickets*
He laughed nervously, then said…Noooo.
But then…he starts to ask me what I’m ordering, what I’m drinking, if I am having another mojito, I didn’t want dessert, did I?...
And it went on and on like that for the rest of the “date”.

So we pulled up in front of my place…and I when I got out of the car…I stood there with the door in my hand as I leaned in, looked him in the eyes…and I said, “since I know you are short on money (obviously)…let me go upstairs and bring some money down to you since you have been complaining all night about the wallet situation/the money situation/the cost of shit. And when I come back and give you my portion for my food and drinks…you can kindly not call me anymore and maybe think about dating when you can afford it.”

Slish swears someone is going to back-hand me one day.

Fortunately he didn’t. He stammered as he told me he enjoyed taking me out. That he was surprised I’d forgotten my wallet but as the night went on, he was just joking.
I told him…“I’m good”...which to everyone that knows me, means…I am definitely not good and I’m done!

I had to let him know that there is nothing more annoying then to hear a man talking about money…he doesn’t have. I don’t need to know you are on a budget. I don’t need to know you are low on funds right now. I don’t need to think that the man that I just met who is trying to “date” me…is stressing over a dinner bill from a restaurant he chose. I freaking $75 dinner bill at that.
I just took MYSELF to dinner and spent $115…for one person…
Obviously I date myself better than this muthafucka can! And he is working!

I went way off course with that story…

What I am saying is …people shouldn’t date unless they can afford to.
Which brings it back to me and my dating escapades, I can’t afford to date right now.
Emotionally.
I am really in this whole…I don’t care mode… an “oh well” mode. I’ll-probably-say-anything-without-choosing-my-words-nicely mode.
I am dating men that aren’t in my immediate area...so that I don’t have to be tied down to seeing someone on an on-going basis. I rarely answer my phone. I text randomly and inconsistently…and I never listen to my voicemail.
I think I am doing a disservice to these men who think they want to see how magically delicious I can be once they sample me lucky charms. Not only that, but I am doing myself a disservice by spreading myself so thin and not taking the time out to get over my bitterness to show them how magical I can truly be…for the right man.

Who have I become?
Well…
It’s not a good thing…it’s bad karma when a person walks away from you wishing they had never met you, I don’t want that…

I am bitter.
I love men. Love being around them, the feel of them, their voices, the way they smell, smile, laugh… I love their hardness, at the same time how sensitive they can be. I love their vulnerability and their decisiveness. I love how they take control but are not controlling. I love how they kiss, how they hold me tight while making love. I love their confidence, their camaraderie, the words they use and the unspoken words that are visible through their actions. I love men.

But right now…
I can’t afford to date until I get past this bitterness.

*I believe…I may be a little loopty right now. My auntie gave me some cold meds to sleep. Why she want me to go to sleep so bad?
Side-eyeing her sumptin fierce…sorta, I think. May just be the meds making me feel like I am side-eyeing her but probably looking at her with a lopsided goofy face. Why she want me to go to bed so bad?*

You ever been so sick that you forgot how it felt, to feel good?
That's where I was for the past 2 weeks.
But now...it's a brand new day and although I still have a slight case of bronchitis, the flu is gone...I am much much better.

So...last night I received a text from, the Fireman...random, nothing important type of text. Apparently there was a big fire somewhere in NY and his battalion [or whatever they are called] had spent 4 hours out at the fire. He said he was going to get drunk then go home and wash up since he smelled like he'd literally stepped out of a camp fire.
I hadn't really thought to much of it when he asked if he could stop by. Figured it would be an in and out type of thing. I live ridiculously close to him since I moved and although I haven't seen a problem with it thus far...I can see that it might end up bugging the hell out of me in the long run.

So he comes over and I am not overly gracious for the simple fact he never really said he was coming/no coming...so I wasn't prepared for my doorbell to ring.
I was in some scantly clad jamma outfit that I was definitely going to change if he decided he was coming over. Even I knew what I had on meant I might be open to some...bullshit.
I was in the middle of making some BBQ ribs...marinating them and getting them ready for today.
When be rang the doorbell ...way too many times...I finally answered and made sure to turn my back to him real quick because...well...it was chilly...and I told y'all I had some thin little jammas on...so...my nipples were hard little nubs that were almost painful...so I folded my arms over my chest and told him hello. Then tried to walk back to the bedroom...
...but he's drunk. And he wants a hug. And he slips in a quick feel or two. AND right there is when I knew that having him living this close was going to bug the fuck outta me.
I gave him the alli-oop and dodged his hands before they could take hold and went in the room and put on some sweats.

He starts telling me about the fire...and I almost let it slip that I am somewhat getting acquainted with another fireman...in New Jersey.
But held my tongue because I realize...I can't fuck up game.
I want to talk to him but right now, he can't be reasoned with because he becomes this other person when he's been drinking and where the respectful guy goes...is out the door...and this icky guy surfaces.
And once again...I go back to being turned off to the gajillionth degree.
So I sit at my table and continue to look up hotels for DC this weekend. And the first question he asks me about DC is, "are you going to see that one guy?"
At first I didn’t understand what guy because I still got a few there…and those few are who I am going to visit this weekend. Then it dawns on me that he is referring to the guy from the last two years.

Now normally nice respectful Fireman would never question me about another man...EVER. So it thru me off guard for a minute... but I told him that was never going to happen. He harrumphed and made a little comment under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear… as he took his seat. I looked at him sideways for a minute because ...really? These past 5 years that I have known Fireman...he's never had an opinion about any man...so...he's asking now because he's drunk...or has he been harboring some jealously all these years?

Then he asks me another doozy. He asks me if he can come with me to DC since he has the next 4 days off. Now had he asked me anywhere else I would have said yes…
But first off, this particular trip was because my cousin asked me. Second, I have actually set up 4 “dates” while I am going to be there…so him coming with me…ever…to DC is as good of chance as asking me to sit in a snake pit and me saying, sure!
Of course I can’t say that …I can’t fuck up game. And settle on the answer I give everyone that’s asked me… I am going to spend time with family, which is very much true…but with extra on the side.

He casually says he has to take a shower because he smells like smoke.
I ignored it.
I wasn't trying to have him all comfortable and ready to sleep over. I've only been here 13 days...I hadn't wanted any sleep-overs until California came to visit for in November.
But even with him…it won’t be this. It’ll be like a hand in glove.
I don't know...I just wanted to be selfish with my place until I said it was ok for someone to stay over. So I ignored his shower comment and kept it moving from living room to kitchen to laptop...

3 more times and I couldn't ignore him any longer. I started feeling bad because...well...as many times as I have been over his place and taking showers...and he always offered. He used to cook dinner and then bring me food in Harlem. He has turned the city upside down looking for my favorite champagne. He's paid my bills. He's bought me diamonds.
He's confessed his spaghetti no less.
So fuck it...why couldn’t he take his shower to wipe away the grime and smoke of a hard days work after protecting families and others people property at great risk to his own person...
He has an honorable job.
Overall he’s just a really good friend. But NOT that damn good if you catch my drift…
So I handed him a towel and wash cloth.
…but silently wondered why he’d take a shower if he had to put his stank clothes back on…

I'd gotten into looking at overstockdotcom and watching my dvd, that I completely lost track of time or anything around me and it wasn't until maybe 45 minutes later that it his me that it was awfully quiet and I hadn't seen or heard him.

I walked down the hallway and saw that the bathroom door was closed so I thought he was still in there, so I walked into my room to make it look like I wasn't stalking him...

And who the fuck is butt ass naked in my bed snoring like a fucking pig [do pig snore?]?????
This muthafucka right here!!!

I swear fo gawd I slap the shit out of him…I wanted to wake his drunk ass up and tell him to go home.
Oooooooo how I hated him being in my bed...in my new place...and without invitation from me!!!

I may have called him a bitch under my breath...I am pretty sure I did.
I closed the door behind me as I went back into the living room...
I just kept shaking my head in disgust and asking myself, “are you fucking kidding me??”
I wanted to make sure he was in the bed in deep sleep before I got in it...so I stayed up until 2am watching tv.

I crept in...coughed up a storm as I laid down, cursed myself for making too much noise lest I wake him.
Got in the bed and snuggled up in my covers...as I laid on the very edge. Making sure that no parts of him touched no parts of me…no toes, elbows or assholes…nothing!
I fell asleep for an hour...

…then was awaken by his loud ass snoring.
And again, I wanted to slap the shit out of him.
I can't stand anything worse then sleeping real good ...and then someone waking you up with some locomotive snores!
I felt miserable.

Today, I ignored every fucking text he sent me…lest he be drunk again…
He gamed me!
Had he been sober he would’ve probably had some octopus hands…but had he been sober…his ass wouldn’t have been snoring all up in my bed…I’dda sent his ass home!

I call myself going on a date…well...it isn’t a date to me but I know it is for him. Either way, here I am dressed all basic…jeans, white sneakers, white t and a little jacket…I look like I have on my teenage daughters clothes…if I had a teenage daughter.

I haven’t been out of the house since forever and I have been sick…since forever…well 11 days is forever to me and I have cabin fever…so I initiated a conversation that I am sure would have never taken place had I not…reached out.
I am bored and tired of this condo I tell ya!!

Well, I had just gotten off the phone with fireman and he’d told me that if I take a couple of shots of Cpt Morgans…I won’t cough.
As some of you know from talking to me…I cough up a lung every time I talk…mild case of bronchitis since flu is slowly…s.l.o.w.l.y. leaving my body… (and maybe a slight case of pink eye...odd.) Since I have been either in a medicated high or a drunk ass high from hot toddies…I happen to have Cpt. Morgans Black Cask 100 Proof sitting all snuggly on my counter looking at me with that pirates smirk and swarthy sex appeal exuding from under his cap…

So my shot glasses are actually 2 shots deep. Me and my heavy hand…double downed the Captain…twice. I slurped down all the Captains juices and wondered how long before I could get me some more of that good stuff that the Captain was so ready to put to my lips…make me open up wide and take straight to the back of the throat.

So…he says, I want to go to the movie…I want you to come with…and I want you to let me touch you in the dark while we laugh…

Since the last time I had a man touch me…I’ve not let a man touch me…since.

So, I’m game...for a movie…and at the moment he called and asked…I was game for touching. Problem is…I am here waiting on him to pick me up…and I am no longer game for…touching. Muchless, umm, even holding my hand. Muchless-less, even making conversation.

Maybe I should flask it to the movies…
LOL
What say you Capitán??