Last night I met Jason for "hot chocolate," and he wanted to fuck. I don't know why this surprised me. I've known this for a long time. Anyway, I didn't really want to explain to my room mate that I fuck people besides my boyfriend, and so Jason got us a room at a motel. We fucked once that night and once in the morning, even though I was feeling kind of digestively weird.
Travel and stress can contribute to digestion issues, and I'm wondering if my body considers itself to be traveling, since this room isn't really home. And, ya know, divorce is stressful.
I miss Kenny. He hasn't been talking to me as much lately, and I can't figure out if it's because the last time we hung out, I was bleeding from my cervix so hard that he didn't want to have sex, or because he's just so busy with his job. I hate being ignored. He's barely talked to me since last Sunday.
I need to move out. Here is the list of craziness so far:
- She doesn't want me to cook bacon because it makes the house smell like bacon.
- She thought I poisoned her dog with carrots and got him sick.
- She wants the living room vacuumed 3 times a week- each room mate vacuuming once a week.
- I am only to use the washing machine for small loads of clothes only-- no sheets, blankets, or bedding.
- She has a basket of paper towels in the kitchen that are clearly stolen from various public bathrooms. Some are C-fold, some are tri-fold, some are just straight ones from an automatic dispenser that have been folded in half.
That's enough, right? This is not what a sane person does. So, I've been responding to ads. I'm looking at a place today.
Loading comments...