calypso

This trip to Philadelphia has been mediocre.

My aunt's husband has been a complete dick.

I went to Jersey, saw the Statue of Liberty, and ate at a Chinese restaurants on New Year's Eve with eight other people, three of whom were rowdy sisters who played with lobster heads, threw things, and stuck little paper umbrellas in each other's hair. Good times.

I got sick yesterday. Sick today.

The worst part of this trip was the night before last. Here's the scenario:

We're at "His" uncle's house in Jersey. The aunt, Gina, says to me, "I know how his parents are, but we don't care if you guys sleep in the same room. We don't judge here." While she's saying this, she gives me this knowing look, a kind of woman-to-woman understanding.

He and I did it at my aunt's house. Twice. Keep this in mind.

The ball has dropped in NYC, we play Halo 2 for a good half-hour, then we retire to our air mattress in one of the upstairs rooms. He tells me we won't be making love that night. "Why not?!" I ask. "It's not right," he tells me.

I'm wicked pissed off at this point. How is it that it's right to do it at my aunt's house, but not at that of his uncle's? He gives me all this bullshit about how it's different and blah-blah-blah.

Then, as arguments often do, the fight goes completely off-topic. We fight about compromise. He says, "If you were to tell me that you wanted me to quit school for you, I wouldn't do it." I ask, "So if your options were me or school, you'd pick school?" "Yes."

I was bawling. Of course, I'd never ask him to leave school. It's, like always, the principle of the matter.

I tell him he has a lot to learn about love.

After we've both shed some tears, he kisses me. A long, slow kiss where his hand caresses my face. This, not surprisingly, sparks something. I'm horny as fuck all of a sudden. I tell him I can't kiss him anymore because it's doing things to me.

I lay there, in complete sexual frustration, for a good hour before he sways. He starts kissing me. He takes off my pants, then his own. He touches me, and oh, it feels so good. His hands begin tracing up and down my back, my favorite thing in the world that realllllly works me up.

I go to kiss him, and as I do, I feel that his face is wet. "What's wrong?" I practically beg of him. "I don't know," he responds. "Is it to late to change my mind?"

I think for a second. In my head I'm saying, "YES IT'S TOO LATE!!!" but in a compassionate, loving manner I say, "Of course not." Why did I say this? In the hopes that he would further realize just how much I love him and am willing to sacrifice for him, and that in turn he would show me the same dedication.

He changed his mind. I throw on my pants, pissed off.

We argue some more, and he decides he'll give me a pity fuck.

"Yippy," I think.

He skips foreplay altogether. It lasts for about five minutes, if that. When it's over, because he's done, I throw on my pants once more and go to sleep. It's 5:30am.

He makes me feel like less of a woman.



So, yeah. This trip has been something.

Happy New Year to all.