Boyfriend left Saturday night. We fought that day because I wanted to go to The Cute Classmate's Beach Party. We were busy causing a scene for the whole neighborhood, so I didn't go.
Then he fucked me too hard and pulled my hair while he came on my face and laughed too loudly while I showered it off.
Then he broke nearly everything in the living room in a fit of rage.
Then he was mad that I was getting a ride with The Mellow Classmate on his motorcycle to the concert we were going to with A Few Other Classmates. I went anyway, and as he watched me leave I looked him in the eyes while I grabbed The Mellow Classmate's shoulders.
Then he told me to be home by 11 or he was leaving. I wasn't, and he didn't.
Then he told me to be home by 12 or he was leaving. I wasn't, and he did.
I had a bitchin' time at the show. And when I came home to an empty apartment and called him at 3 a.m., I smoked a cigarette while I tried to understand his highway hysterics. I couldn't.
I haven't gone an hour the last two days without getting a Desperate Phone Call from him. He asks me to tell him I need him, that I want him back here, that I can't live without him. I haven't.
In fact, I haven't called him once. Luckily for me, my conscience took a cigarette break somewhere between here and the beach, and hasn't yet returned.
Tonight he cried so hard he threw up on himself. I don't know how to tell him that's desperation talking, and certainly not love.
He's in the City of Sin, and I'm in the City of Sun, and somehow that seems fitting to me.
* * *
St. Pat's, ahoy. I'll drink from sunrise to sunrise, and will love every motherfucking second of it.
* * *
The Reds are kicking ass. So much ass. And they will be until mid-season, at which point their loyal fans, who will have been spending both spring training and the first part of the regular season amping them to their nonbelieving friends, will be proven wrong. Again.
* * *
I'm turning into an official beach bum, and quite frankly, I like it that way.
* * *
* What are your St. Patrick's Day plans?
Then he fucked me too hard and pulled my hair while he came on my face and laughed too loudly while I showered it off.
Then he broke nearly everything in the living room in a fit of rage.
Then he was mad that I was getting a ride with The Mellow Classmate on his motorcycle to the concert we were going to with A Few Other Classmates. I went anyway, and as he watched me leave I looked him in the eyes while I grabbed The Mellow Classmate's shoulders.
Then he told me to be home by 11 or he was leaving. I wasn't, and he didn't.
Then he told me to be home by 12 or he was leaving. I wasn't, and he did.
I had a bitchin' time at the show. And when I came home to an empty apartment and called him at 3 a.m., I smoked a cigarette while I tried to understand his highway hysterics. I couldn't.
I haven't gone an hour the last two days without getting a Desperate Phone Call from him. He asks me to tell him I need him, that I want him back here, that I can't live without him. I haven't.
In fact, I haven't called him once. Luckily for me, my conscience took a cigarette break somewhere between here and the beach, and hasn't yet returned.
Tonight he cried so hard he threw up on himself. I don't know how to tell him that's desperation talking, and certainly not love.
He's in the City of Sin, and I'm in the City of Sun, and somehow that seems fitting to me.
* * *
St. Pat's, ahoy. I'll drink from sunrise to sunrise, and will love every motherfucking second of it.
* * *
The Reds are kicking ass. So much ass. And they will be until mid-season, at which point their loyal fans, who will have been spending both spring training and the first part of the regular season amping them to their nonbelieving friends, will be proven wrong. Again.
* * *
I'm turning into an official beach bum, and quite frankly, I like it that way.
* * *
* What are your St. Patrick's Day plans?
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
We're in the new house now. Moved in over the weekend. Just got the internet connection up, so now I'm back online, mostly.
So what has happened in the months you were off-line? It seems like a lot!