Smart.

Every now and then, you have to check in with yourself. You need to take stock. Do inventory. Get your shit together, if you will.

I had to do that this morning when I saw the horrifyingly confusing messages I sent Incredicock, along with his equally confused responses.

One thing is very clear, and it takes zero sobriety to comprehend. I would like him to take his clothes off, post haste. All the days in all the lands, I prefer him naked; and fucking me. That’s all. This is the guy you can justify working 90 hours a week for. No baby… you stay home and sleep in. I will support us, and you can support me. Later.

Sadly, he’s a forever soft no and it’s pathetic that I’m even asking. I’m trying my best to avoid a boyfriend and my FWB is the biggest cockblocker in my life. If I end up in captivity, I’m going to blame him, publicly.

Mr. Grey is descending on my pond and the lake around here has never seen a shark like him before. I’m concerned. I see the stats on my blog spike and know I have some rabid local readers. I’m worried one of you will mention our poly-amorous date. I’m taking him to my best friend’s restaurant on Sunday.

I’m kinda making him my boyfriend. I’m fucking panicking at the thought.

I text the one that can satisfy my needs and he’d rather chop firewood and do chores.

#motherfuckingpause

If he would rather do housework or laundry than fuck you? He never wanted to, to begin with. You weren’t a booty call, you were a hit and run. He fucked his ex-wife’s best friend because he could and you were willing, and just because you knew him to be a good guy with her, does not mean he will be with you. As much as you love someone, they can become someone else entirely when you begin fucking them. It’s painfully true.

I’m just as sorry to be wrong. Probably twice as sorry, today.

Rabid Interest

I forced myself out of bed at 5, dying a little. Feeling the whole weight of eating a cow and drinking a bowl of gin. My eyeballs ache. I have to force myself into the car and to my office. Struggling hard with a headache and a desperate need to nap. Not just tired.

Bothered, and not in a good way. I had to silence my phone to stop the whistling. Mr. Grey doesn’t wait for me to text him back and when I look at my phone there are 11 new messages from him. I feel inundated. I’m especially annoyed because Incredicock’s text tone cracks me up and I’ve missed it three times now because Grey can’t pump his brakes.

There’s a fine line to holding my interest. I’m not afraid to admit that. If I feel like I have to hide from him, I don’t want him anymore. I have a million things going on in a day and I don’t care what he ate for lunch. Not. At. All.

I actually have no desire to talk to him during his lunch break or on his drive home. I’m not a pacifier.

For the love of God. Why do all the wrong men chase me like a deer on the first day of hunting season?

I realize by going silent that I’m making the problem worse. If I want him to chill out, I have to out-text him, call during dinner and send him animated gifs all day. I know the path out, I just don’t care enough to follow it.

G- You must be busy today! Have a good one, gorgeous.

G- Flying Sunday?

G- I can fly over and pick you up so you don’t have to drive so far.

G- We could get lunch in Kalispell, Montana?

G- It was great to catch up with you.

G- Navy pinstriped tie today.

Sigh. I wish I cared, but he’s annoying the shit out of me. I feel like there’s a target on my back that I don’t know about. Yeeesh. I finally snapped.

J- Hey Chatty Kathy, I’m at work. I’ll text you when I get off.

G- Sorry babe, I woke up thinking about you. When do I get to see you again?

Where’s that annoyed emoji when I need it. I put my headphones back on and prayed he’d shut the fuck up. No luck. I finally Googled how to silence him, and a lovely little moon popped up beside his name. Finally, peace.

I raced to get my little Dumpling from school and took her to the park to play. It’s getting colder and darker earlier these days, so we’re trying to squeeze every last bit of playing outside. We walked home in the dusky twilight, holding hands.

This is why I don’t want a boyfriend. She’s my +1. I don’t want her to have to share my time with anyone. That may sound a little dramatic, but it’s really important to me. I only date when she’s asleep so she is none the wiser. She is really excited that my heels have come out of  storage, though.

We walked up to the house and there was a long white box waiting by the front door.

D- PRESENTS!!!!!

It’s from Mr. Grey. I lifted the lid and it’s a big bunch of gorgeous pink roses.

D- Daddy sent me flowers!!!!

J- He’s such a nice daddy. Let’s put them in some water.

D- I want them to be in my room!

I thanked Grey for the roses and let him know it was a huge hit with the little one. I stopped short of telling him they were in her room.

G- Call me after she goes to bed.

J- I have to run. I’ll text you.

… … … ……………………..

I didn’t.

and woke up to 14 messages, including some song lyrics and hearts.

FML.

spoiled