OK, so I still have it bad. The My Mr. Grey thing I mean; it’s still bad. I still can’t get him out of my head. The guy I couldn’t rid of, Number 34; he asked me to go to his tonight and watch the meteor showers. We would sit in his yard, get high and watch the beautiful star display… That was the plan anyway. The truth is I couldn’t face going over there. I knew what it meant – we were going to get high, watch the stars, head to his bed and fuck like bunnies.
I don’t want to. I’m hoping this is a temporary glitch following the epic kinky fuckery from My Mr. Grey. I just knew it would be downright disappointing in comparison, and my vagina is still sore. I think I just turned down a booty call. My bad.
I spent the night getting high on my own, talking to My Mr. Grey. He misses me and he thinks about me a lot. What does this mean? As in, he thinks about me sexually all the time, or in a more “real” sense? I’m doing that thing that girls do, aren’t I? I am over-analyzing every word passed between us. Every bold moment I have where I make some kind of impression my feelings are more than we thought; I bottle it and make a wee joke at the end of it all. I simply do not have the balls to tell this guy how I really feel! Why? How does it make any sense that I trust this guy to be fist deep in my vagina, but not enough that I would tell him those three little words? Clearly the vagina is much stronger than the heart, or so it would seem!
So how long am I going to turn down other perfectly fine booty calls for the man I cannot have? Christ, up until three or four days ago, I didn’t even realize I felt like this! How long is he going to be everything that is going on inside my head? And how long before I stop reading far too much into every word that he sends across the internet? Fuck, this is pissing me off.
For those that care, the non-smoking is going well. I haven’t smoked yet, and I haven’t wanted to kill anyone. I did find out this morning that my estranged hubby has had my name tattoo covered over. Not that even set my crazy alarms jingling in frustration and hatred. I’m really pining. He doesn’t smoke – maybe that’s why I’m doing it right now? Maybe that’s why I’m doing so well and so determined this time around. Christ, everything revolves around him right now. Someone offer me a slap?
I’m going to go and wallow in a sea of self-pity for this evening. I’m also going to hang my head out of the window every now and again, hoping to see a flash of a shooting star so I can make my wish. Bet you know what it is………