Where The Fuck Are My Fireworks?

So, we’ve been talking for a couple of days and I finally agreed to let Jock come over Friday night to talk about things and see if there was any way that the last year and a half could be salvaged and not turn into a total waste of my time.

It turns out, there’s no way. It was just a waste of my time. Lol!

I expected something special when he arrived especially seeing as he kinda admitted that he was partly to blame for the falling-apart of what we had. Well, nothing special arrived. I don’t really like flowers but he could have at least bought some with him. Just for effect if nothing else. He didn’t bring anything with him. We just sat, argued for a bit, he made a joke of everything and then we went to McDonalds.

When we were messaging about him coming over, I tried to put a bit of a light-hearted spin on it to ease the mood before he got here. I told him not to expect to stay over but to bring spare pants in case I got horny. What I was trying to say to him was that whatever the outcome here, he was expected to perform at least once. I wore matching black underwear – nothing too special, not like anniversary stuff, but just naughty enough to make him aware that together or not, I would be getting fucked.

We didn’t have half the conversation that we should have had and he tried to leave after just two hours saying that he needed to let The Redneck’s dogs out. What the fuck? He turned up 40 minutes late, without flowers, and he wanted to leave after just two hours even though he had turned out sensible, relationship-saving conversation into a big fucking joke again. I shaved my legs for the first time in two weeks for this prick and he’s not even staying the night? No way! I made him drive all the way back to his (about 40 minutes away), let the dogs out and then come back, grabbing Maccy D’s on the way home. Once we got home, we had a smoke, picked a film and got into bed. Now I must add here, I stripped down to my naughty little black bra and matching undies and made sure he was well aware I was still wearing them when I slipped in beside him.

He started to rub my shoulders and I was waiting for the kisses on my neck and shoulders. All it would have taken was that one kiss to set things off and he knows that. We’ve been together for long enough and he has joked enough times about how well he knows my sweet spots. Those kisses never happened and the next thing I knew, it was 7am and he had woken me up by snoring his fucking head off right next to me.

I was PISSED OFF.

Are you fucking serious? Look at you! You are fat, grey, lazy and fucking hopeless in life and you have ME next to you! I’m pierced, inked, funky-haired, hilariously funny, super cute and great in bed! I was wearing a cute little black number and I had made you well aware that I was expecting you to put out and you ‘left me to sleep because you don’t think I sleep enough!’?!?! What kinda bullshit fucking excuse is that? There have been plenty of times that I’ve fallen asleep and he’s woken me up a couple of hours later because he wanted to make sure I was satisfied. Plus I’m a bitch if I don’t get laid. He’s known that right from the very fucking start.

It’s like such a kick in the teeth. I gave him a shot to really make it up to me. He even admitted that there were things he should have done very different. Despite admitting this, he’s done nothing to try and make sure that I was OK. He has done nothing. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I’m surprised. Weren’t you all telling me this for a while now anyway? I should have seen this coming. It’s just another disappointment in a long line of disappointments. Just like One Ball, although to be fair I’m not sure why we were together right from the start. Then there was the Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of. The Big Love. The Hubby. God it’s fucking ridiculous. I pick the most hopeless of men.

I guess the only upside to this is the fact I wasn’t stupid enough to get pregnant. At the rate I’m going, I’m never gonna find a guy to settle down with for more than a couple of years. Meh. Life is probably better without rug rats anyway.

Was I really so wrong to expect something bigger and better tan what he delivered? Was I really so wrong to expect fireworks? Well perhaps not fireworks exactly but at the very least a bunch of flowers or something? I shaved my legs and wore naughty black underwear for that guy… What the fuck?

Where the fuck are my fucking fireworks?

Where Are My Fireworks?

6 thoughts on “Where The Fuck Are My Fireworks?

      • Last time I checked, you weren’t over 80! Then again I’ve seen a few 80 years old people act like they’re 20 or so, but in short, you aren’t old. Many more dramatic stories to come I’m afraid, at least your life isn’t boring eh? Werk dat shizz! You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man! Mmmmhmmm. *clicks fingers* Or you might need one to bone, or lift something stupidly heavy, but that’s about it really.

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