Jock and I were talking. And then he broke up with me again. And then we were talking. And then he came to see me.
That’s pretty much what’s going on here. Maybe add a couple more make-up’s / break-up’s? He came over last night. I didn’t let him stay but we talked and shouted and fought about shit that probably doesn’t even matter. We went out for a coffee and then later on, we went out for something to eat. I didn’t eat, of course. My stomach had been making embarrassingly loud noises in front of him as it was. I didn’t want to anger the beast by providing it with fuel. I’ve found that going for a no-food approach seems to be working quite well.
Back at mine, music went on and the lights were dimmed. We were just laying on the bed, chilling, chatting, and we started kissing. He was on top of me and we were dry-humping like horny fifteen year olds in the back of the car. It was hot. He planted soft kisses along the lines of my throat and neck and grabbed my hips with his full hands. Nothing was going to happen, of course. My bikini area is hairier than a gorilla with the lack of action I’ve been getting, and we’re both trying something a little new here. We’re trying to go back to basics again.
Laying on the bed, he told me he’d pick me up from work tomorrow and if I wanted him to stay, he’d stay. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t. OK, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s see how things go.
For fifteen minutes I waited for him outside my work in the cold. I thought about calling him or messaging him but for some reason, I didn’t. He hadn’t been online for hours anyway. Maybe he had left his phone behind somewhere? I just got the bus home because I was now too cold to just walk as I normally would, and when I got home I cried.
He stood me up.
I can’t work out if that statement needs a question mark. Is it a statement? Or a question of sheer disbelief?
I didn’t hear from him until about 9pm where he told me he had gone bowling with his daughter and he was now round his friends house having a chat. “You’re not coming to see me then?” I asked.
“Why? Do you want me to? We hadn’t confirmed that so wasn’t sure”
He hadn’t messaged me all day. He spoke to me in the morning and then I didn’t hear from him until 9pm. The afternoon and evening we were meant to have been spending together… He didn’t even have the fucking balls to tell me he wasn’t coming. He just left me there… waiting like an absolute cunt.
We had so much fun last night. We battled a lot of our issues out, I think, and I actually believed we were starting to get somewhere. He was starting to see things from my point of view, and he was starting to understand the things that needed to be changed. And then he stood me up. Did that really just happen?
Sorry, his bad, he knows it was his fault, did I really want him to come over now?
Whatever you fucking prick. You just blew your last fucking chance. I am fucking raging. I was shaking with anger. I’ve had a bad day. There were total assholes shouting and hollering at me for most of the day. I suffered with my stomach problems all day. It’s constipation today. Super awesome. Tomorrow will be fun then. I blew out Number 42 for Jock tonight. He’d asked me if I was free for a friendly blowjob. I was horny… We did agree to be booty calls, didn’t we?
Well, Jock can fuck off. He’s a tosser. He doesn’t deserve me. He doesn’t put any effort in for me. He won’t ever make any time for me. He is not the guy he pretended to be at the start. He’s a cunt. But I don’t care.
Wanna know why? 😉
His name is Mr. T.
Well, it is now anyway. It was late and I was just browsing POF. My profile isn’t live for people to see but every now and again, I stalk the freaks and inbreds I find on there. Out of nowhere, this face hit me. He looks a little bit like David Beckham. I clicked on his profile… Nice facial hair, bulging biceps, tattoos, abs I want to lick, that “V” that pops up just above his Calvin Klein’s. I actually think he might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Ever.
I want him more than a fistful of Reece’s Pieces so I sent him a cheeky message and we began to chat. It’s been a couple of days… He lives in a nice apartment. He has a 16 year old adopted son. He’s single. Always a bonus. He works in construction and looks fucking hot in a vest. He has massive hands (and massive feet too I think), and he looks adorable with his hair all standing up on edge. He dresses well and always seems to rock designer undies. He also has the most perfect collarbones I’ve ever seen. I’m basically in love with him already. Nah, it’s not love. It’s lust. I want to fuck him. And I will. Well, I’m gonna try anyway. He was sending me photos of himself and those collar bones I wanna nibble on for the entire time I was with Jock. I was forever subtly trying to keep my phone hidden. This is why I could never actually really cheat on someone. Technically, I’m not doing anything wrong with Mr. T because Jock and I aren’t together. And we definitely aren’t after today’s performance. I just stopped talking to him. I have nothing left to say. Fuck him.
Back to the gorgeous man that literally gives me butterflies every time I see his picture. He invited me over to his for dinner. He wants to talk to me on the phone. He wants to take me out for a drink. Maybe, maybe, maybe… I’m playing it cool. I’m a lady after all. I want him though. I really fucking want him.
Only problem is, I’ve not heard from this evening. At all. And it seems to have come coincidentally after I made a photo of his beautiful face my profile picture on a certain well-used messaging platform. It was only for a moment but Number 42 bought it to my attention. I changed it as quickly as I could, but he may have seen it. He’s been quiet for most of the day but that might have fucked it… Total accident. I was trying to make it HIS profile picture so I could smile at his beautiful face whenever he messaged me. Total fuck up. Well done.
Kinda hoping he hasn’t seen it… I’ll message him tomorrow and see if he thinks I’m a maniac. Kinda hoping not. I really want him.