3 Years

I haven’t been on here on in forever, and I decided to get on tonight. And boom, I have a notification telling me I joined 3 years ago. Has it really been that long?

So much has happened. My daughter and I went to Florida over Thanksgiving week. I ignored the fact Lee didn’t text and tell me happy Thanksgiving (for the record, I didn’t text him either).  I think we hung out the weekend before I left though. I don’t really remember.

My work had an 80’s theme Christmas party earlier this month, and I invited him. I really didn’t think he’d say yes, but he did. It was held at a hotel, and my co-worker and her fiancé got a room. Which is mostly where the fun happened.

A few things did stand out though. First, being when he saw he photo booth he straight up said we need to get our picture taken. Second, I told them I hadn’t seen some movie, and he is just so surprised, because he’s yet another “famous” movie I haven’t seen. He says we need to have a “catch you up on movies day” and I’m like yeah, that’s gonna be a lot of days, and he just says “I know.” Like he intends to keep hanging around.

I pointed out my unit manager to him. A little later he asks if he flirts with me. I said no, and he said he’s surprised. I laughed and said he’s gay. He goes oh, damn, and I straight up reply with “That’s what I said.” He just about dropped his cup, I shocked him. It was great.

One of my co-workers, in the dietary department, had asked me out. I ended up declining because we work together, but also because I’m 3 years older than him. Well, I hadn’t told Lee any of this. He sees the guy though, and says something about his shaggy hair. I’m like um…okay.

Needless to say, I got pretty drunk in the hotel room. Like drunk to the point, some of the drive home is blacked from my memory. Lee drove us to his house. On the drive, he says something about the guy with shaggy hair, and I blurt out, “Ya know, he asked me out.”

He looks at me. “Really? What’d you say?”

“I considered it, but I said no.”

He glances at the road, then stares at me. He says something about good, because I deserve better. He places his hand on my thigh, like that’s suppose to comfort me, or something.

I told him to not say that (that I deserve better).

He squeezes my thigh. “You do deserve better than him though.”

“Just stop it.”

He says my name. “You do deserve better! You’re better than that.”

“You don’t even know him, so just stop.”

He repeats himself.

I snap. “Stop saying that when you don’t even believe it yourself.”

He definitely looks shocked. “Why would you say that? of course I do!”

“No. No, ya don’t. Because you don’t even think I’m worth being exclusive with.”

He stares at the road. “That’s just me,” he finally says, “so take me out of the picture, and don’t you think you deserve better than him?”

I didn’t answer, and just stared out the window. I’m pretty sure a tear rolled down my cheek, but I was so angry! So angry at him. Angry for making fun of my co-worker, angry he said I’m better/deserve better than said co-worker without knowing him, and without thinking if I deserve better, he should fucking step up to the plate or walk the fuck away.

We get to his house, with rest the drive in silence, although I don’t remember rest of it. I think I may have passed out, but I don’t know. I remember going to the bathroom, and walking to his room. I promptly sat on the bed, and removed all of my clothing, leaving on  only my black, lace panties. He sat on the bed, and scooted up behind me. Being all sweet, wrapping his arms around me. I crawled away, and curled up under the covers like the little brat bitch I am sometimes. He played a movie, and I tried to stay awake. But I was so drunk. So tired.

He said my name. I ignored him. He begged me, “Please don’t be upset.”

I recall saying I wasn’t.

He asked me to look at him, so I turned my head, looked at him, and then rolled back over. I guess he had enough, because he grabbed me, and pulled me on his chest, wrapping his arms around me.

My last two thoughts were, “I hope my hair isn’t bothering him” and “I really miss Clayton holding me like this.”

I woke up a few hours later, and quickly seduced him awake. He had no problems with that.

Another couple hours, and I woke up him again because my babysitter needed me to come get my kid.

He drove me back to my apartment, and said he should take me shooting sometime. I agreed. I guess I didn’t scare him off.

We hung out for a couple hours last night, and it felt kind of perfect. Then I had to go get the kid, and told him I had to leave in like 15 minutes. He quit wrapping his gifts, and climbed in bed next to me to hold me. He scratched my back for a bit, and we kissed a little.

He thanked me for coming over, even if only for a couple hours, and that we should hang out again soon.

The last time I’d seen him, before the Christmas party, he had me over and we were looking at the paint colors and themes for his house. It was weird.

So that, and then with his actions last night- it confuses me. I do believe he likes me. But I don’t think he’s going to give me what I want. A real relationship. Exclusivity. Move forward.

All month I’ve decided 2017 either starts with ending it with him, or moving forward with him. I see it ending. But we’ll see. Time’s almost out for us, I do believe.

Gary Allan and more

So I’m not doing good with this whole blogging thing. I am still journaling pretty regularly and I still write my pen-pals (yes, that is still a thing). I just don’t get on WordPress much anymore.

Anyway.

Lee came with me to see Gary Allan last month. He wasn’t excited about seeing him, because his taste in music apparently doesn’t include Gary Allan. But I was super excited, and I had a lot of fun. I also drank a lot of beer and ended up pretty full of liquid courage.

I convinced him to go to the bar after, because I wanted to do karaoke. On the drive there, I start asking questions. I was in a good mood, super happy and outgoing. Not that I’m not happy, but I’m definitely reserved so I felt like I was probably too much for him. Then decided who cares.

I was asking him how many girls he’s been with, and he tells me I don’t what to know that. I just laugh at him and tell him I do or else I wouldn’t have asked. He says I shouldn’t ask questions like that (but for some reason I always ask…I don’t know why). I start throwing out numbers, and finally he tells me. I’m like okay, are you trying to reach “x” amount?

Then we got into how he lost virginity, because again, I like to know. I’ve been told for being a girl I ask weird questions that most girls don’t want to know. Well, excuse me, but I like to know everything.

Other sexual topics were brought up (threesomes namely) and I told him I’d been invited by at least two different couples but declined because I never found the guy attractive enough.

Like I said, I was pretty tipsy. But finally, something was said, and I was able to throw in “so what are you looking for?” He says “what?” and I reply “by dating…what do you want?”

He informs he doesn’t like that question, and I start laughing and tell him nobody does, but he should answer it. He says I can’t ask him when he’s drunk, so I laugh again and say that’s okay, you can answer it whenever you want…then I look out the window and say but I’ll take it as you’re just looking to hook up.

He said something, but I honestly cannot remember what. He went to hold my hand, fingers lacing with mine. I jokingly pulled my hand free (really in attempts to distance my heart because hand holding is typically more of an intimate “I care about you” thing for me) and tell him “no hand holding” and slap his hand. He slaps my thigh and grabs my hand back and says “I can if I want.” I told my co-worker that and she disapproved. I told her he was playing, just as I was when I slapped his hand. He wasn’t being abusive or a jerk.

Anyway, the subject was dropped, and I started in on something else.

The baby was at her aunt’s, and I didn’t have to get her til the next day, so he stayed the night with me. He had work in the morning, and he works right down from my apartment.

He went down on me that night… I enjoyed it, but at the same time I’d rather do the going down than receive.

In the morning, he kissed my forehead before he left. Why?

We’ve hung out a few other times since, and we have sex every time (although the second to last time we hung out, I turned away from kissing once we got in bed, and he said “No?” and I said no. And he just cuddled me, nothing more. Until I decided I did want sex and climbed on top of him. But the fact he didn’t push me was cool.). But we cuddle on the couch and watch a movie first. Yeah, we actually watch an entire movie. Clayton and I always ended up having sex. Not that I minded. But I also don’t mind watching the movie first either.

I’ve stayed the night at his place a couple more times. More cuddling, then sex, and then we talk and eventually pass out. He doesn’t hold me like Clayton did after, but he does typically keep a hand on my leg.

And each morning, he gives me a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. He even offered to take a look at my car for me one evening when he gets off, saying I can bring it by the shop. I was only asking him his opinion, not at all trying to get him to offer any physical help. The whole mood changed in the room, it was weird. So when he offered (his tone changed a little, too), I got super awkward and said “you don’t have to do that.”  He hesitated a moment and said, “You live right down from my work. And besides, it’s not a big deal.”

I sat there quietly and finally say “Okay. Thanks.” And quickly change the subject.

So there’s that. I refuse to believe he’s falling for me…I still believe I’m just a girl he’s playing with until he finds someone better. Not that I hold myself in super low esteem, it’s just my pattern, I’ve noticed. I go for the unavailable guys.

I’m still exercising 3-4 times a week, with seemingly no results. It’s frustrating but I’m trying not to give up.

I’m Controlling?

So I went over to Clay’s yesterday afternoon, and spent the night. He had work in the evening, but before he went, he and I got to talking, and while I don’t remember how we got to this, he was clearly not saying something. I kept pressing him, and he finally said, “You’re very controlling.”

Um. What? I mean, okay, I’m not completely blind to my faults (or at least I hope not), and I know damn well I do have controlling tendencies. But I really do try quite hard not to let the controlling side be who I am. I try to squish it down. I guess I fail…?

When he and I first began hanging out as FWB, I told him straight up (I was a little drunk) that if he ever tries to control me, I won’t speak to him again. I only said that because John Doe got pissed when I wanted to hang out with an old family guy friend (someone who had left state when I was 12, so clearly there had never been anything between us) and he’d try to do the whole manipulate me thing. Which…actually, worked for the most part. There are other instances, but yeah. I wasn’t willing to let another guy make me feel the way he did.

At the same time, I don’t recall ever telling Clay what he could/couldn’t do. One night, he went out with his friends, and said he’d be home around midnight. I had work at 7am, and went to bed without him. I woke up around 1am, and he still wasn’t home. I was slightly concerned, but fell back to sleep. He came in around 5am, and I didn’t yell, pout, hold it against him- nothing. Sure, I was irritated that he came in that late (early?) drunk as fuck and woke me up. I was also pissed he didn’t even text me at all throughout the night to say he was okay.

Maybe I am blind to my faults, because I can’t really think of a time I was controlling.

Sure, the last six months at least, I tell him he needs to quit drinking. I’ve told him we won’t be together if he keeps drinking, although that was last summer.

But that isn’t me trying to be controlling. It’s me wanting my baby to have a sober dad who I can trust to take her for a weekend. It’s me wanting my baby to know she’s more important than a bottle of vodka.

I’ve already accepted after two years that I’ll never be a priority to him; that he’ll never put the bottle down for me. But for our daughter? Please, just stop. Just fucking stop.

I asked him when we went to bed why he stayed with me for so long. He said “hope.”

Hope? Hope for what? To make it work with me? I didn’t say anything else. But all I could think was why?

He says I’m controlling, mean to him (which I know sometimes I was, and I could justify it, but it doesn’t change the fact), once said I’m not the best in bed he’s had (duh, I know he’s probably had a better experience than me, but you don’t fucking tell someone that), and we have like nothing in common.

He wanted me to meet some of his co-workers last night. I said no. We’re not together, and I’m really not a fan of meeting people he talks about me too. It’s awkward.

I don’t know. Sigh.

Something Like a Fling

But not really a fling.

So in one of posts about a month ago, I mentioned a guy who I’ve known and how we have a flirty relationship, and how he’s a good, long time friend of the boyfriend. I said I’d write a post about him, and here it is, nearly a month later.

Let’s call him B, for the sake of giving him a name and making this post easier to write.

B and I met shortly after my 21st birthday. My new-found bar, was his bar. He was hot, kinda reminded me of John Doe, and we all know how in love I was, and how much I missed him. So I sat on my barstool, and drank my alcohol, glancing over at him playing pool. I apparently caught his eye, too, because he kept glancing at me.

To be fair, I didn’t know he was seeing anyone, and I don’t remember (too much alcohol) when I even found out he was. But hey, I was an expert in being the second woman, right?

One drunken night led to many at this bar. I have no idea which night came first, but some of these conversations are what came of my drunkenness:

B: I’d hurt you.

Me: I can’t be hurt anymore.

B: No, my dick. It’s too big, it’d break you.

Me: *laughs* Ok, right. See ya then.

I walked away.

Another night…

B: I really want you to come home with me.

Me: Sooo take me home with you.

B: I can’t…she’ll get mad.

Me: I don’t mind sharing.

B: *big smiles* A threesome, really?

Me: *shrugging* Yeah why not?

B: *smile fades* I’ll ask. I don’t know if she’ll go for it.

He goes and asks her. Although I’ve always wondered if he truly did or not…

B: She said no.

Me: Ok.

He says something about really wanting me, and I told him to convince her. The night is ending, and I decide to head home. I find him, and give him a hug.

Me: *whispering in his ear* It’s too bad, I’d be the best fuck you’ve ever had.

I was super drunk, and I know I said something really similar to that, and to this day, I still laugh with embarrassment. And I have no idea what he said. Too drunk.

Another night….

Me: I don’t remember what I said last weekend…but I’m really embarrassed.

B: Don’t be, it was hot.

Me: No…I feel really dumb.

B: It was hot. Wanna suck my dick in the bathroom?

Me: Uh no. I wanna fuck it, and if I suck it, I won’t get to.

And that is our “history” the boyfriend knows not of.

So when the boyfriend makes jokes about us and them swinging, B just smirks at me. It’s embarrassing… Or when the boyfriend makes comments about me being kinky, and B just stares… It’s awkward.

The nice thing is knowing he still wants me. And I don’t want him.

The embarrassing thing is knowing I was such a stupid drunk.

On the bright side, his girlfriend finally likes me.

How it All Began

This complicated relationship of mine.

I mentioned before about how my boyfriend and I met that I puked on him, yet he didn’t just disappear.

April 2013, that’s when it all began. I hadn’t seen John Doe since September, and I was pretty fucked up. Getting drunk every weekend, cutting, having a few one night stands- then lying and telling everyone I was just fine. Right. Because cutting equals fine. Because getting drunk to numb my pain was fine.

About a month before, I met this girl, let’s call her Sara. We went out to this karaoke bar for a girl’s night. I wore this tight, black mini skirt, boots, and a loose blue top, see through in back. We walked in, and as was told back to me, my boyfriend “saw you the moment you walked in, and I had to talk to you.”

He sent his friend over to get us over. Me personally? I wasn’t interested. I wanted a girl’s night. Sara on the other hand, had us sitting with them. She and the friend had a similar personality, and we’re dancing. Which left me and the boyfriend sitting there. Awkwardly.

He later told me he didn’t know what to say because “pretty girls are always bitchy, and you were just sitting there not saying anything so I figured you were a bitch.”

Well, on my part, I’m like “great, another guy. And he’s just standing there!”

I felt so uncomfortable in my skirt and begged Sara to change. She wore leggings, that went with my boots. So we changed in the bathroom. I never did get my skirt back either.

Anyway, I don’t remember what I drank that night. More than just beer, I know. And the boyfriend and his friend kept getting us shots. I think I had about six before the bar closed. So we all go outside, and next thing I know he’s picking me up. Actually I don’t remember that at all…I just saw the pictures on my phone.

We ride with them to a house party. The boyfriend has a water bottle with vodka. Me, drunk, says hell yeah, why not? Sara passes, I drink.

We get to the party, and Sara and I go to the bathroom. I start feeling weird, and we go to kitchen to get me something to drink.

Next thing I know, I’m saying I need to sit down right now. Sara tries to get me to sit on the counter, and I’m like no…and I curl up on the floor. Of some random person’s kitchen, at a party. Yeah, I was pretty fucked up.

I could hear girls saying shit about getting me out of there (it wasn’t even their house, fucking bitches). I tried to say, but Sara says I never said anything, “shut up, you’re going to make puke if you keep talking.”

I blacked out from there, but Sara told me the boyfriend carried me outside. The friend went to get the car, tried to run Sara over. The whole time they’re fighting, I’m puking in the grass, shaking.

From there, I’m gone again. I remember waking up in the grass somewhere else, and Sara saying adamantly, “pick her up! Carry her inside!” he’s saying, “She doesn’t want me to!” and I’m trying to yell, “Leave me alone! It feels good outside.” (It was actually really cold, but I was drunk and miserable, hating myself.)

I guess he carried me up the stairs, and all that jostling…Yeah, that’s when I puked on him. He was carrying me upstairs to the apartment, and I vomited all over his clothes.

And that’s how we met. I left the next day wearing his friend’s pants (his apartment) and we had apparently exchanged numbers at the bar (I barely remember doing that…) and the next night we met up. I forgot to give the pants back, so we met up again.

And now, here we are. That’s how I met my current boyfriend. Embarrassing. But somehow he stuck around and fell in love with me. Go figure.

One Shot, Two Shot, Three Shot

Fourth, fifth, sixth…

My 23rd birthday was this weekend. I went out to get drunk, since I haven’t been drunk in awhile. Months, actually. I think I overdid it just a smidge.

The day was spent getting lunch, and pants shopping. Over the past month all my pants have gotten increasingly tight on me, and I am just sick of doing the jump-tug to get my fucking pants on. And then if I dare eat, I have to unbutton them because heaven knows, even without eating I can barely zip and button them.

I went from 100lbs to 118.5lbs in a matter of a month and a half. I’m okay with that- nobody can even tell I’ve gained weight. Except me. My damn pants don’t fit! So anyway, I bought two new pairs on my birthday- and holy cow! They fit!

A size 0-1 to a 5, but I’m okay with that. I mean, hey it’s just a size. What sucks is having to buy an entire new wardrobe from the waist down. Not that I don’t like shopping, I just can’t afford it right now.

So yeah. Then after that, I went home, showered, and went over to my brother’s. We went to see his friend fight. I’ve never been to an MMA fight before, but it was a lot of fun! I’m glad I’ve gone now, and hopefully get the chance to go again sometime.

My brother asked me if it made me wanna fight, and I’m like uh…no…and he’s like oh really? It always makes everyone wanna fight and to do right what the fighter did wrong. I just laughed, and said I don’t know what they did wrong. I mean, I like MMA, I just don’t know the rules, blah blah. Like, I get it- when you’re the one fighting, or whatever it is you’re doing, you’re not necessarily going to do everything a bystander thinks you should. And that bystander has been in situations, I’m sure, where they fucked up a little themselves.

Then after the fights, I met up with my friends at my bar. And I don’t drink vodka- my body cannot handle vodka. But I figured, hey what the fuck. I’ll do it tonight. So, from 11pm-2:45am I had 8 shots and 4-6 vodka lemonades. And then I promptly passed out.

I woke up in my friend’s bed, and I’m like um…I don’t know how I got here. Then I spent all Sunday sleeping off and on, and feeling very pukey. It was dreadful. I could name a few reasons about why my hangover lasted so long, or I could simply be honest and say the truth: I really don’t handle vodka well…my body simply rebels violently at so much alcohol, and I regret it.

I really cannot believe I had 8 shots AND so much vodka. That’s a fucking lot of alcohol for me. I am a light weight- 5 beers gets me tipsy. And not to mention vodka- damn, that shit can get me fucked up in two drinks (glasses). But my friends all said I was very happy and go lucky. I’m typically pretty reserved, so one of my friend’s said it was nice seeing me so bubbly and talking to everyone.

Yeah it wasn’t her who woke up dehydrated and felt like shit.

But oh well. Everyone said I did my birthday right. And I guess it makes up for being totally sober on my 21st birthday. Well I’d had a few drinks, but I had to get up early to take my friend to the airport.

Anyway. Birthday done. Me, drunk, no. Not for a long time.

Mechanical Bulls

And alcohol, oh my!

Last night I went out with the guy I had been living with, his brother, and his brother’s boyfriend, and had a complete blast.

We started out with karaoke, and then drove to downtown, to finish the night off. Like, I love going down there, it’s so busy and exciting. I’m from the country, and grew up sheltered, so I just love going downtown, and soaking it all in. Unfortunately, nobody ever wants to go. It’s expensive, so I get it. But once in awhile I would like to go. Besides staying up north is always the same faces every weekend.

Anyway, we get downtown, and go to the country bar. They have a mechanical bull, and all these drunk girls be riding. And falling off. I think maybe one guy rode it…

Anyways, the boyfriend wanted to ride it. But the two guys said it’d be weird for them to ride together at a straight bar. Whatever, who cares right? So I agreed to ride it. We wait in line…and then we’re told guys and girls can’t ride together. Well poop! Because I’m so not riding alone, that’s for damn sure.

The guy says it’s almost the end of the night, so if we wanna wait a little longer, he can break the rule and let us be the last riders of the night. Oh hell yeah!

I think our ride last thirty seconds, but it was exhilarating! No joke, I had an incredible time riding, and I just really wanna ride again. But ya know, it’ll be like another six months before I get anyone to go again.