I think I still have it bad for My Mr. Grey. I can’t get him out of my head, still. I had an invitation from The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of to go and sit in his backyard and watch a meteor shower, which is an invitation I usually would say yes in a heartbeat too, but I couldn’t face going over there. I knew what it would mean if I did: we would sit in his garden and drink a beer, smoke a bit, start making out, and then … well, you know. We’d fuck.
I didn’t want to fuck him. I didn’t want to fuck anyone except for My Mr. Grey. I’m hoping it’s just a temporary glitch and I still have those rose-tinted spectacles on, but I just knew my encounter with The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of would be dull in comparison to what I’d just done with My Mr. Grey. Plus my vagina is still sore. My heart’s not really in the right place for a booty call. What’s happening to me?
I spent the night having a little smoke on my own and furiously texting My Mr. Grey. He told me that he misses me a lot, but what does this mean? Does he think about me sexually all the time? Because I think I already know that. Or does he miss me in a different way? A ‘more’ way? Because I’d like that. So much. But I can’t initiate it. I’ve tried. I’ve tapped out the text message but I just can’t do it. I’m doing that thing that women are known for: overanalysing absolutely everything. Oh, and bottling out whenever I feel almost brave enough to actually say what I mean. I just don’t have the balls to tell him how I feel. That hardly makes sense since he’s been wrist-deep in my vagina, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to save the words I really want to say.
But how long is this phase going to last? How long am I going to keep turning down booty calls, because some of those booty calls are ones I actually want. How has everything changed in just a matter of days? Four days ago, I was fine. Now, I can’t stop reading too much into everything he says to me, looking for some sign that he’s thinking of me in the same, intense ways that I’m thinking of him.
Fuck, shit, this is pissing me off.
For those that care, the non-smoking is going just fine. I haven’t smoked a cigarette yet. I’ve not wanted to kill anyone yet, either. My Mr. Grey is a non-smoker and hates my habit, so I think I’m working hard a lot more for him than for myself. But I won’t admit that to anyone else, obviously.
Oh, and I found out this morning that my estranged [ex-]husband has had my name tattoo tattooed over, but that was to be expected. I told him not to get a tattoo of my name. Firstly, I think it’s tacky; secondly, nothing lasts forever; thirdly, it was a really shit tattoo and I really wasn’t happy about it.
Anyway, fuck this. I’m off to get stoned some more and to hope for a shooting star.
Can you guess what my wish will be? 💫
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