One Ball has been the perfect boyfriend. He came down to spend a week with me, which turned into two weeks, and he was attentive, considerate, thoughtful, generous, and all sorts of other good adjectives… which is why I feel like such a bitch for saying this: he’s driving me fuckin’ mad.
By the time he left, after two weeks, I was just about ready to throw in the towel and tell him to get lost forever. I didn’t do that, of course; I’m not a total cunt.
But… well… I certainly did think about It, more than once.
Let’s start at the beginning.
Week One
OB turned up with a glint in his eye and a mischievous grin across his face, and – obviously – the very first thing we did was fuck. We fucked for the entire afternoon, evening, and night, and even the next morning, too. It was incredible. I couldn’t get enough of him, and vice versa.
He made me cups of tea afterwards, then drove me to work, then picked me up, then fucked me a bit more once we’d returned home. All good stuff. Nothing to complain about. We had fun, laughed, played some games, caught up on work gossip, enquired about families, ate dinner, and napped. Overall, I loved it. It felt like we were a proper couple. One that, you know, might live together one day.
OB didn’t put a single foot out of line. He didn’t care what I was doing (in a good way,) was more than happy to amuse himself while I worked at job one or two and actively encouraged me to be myself at home.
“Just act like I’m not here,” he said. “I’ll pretend you’re at job one.”
I tried to be myself. I tried to act like he wasn’t there and just get on with whatever I needed to get on with. Honestly, I did. I couldn’t, though. I’d try to work on my laptop, but I’d look over and see him smiling at me. How long for? Was I pulling a face? WHY WAS HE LOOKING AT ME ALREADY?
It was like looking at a puppy dog waiting for a command.
Folks, I don’t like it.
It’s The Lapdog 2.0, and we all know how that turned out. (Badly, in case you haven’t read it.)
Week Two
OB told me that he wanted to see his family for a few days, maybe stay with his mother, maybe hang out with some friends.
None of those things happened.
He was around in the mornings, and in the afternoons, and in the evenings, and also in the night – and I had no more days at work to escape to. He was just… there. All the time. Smiling at me, cleaning up after himself, and generally being the best boyfriend that a gal could ask for.
And it was driving me mad.
I wanted to laugh at shit TV shows and make crumbs in bed. Get stupidly high. Cry a little, probably due to overwhelm. Work on the blog. Work on job two. Do laundry. Starfish naked on the bed without having to suck in my stomach.
I wanted to do my single stuff, you know?
I couldn’t do any of that while OB was here, because I couldn’t relax while he was here – and I don’t know why that is. Tempers frayed in week two, and I was more than a little snappy. Once we’d gotten the not-seen-each-other-in-a-little-while sex was out of the way, I was bored, and sore. In turn, he was confused and snappy right back.
I wanted to go out, but he wanted to stay in.
He wanted to go out, but I wanted to stay in.
We couldn’t decide on dinner plans, or weekend plans, or what-shall-we-do-tonight plans.
He refused to get out of bed one morning, after convincing me to set my alarm a little later (because he’d take me to job one,) making me late and wet to work – and not the good kind of wet. It hammered down, and I was g-r-u-m-p-y. My boss was furious over my lateness, I made mistakes at work, and everyone there hated me.
And then I had to go home to my boyfriend, who was always fucking there.
This is bad, right? We can’t even last more than a week together; how are we meant to sustain a long-term relationship?
No, sorry, correction: I can’t last more than a week with him. I have no clue how he feels because I didn’t ask him.
The loudest sigh of relief burst out of my mouth once he’d said goodbye and finally left. Was it a dodgy week? Or is this the beginning of the end for us? It feels a little like the latter. Once he was gone and I could breathe again, I realised that I couldn’t breathe for the entire time he was here.
What use are those other good adjectives now?
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Feelin’ Grey.
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
Want to read all about One Ball’s story, right from the very beginning? You’ll find that right here.
You can also read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here:
