Events
Tighty Whitey Guy
My resolve to avoid married men faltered again. Yesterday, I called in to work because I didn’t feel well.1 Tighty Whitey’s spidey sense must’ve been tingling because he started texting me.
We hooked up once over the summer, while his wife was out-of-town, but hadn’t had an opportunity because our work schedules are so similar.2 Before we hooked up initially, we had IMd on yahoo for a couple of years. I’ve been with more than my fair share of married or otherwise attached men and I was not interested in adding yet another to my Book of Dalliances. However, he was very persistent in pursing the affair and happened to catch me on a day when I was horny and willing to ignore that he is married.
I don’t remember much about our first time together except he was even cuter than in his pictures, he loved eating pussy, his package was average, he wore tighty whiteys and that I taught him my favorite position.
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BipolarChick
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- I’ve got a cold and I’ve been fatigued lately. I’m often exhausted, but cannot sleep more than 2-4 hours at a time. [↩]
- Normally, I would’ve found a way around that, but the sex wasn’t all that good for me so I didn’t feel the need to accommodate him. I’ve had better orgasms from bass vibrations. [↩]
Thanksgiving 2010
I went to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving, as usual. This year, I was smart and prepared the desserts I was taking the two days earlier, so Thanksgiving morning I wasn’t running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get everything ready in time. I made chocolate banana cream pie, fruit cocktail cake, coconut cream pie, strawberry banana pie, and banana split pie. I’m the dessert queen of the family.
I’ve always been good at making desserts, spaghetti, and other common things like hamburgers, but I’ve cooked a lot since I’ve been too broke to eat out the past few months. I’m becoming adept at cooking dinner. I’m still not acclimated to cooking for just one person so I often have leftovers, but that’s okay, I just take them to work the next day. I usually have company on weekends, so I don’t cook for just one all the time.
Married Man Magnet
I swore off married and other emotionally unavailable men three days ago and I’m already having a hard time maintaining my resolve. At this point, I think it’s safe to say I’m addicted to assholes, cheaters, and pussy-hounds.
I was really excited about the opportunity to move to the UK for a couple of years, but my earlier declaration caused me to analyze my expectations and motives. I’ve concluded that I am trying to escape an awkward relationship with a married man, Charlie. I am getting tired of having all these affairs.
I Think I Can…
The twists and turns life can throw still astonish me. For awhile there I was certain that I’d been through as much hell as possible without dying and it was finally my time to enjoy more than fleeting happiness, I was foolhardy and impulsive.
Paul is a short man, but his charisma is impetuous. Napoleon comes to mind for some damn reason, probably because I’m toking, listening to my breakup playlist and having dozens of thoughts sweep through my mind every millisecond.
When I’m happy, I’m extremely happy, but it’s a very short-lived burst. Then something else tragic or devastating happens and poof, everything disintegrates so quickly I am left wondering if it was all just a dream.
I got swept up in my relationship with Paul. I was considering having his baby within six weeks of meeting him; little did I know I was already carrying his babies1 Surely, I should’ve known it was possible. After all we were fucking like rabbits and never used protection. I was living second to second without considering consequences.
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BipolarChick
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Going Back to the Doctor Today
I am feeling somewhat better. I haven’t cried since yesterday. The past couple of days I worked 11 hours shifts because the distraction really helps. If I’m at work then I’m busy and unable to think about losing my baby and Paul within a day of each other.
There have been so many people here for me through this heart wrenching time and I’m more grateful that I can even express. If it wasn’t for my friends and family and Paul’s family I don’t think I would have pulled through, at the very least I would have relapsed and self-injured, at worst I would have killed myself. I’m far from healed or over losing the baby, but at least I’m not bursting into tears every few minutes anymore.
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