I was talking to one of the pharmacists at work one day. Sex is a popular topic in my conversations. I like to horrify my friends with my stories. The pharmacist was a guy and he said something about guys not caring how many guys a woman has been with.
I don’t know what planet he lives on, but guys do care. Some of them care a lot.
I think that the reason I am so emotionally disturbed and want to do something really bad to The Arab is the lack of closure after things ended between us. There was no closure, it came as a complete surprise and he essentially cut off all communication and wouldn’t answer my phone calls.
Closure is important because it helps us to move on, I guess. This is the first time since I was 16 that I was the person that got dumped instead of being the person doing the dumping. So I don’t think I ever really realized how important closure is.
But it doesn’t really make any sense.
I’ve talked to Young Black Hottie twice before-the day he moved in and the day he locked himself out of his apartment. Cute but young and I tried not to read too much into it. And then we talked again the day I was waiting for the locksmith to make news keys for my car.
Is he interested or am I just imagining things?
With my (soon to be ex) Husband, it was a little different than the situation with The Blackest Man on Earth. At least my (soon to be ex) Husband had grown up with these people, his brother and sisters. His parents were dead but, before they died, they sent him here to support the rest of his siblings. (Which, I have to say, it a rotten responsibility to saddle on of your children with.)
(His parent died of AIDS, if you’re wondering. He father only lived for 3 months after Husband left.)
When I think of my grandmother, I think of a kind and friendly little women (she was all of about 5 feet tall), who spoke with an accent and was always in the kitchen doing something. I didn’t expect her to give me the advice she gave me when I was about 18.
Maybe she was having a bad day?
I wish I followed her advice.
I feel like everything was so much easier when I was younger. There was no discussion, I make out with a guy and he automatically becomes my boyfriend. We start making out everywhere at school (and get dragged to the principal’s office multiple times for “public displays of affection”) and everyone knows that we are boyfriend/girlfriend.
Now everything is confusing. Discussion ensues. Why can’t it just be easy like it was 10-15 years ago?
I have no idea why this was important to my (soon to be ex) Husband. I just remember one day, in the beginning of our relationship, he asked this question.
“What’s wrong?” I don’t think The Arab expected me to stop him as he had had his hands down my pants on any number of occasions before this one. I don’t even know how many times we danced together out at a club, with his hand under my skirt or down the front of my jeans, one finger inside me as we moved together. It was like having sex with our clothes on.
“I didn’t shave.” I was embarrassed. I didn’t want somebody, and especially not this somebody, to see me like that. It was something that I was used to, that I hadn’t really thought about beforehand.
So how did I end up accidentally having surprise bad sex with this guy? I do not know the why for it happening, I only know the how. (I think the “why” comes down this-some guys will have sex with anyone as long as they are getting laid.)
It happened a few weeks after he asked me about being in love with The Arab, his cousin. View full article »
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