Pussy luge

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this on my lunch break, while I was both angry and physically in pain…..but I think that much will shortly become obvious.

Well, I have every necessary trappingto work on CF this lunch break, and I just freaking can’t. I’mpissed. And now, more than ever, what needs to be done is so clear.It was just like all those months with R, where I fucking knew whatwas supposed to happen, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted them both. Conglomerating the pieces of them, I almost had a complete man. I remember once, when I forgot myself, and I was talking to someone I used to think of as a friend and I said something about how R “seemed” like my boyfriend, but I was like, “What, why? Why would I want someone else to disappoint me and not listen when I talk?”

Because, then, that’s all my husband seemed like.

We did not have a good weekend. We had sex like twice, which for us is like off the charts (not to mention the like four times I masturbated, yay endorphins and their temporary succor) but we fought EVERY day. And it’s starting to become those horrible long term relationship fights. Like my husband had music playing on his phone,and my picking his phone up to turn said music off was a HUGE mistake, blog, HUGE.

I don’t want to dwell because it’s not the point of this blog, but IHATE NOISE. WHY THE SWEET LIVING FUCK IS EVERYONE IN THE GODDAMNWORLD TERRIFIED OF QUIET? WHAT, YOU MIGHT THINK A THOUGHT?

And then on Saturday when we were getting into it because I started telling him that it upset me that he was lazy AND self righteous about our petcare (Like be one or the other, don’t get haughty with me because I’m not handling EVERYTHING like you need me to so you can keep living the life of an infantile teenager) and I started talking to him about how EVERY time I speak, in an argument-type situation, HE FUCKINGINTERRUPTS ME.
It’s like he CANNOT, his fucked up idiot fucked idiot ADHD I snorted WAY TOO MANY PRESCRIPTION DRUGS from WAY TOOYOUNG AN AGE brain from talking while I’m talking. He CANNOT let me get a sentence out. And I’m trying to tell him that on Saturday, so he has to turn it into I’m yelling at him, and I’m swearing at him. If you’re interrupted and talked over every time you speak, would you NOT start yelling???? I won’t be meek when I’m dead, much less anytime before that. Because nope. Fight. Be shitty. Stand the fuck up for yourself (because guess what Princess ain’t no one gonna do that for you, or even notice anything about you besides what THEY might want from you). And I’ve been this way since day 1, so he can fuck right off with any accusations that I’ve changed.

And I DON’T WANT to have problems or fight. But my fuck there’s going to far with that, there’s putting up with shit and enabling bad behavior to look out for.

Last night, when he freaked out that I picked up his phone I was like, “Yeah, guess there might be something you don’t want me to see.”

I’ll never not suspect him.

I’ll never wake up to find him gone from bed without thinking I need to check the house to make sure he’s still there.

I’ll never be able to look at our wedding pictures without thinking of theunbelievably hurtful and rotten and horrible things he said to me STILL WEARING THE TUX HE MARRIED ME IN on our wedding night.

What a piece of shit.

I should have known then.

I should have known when he ruined my laptop when I was 22 out of sheer carelessness. Then he had the fucking GALL to act traumatized because I was angry that he did that (sat down in front of my laptop too fast with a full cup of water, causing water to slosh out onto thekeyboard).

It was a sign.

I never listen to signs. I guess. I mean look at N. I should’ve never bothered finding his Twitter. I should’ve kept him written off as some guy from grad school who one time, long ago, asked if my husband and I wanted to swing. I should’ve suspected he’d pull the old switcheroo again. Clearly that’s something that gets him off (whether he realizes it or not).

And R, R destroyed a $200 water cooler in my apartment that first debauchedweekend of ours.

And SPEAKING OFN….yeahhhhhh…….I don’t know what has happened there, but things feel different than they did a week or two ago. And, I mean, the way my mind works, I would suspect he’s found someone to flirt with/fuck on the side. I don’t really care, so that’s not like my issue here, my ISSUE is…well hold on.

It went like this, 10-27 was when he was like “Hey we’re gonna have sex” (five hours pass) “Hey I don’t think we should sleep together I can’t cheat on my wife” then I didn’t speak to him for like a week. Then I refollowed him on Twitter and he read some of the blogs I wrote about him (not all….I don’t think…..) and DM’ed me to apologize.Then we kind of spoke intermittently on DM ever since. Mostly about memes, or Archie comics, Myers-Briggs, or King of the Hill, sometimes my writing.

He would always go completely dark on the weekends. Which is kind of like…sure…yeah….normally people don’t go on social media oncefor 48 hours every week…..

I’m saying this because I fucking know when I’m being ignored. Like really. I don’t BLAME the other person. In the sense that not everyone is going to be into you, no matter how dope you are or how hot your are, and they have that right….but when it SEEMED like there was some interest, and now it’s just 100% dropped off….yeah….*suspicions form* I am naturally inclined to believe that no one likes me or wants me around, and the only time my presence would be requested is if someone desired something of me/needed to use me for something (as a teen, I screamed “Use talking to me as a vehicle for getting back with your ex”….apparently….)  and then my one usefulness is in that person getting what they want. LIke really I act in such a way to make people think they should treat me like shit. I’ve accepted that as fact, but I TRULY wish I knew how to fix that. Or even how I did it. Because. It’s something. 

And I don’t know if this is my deep, innate narcissism, but sometimes I’m like…..did you Tweet this so I would see it? Because I mean, that’s something I would do. Of course. But, also, it’s hard because I am defensively self absorbed. It’s this “No one else cares about me, so I’m going to be REALLY obsessed with myself and if my mind can’t make something about me I straight up need a logical reason for doing it or I won’t.”

But you know I was actually being genuine with N, and I actually cared.

I really did.

I actually did want to be his friend.

I told him he could talk to me about his problems.

Do you realize what I would give for someone to say that to me?

I don’t. Because sure fuck has that never happened.

It sickens me how much I’m willing to put myself out there for attention.

Like truly I am pathetic in some STRANGE ways. Like not appearance wise. Like I’m an 8, I’d be a 9, but, beer and food and a largely sedentary profession…..you’d THINK that would make me happy.

Holy fuck are ugly people happier?

Happiness is subjective and relative and easily faked so it’s not like that could be proven or disproved, but it’s a fun question.

I’ll write more in CF later today, and tomorrow…and the next day…forever and ever until it’s done.

But…idk, seems like N isn’t too into my beta reading idea. When he like completely cut off from me (still talked, but never about anything worthwhile or meaningful so what’s the point?) I started only talking to him about my book. But I sent him a question about titling Saturday morning and he has yet to respond, yet he’s tweeted like 100 times since then. Some of them things like “on to the next thing”and “that pretty barista with a septum ring is just as fun as you thought” (paraphrased, but still) yeah, I hope you’re fucking her, if not, I hope it works out real soon, or with that drummer you’ve known for a really long time that you surely made sure I knew about….which confused me more than anything.

And speaking of that.

Guess what I know.

I know what I fucking deserve, and it’s more than this.

I had high hopes for you. I really did.

I don’t know why.

You’re a less hot version of my husband in every way. And I mean…I refuse to believe there was TWO horse-hung guys in my grad problem, probability just doesn’t work like that.

My husband probably still hates me for R. He probably always will.When he’s REALLY drunk he tells me how I’ve done stuff that should make him hate me. I want to tell his bitch ass that is a two waystreet, but you have to be SO careful about triggering him when he’ sdrunk, he’s always half a comment away from a tantrum/meltdown.

Jesus no wonder I was meant to be alone.
I’m fucking awful.

I put myself through pain because I REFUSE to give up when I want something even when I’m telling myself to get over it.

I’m planning a surprise dinner with his friends and then a surpriseovernight date with me for my husband’s 30thbirthday in January.

Before you go thinking I’m sweet….just…..just realize this…..my mind has already weaponized this. After his bday is said and done, and th enext time we’re fighting after that, I’m more or less DYING to tell him that “At least one of us made the other feel special for their 30th birthday” because he did the same bare minimum fuck all like normal for my 30th last April.

That’s how fucked I am.

That’s how deep it goes.

It’s NOT easy, being around me I guess?

Or maybe I just tell myself that because everyone man in my life is a worthless bastard.

This is the first Christmas in 14 years I won’t see my best friend at all. But I already told you all about that.

I have a tension headache from earlier, it put me in a bad mood, can you tell?

~Cassie

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