GirlMonster

I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know how close people are supposed to get- but I can read you like a book and you just unfold before me.

I can tell your father wasn’t around, probably not dead, but definitely gone since you were a child. You were a mama’s boy. You love to cook and love your family; you feel that cooking big meals and holiday time spent in each other’s company are the best way to show you love them. I can tell you’re a little stubborn. You don’t believe in any God or things like fortune telling, but there is a part of you buried deep down that is hopeful towards such things. That part of you died with your childhood and you’ve refused to hold on to fantastic ideas since. You come from the persistent will of your Irish heritage- the reason your mother raised you on her own and pushed through her cancer so long.

I don’t know what else to say. But I feel like I can read you very well. I like what I see and take comfort in it; but, as I said, I’ve never done this before.

I hate you because you were handsome and charming. I hate you because you were sweet to me. I hate you because you were confident. I hate you because you were everything I wanted in a man except interested in me.

I hate that you will never look at me again.

I hate that you will never think of me again because deep down there is part of me that really wanted to be and still wants to be loved by you and every time I have sex I can’t help but think of you and I cried so many times during and after because of you.

I hate that you are you and I am me and we’re stuck like this.

BOO.

I knew there was a reason I call you Wanker.

Stood me up again. I even put on Victoria’s Secret panties. And body glitter.Lickablebody glitter. Do you know how great that stuff is?

I’ve been terribly unmoved by the male sex as of late, but you came along and got me all fired up and BOO.

Stop doing this. I really shouldn’t want to have sex with you because you do this kind of stuff and I get excited thinking we’re going to and then we don’t and I’m let down.

ablublublu

wow.

Roomie has her friend over again.

“Shelby has a boyfriend and I don’t.”

“Because Shelby’s a whore.”

“But Shelby still has a boyfriend and I don’t. Maybe if I start whoring around.”

That kind of talk repulses me. Being in a relationship does not make you a whore or a slut or anything like that. Being in a relationship means you have someone you want to spend a lot of time with and mutually trust and respect- if sex is involved, it is consensual, and that’s all that matters.

Second, is it that important that you have a boyfriend? You are a whole person. Your being and your happiness does not rely on having a boyfriend. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, so I don’t have much room to get flamed up about this one. But, please. I’m two years younger than you. Have you not learned or even once maybe thought for a moment, “I’m fine by myself”?

Sometimes I remember there are people starving and homeless and losing family to war outside their doors and get really depressed in an instant. It’s like the big bang of depression.

I hope you get married. I really do. Because that will be the final sign that I can stop thinking about you forever and truly be over it.

I think I’m over it.

After the first year was over.

After you came back and didn’t look for me.

I let it go.

But until you get married and prove that you’re ready to stop fucking every woman you meet- then I’ll know you’ve actually forgotten about me.

That’s all I need from you.

I know I said “you look dashing” but what I meant was “put your dick in me.”

Responsibility is having one part of you be strong enough to drag the part of you that’s kicking and screaming out the door.

Uh oh. It’s dick week.

The week after my period has been dubbed “Dick Week” because I am always incredibly horny and feel like I can’t focus on anything when said time rolls around.

I’m going to try and do homework before the week gets in full swing.