Wednesday, August 18, 2004
The lust that shouldn’t speak its name
So I have talked to Mer a couple times since she got back to Brooklyn; she's fine, although exhausted from a) her visit, b) her winding down from some personal crap she was dealing with before she came out and c) from Rebecca finally moving out and into the downstairs apartment (so it's like she hasn't really left, but at least Mer has her own new furniture in her crib. Meanwhile, Rebecca has yet to call about getting a phone hooked up or utilities switched, so Mer is making sure to enjoy as much air conditioning as humanly possible. Can't say I wouldn't do the same.). The thing that freaks me out? Apparently, the physical relations were such that she actually wants to hit it with our pal again.
(shudders)
Why does this affect me in any way, shape or form? It doesn't; I mean, whatever it takes to get your rocks off, right? And it helped her feel better about her stuff going on at home, so good on him. I'm still just irrritated that he was such a giant jackass to me when she was here that I'm just like, ick. It's like, I set the deal up, so you can at least not a) screw in my house, like I asked you not to, and b) not try to push my buttons over and over and over until I want to poke your eyes out with my pen.
(shudders)
Why does this affect me in any way, shape or form? It doesn't; I mean, whatever it takes to get your rocks off, right? And it helped her feel better about her stuff going on at home, so good on him. I'm still just irrritated that he was such a giant jackass to me when she was here that I'm just like, ick. It's like, I set the deal up, so you can at least not a) screw in my house, like I asked you not to, and b) not try to push my buttons over and over and over until I want to poke your eyes out with my pen.