Take It Back

Jesus Christ, this Sunday was fucking weird. I don’t even know if I quite understand what the hell happened.

I had been dating this auto mechanic for about two months. It wasn’t anything serious as we both had pretty busy schedules. We had a few dates and goofed off together, and he sent me good morning and good night text messages, never pressured me for sex, and pretty much treated me like a pretty, pretty princess.

Then he cut off all contact.

I was super fucking worried about him, but when he wouldn’t answer or return my calls, I cut my losses. After the shit show with Michael, I’ve become very good at ridding myself of people who hurt me.

Well, yesterday he texted me explaining how his grandmother was in hospice, he had torn his shoulder, and just wasn’t in a good place hence the radio silence.

And then he asked me to marry him.

Fuck. How the hell do I tell him I wrote him off?

I’m hoping he just had a mental break what with all the crap going on in his life and that he’ll pull a takesies backsies with that proposal.


I had this really weird urge to kiss a girl on the mouth. 

We were talking, just business as usual, and I dunno what the fuck happened. My brain flipped and thought it would be wonderful to press my lips to hers. It wasn’t sexual though; I didn’t want to evoke any emotions, feelings, sensations. I think I just wanted some sort of physical contact.

Instead of flat out kissing her, I just placed my hand on her cheek. I’m a quirky enough person for this to not be out of the ordinary. And then I went about my business, sated.

Sometimes I just need contact with someone, platonic or not. 

My buddy Matt is a damned magnificent hugger. He grips me nice and tight and then runs his hands up and down my back. I find this very comforting and become sleepy. And then he gives me a small, bear hug at the end so my breath is smushed out of my chest. Super therapeutic.

A few days ago I was upset about something that probably doesn’t matter much in the scheme of things, but it still bothered me. I had some friends over, so I stood up and said, “I’m not feeling very well. I’m going to go in my room and cry for a little bit.”

I crawled into bed like a little bitch and cuddled my safety blanket. I could feel the tears brimming and I hated it. 

I sat bolt upright, stormed back into the living room, and held onto Matt. I might’ve cried a little bit, but I’d like to think it turned out a lot better than it would have if I had just huddled in my room. I calmed down, told him to not tell anyone about my tears, and here I am, putting all this crap on the Internet. No one will ever find out now!