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When You Look in the Mirror and See “That Girl.”
What kind of insane dichotomy has to exist for one person in your life to make you feel so good about yourself and another person to make you feel so badly? Oh, they live under the same roof, just FYI.
There’s a line of involvement where you’re no longer introduced as “my friend.”
There’s a line of involvement where you can be trusted to drink an adult beverage around *gasp* minors and not feel guilty.
There’s a line of involvement where you can be treated like an adult with an active, positive sex life that deserves respect and privacy.
Apparently, I’ve still not reached that line.
Oh, I know. You don’t have to tell me.
What sucks is that, the person that makes me feel so wonderful is related to the person who makes me feel so bad.
Would you like an update?
Well of course you would.
The sickeningly sweet over-the-top I wouldn’t offend you if it meant saving the starving children in Africa attitude has been in full effect.
“Hi, how are you?”
“Can you get that recipe for me? I’d love to have it.”
“Just lay back down, you should get some more rest if you can.”
I know what sincerity looks like and this ain’t it. I’m not the best judge of character when it comes to men (or I am I just ignore it) but my mama didn’t raise no fool.
In any event, in an effort to be sensitive to other members of the household, most physical activity is pursued in a room away from bedrooms belonging to children and mothers. Lights out, doors closed, not necessarily quiet, but definitely not having the cops called on a noise violation.
When someone inadvertently opens a door and turns on a light and the tell-tale signs of the road to orgasmic ecstasy are all around, what is the appropriate response (given that the person involved is not your 15 year old daughter?)
I’ll wait while you decide.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
We have a winner, Bob.
It’s turn the fuck around and go back where you came from.
Not shuffle and bustle and move a bunch of shit around in search of a midnight snack while I sit here with a cock inside me trying to figure out if I need to cover up, cry or run away. Damn. Basic roommate etiquette. Every college freshman knows this.
I couldn’t be seen as there was a flimsy accordian door separating us from her in the kitchen. A never closed off kitchen window with merely a cotton panel to shut out the over sink light.
But I could be heard.
I could hear.
Another insincere apology this A.M.
So today, an ultimatum. Which sucks. I do not enjoy trying to force someone to react. I want them to react on their own. To act like an adult. An adult with any amount of control over their own fucking household.
I really tried to think of a way to make this funny. But I’m fuming. I’m hurt. I’m frustrated. I’m saddened that the reality of how much I mean to someone is being shoved in my face when I just wasn’t ready for it yet. I just wanted a little more time to decide for myself how long to let it go on.
Hell no, I wouldn’t cancel the combined outing with him and her. Not on your life would I dream of giving someone the satisfaction of continuing to intimidate me. I’m being unfair with that? Really? Seriously, I’m the one?
I call bullshit.
I know what the answer is. I’m just not there yet.
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