I like wine and cheese. Along with kissing, they provide some of my life’s greatest pleasure.
I guess I served Alan some great cheese (not uncommon) because he’s used it as the rationale to reach out to me three times since I broke it off. Well, he used other methods as well to try to see me again, the most memorable being a naked mirror selfie of himself with a hard-on, wearing a Trump mask.
Believe the words a man tells you; that he loves you, that you are unlike anyone else in his life, that although you aren’t going to be intimate anymore he doesn’t want to lose you in his life. Believe he can’t possibly be so deceitful that he’s letting two women think the same thing when it comes to his love and commitment to them. Justify staying intimate with him by telling yourself she can’t possibly believe he’s romantically in love with her.
After you break up for the final time, spend a fair amount of mental calories debating whether to block him from contacting you. Believe he will be the one to reach out. Think about ways you need to be strong to get through the breakup without reverting. Believe he will be the one that suffers more in your absence, than you in his. (Note: this is perhaps dangerously close to hubris)
No, don’t worry, this isn’t another post about the whole debacle. I’m tired of it already. And for what it’s worth: of course nobody should violate your privacy rights, yes some people enjoy the misery of cheaters, yes, some people will look people up they know (not always for nefarious reasons), there are hypocrites in this world, and yes, cheaters should always consider what would happen if they are found out.
I feel sexy. Inspired by the two-plus hours of morning sex, brunch, great coffee, amazing dessert, and a second dessert of fantastic orgasms administered by an awesome man’s hands and a new glass dildo…I thought I would share a pic of a new purchase.
I provided both steak and blow job before 2pm. Tony is a lucky man.