Posted in Baby Daddy, Life, parenting

omg i am truly pathetic

wow. this ShyBoy thing is driving me nuts. ooops, let me re-write that:

wow. this StudMuffin (formerly ShyBoy but my son thinks StudMuffin is funnier. I think my son is picturing a huge muffin with tom cats “making kittens” with female cats in heat — like our Nikita — on top. not sure what his idea of “making kittens” is. not sure i want to know.*) thing is driving me nuts. wtf??? 6, i mean, SIX hours of talking, not to mention the ten minute story about a girl he was so not into and he kisses her anyway, and i get a kiss on the cheek???

i should probably mention that it was during my eight year relationship with BD (my son, N’s, Bad/Biological Dad) that i got, um, “fluffy.” as in, “I’m not fat, i’m fluffy.” BD is into big girls. not just plus sized, but super plus sized. he was a little fluffy when i met him, became obese when he was with creepy (good thing he has those womanly hands…i kept warning him if he put on any more weight he wouldn’t be able to find his penis, then where would he be?). then he lost some weight living with us. and, finally, he did the crystal meth / crack diet after moving in with his intern and lost A LOT of weight “SUPER FAST” (as my son said).

anyways, StudMuffin *snicker* is the first boy i hit on since “getting fluffy”. actually, i’m pretty sure he’s the first boy i’ve ever hit on. or maybe every guy has just “gone for it” and kissed me before i felt like i was hitting on him. then there’s the fact that i usually only care when it comes to women: i always felt that if a woman turned me down i would be much more emotionally involved than if i was turned down by a boy. not that i can remember being turned down by a boy… hey, i even turned down an actor who has the same first name as da Vinci! and, after all, i DID get the idea to become fluffy so that guys wouldn’t hit on me anymore. though that was with the idea that fluffy lesbians usually have girlfriends and, well, WHERE DA WOMEN AT???

still, i think if StudMuffin *snicker, snort* really WAS a SHYBOY, it wouldn’t be so… obsessive (argh! but StudMuffin does has two clubs: one for girls who just stalk him, the other for those who stalk him AND for the ones who go “bat shit” crazy over him, in addition to the stalking). but the fact that ShyBoy is ACTUALLY a SlutBoy… not to mention that really repulsive girl who gave him mono and turned him off but he still kissed her… where’s my kiss? i KNOW he’d enjoy it! i’m a damn fine kisser, and i’ve had compliments (and never a complaint) about many other talents i possess. my breasts alone should make him want to kiss me! (as long as the boobs stick out further than the belly…lol)

jeez. have i sunk so low i’m not even looking for a pity fuck but a pity kiss? i guess so. of course the idea of “teaching” him is gone — he’s probably been with more people than i have & wouldn’t be up for lessons. but while my booty call & i are getting more in sync, booty call finishes & i’m left with… a stomach ache if it was close, and frustration either way. (so why do i keep seeing him? i’m optimistic.)

ok. enough of this. i need to make dinner for my son. why, oh why, is it so hard to find a BootyCall who can satisfy me? it really is not hard — heck, if i sit forward on a train i can, um, have fun. there are fricking directions for goddess sake!!! go for the curved barbell — less than a minute & you can stick a fork in me ‘cuz i’m done lol

have a good evening y’all

 

*my son has walked in on me having sex with his dad more than once. one time, we were, well, i was up against a wall, with his dad behind me & his dad’s excuse was “we were looking to see where we should hang a [non-existent] poster”. another time, “mommy” was cleaning the couch with daddy helping, from over my shoulder (well, behind, but if you think i was cleaning the couch i’ve got a few bridges to sell you.).

last, but definitely not least, was the time i was in so much fibromyalgia pain, and i was bleary-eyed & taking a nap when his dad comes into bed to join me & use those wonderful hands of his yadda yadda yadda i hear my son ask, “whats wrong with mommy?” and as i open my eyes to see my son at the foot of my bed watching a movie i hear his dad say, “mommy’s just having a muscle spasm.” yeah, i got a little paranoid about my son being around after that. i mean, at least i was under a blanket, but i don’t even want to know how long my son was there…i guess i should mention this was probably revenge for me saying how his dad was sick for being able to get off with our son in the bed…

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Author:

Mom, cat-lover, ovo-lacto vegetarian, voracious reader, verbose writer on various subjects. Expect anything & everything & feel free to suggest a topic or ask a question.

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