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Here’s to live, laugh, coming our way through a bad bish summer.
“Holy shit. I got married…” My eyes lock with theirs. “And you two fucked my wife.”
“I’m going to assume you’re laughing at messages from Tweedle-Dumbass and Tweedle-Dipshit.
I can’t help the grin on my face as I take another swig of drink number too fucking many. But who cares.
“Stop hitting me,” my attacker growls, swatting me away. But I yell back, still trying to lift my leg to get into a position like I’m in the UFC as I yell back. “I’m not even in the age demographic to be trafficked. Google it. Fuck you.”
“Hey, wifey. Remember me?” I bite my lip, trying not to laugh as I nod and attempt to fix my hair, swiping it out of my face. But he winks and rubs his jaw, tapping a finger to it as he adds, “Good. Now, give daddy a kiss and make it better.”
Damn. I really got drunk and married this dude, then let the starting lineup for the Raiders rail me every which way. I’ve never wanted to be a role model, but god has his favorites, so it would be selfish of me not to accept this privilege.
I mean…not really, but like, do I have a crush on my future ex-husband?
Is there such a thing as a non-monogamous girlfriend…who doesn’t love you but always treats you like her favorite? Because I want Eleanor to be that.
“So, hubby, where do we live?” “In hell, wifey. In. Fucking. Hell.”
Again, I say…I hate football. I’m banning it from my vocabulary. I won’t even read about it anymore. From now on, I’m only reading hockey romance.
But I swear I feel like it’s been imprinted on me. Like I’m Jacob and his cock is my Renesmee. I have to stop watching Twilight before I go to bed.
Lucky…for them and you. Because you eat like an animal.” “I’m hungry,” she growls. “You’re feral,” I toss back. She shrugs. “That too.”
But that’s what he is. An arrogant prick with a really big fucking dick.
But I’m also caught on that last part of his sentence…what happens next. All good things come to an end, so I guess it’s not the worst thing to enjoy it while I have it.
Ladies, you deserve each other. You’re all feral and god help the people who love you.
I can’t be trusted with my own life decisions. Next up, I’ll be living on a commune, calling some dude named Sunshine Twig my leader.
It’s perfect. And that scares me to death. Because I’m not ready for perfect. I don’t have room in my life. It’s still a mess over here…a work in progress. I’m not ready for company.
“I don’t want to get lost in him.” I chew the inside of my cheek before I continue. “I spent so much of my life looking for something to complete me. And that can’t be a guy.”
