Kind of liking

southerndecay:

my newly visible hip bones to accompany back dimples.

want :|

i guess the first question here is “do i really want to do this?”

the second question would be “why am i doing this?”

i am leaving in february.  am i doing this to make that parting less painful?  will i trade more pain now for less pain later?

i don’t know.  earlier i was woken up by his friends laughing so loudly (you’re the loud sound of fun while i’m trying to sleep).  fifteen things went through my head at once: you never want to go out, you’re hanging out with your friends tonight, i’ve barely talked to you all day, we haven’t had sex since some time early last week, i’m not missing the part of my brain that allows me to go weeks without sex, you didn’t even come out with me the night i graduated because you were too fucking busy watching some TV show by yourself at home.  you eat all my food, you barely do laundry, you bitch and moan when i ask you to help me pick up.

you’re okay with passively being my boyfriend, but the second i ask you to do something (come out, do dishes, touch me), you’re all up in arms. 

i need to be with someone who wants to have sex with me, who wants to come out and be social with me, who is interested in having clean clothes and a clean place. 

let me sum this up: we don’t hang out with the same people anymore, we don’t have the same interests, we’re barely on the same page, and i don’t want to do it anymore.  this is stupid; i shouldn’t have to… i shouldn’t have to be denying myself the things that i very badly want (organized, clean closet with clean clothes in it, my own place, sex with someone who wants to have sex with me). 

i’m staying at lizzy’s tonight because i don’t want to fight, i don’t want to go to bed angry, and i don’t want to have to lie about being angry.  i think you’ll figure it out when you go to bed by yourself (in my bed, in my apartment) tonight.  but maybe you won’t.  ‘cause you haven’t figure out yet that something’s gotta change.

excuse me, boyfriend.  this is not a convenient place for you to eat, shit and sleep.  you live here (though not for much longer), with me, your girlfriend.  

these are things i want you to work on:

• not getting shitty when i try to wake you up in the mornings
• not leaving your shit everywhere
• cleaning up the messes you make
• helping me keep our room looking like adults live there, not 12-year-olds
• indulging me in some intimate contact more than once a week.  we’re in our early 20s, ffs.

these are things that i will work on:

• not acting like i’m your mom (but you have to fucking help me here)
• picking my own shit up
• cleaning up my own messes
• not bugging you for sex every time i feel like it

and if you don’t believe in fantasy, then don’t believe in fantasy

i know i’m sick right now, but i feel like you haven’t touched me in weeks.  the last time we fooled around, i’m pretty sure you were falling asleep as you were trying (and i use that term loosely) to bring me to orgasm.  what on earth is going through your tiny little boy brain as you were doing that?  are you aware that it’s not flattering or sexy or that it’s not even possible for me to get off if i don’t feel like you’re not into it?

you know i live inside my head a lot.  we talked about it last night — you told me to stop second-guessing myself or beating myself up about telling you things, like that first night when i told you i’d had a thing for you for a while or last sunday when i told you about that ridiculously traumatic incident.  it’s hard for me to trust anyone, myself included, because i’ve mispaced my trust in everyone, myself included, so many times.  when you show an obvious lack of interest in my half of our sex life, i freak the fuck out and run to my other tumblr and go “WHAT’S WRONG I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU DON’T WANT TO TOUCH ME.”

it just makes me feel unloved, you know?  like i’m not worthy enough of your precious time to want to touch or tease or fuck.  especially when you just spent an hour watching big wolf on campus.

i guess i just don’t get it.  you pay me some lip service and you tell me i’m sexy and that i don’t know how beautiful i am to you, but the way you’re not interested in getting me off or having sex with me or bringing me to orgasm after i’ve made you come says such different things. i could read the fucking koran to you in a sultry voice and bite my lip a couple of times and you’d nut.  not so for me, my friend.  i need a little more involvement and emotional support.  i need to know that you want to make every muscle in my body to tense, that you want my breath to catch in my throat, that you want to make me lose it.

if he tells you he’s too tired to bring you to orgasm after you’ve so sincerely and passionately applied pressure with your mouth or hands or feet or vaginal canal, he’s just not that into you, right?