Brent is going to a wedding with his ex wife tomorrow. I’m jealous at how much he loves his wife. I wish Ian had tried. Seeing him try to get back with her is both endearing and insulting. And disappointing. I wanted him to come over. I wanted to get high with him, or fuck him here, or both. Now he’s all off canoodling and I get jack shit.
That isn’t true. I get Kenny. Kenny is amazing and has the best cock ever. It’s too bad he doesn’t want to use it more. I’M OPEN FOR COCK! FREE PUSSY RIGHT HERE!
I get sex with Kenny about once a week. If it’s a good week. I find that depressing.
Kathlyn was going to go clubbing with me tomorrow, but she’s helping with the fire that is going on right now. Volunteering to help serve food. She’s having a hard time right now, and so she decided to go put herself to use somewhere. I support that.
I still want to go clubbing, though. 1:16. I’m high right now. Tomorrow I’m thinking of going to the big fancy mall and getting a sexy black dress and then going clubbing by myself. I asked Kenny if he was interested, but he wasn’t showing any kind of enthusiasm. I need enthusiasm, people.
I’m hot. And I wanna fuck. And I’m allowed. I’m a grown up.
Even if it’s just people hitting on me. I’m ok with that.
It’s starting to get really good over here. In the last four minutes, it’s gotten a lot more exciting. Damn pot is amazing. I don’t know how it does it.
Ron said that he wants to have a grounded conversation about how to not only get me to $20/hour, but salaried at $60K per year. Right now I make $29K. That would be a big difference. He was using numbers to compliment me, which is the best way he knows how. He’s essentially autistic, and numbers are scientific, so to him, numbers are the best way.
1:25. I’ve never typed this high before. Hello. What does my mind think when it isn’t worried? Not a lot, I spose.
I’m trying to get more friends going. I’ve hung out with Zella and Alexus, and Yalda is next Wednesday. Same Yalda. The Yalda Brent was dating. I’m having dinner with her at a nice restaurant. She apparently likes Ani Difranco, so maybe we’ll have glorious sex together, and Brent can be at home with his wife, imagining it.
Sucker.
I don’t think I want Brent to call me a best friend anymore until we hang out outside of work. Otherwise I feel like my bar is too low. It makes more sense to say no friends than stupid non-committal uninterested best friend. Fuck that.
April was incredibly rude to me the other day. Talk about people who need medication, holy shit. It won’t go over well if I suggest that, but I think it could greatly improve her quality of life. She told me that I’m a fag hag who is scared of her and that I should go fuck myself. When I pointed it out that there’s a difference between who she is as a person and the behavior of insulting me, she couldn’t take responsibility for being rude. She told me that calling me a fag hag was an “accusation” and that telling me to go fuck myself was a “request for space.” I told her, “Then I’ll honor your request.”
I thought that was brilliant. Because it was obviously both polite and a lot of side-eye. It’s the nicest way I’ve ever said “Well then, fuck you too.”
Shannon says I should write down the times that I get outside validation. I feel creepy with the note-taking. It’s pretty tedious. I feel like I get the point. People say things like they like my makeup or my hair. The guy at the gas station asked me “Why are you so beautiful?” I said “Thanks mom.”
I miss hanging out with Grace. And Erica. And Annah. And Aimee. Aimee was annoying. But Ashley H. Zella is still pretty distant. We had coffee, and then we had thai food for dinner a different day. I don’t know how interested she is in hanging out again. Do you know I would still practically marry her in an instant? If she called me up and said, “Karen, I miss you. I’ve been trying to be coy and cautious for the last few weeks, but it’s been really really good to see you. Can we hang out more? I’d love to go to the rose garden with you. We can bring lunch there. Like a picnic? I’ll bring rosé wine, and fruit, and buy a little quiche if you bring scones and dessert. I miss your scones. We could lay out a blanket under one of the shady trees and just look up and the leaves moving around in the breeze. We could touch hands, if you want. We could kiss, if you want. I just miss you. Can we do Saturday?”
And we would go. And I’d bring cranberry orange scones and tiny round flourless chocolate cake and two lemon cookies. We’d go back to my place, and we’d come up to my room and sit next to each other talking awkwardly for a bit. Then our hands would touch and play with each other for some stupid amount of time like an hour. I’d get the nerve to touch her shoulders, and pet her hair. Her eyes are so incredibly blue. I’d move in to kiss and she’d already be kissing back. Slow, very slow hot lesbian sex. The only way I know how.
She’d stay til breakfast on Sunday. Then we’d fuck again. Then lunch. Then again. Then dinner. Then we get high and go to sleep. Monday she’d finally leave, and we’d already be making plans for when to see each other again. We’d lament that it might be a day or two. The last 14 years would melt away, and I’d stay with the first girl I ever loved.
Kenny I don’t know. I need him to be decisive. I need him to want me and act on it. Both of those things. I can’t carry this relationship by myself.
He’s going to fuck another girl on Thursday. Sure. “I love you. I love us.” Of course you do.
I’ve been talking about Brent non-stop to him for the last 3 months, though.
Brent. I have not told you about his ass yet. It is without a doubt, the best ass I have ever touched. It’s insanely good. It’s firm and muscly and fuzzy! The fuzz was a surprise. Goddamned attractive. Woo.
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