The Neighbor has been strangely open and needy with me since he departed for his trip home. He doesn’t usually admit he needs anything from me — he prefers the deserted island type existence — but he’s been very vocal about what he wants and needs from me the past couple of days. Vertical cleavage, apparently, cures all his ails.
And so I’ve sent him 20+ pics of just my cleavage peppered in with some hardcore shit. He gushes and thanks me — so unlike his usual self — and I smile and oblige him. He sends me glorious cock pics and told me he bought me a gift. A gift?! I’m guessing it’s a key chain. My hopes are definitely not up. However, I’d bet my last dollar he didn’t get anyone else a gift. Anyway, I fucking digress…
As my own stressful trip to San Francisco looms I’m wondering what he’ll be like as home base for me. I’ve checked in with him if it’s been several hours of silence, asked him how he’s doing, given him words of encouragement, sent him boob pics. My gut says he won’t do shit for me and that’s pushed me away from this whole thing the past few days. I am not allowed to rely on him, as per our unspoken agreement; he may rely on me till he’s blue in the face. It’s bullshit.
He posted on Facebook today — another great rarity — and I found myself lost in some of his pics. Either his ex-girlfriend or he lifted some kind of privacy lock because I can see a lot more pics this time around. She’s dark-haired, like him, and not at all attractive. I know she put him through the ringer, didn’t care about sex, demanded he stay over 6-7 days a week, and forced her will on him in nearly every way, yet in every picture together he’s got his meaty hand on her waist, he’s smiling with her, he’s leaning in. He’s with her.
It made me realize that we will never have an old album like this. Our pics are secret and I usually haven’t tagged him in whatever I do post online (I’m a reticent and permission-only tagger).
Behind the scenes Ella (whose blog is down these days but whose voice is louder than ever in my comments) ripped me yet another new asshole because I’ve seemed more lovey-dovey towards TN lately. She thinks I should shut it all down because he’s evil incarnate and I keep saying I don’t want to and he’s not that bad.
She’s probably right that I should shut it all down, but I’m not ready, yet. I’ve lightened up, but part of it is really because I’m expecting a lot less and enjoying more of what I do get. Right now this is mostly comfortable.
However, the album of him and his ex has torn open my old wound and it smarts as I look at her and think, “She was the right age, she had the right parenting status, she had the right marital status.” It goes some distance to think, “And she also sucked monkey ass,” but he loved her — or at least thought he did — and he’s never gotten to that point with me despite saying he loves everything else about me and our relationship.
So, I’m nervous about my travels and I’m sad about this stubborn sliver of reality that’s gotten under my skin. I’m nervous because I hate the obvious sometimes and prefer to live in a warm hug of fantasy — sue me — but we’ll see what happens. Maybe he’ll inundate me with warm check-in texts and cock pics. If he does, it may buy him a little more time with me. If he doesn’t, it just means the ride is that much closer to ending.
And I’m sad because I really can’t keep on like this is as “fun” and “easy” as I say it is. It’s also somewhat humiliating to see him actively not choose me. Someone who’s never done things to him like his crazy ex-girlfriend did and who’s done things to him that he’s only ever fantasized about. I’m like a helicopter: on paper I don’t fly, yet in reality I do and he still doesn’t have the capacity to fly with me. The Hyacinth Ride is a lot more special than he’s treating it and I’m getting bored with his ambivalence.
And if I could post my life with TN on Facebook, here’s what it’d look like this weekend. I’d call this album, BOOBS FOR TN, and tag him in every goddamned one. Maybe his ex-girlfriend, too.