About Me: Raw, Ugly, Real
BF is out of town, having a Guys Weekend with his friends. No, not to Vegas, but that is pretty much the images that are going through my head. Tits, sequins, shots, pussy, phone numbers on napkins, and more shots.
And so I text message him. Again, and again. He doesn’t reply the whole first night. I begin to panic.
Obviously he’s at a strip club getting his third lap dance and deciding which one to bring back to the hotel. Obviously his stupid friends are getting each other shit-faced and betting to see who can scam more phone numbers. Obviously his sweet (usually confident) girlfriend back home is the last thing on his mind while he’s being surrounded by friends who are egging him on, trying to get him to break away from the ol’ ball-and-chain, just to see if he actually will.
Did I text message him too many times? Did I seem too desperate? He’s just busy, right? He’s not ignoring me on purpose, right?
At least I learned from last time he was out of town that calling him every two hours to make sure he’s not in a strip club or in bed with someone else is NOT WHAT COOL GIRLFRIENDS DO. No no no no no.
