God, I’m pathetic. Who writes two posts in one day that no one is going to read in the first place?? Apparently, the answer is me. Luke still hasn’t spoken to me, and I wish I could say I am taking it like a man and letting it roll off my back. I am not. It’s raining outside and I am sad and all I really want is a text from Luke because I had sex with him for God’s sake. Why can’t one fucking guy just decide that I could be the best thing that’s ever happened to him? My whole life just seems like a series of poor decisions in the boy department. And maybe if I could just cry it out and get over it like every other non-emotionally-stunted girl in high school, I would learn from my mistakes and feel better and not do anything like that again. But, I am one of those emotionally stunted douchebags who has to keep everything bottled up and just feel like shit for a while. And it’s worse that I know it’s all my fault. I could have been classy and not have given it up so soon, or I could have made him at least buy me a God damn steak first.
WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING NAIVE ALL THE TIME??
I should just get the hell over it. If people actually read this maybe you loyal and helpful readers could throw some advice my way on how to not be such a sucker. By the way, that was not a euphemism because I did not suck anything on Luke’s body. I think he wanted me to, though. You can always tell when boys want blowjobs because they always just kind of shove their business in the general vicinity of your face, and then you can either submit to their patriarchal demands and put it in your mouth or you can awkwardly move it away and just give him a handjob or something. I am partial to handjobs, I hate blowjobs because let’s face it, hygiene is not really a young adult male’s forte, and also it just makes me feel so God damn anti-feminist that I can’t handle it.
See, there I go, getting off-topic again. I guess that was kind of an interesting digression, at least. I am still sad so if anyone is out there, advice would seriously be appreciated because I can’t exactly tell my mother what’s going on, and if I show weakness to my friends I’ll feel like a phony bastard (in the words of Holden Caulfield).