Updated: Oct 6
Or at least it feels that way. I did the dumbest thing last night. We can’t call it a booty call because it was like a 4:30pm text inviting me to come over. On Monday he also asked me to come over, but then literally asked:
He could have at least specified what brand he wanted. Complete asshole, right? Because you know I would have picked up whatever and something would have been completely wrong with it. I’d have heard the good ol’: “I need the magnums” or some shit. Stop flattering yourself.
Anyway, I go over to Gemini Psycho’s house. It’s actually not a house, it’s an apartment in a complex that’s sadly a mile down the road from me. I’ve been there before, but I’ve never had to drive there myself. I had gone on a run like, just before I got there and my face is doing this thing where it’s perpetually sweating and just can’t stop spewing water from my pores.
He opened the door and immediately was like, “What the fuck is wrong with your face?” I wanted to die. “It’s the withdrawal,” he continued. I explained my body was just overheated from taking a 3 mile run in 90 degree Florida humid heat and hadn’t cooled down yet. That didn’t stop him from giving me a hotel so I could wipe the melted make-up from my face. Ugh, talk about wanting to just off myself.
Once I cooled down, he asked me if I wanted to smoke. Gemini Psycho is the opposite of Him, who loves his booze (obviously). The G.P. is all about that weed life. So what do I do? Well, first I eat an edible. Then I smoke out of some sort of contraption and take such a hit that I thought I was going to barf from coughing. Cue to me on the couch, just stoned, stoned out of my mind with the Psycho laying next to me, but being so cute by massaging every little part of my body that I’m in complete heaven.
For hours, we talked about ________ (no Idea, cuz I got high)_______ and then of course, ready for it *drum roll* he wants to have the sex. After I let him play with me for who knows how long, the whole time I’m preaching I’m not having sex tonight. Because, I’m a saint.
A couple hours later, we’re in his bedroom having sex. Except, it didn’t go as planned. He’d keep losing his dumb boner but that’s because I kept drying up. I had smoked so much weed throughout the evening my poor vagina even got high.
Okay, so then the “sex” is over. Immediately, Gemini PSYCHO declares that he can’t sleep with me in the bed because he’s not used to sleeping next to someone. I say half-serious, “Do you want me to go home or something?” and he looks at me and says, “Well, yeah that’s the best thing.”
“I’m high,” I respond.
“You’re not high anymore.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“You’re fine, it’s a five minute drive. You drive drunk all the time anyway.”
I actually don’t drive drunk.
I somehow got out of his apartment complex without smashing any cars and prayed to whatever Jewish version of Jesus there is that I’d make it home without the blazing siren wailing behind me signaling to pull over.
Once safely in bed and a pile of snacks to comfort me, he texted and asked if I got home okay. I ignored it until 1:29 pm today when I answered, “yeah. How are you?”
I got played by a narcissistic Gemini Psychopath.
Cue cocktail time.
<------- I don't actually drink martinis.