…and anyone who’s known me for more than 5 minutes knows what happens next.
The question that would normally arise about this time is whether to demote him to bitch, or shift him laterally to platonic friendship. Since at my age, bitches aren’t worth the early shave, I’ll go with platonic. Besides, for an alpha type, even unenthusiastic enzyme harvesting counts in their delusions as a “score”.
This is one of those times a girl has to just chalk it up as experience and move on.
What happened, unimportant as it is to me, probably deserves to be written for the sake of others. I relearned something important that I thought would cease to be relevant after my prime breeding years. Apparently, it’ll be on the table until I reach menopause, and then they can make the excuse that they love me but want children.
Even though I thought we’d cleared up the anal sex problem days ago, the night before last, he accused me again of pressuring him. Since the beginning of this misunderstanding, I have not called him. He calls me, expects me to be ready in half an hour, and we go out to a cafe or the beach. I go because I don’t have anything more important to do immediately. Yet somehow I’m pressuring him. I didn’t understand how, but a bad ass voice from my self past screamed in by brain that I pressure him by merely existing.
He doesn’t think I’m worth the investment of his time and attention, and since he has to give that in order to get what he wants from me, he feels pressured. So the best for me is to bail out because ultimately he’s just going to find someone easier to shag behind my back, or someone more socially convenient who he feels is worth the “trouble” of being a man.
I’ll just maintain radio silence, and remove my “umbrella”. Game over.