Dating for sport

I cannot do it anymore.  I am worn out.  The constant knowledge that you are not good enough is killing me.

The Rapper and I are definitely just friends. We had another incident the other night where his dick got hard and he got childish that I would not grant him relief.

It’s funny how I can notice growth in myself though because in the past I woul have defended myself, tried to make him understand.  But this is all his shit.  Not mine.  He does not kiss me like it means anything. He does not talk to me like he wants to get close.  He is always late.  It’s better this way.  For sure.  And let’s face it – he does not look as good as he did 5 years ago.

I had a nice call from Mr MBA.  He wanted to see me later this week.  I reached out in text….and he responded but nothing since.  So.  Um.  Yeah.

I went out with BFF last night.  We are barely in the bar before some guy is buying her a drink.  I made a point to pay for my own and the fries she and I ordered.  She is stunning.  I am not.  And more importantly, I shrink away when she is getting all the attention.  I do not feel cute or pretty or….anything.  I feel fat and frumpy and lame.

I have one more date tomorrow and then I think I am done.  For awhile at least.  I should focus on my – working out, cleaning house, work.

I am on my way to a client’s party.  I need to get in a better mood and come home tonight to figure my shit out.  Alone is good.  Alone is less disappointment these days.

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