TheUnlikelyGirl's Blog

Retarded.

theunlikelygirl — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 18:11:25 +0000

Staying with a man who lies to someone else is dumb enough. Staying with a man who lies to you is just plain retarded.
Maybe he was telling the truth when our romantic getaway was canceled perhaps she did just change her mind. Which is a little out there in itself. Either she’s a suspicious bitch or their relationship isn’t quite the Cold War standoff he likes to make out. But he sure as hell lied to me about spending New Years alone with her up at their cabin. And I’m not going to call him on it.

Addicited.

theunlikelygirl — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 19:38:53 +0000

The thing is, one night with him wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. And sex with him just gets better every time. I’ve never felt so connected to another person in my life; it’s like he’s inside my head. But now scary, grown-up feelings have got all jumbled up with that mind-blowing sex. I don’t want to give him back anymore. I don’t want to share him. Everything’s changed. And I don’t know what to do about it.
I’m so desperate to see him, hear him, feel him.
I feel like a drug addict.

One Small Step.

theunlikelygirl — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 23:30:51 +0000

“If it wasn’t for your wife-if you weren’t married-do you think we’d be together?” I asked him late last night.
He hesitated. “Yes, of course. But I do have a wife. And children.”
So he does want to be with me. He must have considered the idea of leaving, then.
Which is only a small step from actually doing it, isn’t it?

Because we can’t.

theunlikelygirl — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 23:38:23 +0000

“You have got to be kidding me!”
“Jesus Christ! What do you want me to do? Say no, sorry, darling, you can’t change your mind and come back, I’ve got a romantic trip all planned out with my mistress?”
“Dammit, -insert name here-!” I almost wrenched the phone of of its socket as I storm across my bedroom. “I’ve just finished packing; the taxi is outside waiting for me! What the fuck am I suppose to do with myself for the next week? You can’t just mess with people like this!”
“You’re right,” he snapped back. “I’m clearly making you miserable. Why don’t we just call it and be done with it?”
“Fine. Why don’t we?”

Because we can’t.

Of course not.

theunlikelygirl — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 01:28:24 +0000

Of course he’s not going cold on me. I’m just being paranoid. He’d hardly arrange a romantic break away a deux if he wanted to end it.

Hot N Cold

theunlikelygirl — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 22:33:46 +0000

“You change your mind, like a girl changes clothes. Yeah you PMS like a bitch I would know. And you always think, always speak cryptically. I should know, that you’re no good for me.

‘Cause you’re hot then you’re cold. You’re yes then you’re no. You’re in and you’re out. You’re up and you’re down. You’re wrong when it’s right. It’s black and it’s white. We fight, we break up. We kiss, we make up. You, you don’t really wanna stay, no. You, but you don’t really wanna go, oh..

We used to be just like twins, so in sync. The same energy now’s a dead battery. Used to laugh ’bout nothing. Now you’re plain boring. I should know, that you’re not gonna change..

Someone call the doctor. Got a case of a love bipolar. Stuck on a roller-coaster. Can’t get off this ride..”

I could not have said it better myself Katy Perry.
He makes me feel so bad all the time, and I always give in.
And once he leaves I can go back to feeling like the dirty slut I am.

Blurred Vision.

theunlikelygirl — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 18:30:08 +0000

For years I believed mistresses could be divided into two groups of people: those who, like me, had chosen their role deliberately, and delighted in the intoxication of forbidden sex; and naive victims hanging on in there, hoping for marriage.

It never occurred to me that the line between the two wasn’t fixed.

Over?

theunlikelygirl — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 00:28:38 +0000

No one knows how painful it is to be a woman in love with a man who goes home to his wife and family unless they’ve been there. It’s too easy to judge her, to paint her as a scarlet woman, a home-wrecker, a destroyer of lives. Easy too, to forget that the life she destroys the most is her own.

I think of him day and night. I ride a roller-coster of emotion: rising to dizzy heights seeing him during the day, and in the evenings when I steal him to my place; through the dreaded anticipation of his going; to bleak pillow-sobbing desolation as the door shuts behind him.

And now I’m here alone. On Thanksgiving. Drowning my sorrows in beer after beer.

I actually called him about an hour ago. To wish him a happy Turkey Day, that’s all. I thought he would see it as sweet, and thoughtful. Boy did I think wrong! He yelled at me, saying he couldn’t be in a position where my happiness depends on him. He doesn’t think he can take that kind of responsibility. Despair descending on me like a cloak. Does that mean he doesn’t want to be with me after all? Is he working up to telling me it’s over?

Why I could possibly spending Turkey day alone.

theunlikelygirl — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 02:32:05 +0000

“No,” says my mother.

“But Mum-”

“I said no.“

“He’s really nice, Mum. You’d like him. If you just met him, you’d-”

“Nice men don’t up and leave their wives for the firts floozy to life her skirt. “

“Do you have to make it soudns so sordid, Mum?”

“Those poor children. Never mind his poor wife. I don’t know how you sleep at night. Not to mention the fact that it’s againts all the rules, he could get fired. And arrested! What’s wrong with you?”

Ouch. Yeah, that hurt. What hurt even more was not the fact that she called me a floozy, but the fact that she just assumed that he had left his wife. She already thinks so little of me, how am I suppose to tell her that he’s actually still with her.

One thing or another.

theunlikelygirl — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 05:18:15 +0000

It’s one thing to have a quick fling and send him back home to his wife, self-esteem restored, wardorbe reinvigorated, renewed for another ten years of marriage bliss with a couple of new bedroom tricks up his sleeve (really, the wives should be thankful). It’s quite another to take an unbroken marriage and deliberately turn it into eggs Benedict.