It's been months since I put Frank and Reggie behind me. I wasn't the crying type of bitch. I kept asking myself why I was rude to people who approached me with their hearts on their sleeve. This broken heart didn't want a love life.
Am I stuck on stoopid or just human?
I saw my ex, Frank, recently with his man. I made like I didn't see them at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.
I'm a bit hurt that his life is not in order. He may have hurt me immensely (bisexuals tend to that) but I will always love him.
I don't want him to struggle just because things didn't work out with me. However, I am glad that my first impulse hasn't been to try to fix him or pray the gay away...
But he's just not doing well, from the rumors floating around. Since I no longer follow him on any platform, my friend girl, Patti, showed me a message where he was venting about someone who broke his car window and stole the radio.
I told him before the end that we make a great partnership, but he wanted a dick in his ass. He inspired me to work hard in with the hope that we'd build a life together. Didn't happen.
When we were together I usually took care of the more brainy stuff like helping him with investments and even negotiating a great payout after falling out with his business partners.
I don't want to make it seem like I took care of him financially, I didn't, I just helped him make smart choices because he is horrible with money.
I mean, he once hid liquor from me that he then spent over two weeks drinking and never even bought himself a pair of socks.
I understood this about him so I took the initiative.
I heard through the grapevine that the girl/boy/sissy who pushed me out of his life ain't about that sweet couple shit. She/he's there for the money.
I love that idiot but I'm glad I'm no longer in love with him. Otherwise I'd be putting on my cape to play hero.
He looks a bit sad when we see each other now that he lived a few minutes outside of Manhattan. He found out that the grass was shittier than my thriving green on the other side.
I haven't exactly been warm either. He's no longer mine to clean up so I'm staying away.
But I hate feeling sad that his life is turning sour a bit. I just wanted to feel nothing when I saw him walking about looking like a hobo.
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ARE YOU FREAKY DEAKY Book 1 (Erotica)
ChickLitI was 5 feet 4 inches with a Lil' Kim-type body without the plastic surgery. Men always said that I looked like Toni Braxton but sexier. I knew that already. Duh! I was too pretty for my own good. Melissa Jackson never live by the rules. She breaks...