Hello, My Name is Bitch

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
All Leave a Comment

The minutes of my morning ticked away more slowly than I want to remember. Not to mention the fact that I have a cold, which I would trade for a hangover any day. The Devil returned home today, who knows what time. I checked my phone every five minutes to see if a message was left. I went through my entire workday without hearing from him. I had made it home before I finally received a message. Nine days of waiting and, “I’m home” is all I got.
Frustrated is nowhere near how I felt, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. I wanted to reach through the phone line and strangle him. Calling him The Devil is quickly becoming more fitting than I had intended. I should note that we sat emailing each other, which feels like the slowest form of communication when you’re desperate for some contact. I had to ask. I couldn’t, not ask him if he had slept with anyone while he was away. There was no way I could have prepared myself for the response. He made out with one boy and they jerked off together. I was relived, though I felt like an ass.
I had spent the entire week wondering who The Devil was laying down on, when the truth was, he wasn’t. I on the other hand, went out and acted like a slut. I failed to mention that to him, though he didn’t ask. We chatted for a bit, when I found myself blocked in a corner. I was forced to explain how crazy I’d let my mind run the past week. I was surprised by The Devil’s calm and understanding responses. Though he reminded me of his rule on not getting serious before three months.
Am I confused? Yes. Am I completely unsure of what I am doing? Yes. Should I break it off before I end up getting hurt? Probably, but I won’t, I’m gluten for pain. My frustration was made only more painful by the fact that The Devil didn’t want me to come over while I was sick, understandable. Yet, he kept texting to say he wished I were there.
The following day dragged even more slowly, if that was possible. I sent a text around noon to see if The Devil would be home later in the evening. He told me he wasn’t sure, he might go to his parents. This is what I’m talking about when I say I’m confused. He’s telling me he wants me there and then he tells me he’s too busy with everything else. After not hearing from him, around midnight, I asked if I should go to bed. He told me he was out. Thank you for that vague and considerate response.
I don’t think I’m asking for that much. We might watch a movie, he gets sex if he wants it and sometimes we just go to sleep. What is it that he’s not getting here? I can’t get my mind around whatever it is that I’m missing. On one hand I feel like I’m being erratic and on the other I feel like he’s being a douche. Have I made myself too available to him, or is it that I’m coming off as desperate? I do a fantastic job of making sure I keep all of my overreacting to myself and out of The Devil’s view, but how much shit can one person put up with? Which leaves me with this: When is it moving towards a relationship and not just bullshit?