Sleeveless 3.0

A girl. Awesome. Perfect. No big deal. I mean, it’s possible she’s really just a friend. It is also possible to watch just one espisode of OITNB and walk past a pile of puppies without stopping to pet them. Possible. Zero. Fucking. Chance. I could’ve pressed for details, but I’m still trying to maintain the illusion of sanity and an inquisition would not help my cause. Thankfully, I have the worldwide web. 

If you’ve never slipped down the Facebook stalking rabbit hole, just imagine a treasure hunt with no map and no treasure. In addition to an invasion of privacy, it is also a gigantic waste of time and could potentially make a situation worse. Being the genius that I am, I jumped in face first armed with only a first name. 

You’d be surprised how many Ms are out there, and as it turned out, I could’ve asked literally anyone in my circle because everyone knew about her. Sleeves is a whore. It had never been a secret that he seeks external validation and often finds it in other people, but holy hell. He’s ‘in other people’ alright. Lots of them. And often. 

This is the part of the show I can do without. I can do without a lot of it, but this part in particular is partially why I don’t date and definitely why I don’t maintain contact with Band-Aids. It’s more than just awkward; it’s dangerous. 

I know I’m still relatively new to the whole hook-up culture, but I feel like some rules transcend trends. When we had the ‘relationship’ talk, as painful as it was to speak directly to Sleeves’ ego, I did pay attention. At no point was there a reference to another vagina. Sure, when you’re ‘not in a relationship’ there’s always a possibility one will appear, but they can appear while in a relationship just as easily. In fact, it should have been an easier conversation due to the absence of promises. Not only was there no reference to simultaneously fucking other people, but the conversation was later clarified as being at least somewhat related to a separate personal issue. I added a goddamned ADDENDUM for fuck’s sake. 

I don’t know M. I can’t even find her photo online. I don’t know how many other Ms are out there and I don’t feel like I’m out of line for wanting to know where that beautiful cock has been prior to putting it in my body; especially when it leaves stuff behind. Which it did. Earlier in the week. Right after returning from PDX. I may not get to decide how he manages his need for validation, but I do get to decide whether I want to fuck them too. 

Fuck. I hate condoms. 

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