I’m going to write a little bit about my favorite thing in the world to think and talk about.
This is probably the point you should stop reading if you happen to have a weak stomach.
Right now there is a huge smile on my face, a sparkle in my eye, butterflies in my stomach and
Did you feel that? My little heart just skipped a beat!
I’m thinking about my sweet little Donut.
Let me tell you the first thing about Donut, he is bisexual. Now, he is not the first bisexual I have ever dated but he is by far the most memorable. If you are not aware of the powers possessed by a bisexual let me give you some insight. You know that singer Adele? You know the album, the one that just made her insanely famous? Well, it was written entirely about her bisexual X boyfriend!
Now do you understand?
That’s just how much one can be inspired by the complete, emotional destruction left by a bisexual.
Bisexuals are confused and tortured souls who can only live by tormenting and crushing the hearts of the women who love them.
Now, you may think I’m exaggerating but I want you to know, I WAS completely sane before I met Donut seven years ago! Just kidding, I’ve always been crazy, I was just better at hiding it from the general public.
Seven years ago Donut and I met on this little Internet site you may or may not remember called “My Space”. We chatted for a while before going on our first date.
When we finally planned our first encounter I drove to his place to meet him. I parked my car in the lot of his ghetto, Long Beach, apartment complex.
He met me outside.
When I first gazed at his face I noticed it to be all red and blotchy, like his whole body was blushing. He had that lack of charm usually only a ginger could posses and his hair was dyed black and greased back with what may have been Crisco! His arms were covered in shitty, “garage made” tattoos.
I was disappointed in my date to say the least. I got out of the car anyway and thats when I noticed he was really short.
“Fuck it, I’m already here.” I thought to myself while giving him a smile and uncomfortable hug.
Plus he had brought me flowers. I’m a sucker for flowers.
He planned a great date at a restaurant a city or two away. We ate amazing food, I drank quite a few martinis and he made me laugh with his awkwardness and uncomfortable bad jokes.
The rest of the night is foggy, I don’t remember much of the details.
The next morning I woke up naked in his bed. I was 24 years old and a party gal who internet dated often. Needless to say this wasn’t a first for me. I was really fucking hungover and didnt want to deal with anything that day so I stayed and I drank some more. I actually didn’t leave the entire weekend.
After that Donut and I became inseparable, for the six weeks it lasted anyway.
Donut and my relationship blossomed. We went to shows together, we went to dinners. We had kinky sex and sex store shopped. We confessed sins and fantasies. We laughed. We texted everyday. We hung out before work. We hung out at lunch time. We hung out after work. He hung out with me at my work. He even introduced me to his daughter. The three of us started hanging out together, like a family. His daughter liked me. Donut talked to me about us having a baby and living together. He brought me flowers for Valentines day. I even told him that I loved him. He didn’t say it back.
That’s about the time it all happened.
One evening, roughly six weeks into our magical relationship from bisexual heaven, Donut decided to have a “guys only night.”
He informed me his guy friends were coming over and that I was not to come by (he had recently separated from his daughters mom who hadn’t “allowed” Donut to have friends), he was testing me.
So, I took the night and went out with Red and the rest of the “Fun Girls”.
A little past midnight I was headed home for the evening. I texted Donut assuming his night was over as well and said I was stopping at his place for a goodnight kiss or something to that effect.
I’m not really sure.
I was pretty drunk.
The rest of the night is a huge blur.
Fast forward: the next morning. I woke up alone in Donuts bed. He was on the couch. I asked him what happened. He wouldn’t talk to me and told me to leave.
I cried, I begged. He gave me a little run down before throwing me out the door and locking it behind me.
He stopped talking to me.
I called obsessively for days. I texted, I emailed, I left desperate and pathetic voicemails, you name it.
He never spoke to me again.
Well..Not for a good year anyway, they all come back.
Here’s what happened that night:
I showed up after he had specifically told me not to. His friends were still there. He treated me like shit, trying to show off in front of them, saying things like,
“I told you not to come here you stupid whore!” Etc.
He then told me to leave while slamming his door in my face. I could hear him and his friends laughing at my expense inside his apartment.
Shocked and hurt, I walked back to my car, crying. I sat for a few minutes and calmed myself down.
Then, I went back to his door, knocked and asked to use his restroom.
He let me in.
Once inside his bathroom I found his disposable razor, opened it up and slit my wrists.
Fucked up, right!?!?
Let me state for the record, I didn’t cut myself deep. I Was just trying to get his attention, not that that makes it any better.
I’m not sure really why I did it.
I was DEVASTATED.
When I returned home that morning I saw that someone had thrown out my flowers.
Damn! Blogging is amazing therapy! I’m pissed off right now. Fuck Kia’s! I spit on Kia’s! And damn, I just remembered, I HATE DONUTS!!!!