sourgurl77's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- does I posted pics yesterday -- so go take a gander if you like. Anyway. It's fucking cold today. I mean fucking cold. I'm trying to curb my cursing, but it seriously is cold out. Going from 72 degrees to this morning 42 degrees, mean's it's just BRRR out. And stupid me, slept with my window open, cause my apartment was a lil hot yesterday from being shut up. Today I'm feeling good. I got my period this morning, so all thoughts of "what if" are gone. It's hard to trust birth control when you've been on antibotics and using the "pull out method" just in case ... but thinking on that, that method was dumb. It's odd to think it hasn't yet been a month since me and WG started having sex. I mean now that sex is on the scene, shit gets complicated. Not doing it, but the what if's are amplified. Maybe I'm used to my shooting blanks men ... now I have someone who shoots real live bullets ... a Russian Roulette of sorts to my uterus and future. Accidents happen, even in the carefullest of places. I know now, the heat is on to take birth control correct. I'll be okay, but would hate to get knocked up before a ring is on my finger. It's funny how we so quickly fuck, but then so quickly wonder about it after the fact. I don't know, but it's odd to be wanted by him in a way that he didn't before. What I asked for and wanted, I got and now it's odd when it's that time of night and he's suddenly telling me we don't kiss enough. He's told me that the past two times we've had sex. We don't kiss enough anymore ... and that it goes to fast. And I'm thinking ... kiss enough? I mean sometimes kissing ... you do TO much. I know what he wants, those passionate kisses we get sometimes, but ... lately with my lymph nodes up and feeling tired ... I just haven't felt in the "passionate kiss" mode. I dunno. Things like that are funny, cause I'll whisper to him, "remember when you couldn't even kiss me? Now you're saying we don't kiss enough? Welcome to my world." Regardless, we're doing great and all this HOUSE SHIT is really ... stressing both of us out. So much to do. He keeps asking how I feel now ... how I feel about his house. He is so worried of what I think, that I think bad of him. My only question is why his ex-wife didn't do this stuff. Why he had to be the ring leader for this, or why they couldn't save up for a can of paint, that is only $20 ... or why she couldn't rip up that carpet - which is free. Or why he waited so long to fix his overhead light or how he could live with a fucking gapping hole in his bathroom wall? All of these things frustrate me because I have to pay for these things to get fixed. Pay meaning not only money, but time and work. NOT THAT I MIND. This is OK as I wouldn't want to go into a place where SHE decorated ... but now that WE are decorating, it's OURS. Though I look in the bedroom we'll share...I think this is where she told him she was cheating on him ... this is where they made love ... ... I look in the living room and think, this is where he told her, it was over and to get out of his house. I wonder where she stood, where he stood, these ghosts of the past, these memories that aren't mine, but yet I know of. Like going to a historical house, knowing Abe Lincoln set foot here and slept here and ate here, but you don't know these things for sure, if where you're standing is where they stood. I'm not sure I want to stand where these non-memories stood and these histories happend. I try not to think about it. Think now it's our house and soon we'll move out into something for both of us. I'll never feel like that's my house, it'll always be his house, their house, his past mistake house. Anyway, sorry to go off in such a way, but in a way it upsets me that I'm shelling out money for paint, time to rip up carpets, my father/friends time and work to put up ceiling fans, fix gapping holes in walls ... all these things. I figure, why wasn't this done before, happy it wasn't but still in a way, I'm such a do-er that I want things DONE and done right. That I can't live with old carpeting, plain white walls, holes in tiles, mildew, peeling paint, dusty floors. I don't know what I'm saying. I guess I'm excited to do this, but spending money, money I don't have a lot of, sort of gets my goat - if he thinks ... I don't think he does ... that I'll be the sole buyer of this renovation ... then he has another thing coming. I don't think he'll be like that, I guess I'm used to men that treat me like shit. He doesn't. Though I get pissy that I have to cook and clean still ... my apartment ... I mean help out already. Cook for me, etc. I really wish he'd do that. But often times, I run the whole fucking show. I know this is pms talking. He helps out, does stuff, but sometimes it's easier to pick on the things you wish he'd do than appreciate the things he already does. 11:10 a.m. - 2006-04-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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