I think that’s the best way to describe him. And he’s currently mad at me because I was mad at him…yesterday. I wish I was kidding. Yes, I was mad at him yesterday because I came back to our room (we’re currently living at the resort until our apartment is ready) with fresh sheets for our bed and instead of offering to help, he stood 6 inches away from the TV watching SportsCenter while I struggled putting the fucking fitted sheet on a Texas-sized King bed. Once it was made, he plopped his ass down without a ‘Thank you’. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Now, putting on a fitted sheet is enough for me to punch a baby, therefore, I am extra irritated.
We work together and I know the heaviest thing he lifts all day is a phone. I also know when he leaves. Which was before me. You wanna tell me that not only did you sit on your ass all day, but came home before I did, and didn’t offer to help out around the room?! #girlbye
Thankfully, he’s laid off the nagging, ‘When are you going to the gym?’ Maybe because I’ve been answering, ‘WHEN *clap I *clap FUCKING *clap FEEL *clap LIKE *clap IT!’ He thinks he’s a fucking Adonis.
You are dating Rachel FUCKING Canada and you wanna play like that? No. No, you don’t.
Besides, he looks like he swallowed a toilet seat.
So, I keep trying to take the high road. I mind my P’s & Q’s. I smile and go about my day as I normally do. And since it’s Friday, I come running back to the room, fill that over-sized tub and overfill my wine glass, get Beyonce blasting through my phone and take a bath. Really, life is good.
Then, I pick up my phone because it’s time to repeat ‘Sorry’ and sing it at the top of my lungs just to see I have a text message from him reading, ‘I went to the store’. In who’s car, ’cause I know you didn’t Chevro-leg it? Oh, right. MINE.
An hour and a half later and he’s still not back. Weird. We live 7 minutes from the store. I call him and he’s obvi not at the store. His retort is that he was at the store until I ‘started talking’ and then decided to stay downtown. Oh, that’s cute. My first thought is to call my car in stolen. Yes. I will get that crazy. I am my mother’s daughter.
Instead, I hide his weed that he just bought from the maintenance guy. Yep, all $100 worth. It’s not that I hid it. I just moved it from it’s original place. It’s not my fault he’s so goddamn stupid that he can’t take a look around. But while he was throwing his temper tantrum, he thought he’d be sweet and say ‘You ugly bitch’, ‘You are fucking disgusting’, ‘You ugly, disgusting bitch. I am going to ruin you.’ He really does say the nicest things, doesn’t he?
And right there. That was him declaring war. Please. Please, fuck with me.
“I am the sweetest bitch you’ll ever meet.”- Sammi ‘Sweatheart’ Giancola