I spent the whole day crying cuz everything I made is gone again. That guy kept coming back, showing up unexpected and standing there, all repentant and pathetic. And hurting. The hurting is what gets me. So I kept letting him in and nursing him back to health. Here's some money, here's some pussy, here's some love. Within a few days, his ego is big enough to start picking fights and putting me down again. No good deed...
So I left. Fuck it, I'm out. He was supposed to help with room rent, a whopping $40 contribution, and he argued with me all morning instead about which of our household items were purchased with the money from his pocket. Nevermind the thousands of dollars I have spent on his wellbeing, at the expense of my own, or the hundreds of dollars I have given him directly. Clothes I bought, phone bills I paid. I didn't bother throwing that all back in his face though, cuz my generosity was sincere, not meant for use as emotional blackmail. So I said fine, keep it all. Keep everything, keep the room and everything in it, keep your money, keep your fucking hands to yourself, and keep away from me.
He paid for the room eventually, like a big boy, the whole thing even, just a little too late. After he viciously grabbed the back of my neck and yanked at me, I reflexively banged my open hand against his face and knew that no matter what he did, I could not stay there. I've been with guys like this too many times, and I've wasted myself on the person they create of me too. I don't want this, I never wanted this, or him, or anything he thought he brought to the table. I wanted me. I wanted to be whoever I saw fit to become, I did not want to be hindered by some prick who thinks his feelings comprise the moral code by which I ought to live, or who makes me less and less just to boast that he is more. Fuck that shit forever.
So I left. Whenever I made him leave, he would download a half dozen text messaging apps to keep getting through all the virtual blocks I erected. Pages of ranting about how unjust I was being, how he needed me so badly, how he was hurting in any one of a billion ways, or how sorry he was and how intent on changing his bad behavior. He hasn't made a single fake number this time, nor ranted about injustice, nor inquired whether I might have a need or a pain. No promises to change, or demands that I do, nothing. One phone number, re-blocked, ten bucks on Cashapp, refunded and blocked, and a new connection through Snapchat where he wrote only two lines of holier-than-thou bullshit and I replied that he should go fuck himself before clicking block once more. Funny that I owe him so much and that he owes me so little.
But whatever. Take my home, I've lost it twice before to guys like you, interested only in what they can take. Though I mourn the loss of my homes, I rejoice at the loss of these men. I left so that there is no guilt for you to extort. Weight your own guilt now, especially against the mass of that which you tried so many times to create in me, and you will see how much of what you've said of me is undeserved. If you can perpetuate without remorse, you ought to be able to receive with as much indifference. If you cannot receive the treatment indifferently, then inflicting it should cause as much moral upset as having it inflicted. And if there is a mismatch, there're something wrong with your morals.
I left, and you aren't bothered at all, and finally you've shut up. And the next time you feel lonely or horny or you're broke or you're bored, you won't know where to find my goddamned front door.ng Text Here