Shirt & Tie vs. Boxers & Brisket.

If there was a verb that summarized the process of pulling out one's hair and sreaming at the top of one's lungs during a moment of complete and utter frustration, I would use it now. If I was clever enough to make a pixel drawing of someone screaming at the top of their lungs while pulling out their hair, I'd use it now.
If I could articulate my thoughts like a normal fucking human, I wouldn't be in this STUPID situation. No, actually, I would be, because for once, I am not the inarticulate dumbass. My point just keeps getting lost in the midst of bad timing and a massive lack of testicals and it FUCKING SUCKS.

Things with Andrew are shit.
The more time passes the more disgusted I become with him and the more time he spends sitting on his ass, eating brisket and watching football in his underwear, the more I absolutely hate him.
A normal day for me goes as follows: Get up. Feed cats. Eat breakfast. Take subway. Take bus. Go to school. Take Bus. Take Subway. Buy groceries. Make dinner. Do dishes. Vaccuum up crumbs on the shag carpet 'cause I hate the way it feels on your feet. Scoop cat litter. Shower. Wash uniform. Do homework. Watch Steven Colbert (he's dreamy). Go the fuck to bed.
Andrew does nothing. Well, that's not true. Andrew leaves the dirty dishes in the sink and leaves the crumbs on the floor for me to clean and he gives me a roof to live under. He considers the latter to be romantic. Exscuse me while I swoon.

So my gut tells me, 'Its time to break up.' But my mind tells me, 'D00d, you're in the middle of fucking school and you don't need this drama. Just wait till it's over and then do whatever the fuck you want.' And then my heart tells me, 'You're a fucking slag.' And I tend to agree with all three.

And then there's him.

What the fuck.

I haven't had sex in a month. I haven't had any type of human contact in a month. I haven't been paid attention to, paid a compliment, paid for, or paid off... In fact, I've done nothing that would suggest that I am in a relationship other than to visit my boyfriend's parents and go bowling. Woo.
So naturally, I'm feeling a bit... rejected. I'm feeling a bit lonely, a bit sad, a bit horny and really fucking frustrated and for all of these, I have an outlet which is just about as verbally and emotionally inarticulate as my boyfriend, but he owns the advantage of being new... and not a slob. So ding, ding, he gets my attention.

I want to fuck him. I want to screw him in whatever way I can. I want to suck his dick, throw him against a wall and bite his neck and mostly, pull on his blue tie in a very provocative manner in the middle of his fucking work day, just to see him wiggle uncomfortably. He just does it for me and I would definitely do it for him, if he would just fucking let me.

If this isn't a sign that my relationship is over, I don't know what would be.

I tried to persaude him today, but he just wasn't having it. He has too much to do, too many eyes are on him, he has a wife, I have a boyfriend, there's nowhere to do it and it's not that he doesn't want to, he just can't! Life right now doesn't allow it and while I want it bad enough to act like a semi-crazed stalker, feverishly persuing him on the days where we're both available, I don't want it bad enough to feel like this.
If a guy was as relentless with a girl as I am with him, he'd be thrown in prison. If he could tell people about the way that I'm acting, they would point and giggle when I walked into rooms. If I didn't understand how desperate of a situation this is for all parties involved, I would be inclined to call him until he gave in, JUST BECAUSE I'm sick and fucking tired of his inability to put out.

Does that make me a rapist?

The constant rejection is making me feel like a bit of a flake. Its taking an excessive amount of balls for me to keep being so persistent. I have never pushed someone so hard in my life and I hate it, but I know if I don't, he'll be quite content to never see me again 'cause he's not the type to, 'persue women.' He is always the hunted.
I guess if he acted like he did actually want to fuck me, it wouldn't be such an issue. Or maybe, if I could talk to him for more than ten minutes, while not using puns and ridiculous code for all the evil and dirty things we'd like to do, I'd be inclined to stick around just a little longer.

Holy shit. I am a slag.

I wish Andrew would have taken an interest in my blog the thousands of times I gave him the address. It would be a lot easier for him to read this than it will be for me to explain it to him.