Last night I met up with my soon to be ex-husband in a hotel about 15 miles from where I live. Its hunting season (big bucks, big bucks, no whammies!) and he wanted to trade cars so he could have the truck while I drive his P.O.S. Malibu. I hate that car. It has over 300,000 miles on it and hardly a scrap of paint left on it. It's his work car so he drives it all over the country -- well, where ever UPRR takes him -- so the miles have really racked up. The truck is the same year and is barely over 100,000 miles. The only good thing about our cars is that he takes care of every squeaky bolt so they are in great condition no matter how awful they look -- and awful the Malibu does look. He was desperate to sink his meat hooks into me and I was not totally against the idea, it being wwwaaaaayyyyy too long since I have had any kind of lovin's and I'm not really hip on picking up a stranger and risking more diseases. (I need more diseases like I need to gain 10 lbs.) I got the 3 F's and am feeling in a much better mood today.
Fed: I got Runza for my troubles. Eating is a pain but I am sick to death of baby food that needs no chewing. I nibbled on my runza and was happy to be eating something different.
F: Not going to spell that one out. Let me just say it was some sweet lovin's down by the fire and leave it at that. I told him it is a sad thing when after 9 years together we still meet up in random hotel rooms and rattle the pictures off the walls. He thinks it is a great thing.
Filled my wallet: I ain't no cheap ho! Kidding! He gave me money to live and for gas and things I need around the house, but I can pretend. It gives me a cheap thrill to think I could be so daring -- if sleeping with your husband is daring.
We had a good time and it made me think about all the ways we went wrong. Where we could have made different choices and maybe pulled through, even though I am happier where I am and he still has his drinking issues that I'm not willing to live with anymore. I asked him why he had to be a penis wrinkle, pecker head, asshat when he could have been different. He told me I had a dimpled ass and got a good tittie twister for his troubles. Why the man loves my abuse and bad moods is a mystery akin to the Easter Island heads. But it is nice to have someone to let loose on and abuse as I see fit. It helps me keep it out of this house and he enjoys it, so everybody wins.
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