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Name: censored for obvious purposes
Occupation: retail store greeter
Last Seen: Caledonia, MI
Bee-otched For: being an ungrateful bitch
Well, it was fun while it lasted.
For the past several weeks, I've been slacking on Bee-otch of the Day, and there's a good reason why: I had a girlfriend.
Yes, for the first time since high school, I actually found a girlfriend. I found her on POF.com. She wasn't good enough to pose for Playboy but she wasn't a fat porker, either. We started chatting on, ironically enough, my birthday. We chatted for a few days, and we agreed to meet on that Friday. But, we didn't meet at a coffee shop or at an ice cream parlor; it was my place.
We got pineapple pizza - her favorite - and almost immediately, I found a red flag in our relationship: she wanted sex on the first date. So, I compromised and gave her oral. Her twat wasn't too bad-tasting, but soon, I learned that the key to her orgasmic heart was giving her hickeys on her chest.
Things were OK until I had to spend the whole weekend in Detroit and had to leave her behind. She cooked Shepherd's Pie (she is of Irish dissent) for her aunt and uncle and asked her to save me some. However, I didn't get to see her much at all that week, and it was because she fell into a great depression. You see, this girl suffers from anxiety, depression and high blood pressure, plus she's legally deaf. I texted her if she was going to toss the pie since it was going to go bad, and she got pissed at me. After two weeks of being together, she threatened to dump me because she felt that I insulted her. Because she didn't have health insurance, she couldn't afford her medication and since she was off her meds, she got sad and angry even if I dropped a pin on the floor.
Thankfully, things recovered, but once again, things went south real quick. Fourth of July weekend, her aunt and uncle - whom she lives with - both went to Virginia to visit their daughter and she had the place to herself. She decided that part of the time, she would spent it at my place. However, she got cold feet because she had a two-year relationship with some loser in Fremont and felt that she was making a mistake. So, when she woke up at my place Sunday morning, she was beyond pissed.
She came back the next day and we were fooling around when by accident, I spilled a cup of wine she was drinking. Some of it splashed on her purse and she was so pissed that she left. Yes, she left over fucking spilled wine. So, we texted later and I agreed to buy her more wine. She came back the next day and she was happy again. We fucked and had fun.
She had the next two days off, but she ended up with a bad migraine and the next day, an ear infection. Even worse, her depression came back. Her attitude worsened and it was really starting to piss me off, so I stopped texting her, hoping that she would recover. On Saturday, she did, but while I was shopping and heading toward the checkout, she called me. Basically, all she did was bitch about all the bad things I've done. WHAT?!?! Let's see: I took her out to eat several times, gave her several cups of coffee, bought her tons of wine and I also purchased several beach balls. OK, so you're wondering why I bought her beach balls. Well, she's got a weird-ass fetish where she's turned on when I shove a beach ball up her twat and I blow it up. We tried to do it anally, but it hurt her instead.
Saturday night, she got off work and we started texting again. I mentioned to her all the NICE things I've done for her and brought up all the minor, bad things I've done. So, we argued for a while and I basically told her that if she wants to dump me, fine. I can't stand assholes who piss and moan to people like me who bust their ass to get to where they are today. So, Sunday morning, she picked up her only item she had here - a bag of incense - and left.
So there you have it: seven weeks. In the 12 years I've lived here, it was the longest relationship I had. She was a bitch with too many issues and can't respect the fact that I changed my life for her and this is what I get: five beach balls on my floor, a can of helium to blow the balls up, a bottle-and-a-half of Moscato wine that I can't drink because of my own anxiety, a bottle of St. Ives body wash in the bathroom and some bubble bath. Oh, yes, a half-broken heart.
But, I look on the bright side: the non-existent tears that I've cried will make me a stronger person. My ex was a woman that did things I would never do in a million years. She loves country music and I hate it. She's a church goer and I sleep in on Sunday. Fuck, she actually voted for Bush in 2004! Yet, the sad thing is that she's 30 years old with three college degrees and yet she makes minimum wage as a greeter at a retail store. She even admits that she can't even keep a job for six months.
Point is, I can do better. I think the key to a successful relationship is to have something else in common other than bumping uglies on my couch. I love rock music, some alternative and new wave/punk, don't go to church on Sunday and so much more. This broad had to go and I need somebody who has the same likes I do. I work over 50 hours a week and I don't need somebody who only works 35 telling me what to do.
But as always, another door will hopefully open soon.
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