Time To Press Stop

I know women always claim to be done, but for real, this time I am.

After being stood up again last night, I can no longer deal with Deondre’s inconsistent ass.

Faye doesn’t believe in me.  Shoot, I kind of don’t believe in my damn self, but a girl has got to start somewhere.  She thinks I should calm down and wait for him to come around, and when he does fuck him and move on with my life.

Things just aren’t that simple.  I feel completely played, and I DO NOT get played.  I have to realize that dealing with Deondre is not worth my orgasm.  An orgasm I hope will top the rest but actually may resemble the ex or even worse leave my pussy itching in pain.

Its obvious the universe does not want me sleeping with this man.

So I’m done.  No more texts, calls, nothing.  When he does come around (which he will), I will put his ass on notice that I cannot do THIS anymore.

Unfortunately, this is a cliché I hate.  “THIS just isn’t working,” or “I just can’t do THIS anymore.”

What the fuck is THIS? 

And since I know I must choose my words wisely when speaking with Deondre, I’m going to define THIS as being 4 years of built up sexual tension that has not erupted into mind-blowing sex, but has fizzled into missed phone calls, unanswered texts, frustrated nights with my vibrator, and juvenile make-out sessions in his Magnum.

THIS is him being inconsistent, unreliable, and just plain ole lazy. 

THIS is me becoming too fed up to even fuck his ass with no strings attached. 

THIS is our friendship, fuckship, quasi-relationship ending.

I can’t do him, THIS, us anymore.  I have too much respect and pride to wait or run after a man who can’t even keep a fuck appointment.

To be honest, I know my range of emotions now will not even compare to how I’ll respond if he were to fuck me and then act a damn fool.  Oh hell naw, a bitch will straight up flip on his ass.

So where is the remote because it’s time to press STOP and turn this shit off.