Starved

Now, sad to say, things with Mr. Someone have ended. And in the end, he really wasn't a Mr. Someone. He turned out to be a run of the mill Mr. Anyone. (I hate when I get tricked)

I realize it has been awhile since my last post and many adventures have happened involving Love, Lust & Liquor. (Well more like "Lack of Love") But none-the-less, I will draw the conclusion to Mr. Someone.

It was a lovely spring evening. Lie. It was a rainy Friday night. Mr. Someone wasn't feeling up to coming out, so he was relaxing in his hotel room. Before heading over there, I had to hit a bar, loosen up those inhibitions.
Oh those inhibitions. A waste.

So I arrive at his hotel room, I don't think I have ever felt like Vivian Ward, more than this night minus the whole cash transaction bit and the whole Cinder-fucking-ella ending. We cuddle in bed while watching some macho movie I have never and probably will never fully see again. Cuddling lasts all of 15 minutes, my attention span of this movie and so we proceed. After a quick romp, we're lying in bed, back to cuddling, he tells me I am "starved for affection" EXCUSE ME?! You are the one jet setting around and have no real ties to any city or anyone, and you are the one calling me up every two weeks you're in town and I'm the one starved?! Ok buddy!! So if I had been channeling my inner suffragette I would have left the hotel right then, why I didn't is still baffling me.

So enters Mr. Someone now dubbed "Mr. Affection Starved" into the DoucheBag Hall of Fame.

And the quest for Mr. Someone continues.