My bad.

Man. I fucked up royal last night.

Looks like he's going to be the eternal subject of this blog. I should change the name to "The Baby Chronicles." But I guess that's why I separated this blog from the main one, so that I can feel free to saturate this one with all the sad, sappy, and otherwise dis-interesting bullshit that clogs up the drain of my life.

I did a bad thing yesterday. I'm supposed to be celibate. I'm trying really hard to maintain this, but I keep messing up. Now he and I have been separated for about a week, I guess. So how in the hell did I end up back in bed with him? And it was totally my bad, I accept all responsibility because I didn't try hard enough to resist him. It's that damn Dolce & Gabanna cologne. That's why I quit hugging him. But yesterday he called me sounding all sad, asking me how I was and all that. He asked me had I reconsidered my stance on our relationship, to which I answered "Nope." He told me that he still loves me. I said, "so?" He asked me if I cared, and I said, "what fuckin' difference does it make? You'll still be an ass." When I went to my car I saw him. His eyes got really red, and he told me that I was a cold piece of work. He said he'd never had the opportunity to be with someone like me (damn, I love being the "someone-like-you") and he knows he fucked it up. He said he was sorry. I didn't believe him, but when I gave him a hug I smelled that damn cologne.

As it stands, I am still not his girlfriend. I didn't take him back, and as I stated to him before I walked outta his house, dick doesn't constitute a relationship. Don't get it twisted. But damn. I failed to live up to the grudge though. I wish I had the courage of my convictions. I do love his stankin' ass. I love him so much. He is an asshole... well, now a mildly repentant ass. And I just gave him some ass, so what does that make me? A bona-fied retard, that's what.

And what's bad is I'm only mad at myself for giving it up. The sex was so damn good. He did everything right, no shorts no losses. He worked it out. Whenever I'd look up at him, he'd be watching me. I scratched him up something too fierce, I think I'd better cut my nails. I don't regret the act at all, just the fact that I wasn't strong enough. Its sad though, because once I made my declaration that the sex didn't change anything he buried his head in my neck and asked what he had to do to prove that things would get better. I couldn't think of an answer.

I don't want to be harsh to him, but it's hard for me to get back on track once you cross me.

I don't like making him want to cry.

Thank God he's manly enough to at least wait until I'm gone or something, so I never had to see it. But his eyes get so red every time he tells me how cold I am. I felt his breathing change when I made my statement in bed with him. Him clearing his throat was a dead giveaway, and my cue to exit stage left. I don't know, I guess I'll reconsider. Because I don't want to make him suffer. But then I don't want to co-sign onto some emotional bullshit that I'll suffer for later. I don't know what to do.

What else is new, right?