Devil's Plaything

I am impressed at the manner in which Rob irritates me without even talking to me or seeing me in real life....more text pestering in which he thinks we're flirting but in reality, I am shoving his head towards my vagina.

What the hell, man?! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET HIM TO FUCK ME??!

Now I'm not even scheming to fuck him because I desire it or because I want him to cheat on his girlfriend...now I just want to do him because it's driving me crazy and I need to get this over with. The anticipation for something that very well might not happen is just...excruciating? It's driving me up a wall. I have to fuck him because it feels like an impossibility.

He's as transparent as a windshield. I mention via text that I was at a concert near his area...he follows that up with "I would have asked you to stop by." Oh really? I'm inclined to believe Rob would've have followed that up with a lame excuse.

Fast forward to Saturday night. We're both at different house parties and he's now made the almost-certain promise of meeting me at my house afterward for some "fun." He gives himself credibility by saying he'll call me when he leaves the party. I've taken bets with my friend Sandra on what excuse he's gonna use to get out of it.

My party is in Long Beach and inevitably I have to run into Shawn again. We have mutual friends now, so I'm kinda not shocked anymore. I chat him up for a little bit and ask why he's flying solo tonight. He reveals that he and his girl are not serious at all. Something tells me she might have a problem with that analysis. Again, he's too chicken shit to do anything and I spend the better half of the evening bad-mouthing him after he'd left.

Midnight rolls around and I get a Rob drunk text, almost on schedule:

"Party ended up being in El Monte...Did not expect that. My fault. Too drunk...I'm feeling bad :( sorry"

DING DING DING....we have a winner. I am too drunk and far away to see you. Sorry honey! Better luck next time! Thanks for playing.

I tell myself to just ignore my phone and continue having fun with my friends, but my anger is boiling as the alcohol in my system is rising. I text him back furiously:

Me: I had a feeling you'd do this....what's the point of doing things half wrong Rob???? Oh well. I still think you're cool but I doubt we are ever gonna do this...

I also faintly remember trying to dial him as my blood raged with too much Sailor Jerry Rum and Diet Coke...

Rob: Can't talk right now :( but I've been totally asking myself the same question :) What is the point? I guess I'm feeling like I'm a good guy but every time I think of you I wanna do everything bad I can possibly do.

I make a face at my phone and try to ignore him but he digs himself deeper into a hole--

Rob: "Only In Dreams"...my favorite Weezer song. Ha...Maybe...We'll see...I'm sorry again...I'm still glad a gorgeous girl such as yourself even finds someone like me remotely attractive...Ha

a few seconds later...

Rob: Are you gonna be able to drive home?

I don't even bother replying because I'm chatting up a young 23 year old at the party. His name is Jay and he's just good enough to make me forget about stupid, slovenly, drunk Rob. I fire back a text, full of venom--

Me: Nah...going home with someone else since I know I won't be seeing you. Nitey nite.

Ohhhhhh snap. Was that uncalled for? Nope. Rob pretends to be okay with this--

Rob: Ahhh....haha...have fun :)

Well, I didn't really have fun. I ended up fucking this Jay character for like an hour at his parents house and he never came. Even though he's only 23, he seems like such a kid compared to me. Very immature. His idea of dirty talk was pathetic and gross. He had a stupid tattoo on his chest: an outline of a heart. I asked him who drew on his chest with a marker (hahah!). His dick was somewhat impressive, just a little disappointed to stay that rock hard for so long and never get a pay off. I sobered up and sped all the way home. I was never so happy to fall asleep on my own pillow.

The next afternoon Rob tries to mend fences by asking me if I was hung over, since he was experiencing a mini-hangover himself. I said I wasn't and that pretty much ended the conversation. Tuesday rolls around and he asks me the same questions all over again: how long do I have the house all to myself? Is it okay if he meets me at my house? UGHHHHH.

Fuck. Just do it already.

But knowing my luck, he'll show up this week. I am starting to feel under the weather and my period is looming. Great.