When I don’t like the way a text conversation is going or if I feel a shred of shame about it, I delete it. Then it seems like it never happened and I can forget about it.
The dread of insecurity.
Then I think to myself, fuck it.
What the fuck AM I WORRIED ABOUT?
David is lucky to be fucking me. I am a total catch, for one, and for another, I am super hot and sexy and open-minded and playful and creative and dirty and….
Why am I worried about what he thinks of ME? HE should be worried about what I think of him.
Maybe no one should be worried at all?
I get anxious and insecure so easily. I miss the sexting. I miss the Good Gods and Good Lords. I miss the witty banter. David has been distracted lately and I feel it in my loins.
I made a date to fuck the Tattoo Artist.
I need a distraction.
I have an appointment on Thursday.
That sounds as officious as it feels.
Get er done.