The Texan has been boasting about all the girls in his life: cocktail waitresses who “want to fuck him,” and strippers fighting over him. Pretty much every woman he comes in contact with apparently wants him. They’re showboating stories. I couldn’t give a shit of course, but if it means he’s talking and I don’t have to, then whatever.
I drink and give him the occasional, “Oh shit, really?” and “That sounds fun.” I think he’s slowed down on the action since we’ve been intimate, and his ego isn’t quite comfortable with it. He might even be trying to make me jealous. How ridiculous. He says to girls, “You like it. You know it,” when he’s being a little too rough with them. I laugh, but he doesn’t understand why I’m laughing. He’s so cocky and delusional. If he wants to please women so badly, why doesn’t he actually pay attention? He’s also convinced himself that all of his girls come four to eleven times; he’s told me so. It’s absurd. Of course we’re faking. I don’t even know these girls, and I know they’re faking. If they’re getting paid, then they just want it over with; trust me. And if he needs to think we’re coming our faces off in order to get his, then he gets the performance. Maybe a couple of these ladies are having real ones thrown in for shits and grins. Maybe.