THE TEXAN

I’m wrecked. A shell of a human. I’m so tired of men comin’ at me. I have The Texan texting that he loves me and wants to fuck me, then a mere half an hour later he texts that he hates me and tells me to fuck off. I so sick of dealing with his crazy shit. And Beemer is butthurt because I had to cancel our date last night. He recently laid a bunch of heavy shit on me. About us, his feelings, our future. It’s exhausting. Can’t we all just enjoy the fucking moment?! And leave me alone until I’m in your presence? I saw Cargo Pants at the club last night. He only gave me two hundred and was super late. He’s been down on the place lately. Turns out the thing he hates the most is the other male customers. He doesn’t like how they treat the girls, and that they don’t tip or participate. He’s preaching to the sugar-scented choir. But it hardly seems fair to punish me (not come in as much) because of their defective attitude. Loathing aside, he didn’t seem as if he were in a big rush to leave the building. In fact, he held me hostage with a long conversation after our VIP. Not wanting yet another meltdown slash breakup, I only hinted at the fact that I needed to get on with it. All the while knowing I’d be late for Beemer. Honestly, I was just plain running on empty, so when I said my final goodbye to Cargo Pants, I cancelled my post work date with Beemer. Something I never do—I’m a woman who sticks to her word, and of course I could have used the money—but I’m allowed to take care of myself once in a while, aren’t I? I swear, I must be certifiable to juggle all these people’s feelings. I miss the wham-bam-thanks-for-the-sex days.



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