Tears in my cleavage

Morning Lovers!

Yes, rare is the occasion I get to use those words as I’m usually in deep deep beauty sleep mode until the pm hours of the day. But today I had to get out of bed for a stupid exam. Ugh, learning! So I figured while I’m vertical I may as well bust out a cheeky blog while I’m at it. Ok I’m only half vertical, sitting up in bed in preparation for a lunchtime nap as soon as I’m finished here, but it’s the thought that counts right? 🙂 So, where were we last time? Ah yes, Rick was my hero, my prince charming and everything he did from saying hello to taking his socks off earned him a blow job from yours truly. But how long would this blissful state last? Turns out not long at all…

Things were sailing pretty smoothly for a while after the whole nipple flash incident, boosted by the fact that I finally experienced my very first orgasm! I always thought what I felt during normal sex was it. I was pretty disappointed that it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it was cracked up to be, but after that first orgasm, my god, I was a sex addict! Three times a night then once more in the morning. On one memorable occasion we went to a Spiderman marathon at Hoyts, (I know, you don’t need to tell me how cool we were) which went from ten pm until five am and when we got home we were completely knackered. But then we looked at each other, shrugged, and went at it!

Life was good. And even better, my nineteenth birthday was just around the corner. I organized a party bus and invited all my closest friends. Rick asked if he could bring some of his friends too. I grimaced at the thought of a bong on a bus with no windows, but he promised there would be absolutely no drugs. I gave in eventually, he didn’t know my friends that well so it would probably be good for him to have some familiar people to talk to.

The big night arrived and I was super stressed. I had forgotten my good makeup and had to work some magic with my stage cosmetics.

I looked like a thirty year old drag queen.

Oh how the tears came then! Rick was absolutely no help, too concerned about his outfit to offer me any solace. Luckily my sister promised to bring hers along and fix my bedraggled face as soon as we met up at the bus. Phew, crisis averted. At six o’clock everyone congregated at the bus and we set off, ready for a good time. Unbeknownst to me, Rick had chipped in over one hundred dollars to the bus fee, as quite a few of my friends had failed to show at the last minute. He didn’t earn a fantastic salary, so for him this was a huge amount of money. Nothing was said to me though, and we danced and drank for the next three hours. It was shaping up to be my best birthday ever. Rick was being so good to me, coming over for a dance and a quick kiss every now and then, before heading back to his mates to give me time to mingle with my friends. At one bar he even got up on stage and announced to everyone it was my birthday and the whole pub sang for me! I was overwhelmed but so happy. Could the night get any better? I crossed my fingers that maybe it could. Four times in a night maybe?

As the bus drove us back to our pick up spot one of Rick’s friends asked me for a dance. I glanced quickly at Rick but he was immersed in boy talk, so I said yes and we attempted a somewhat wobbly version of the jive, laughing and giggling the whole time. After the bus had left we decided to head to my favourite bar and dance the night away. Quite a few of my friends left at that point so it was only a small group that headed off for some more messy fun. I was walking with Bec, chatting happily, talking about her latest sexscapades when suddenly, I heard a wail from behind me. I turned to find Rick kneeling on the ground. I ran to him, falling down beside him. Was he hurt? Had he had too much to drink? Had something terrible happened?

No, it was none of those. Turns out Rick was the type of drunk who cries. The type of drunk who cries a lot. When I asked him what was wrong he poured out his tale of woe, saying how horrible I was for neglecting him, completely ignoring him all night and flirting with his friends.


I couldn’t believe it. Here I was thinking he was being the perfect boyfriend and the whole time he was silently sulking in the corner. He went on to say how I was just using him as a handbag and that I really wanted his friend not him. In Rick’s opinion I wouldn’t even notice if he wasn’t there. Well, I was noticing him now, that was for damn sure. I could see my friends just ahead of us, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, wondering what was going on. Rick just kept wailing on and on, big heaving sobs that echoed for bloody miles. And then that was it. He broke through my barrier of happyiness and I was crying with him. Once you’ve lost that happy feeling you can’t get it back. I knew right then and there the night was over. I tried to apologize to him but my heart just wasn’t in it. Why should I say sorry? It was my birthday, asshole!

His crying got louder and louder until I had to pull him into a hug just to muffle his sobs into my shoulder. I had a brief thought that he would definitely be paying for my dry-cleaning bill, but he cut that short by telling me about the money he forked out at the start of the night. Apparently that was all my fault for having shit friends and I should have known he would try and pay and should have tried to stop him. But there was more. Why had I accepted his offer for a jagerbomb? Why had I let him buy those shots of tequila? Turns out he was blaming me for that too! I supposedly should have understood that he wasn’t made of money and that he had spent far too much in one night.

Well boo fucking hoo.

That was all I could think of. (I admit, I wasn’t in a very empathetic mood that night.) Then he changed tack and crushed me into an even tighter hug, apologizing over and over for ruining my birthday. Damn right you ruined it, my brain screamed. I was humiliated. My fantastic birthday had turned sour in the blink of an eye and here I was, in the middle of Winter in a backless strappy dress (now soaked in snot and tears), in the middle of a park, clutching my weeping boyfriend who couldn’t grasp the idea of me having fun without him. Bec tried to get me up and take me drinking, and to her credit, she really did do her best to regain my good mood. But every time I turned to see the sniveling whiner that was my boyfriend, my stomach sank. And after the amount of alcohol I had consumed that night, stomach sinking wasn’t the best exercise.

I sighed, hugged everyone goodbye, and dragged my sorry excuse for a boyfriend into a taxi. What had just happened? The perfect man had just shown his ugly side. I cried silent tears all the way home, and he didn’t even notice. When we got to his house, we got undressed wordlessly and climbed into bed. He didn’t touch me, and I stayed far away from him. We stayed like that all night, on separate sides of the bed. It was the first time we hadn’t fallen asleep in each others arms.

The next morning I woke feeling numb. I was a whole year older with a whole lot of issues lying next to me in the bed. I rolled over to face him. He was awake, staring past me. He’s thinking of how to say sorry, I thought, slightly relieved that last nights waterworks were over. But instead when he opened his mouth it was to tell me , once again, how much money he had spent. I sneered at him and stormed out.

Bastard. Asshole. Complete and utter twat! He had single handedly wrecked my fabulous party and to top it off now he was making me feel guilty for it! I left soon after, needing to get away from him. Just the sight of him made me curl my lip in disgust, and lip curling is not one of my sexiest faces.

We spent two days apart. He called, he texted and he left countless voicemails but I wasn’t ready to forgive him. He had just been so selfish, and it really changed my opinion of him. I had to figure out if I still wanted to date this new Rick. A part of me didn’t. And that was the part I should have listened to. Instead I listened to the part of me who got chocolates sent to her work the next day. Nothing charms the pants off me more than romance, and by six o’clock we were having romantic, if ever so slightly angry, make up sex.

Ooooh but do things get better? Does Rick turn into a prince or a frog? Well I can tell you now it was right about then that the constant blowjobs stopped. You just can’t take the chance when you’re that angry with someone. You get angry and the teeth come out. Enough said.

Claire xx

Pick up line of the week: If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.


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