Who wouldn’t want a Sparklebumps dressed in heels and an apron cooking a deliciously nutritious dinner in their kitchen when they arrive home from work?
I’ll tell you at least one person.
My Rockstar.
This is the exact situation in which I found myself last night.
Instead of the hot kitchen sex or reaction of, “Damn, your ass looks good!”, what do you think I got?
Absolutely fucking nothing.
For your information, I would have been happy with a smile and a peck on the cheek.
My Rockstar came home and proceeded to crack a beer and completely ignore my presence. COMPLETELY.
In the meantime, I thought, “OK, perhaps his eyesight has diminished at work this day, and cannot see that I am here. Mostly naked.”
I watched him sink down in his Lazy Boy and continue to zone out, until I realized that he probably would have been happier if I wasn’t even there.
Here is something that you may not know, if you’ve been living tied up in a cave under the ocean.
I love my Rockstar. I think about him all the time.
Yes, I love the sex too, but I would be perfectly content just having him sit next to me drinking his beer. Something to show that he acknowledges my presences at least.
Instead, he ended up going on the computer and shutting the bedroom door, which he has never done before.
So I decided to get plastered on brandy. After my third drink I went in and poked him and asked him why he didn’t want me anymore.
His response? “You’ve had too much to drink.”
Perhaps I had, but drunk people have feelings too.
I ended up going to bed and bawling my eyes out because I have no idea what the fuck is going on.
When he came to bed, I shoved him and told him he needed to not ignore me.
He said, “I don’t need to deal with this shit tonight.”
I told him if he kept it up then he wouldn’t have to deal with it EVER.
He then proceeded to tell me it was stupid of me to dress up in said apron and heels, and I didn’t need to do that.
I pointed out that I didn’t need to cook supper for him, or tuck his daughter in, or love him either, but that I do those things because I am me.
I also pointed out the fact that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me.
He stated that he didn’t feel the need to be thrilled.
Well, I fucking need him to be thrilled about me, dammit! Maybe not always, but a good chunk of the time.
To make a long story short, nothing got resolved, and now I work opposite hours than he does for the rest of the week, so I my mind shall be in limbo in regards to my relationship for the next 6 days.
Fuck my life. And I NEVER say that.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 