Wednesday, May 25, 2011


While the word cheating may indicate many different things, I think it is very obvious that I am not talking about my last Pre-Calculus test.

A few days ago I found myself thinking about how I would feel if I were to be cheated on. I thought to myself that I wouldn't care if I never found out and I didn't get an STD. As you can see, my iron exterior is starting to convince my subconscious that my emotions are composed of iron also.

For a while now, Stevenson has been telling me about an internet friend of his. I guess he lives in the backwoods of some retarded conservative state that won't turn blue any time soon. They've been friends for a very long time, of course. His friend submitted photos to Ford Models out of a recommendation. After multiple trips to New York and whatnot he was informed that out of thousands who submitted, he was one of the very, very few selected. So this kid has to be pretty damn attractive, right?

Stevenson told me that his friend was moving to New York last week. He wanted to visit him before he got famous. He didn't want his friend thinking that he only wanted to become his friend once he got famous--if he gets famous.

He made plans with me for yesterday, Tuesday, and therefore wan't going to go. He also said that he didn't really have the money anyways.

On Saturday night, Stevenson informed me that his friend had found more affordable tickets for him to come to the city. Stevenson made it sound like a day trip, so I didn't really give a fuck. As it set in, I came up with that half-baked notion of how I would feel if I were cheated on.

The next day I found out that it wasn't a day trip. It was an overnight trip. Stevenson was going to go on Monday evening. I figured he was going to be home on Tuesday night. I still wasn't worried because I still had myself convinced that what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me.

This morning I found out that the trip was taking course over three days. He had stayed over for two nights. I felt like there was so much that I wasn't filled in on. I know that Stevenson is a little dense but why wouldn't he tell me how long the trip was. He was vague about the whole thing.

Today at school, I had a lot of quiet time to think to myself and I don't feel convinced that I have security anymore. Now I know that we've only been together since May 7th, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't be peeved. Being in a relationship means that you're exclusive.

I got to thinking about why people cheat. I could only come up with the idea that people get bored of their sexual relationship. I had other ideas but I don't think that I have the right to question the mental sanity of others.

Am I a bad kisser? Am I bad in bed?

I couldn't see how this could be possible because whenever we're alone the only thing he wants to do is fuck and shit. The only time we seem to ever talk is when we're with other people. He's politically retarded and stubborn so he just talks crazy sometimes. It's like when we're having sex is the only time that I feel like he's enjoying my company.

So do I think that the last-minute, shady trip to New York City to see a long-term friend that he's never met, who's becoming a model was a booty call?

Why wouldn't I?!

I'm not going to say anything, or act different. I only have my suspicions.

It's not a judgement on my character. As long as I'm a good, honest person, I can live with myself. I don't have skeletons in my closet.