That Ongoing Battle
I've been spending time proclaiming my thoughts and feelings for Elbows in a small Paul Frank monkey book I stole from work when they were giving them to girls in Happy Meals. It's pink, and cute, and will require minimal flame when I finish it and set it on fire.
In the last week, she's pretty much eluded to the fact that she's still got feelings for her wildcard, who continues to spend time with Angelina Jolie's Depressed Bisexual Sister. Personally, that would be a dealbreaker to me.
I actually consider it a black mark on Elbow's otherwise strong woman personality that she allows such gross violations of her personal moral compass and yet continues to defend the actions of the perpetrators. If the Wildcard is fucking around with her ex-girlfriend, who Elbows hates so very much, after having proclaimed her love for Elbows, why isn't Elbows absolutely furious? Meanwhile, Elbow's wife continues to treat her like she's a submissive dog. I gave Elbows an electric brownie the other day, and last night she told me Lacey found it in the fridge and ate half of it without being offered any. If that isn't a dominating dog move, I don't know what is. At this point in my life, I long for a showdown with Lacey. I called her a cunt last night when Elbows told me that story. I felt kind of bad. I don't remember ever calling anyone's significant other a cunt. At least to their face.
I continue to try to escape from underneath the power Elbows has over me. And I think she senses it. Part of me wants to give her this little book, so maybe she could have a more complete picture of how I feel. And how it constantly eats me alive because it's a good feeling. Complete with hugs that come with lingering perfume. Laughing. Banter. Until it's not. Until I sit around the house and realize she continues to set a standard for what I'd want in another woman, if only I could break free of wanting her.