Looking Back

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After I finished writing up a ton of reviews tonight/this morning, I decided to go back and look at some of my work from a few years ago. Now, the event that triggered this piece doesn’t seem all that bad. Obviously, I survived and have mad major changes in my life. I can honestly say that I am in a better place. When I look at the major things that occured this year, the memory of this event seems like a walk in the park.

I have moved into my own place and am taking care of my kids, which is one of the main reasons that I stayed in my marriage so long. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to provide for my kids. I love my ex, just not in a romantic since of the word. I hope that one day, our friendship will be strong again. Since I have lived on my own, we actually talk more than we did for at least the past year. If he starts to get on my nerves I can go to my house, or he can sense when it’s time for him to leave my place. We are co-parenting after all, we have to be able to get along. I’m not sure if he’s happier with things in a romantic sense, but I know he’s happier with his job.

I still miss Vanilla Bean, and I’m sure that I will for the rest of my life. However, I can tell that I’m doing better; in the beginning it was a miracle if I made it through the day without crying several times. I still cry for him occasionally, especially in the 22nd of every month, but I know even that will get better as time passes. I still say things to him in my head, especially when something crazy happens. But, his suicide taught me that I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I thought I was, that life is way too short, and that I should be happy while I’m here.

I can truthfully say that I’m happy now! I know that my Daddy plays a role in my happiness. I can go to him at anytime if I have a problem, am sad or I just miss Him. Even though he has a lot on His plate, He always makes time for me. He’s the first person I talk to in the morning, and the last person I talk to before I go to sleep (outside of my kids, because every mother knows they can need you anytime of the day or night). I know that He keeps an eye on how I’m dealing with things on an emotional level, and sexually *blushing*. I think sometimes people misunderstand the nature of submission; I don’t have to do everything he says without any say at all. I am still ultimately in charge of everything I do, and when I submit to His decision it is by choice. There is a greater level of communication between U/us, because part of His job is to care for me & make sure that I am growing as a person. He is my rock, but I am also there for Him. I know that every DD/lg or D/s relationship isn’t like this, but neither is every “vanilla” relationship.

So here’s a peek into my past:

Swept Away

I don’t want you to feel responsible for me; hell, no one’s done that since before 1993

All I have to do is close my heart off more to the world

For some reason, I let myself believe that you would be different; you were for awhile, you were my rock

But then one day you moved me to my personal hell; still, I was supportive of you

You didn’t even notice that my soul my was fading away

You threw me into the arms of my abuser, but that wasn’t even enough pain for you

Why would you tell me the stories where he laughed about the way I suffered; the answer must be because you love me

After all, that’s what I know of love; actually, you hadn’t hurt or torn me down nearly enough to love me yet

It’s got to be something pretty big to out do the bat that was shattered on my back

Perhaps, somehow I made an involuntary movement and you took that as my throwing the gauntlet down

It’s your turn to etch pain into my soul, but it’s got to be something really painful to get through all the scar tissue around my heart

Do you think you can do it; do you have it within you to tear me down and rip me to shreds

I was mistaken, you did indeed have it within you to darken my heart

But, unlike all the other people that i’ve ever loved, I gave you the tools to hurt me

I trusted you, and that was my biggest mistake; I allowed myself to believe that I was lovable

Or maybe my biggest mistake, was thinking that for some reason my love was valuable

By this point in life I should’ve known that my love had no value, that in fact I had no value

When something is valuable it is treated with great care, steps are taken to make sure valuable things remain unbroken

Steps like a parent protecting a child when the other parent is hurting them; you were worried about who paid the bills

Bitch, I am the one who paid the bill…I’m the one that he broke the bat on, because I was trying to protect you

Now, you are somehow miraculously unable to remember any of the incidents of abuse that occurred under your watch

You even said that you were never scared of him until you left; it must’ve been someone else screaming for help that December morning

Don’t you see, my value decreased EVERYTIME that you chose a man over me

You carved out the chunks of my heart every single time you promised to be there to protect me, but showed up late

It was easy for me to stay with a guy who would threaten to kill himself if I didn’t have sex with him, hell at least he had some feelings for me

It didn’t bother me at the time that I let him hurt me so that I’d have a place to stay; he wasn’t supposed to love me, you were

What did you think would happen to my soul; did you think i’d suddenly figure out how to love myself

I learned how to survive, that I’d make it through any abuse or hardship that was placed in my path

A fact that managed to seep into your pathetic brain, you’ve acknowledge my strength in overcoming the trials that I faced

That’s not completely true, perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that you’ve noticed my “strength” in the face of medical adversities

I guess i should be thankful for that acknowledgment, lord knows you seem to have forgotten anything else that i did over the last 37 years

I don’t  blame you, how could I…I was raised to believe everything bad that occurred was my fault

Did you even realize that as I cried at HIS funeral, I was crying because I’d realized that I was totally alone in the world now

I know, I’m fucked up

I was sad because a man who caused my PTSD is dead, and suddenly I realize that there is no longer anyone in my immediate family that loves me

The most perverse part of the situation is that even though HE beat the fuck out of me, deep down I knew HE loved me

I’ve been trained to believe that even the few fucked up moments of love from HIM, was better than to have no love at all

I sit here and all I can think of are the ways that the people that I loved and trusted the most, have betrayed me

My heart is filled with pain and sadness now, as I sit here pondering my marriage

For even he, was a participant in the scraping of my heart

I can’t get past the betrayal that occurred last year, at this point i don’t even know if it’s possible

I do know that: you hurt me, ruined both of my parental relationships, rejected me when I tried to discuss my desires to you, and betrayed me when you talked to my mom

I guess you must love me an awful lot; most of the other’s have only caused a crack in my heart

When you made your mark, you treated my heart like it was being swept up and battered in a tsunami

Guess what: I’M TIRED OF TRYING TO HANG ON TO A PIECE OF DRIFT WOOD WHILE KICKING MY FEET

 

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The Right to Love You

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I’m in love with a man that I have no right to love, but I can’t change the way that I feel. I’m legally separated and am getting divorced, and my husband & I are both (hopefully) moving on with our lives. The man that I love is married, and he is his wife’s caretaker. I know that she needs him, but it doesn’t make my love for him decrease. I’ve struggled this week with not being a “good” person; is it possible to be a good person, while having an affair?
If anyone had asked me that question ten years ago, I would have answered absolutely not! Unfortunately, the last five years has changed my opinion. I was a supportive wife, I even sacrificed what I knew was emotionally healthy in order to try and be supportive of my ex. Not only did I move to a town I swore I would never live in again, but I ended up down the street from my father, who was both physically and emotionally abusive as I grew up. My ex didn’t end up being happy with the job we moved here for, and took several different jobs over the last five years.
I spent the first three years after our move, trying to be encouraging. When my ex began to push all of us away (the kids & me), I got friends to babysit for the weekend, so that we could try and reconnect. Instead, we often ended up at a movie & then had obligatory sex, or sometimes just laid side by side reading. I would try & engage him in conversation, but it didn’t help. However, when I needed support and encouragement he wasn’t there. At one point, he tried to claim that he couldn’t pay attention when I spoke to him because he had dyslexia. Eventually, I sought attention elsewhere. I slept in the living room for over a year, before we finally got separate residences.
Now, I fast forward to the present & I’m very much in love. He makes me so happy, and I actually feel like I matter to him. He listens to and cares about the things that I have to say. He values my opinion, is supportive of me & cares about even the most mundane things in my life. Is it morally wrong for me to be with him? Is it wrong to love someone, even if they’re in a marriage that is no longer intimate? I no longer have an absolute answer to that question. I do know that even if I don’t have the right to love him, I do.

Totally Stoked

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I’m behind on Nano because I haven’t even started writing yet, but I’m totally stoked. I had to drop out of graduate school earlier this year. I have Multiple Sclerosis & Fibromyalgia, between my divorce & wanting to make sure the transition went smoothly with my kids, and one of my bff’s suicide, I couldn’t handle grad school on top of that. Also, the program that I was enrolled in changed when I looked into going back.
I had been enrolled in a program that included instruction in graphic novel writing, but they had dropped the graphic novel portion of the program. I felt like there was really no point in trying to continue in the program when they had eliminated the portion I was interested in. Honestly, for a long time after Vanilla Bean’s death I didn’t even feel like writing anymore.
Recently, I’ve gotten the desire to write again. Now, I’m having writing ideas pop into my head in the middle of the night. Today, I found templates to help with story creation. I’M BACK. I AM GOING TO BE A WRITER AGAIN.I HAVE STORIES THAT NEED TO BE TOLD. I have overcome a lot in my life, and Vanilla Bean was a big part of that…I feel like writing is a way to honor his memory, and the love I feel for my “adopted” big brother.

Beads Glorious Beads

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Daddy started my anal training on Friday, and it was amazing!!!! OMG, who knew I would love it so much? It’s always been one of my biggest fantasies, partly because it would allow me to lose a virginity by choice. The other part is because it’s hot as hell & it sets my body on fire just thinking about it. Daddy told me to imagine him easing into me at the same time he whispers that he loves me, into my ear. I’ll just say it was an orgasm inspiring image ;).

Afterwards, we both had real life things to do….and i realized about an hour later, that I was feeling exposed & vulnerable. When Daddy & I talked about it, he asked what we should do differently. I thought about it, but there wasn’t really anything that he could do differently. I told I felt like he’d seen a piece of my soul, and it scared me. Thankfully, Daddy understands my issues & insecurities from my past. Daddy’s going to write me a message that I can read when I’m feeling insecure.

It turned out to be a good thing that I was having those feelings, I was able to channel those feelings when I was thinking about the piece I’m writing for NaNoWriMo. I came up with an idea that will allow me to write about the loss of my friend, and the new love that I found, but in a fictional way. Right now, I’m still working on character development & mapping out my story. I’m a little behind, but I didn’t decide to do NaNoWriMo until less than 12 hours before it started. I use my iPad to write & I bought an awesome manuscript writing app a few weeks ago, so I’m using that to justify the Hello Kitty case/keyboard that I bought…..it’s my first item from my ‘babygirl’ wish list on Amazon :)!

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Vulnerability

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Lately, because of situations in my past & a current issue, I’ve been feeling extremely vulnerable. Daddy has been there for me the whole way, I’m a really lucky babygirl. It scares me to love him, but I’ve come to the reality that I can’t stop my feelings. Lol, I tried that approach. I tried to distance my feelings, but Daddy saw right through that, too. It was weird, even though I don’t want to lose Daddy, I could see that I was trying to push him away. In the beginning, I actually thought it would be better to push him away than to admit I was scared shitless & feeling vulnerable.
Daddy told me that no matter what I’m stuck with him, until i say it’s not something that I want. It’s kind of nice to be able to admit that I have abandonment issues, but have someone who is willing to help me heal. When one of my best friend’s killed himself in July, it totally set my issues into overdrive. I can count the number of people who have loved me unconditionally on one hand, and I’d just lost one of them. The pain & loss were overwhelming in the beginning; I wasn’t sleeping, and one night I stayed up combing messages to try & figure out what I’d missed.
I’m doing better, and I think Daddy’s patience has a lot to do with it. Even he can tell that I’m making progress; I guess I’m starting to move into the acceptance phase of grieving. I know my friend’s not coming back, regardless of how much I miss him; I still love & miss him, and that’s okay. Talking to Daddy helped me not to feel so consumed by my sadness. I have to remind myself that I can’t allow fear to stop me from experiencing love & happiness….and beauty, because it was truly an amazing experience to see & hear Daddy cum. The way he called out my name & told me he loved me, is one of the most beautiful sites I’ve ever experienced…I look forward to doing it more ****blushing****

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Daddy to the Rescue

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Today, started out in such a crazy manner. I was jerked out of my bliss from talking to Daddy on Skype by screaming. I had been getting ready to read, so I turned my music off to verify that it was an argument. Believe me where I live, it’s common to hear loud drunken college kids. However, tonight’s screaming was definitely some type of domestic dispute.
It’s been over 20 years since I dealt with that type of situation, but it was like I was instantly that scared teenager again, wondering if tonight was going to be one of the times my father decided to beat me. My heart began to race, and I tried to assess the danger of the situation. I didn’t want to get to close to the windows, because I had no idea if either of them had a weapon. I did know that if something terrible happened & I could’ve helped prevent it, I would feel guilty afterwards. I had no choice, I dialed 9-1-1.
As I was telling the dispatcher the information, in the back of my head I kept thinking what if he doesn’t believe me. How messed up is that, it’s been ages since I had to convince someone that abuse had taken place; I was suddenly that scared girl wanting desperately to get help. I went to message Daddy from my phone, but there was a data block on it for five minutes in case the police need to call me back.
When I first messaged Daddy from my iPad, my hands were still shaking, my heart was still racing & I was scared. I am the luckiest babygirl in the whole world! Once I started telling Daddy what was happening, he instantly began reassuring me that I was safe. He began helping me process my feelings, and letting me know He will always be there for me. He kept telling me He loved me, and began having me do deep breathing to slow my racing heart. By the time we finished talking I was much calmer, and I once again felt safe, protected, cherished & loved.
Daddy got me a jade lotus flower, and I held it in my hands as we talked. It was comforting to have physical item from Him to hold onto. It may sound silly, but once I had Daddy’s lotus flower in my hands, I knew everything was going to be okay. I am thankful to have Daddy in my life.

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Vanilla Bean

Every Monday, since July 22nd, I’ve felt the emptiness from my friend’s suicide. Randy, aka Vanilla Bean, was like a brother to me. He was part of a double suicide. At first it was reported as a murder suicide, and I knew that wasn’t possible. Ever since I met him when I was 16, he was someone who saved people. I know, because his love saved me. He was one of a handful of people who loved me unconditionally. Finally, last month the death certificate of his ex was changed to suicide.
He was worried about me leaving my ex, and my being able to afford a place to live. When I got the keys to my new place, it was like I could feel his worry easing. In the beginning, I felt like I failed him. The one time that he really needed me, I had surgery and was on medication for pain. I didn’t see his post on Facebook; if I’d seen it, I would’ve known something was wrong. I know it wasn’t my fault, and that I couldn’t have prevented his suicide if that’s what he really wanted to do.
God, I miss the fuck out of him! I can’t tell you how many times something funny has happened or that I’ve been scared and needed to feel his love, in the last 3 months, tomorrow. I’ve missed the way we teased and joked with one another through Facebook posts. Hell, I’ve missed him telling me to shut it. I’ve just missed knowing he was here.
Dancing in the Sky by Dani & Lizzy
I listen to this song all of the time, a friend who knew about the bond I had with Vanilla Bean, posted it to my wall on Facebook. It asks what it’s like in heaven, and then it says the following

Cause here on earth everything good is missing, since you left….and here on earth everything’s different, there’s an emptiness.

I have felt that emptiness like a gaping hole in my heart, every Monday since Vanilla Bean’s death. Today, I noticed that the pain wasn’t quite as bad. Even though I miss him terribly, I was still able to feel the love I have for others & their love for me. I know that I will always miss him & that there will always be a place in my heart that only my ‘brother’ can fill, but I also know that I’m going to heal. I know tomorrow is going to be hard, since he’ll be gone for three months, but I also know that I’ll get through the day like he would want me to.

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Tainted Love: A Memoir

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Learning How to Love
My therapist has asked me several times recently where I learned how to be such a loving and caring woman and mother, because I didn’t have an example of how to be that way. But that’s not true, I always come back to you, Dad. I don’t know what changed on May 26,1986, but I know that before that day you loved me. You taught me how to love and care about other’s.
I can remember the first time that you took me fishing just like it was yesterday. I was so excited, you took me outside to the backyard and you taught me how to look for night crawlers. You gave me a little spade and you carried a white plastic container with a clear lid on it. Then you told me to look underneath our deck because it was cool and dark there, and my best chance of finding any night crawler would be there. I remember the smile you had on your face, I could see all of your sparkling white teeth and I was so proud of myself.
I can still hear your voice as you told me that I did a good job. You let me play with that first night crawler for awhile. I was amazed by how long it was; I investigated every last ridge it had on it, and the way part of it was a purplish gray color. Then you started laughing when I started screaming after finding out that the brown stuff coming out of the end was poop; I started laughing too, but I held onto that night crawler. I watched with excitement as you put it into the white container on top of the dirt that you’d added, when I wasn’t looking.
I don’t remember how many night crawlers I collected that night , but I remember thinking how gross it was that we had to put the container in the downstairs refrigerator. Even though we only used that fridge for drinks and the built in keg tap, I was still grossed out. Then you told me to go to the upstairs bathroom that was across the hall from my bedroom and take a bath. We both knew how mad Mom would be if I got any dirt in the house. So I ran up the stairs,and immediately to a bath.
I could hardly sleep that night, and I had to go to bed before my normal bedtime because we would be leaving early the next morning. Mom came to check on me, but I heard her coming and made sure to pretend like I was asleep. I was scared that if she caught me awake, she wouldn’t let me go fishing with you the next day.
You had told me that an older man named Frank Tribble would be going fishing with us. I spent part of the time I was awake,trying to imagine what Mr. Tribble would be like. I figured he would nice because you said that you’d known him since you were my age. At the time, it seemed like that was forever; it’s funny how a six year old views time. I finally fell asleep.
The next morning you came to wake me up at the crack of dawn. I didn’t understand what that expression really meant until that morning; at five in the morning, there had barely been a streak of light in the dark purple sky. I didn’t care though, I was just happy to help you collect all of our fishing gear. I remember telling mom good bye as I ran after you to your old red and white Ford truck.
We put all of the gear into the bed of the truck, and then you opened the passenger side door and helped me climb into the cab. I sat down in the middle and you double checked my seat belt to make sure it was fastened correctly. Then you walked around to the driver’s side door and hopped into the truck; the engine started to purr once you turned the key, and then we set out on adventure.
When we got to Mr. Tribble’s house, he was sitting on his porch waiting for us to arrive. Once he got situated in the passenger’s seat, you introduced us to one another. I remember being amazed at how small and skinny he was. Mr. Tribble lived off of Sixth street, right around the corner from the Benjamin Banneker community center. As we passed Banneker, you told me that when you were little it used to be the black school.
I was confused and asked what a “black school” was, then you told me that when you were little all of the black kids in Bloomington went to that school. I asked you how come you all went to the same school, because I was the only black kid in my class. I couldn’t believe it when you told me that when you were little, black kids and white kids didn’t go to school together. You told me that when you went to Bloomington High school, the black and white kids went to school together.
To be honest, I don’t remember much about that conversation. All that my little brain could focus on was catching fish; I was convinced that I would catch a ton of fish in no time at all. I knew what to do, my dad had already shown me how to cast & I’d practiced reeling in several imaginary fish over the last twenty-four hours.
As we got closer to my dad’s special spot, I began to notice sounds that I’d never heard before; the closer we got to the private pound, the foggier it became outside the truck. I never would’ve admitted it at the time, but I had started getting scared. I’m going to go out on a limb and say the fear must have been evident on my face, because both my dad and Mr. Tribble started laughing.
Then my dad told me that the low gurgle like sounds that I was hearing was only two frogs trying to find one another. He said it was like when my sister and I would yell for one another when we were in different rooms, those frogs just wanted to know what one another were doing. By the time my dad parked the truck, all of my fear was gone and I was ready to catch some fish.
At the time, I had no idea that that fishing trip would be one of my fondest memories of him. I guess I loved that day, because he didn’t have to be the cop who took care of everyone or the coach who taught teens how to play football. That day he was just my dad, sharing your history with me and showing me what a parent’s love was supposed to be like.
DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL
One of my earliest memories took place at this church; I was walking with my mother when a woman stopped us and said that I looked like my mother. I looked at her and said with the simplicity of a child: No I don’t, I’m my daddy’s girl! As young girl I was my dad’s shadow; to me, the sun rose and set with my father. If my dad went somewhere, I was always right there by his side. I was there when we got into his truck when it was still dark outside, and we stopped to pick Frank Tribble up, so we could set off on one of our 5a.m. fishing trips. My dad had a secret spot on the northern end of the county. On my first trip I of course caught the most & largest fish. I can remember the excitement that I had when I described the “big mouth” bass that I caught. My dad just smiled and didn’t even tell me that it was really called a large mouth bass. Then there were all the football practices that he took me to, where I would yell at the players to get their legs up higher as they ran through the tire drills. Or the fact that he used to call me little bird, because he painted the wood trim around our rock garden white and I got into the wet paint. He told me that it looked like a little bird had gotten into it & thus my nickname was born.
When I was little, I would get scared every-time he went to work because I didn’t know if he would return home safely. Well, I paid attention to all of the lessons that I had at daycare on calling 911 to call the police. In fact, you could say that I learned the lesson too well. I would always call 911 & ask if I could speak to my father. However, that all changed the day the 911 dispatcher called my house and spoke to my mother. She asked my mom if she could teach me the non emergency number for the police department, apparently they didn’t feel that my wanting to speak to my dad was an emergency….ooooooppps!
If you knew my father in a professional way or if he was ever your football or wrestling coach, then you know that my father could be tough. He wanted you to give him 110% of your effort, because that’s what he always gave. I’ll be the first to admit that at times it could be frustrating. But to this day, I can still feel the pride he had when he told me that he’d heard my name on the radio, after I won the 300 meter hurdles at my first high school competition.
However, my father wasn’t always tough. I can still see the tears that ran down his face on the day of my prom. You’re probably thinking that his tears had something to do with me growing up, but you’d be wrong. He was really crying because the thing he wanted the most for his birthday in 1992, was for his little bird to get better from my paralysis. So for his birthday, I was able to walk to him unassisted and I saw my father cry. He also cried when he held each of my daughters’ for the first time. I may not be my Daddy’s little girl anymore, but I will always cherish the memories of when I was.

 

Copyright Bisublivinginvanillaworld 6/18/12

All Rights Reserved.  This cannot be copied in whole

or in part without the author’s sole express permission.

Some Truth Comes To Light

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This weekend an awkward and somewhat painful conversation took place. My husband said he missed having sex with me. Then he asked me if I missed it; not wanting to be an evil bitch, I said yes & no. When he asked why, I gave him several examples of hurtful things that he’s done or said in the last few months. He said that I was taking what he said about my oldest daughter’s situation the wrong way, but he said it so clearly even my deaf grandparents would’ve gotten it.
In someways, I’ve been very fortunate over the last month; due to the surgery I had at the beginning of May, I’ve had to sleep on the futon in the living room. When you aren’t sleeping in the same room, or your bruises look like you took on a tsunami and lost it is easy to avoid any sort of sexual contact. In all honesty, our sex life took a hit in April when he was continuously too busy; also, not acknowledging when your spouse is saying good-bye and then blaming your dyslexia is a good way to insure many masturbation filled nights in your future.
My sexuality has always been something hard for me to deal with, so having my husband walk in while I was masturbating was pretty horrifying. It wasn’t even like he walked in and found me with my hands in the honey pot, I had a “body massager” involved. I immediately jumped up & tried to do the crack head toss, you know when they there the drugs and try and play dumb. He asked me where I got it from & I said it was a MOTHER’S Day present. I really didn’t expect the next question; Who got that for you?
Hello Dumb ass, you got me an Amazon gift card…you can buy anything on Amazon, including some awesome sex toys ;)! Which brings me back to our conversation this weekend. He asked me who I was in a relationship with because it didn’t feel like I was in one with him. Did I tell him what I really wanted to say: Remember when you told me that you wouldn’t even have time to listen to how my day was for the next year? I believe you said that it was the sacrifice I was going to have to make for the next year. GUESS YOU FOUND OUT WHAT YOU’LL BE SACRIFICING. No, I wasn’t a bitch and did not want to be deliberately hurtful. I also didn’t say,” Did you already forget about the bountiful sex toys I purchased for Mother’s Day with the gift card you got me?”
I simply said no one.

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