A while ago, I saw some Facebook post that said, “When you have a sex dream about someone and you’re a little in love with them for a couple days.”
Is that really true for some people? That’s cute. Sadly, that’s not how it works for me. With me, it’s always the same damn guy. Typically, he doesn’t even enter my mind, but after these dreams, I hate him with a passion all over again. ALL. OVER. AGAIN.
I’m not going to describe him because our mutual friends will pick up on it right away — and gods FORBID that asshole winds up seeing this and realizes that he STILL gets my panties in a bunch. After all these years. ALL. THESE. YEARS. (Let’s get this straight — I don’t get to choose what I dream about, mister sir. In reality, I don’t want anything to do with your dick. Like. At all.)
Actually, yesterday, I saw him comment on a friend’s post (he and I aren’t FB friends), soooo I was a little petty and commented, too. Not in response to him or anything. But, ya know. My Facebook profile pic is super effing cute and I wanted to make sure he saw.
But back to sex dreams. I just woke up from one. And I’ve literally been lying in bed for an hour thinking, “Aw what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what in the actual fuck WHYYYY.”
It was a long, vivid, plot-driven dream, sprinkled with scenes of our little escapades. Ugh. What made it worse is that the orgasms… were fucking amazing. And the kisses too.
This is truly scumbag brain at work.