September 9, 2018:
OMG she's awful.
Once upon a time she was the glory fuck of the universe but that's 'cos I taught her and at that point I was all she'd had. Later she shacked up with a premature ejaculator who wouldn't eat pussy and basically ruined her for life. While she lived with him she'd sometimes cheat with me and be all hurry and despair. That's very sad.
Now she's beyond obnoxious. Presenting herself as a sophisticated sex expert, as fucking if. "Mercy fucks" and bleeding anus: posturing at adulthood.
Where narcissism remains her defining quality.
She says, "Hate to break it to ya buddy but I was at my sexiest right after I left you." She tries to prove it with an absurd polaroid she'd forced her sister to take. She's painted head-to-toe with golden sparkles, like she's just been murdered by Oddjob, lying on her back on a distracting clashing throw rug. I'm proud not to burst out laughing.
She's loud, sarcastic, vituperative, controlling. As if her years of therapy have landed her in a place where she believes it's ok to be an asshole. She spits insults with every other breath and she means it.
She'd probably be most distraught to learn what a boring lay she's become. Paint-by-numbers, despite the bigshot talk of sophistication and experience.
One day there's a very beautiful German blonde exchange student in our field of vision. She looks away, looks at her shoes, looks distraught. You can read her thinking, it's written on her features and her posture and the lines she draws in the sand with two of her toes. I've never looked like that, she thinks. I especially don't look like that now.
That's who she always was. Now she's vocal about it. Yay therapy.