There's these four bitches that I know. I treated all of them like friends. I drank with all of them. I laughed with all of them. I had sex with two of them. Then some money turned up missing and I am left with few words. "If you did it, don't tell us, just don't ever come back."
You see, these four bitches live in the same house, and my innocent heart believed that they all had my back if I needed help. It seems, however, that my back is the first to be defamed when they need help. The two bitches that I didn't have sex with did less damage with their betrayal because I cared less what they thought about me or how they treated me. I did however, think they were friendly towards me. In light of the recent turn of financial events, they revealed something I had said once in the stupor of drunkenness: as the two bitches that I did have sex with retreated to their rooms, one with happy thoughts of her boyfriend and the other with one of my future roomates, something in my demeanor revealed that I was a bit depressed. I admit that this was true, as I have only once had sex with someone with whom I did not wish to enter into a relationship. In my depression, I said something to the effect of "Well, people keep fucking me over. I guess I should start returning the favor."
The two bitches that I did not have sex with exploited that statement in light of me finding my drunken sleep in the bedroom where the money was hidden.
The bitch I had slept with more recently now claims that the door was locked that morning, but the other bitch had no difficulty entering when she came home several hours earlier than expected.
If their story is true, I must have been terribly lucky to have stolen the money, hidden it on my person, and fallen asleep before being joined at such an unexpected hour by the first bitch I had sex with.
The irony of the situation is this: Both bitches that I had sex with claimed that I was too nice and too pure for them. Both of them said that I would only be hurt by them. Indeed.
My situation does hurt. I have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of, but my pride hurts. I trusted all of them enough to sleep many times in their house with my wallet in my pants, which were several feet from my person. I trusted them not to create drama like those middle-schoolers they say they aren't, but this and other situations prove that my trust in that quality was misplaced. I would have quickly rushed to the aid of any of them, but now I don't even want to laugh at their stupid drunken ramblings. I don't want to go to their house. I don't want to hear their bands. I don't want to drink their alcohol.
I didn't take the money, and fuck you for asking.
--Z
You see, these four bitches live in the same house, and my innocent heart believed that they all had my back if I needed help. It seems, however, that my back is the first to be defamed when they need help. The two bitches that I didn't have sex with did less damage with their betrayal because I cared less what they thought about me or how they treated me. I did however, think they were friendly towards me. In light of the recent turn of financial events, they revealed something I had said once in the stupor of drunkenness: as the two bitches that I did have sex with retreated to their rooms, one with happy thoughts of her boyfriend and the other with one of my future roomates, something in my demeanor revealed that I was a bit depressed. I admit that this was true, as I have only once had sex with someone with whom I did not wish to enter into a relationship. In my depression, I said something to the effect of "Well, people keep fucking me over. I guess I should start returning the favor."
The two bitches that I did not have sex with exploited that statement in light of me finding my drunken sleep in the bedroom where the money was hidden.
The bitch I had slept with more recently now claims that the door was locked that morning, but the other bitch had no difficulty entering when she came home several hours earlier than expected.
If their story is true, I must have been terribly lucky to have stolen the money, hidden it on my person, and fallen asleep before being joined at such an unexpected hour by the first bitch I had sex with.
The irony of the situation is this: Both bitches that I had sex with claimed that I was too nice and too pure for them. Both of them said that I would only be hurt by them. Indeed.
My situation does hurt. I have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of, but my pride hurts. I trusted all of them enough to sleep many times in their house with my wallet in my pants, which were several feet from my person. I trusted them not to create drama like those middle-schoolers they say they aren't, but this and other situations prove that my trust in that quality was misplaced. I would have quickly rushed to the aid of any of them, but now I don't even want to laugh at their stupid drunken ramblings. I don't want to go to their house. I don't want to hear their bands. I don't want to drink their alcohol.
I didn't take the money, and fuck you for asking.
--Z
ouch. that must hurt uncontrollably.
but your pride will heal.
just pretend they were never there.