lady scarlet

I did it, I actually did it. It’s actually pretty hard to believe.

Right now I am feeling empowered like one of those feminazi , Martha karua types but I know deep inside I will terribly regret it tomorrow. 

Oh, y’all are probably wondering what am yapping about; well… lets just say the boyfriend didn’t call and I found out from reliable sources that he isn’t dead and rotting in his living room so I went ahead and gave Peter the time of his life, I laid him, I fucked him, sushid him up… call it what you want… its every bit as disgusting as the words used to describe it. I guess i am a lil' bit slutty, but who isn't? He is actually lying next to me as I write, blacked out or asleep or pretending to be, I do not care, I actually wish he would leave so that I could take out the bottle of tequila that Sheila and I bought to nurse our hangovers last Sunday… which reminds me, Sheila is going to kill me when I tell her what I did. I know the bright thing would be to just move on and pretend it didn’t happen but am not good with secrets and its either I tell Sheila or I get drunk and blurt it out to the boyfriend, if he still is the boyfriend that is.

I hate him so much right now; if only he had answered my calls, he would be lying here not wearing those god-awful ugly boxer shorts, and there wouldn’t be a used condom on the floor… does this fool actually expect me to pick that up? I miss my man terribly… you know, cheating might actually be healthy for relationships, its only now that I am appreciating the little things he does like disposing off the condoms far away from my bedroom floor and removing his socks before his underwear…(its true what they say, naked man in socks is not a good sight). Anyway, what kind of man agrees to go sleep over at a chicks place, call me old- fashioned but if Peter was the gentleman he appears to be I would be in his bed right now.

I hate that I miss him when he is being such an ass hole. Am tempted to hope that if at all he is with another woman right now, I hope he is hating everything about it and missing me.

I will however admit that this whole hiccup is my fault, although I do not live for regrets… this is one of those things I am sure I will regret. At least I do not have to worry about people at the office finding out. Not because peter is the all-so-reliable types but because I was labeled an office tramp long before I ever engaged in any thing worthy of qualifying me for one. No one could understand how a fresh graduate, 20 years old (at that time) could nail my job without offering up some pussy or at least some head. “Haters, the only head I offered was my brain and yeah, am that good”

So tomorrow Peter will have a tale to tell beginning with why he has repeated the same clothes to work, unless he plans to wear one of my mini-skirts.  And I will have a nerve wrecking hangover after the tequila I am about to down. Goodnight loves.