Ain't No Boyfriend Like A Fake One

Clingy might just get on my nerves. Almost every other time we IM he asks if I have any new pictures. Other than the five you have already seen, um, no. He asks if I took any over Christmas when I went home. Yes, but they weren’t digital and not yet developed. He seems disappointed. Suddenly, I can’t help but picture some sick mother fucker sitting in a room with pictures of internet women plastered all over the walls, stroking his magic love stick. I can’t help it. I have to know.

Me: are you a perv?
Clingy: what?
Me: are you one of those sick bastards that looks at my picture and masturbates?
Clingy: no. why would you say that?
Me: stop asking for my pic. you’re freaking me out.
Clingy: I’m sorry. I just think that you’re beautiful and I love looking at your smile.

Oh lord. Whatever, dude. Dinner with Mary Poppins. Talked to Prince on the way home. He’s still offering to come see me at any time if I wanted to, you know, hit it for ol’ time sake. He’s too funny. Gotta love that guy. And I love sleeping with him. But it’s sometimes too emotional for both of us. So we will lock that thought away in our emergency stash.

I swing by the bar and find Preach and FB. FB is hammered. He can barely stand up. I decide it’s a good time for our dart rematch. I’m an evil bitch like that. Darts aren’t working the best so we sit and talk instead. Before I know it FB is blubbering about Sassy and how he just doesn’t know if it’s going to work and he sometimes feels like…you get the picture. It’s the same thing I was hearing from her on Saturday night. Oh, these two. They’re so cute but they fight a lot. I feel bad. I give him the most unbiased advice I can muster and a kiss on the cheek. Poor lil’ guy. And then he says “You know, you’re the coolest girlfriend I ever had.” I tell him he’ll always be my best fake boyfriend.