I get a case of penis envy, I mean house envy, learn some new dance moves, and get punked

Craig invited me over to his house this afternoon. He had a few people over, but the fabled girlfriend was nowhere in sight.

His house is absolutely gorgeous, and I got a bad case of house envy. My spare little shack is honestly all a single girl needs, and being the, er, different sort that I am, I love the decor. It was all black until I got busy with a paintbrush, and now it's pink and black. It suits me. But Craig's house is almost exactly the kind of house I want when I hit that mythical simolean motherlode. Actually, I know the house I really want. It's right on the beach, and nobody has bought it yet. I keep checking, just in case.

But back to Craig's house. This is the view across the ... courtyard, I guess you'd call it. There's a creek running right through the whole thing, crisscrossed by wooden decks and walkways. It's very modern, but not cold. I seriously covet this house. Sigh.



Okay, what the HELL IS IT with this guy? His name is Jon, and I don't know him very well. Didn't he used to be my maid? Wasn't he the one who started yelling at me out of the blue the minute he walked in the door? Or was he the one who liked me? I don't remember. Either he's a split personality or he's got a twin.

Well, he doesn't like me now. He started in on me the minute I walked in the door. Like I'd ever done anything to him! He wouldn't even look at me, for crying out loud.




Suspicions began forming when I began noticing the artfully torn shirt, the way his eyes were riveted soulfully on Craig, even while Craig was coming on to me nonstop. Forming, only to be discarded as silly. Oh, what do I care if he doesn't like me?











Craig likes me enough for both of them! *squee*







A little talking, a little dancing ... it was a fun evening. It got really late, and Craig said I could sleep over. Go ahead, cutie. Twist my arm.




I'm not slow on the uptake. No, indeedy. If you hit me over the head with a two-by-four seven or eight times, I get it.

It was around 3 or 4 in the morning. I had kept normal hours for the past couple of days, not my usual nightowl ones, and I was asleep on my feet. I'd been having some drinks on the deck with Craig, digging the breeze and the singing of the night insects. I thought he got up to go to the bathroom, but when he didn't come back I realized how late it was.






It wasn't until I began prowling the house searching for my bed, or rather Craig's bed, that the truth finally dawned on me. That I got brought up short yet again by the icy realization that I am, without a doubt, the most utterly fucking naive person on Earth.




I knew he had a girlfriend, okay? I knew I had several boyfriends. I'm no prude. I'm a grownup girl, and as long as everybody knows where they stand, nobody gets hurt. I sure as hell never expected to have to compete with another woman and another man. It's too much; I can't handle it.

And to flaunt it right in front of me after inviting me over. What the hell was that about? What possible purpose could that serve but to hurt me in the cruelest way possible?

Have a few laughs, don't hurt anybody. It should be simple. But he made me think he was in love with me. Made me feel like The One. I wasn't even looking for anything but a few laughs, and he had to go and ruin it.

BASTARD.

BASTARD!