you complain we never have sex. The day I decide to do my hair and make up,put on some sexy lingerie, leave some coy little notes for you, light the bedroom with candles etc… and wait for you to get home from work so I can ravish you and show you how much I love you and that I can initiate it… Well you ignore my notes, when I hear you come in. I wait a few minutes before texting you to find out whats up. You poke your head in the room and tell me your not in the mood. But… I’m trying to make an effort here. WTF!? What is fucking wrong with you? I’m standing here looking hot and ready to fuck, and you don’t want to? Why do I bother? Don’t make me feel guilty and turn this around on me like I’m the bad guy. You’re fucking selfish. Thanks for making me feel like a cheap whore you prick. I am ready to be done with you. Oh yeah and go drink youself into oblivion… its nice to see you can handle my emotions in a productive and grown up way. I’ll just go finish crying in the bathroom. Enjoy your whiskey, asshole!

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