Proud Mary

This so-called relationship that I am in right now is on the rocks!  Her name is Mary, but I call her Annie.  Remember this: she is a prostitute, but I am not a john.  We are dating for reals.  I could care less about the fact that she is having sex with a thousand dudes a week.  I am jealous, but not for that reason.  I’m jealous because she makes an insane amount of money and all she has to do is fuck people.  It makes me sick!  I want that job in the worst way!  So I am jealous of her money and  her superior accessories.  Especially her sunglasses.

And it gets worse.  We were having a casual conversation one afternoon about our busy schedules.  I’m a struggling writer/loser, but I am surprisingly busy and on the go.  I just happened to mention in a completely innocent and oblivious tone that we were so busy — me with my running around in circles and she with all of her . . . work.  What I’m trying to say is that I called her a prostitute.  She Is A Prostitute.  Did that irrefutable fact stop her from flipping out when I brought up her work?  Uh-Uh.  No Sirrrrreeeee.  So I can’t even mention her profession in conversation.  I know it will not come up all that often, but it sure is tough to never mention your partner’s job.

So in this failing relationship, I am the Proud Mary because I need money and I refuse to ask her for help.  And she doesn’t like me drinking and using salty language.  This is going nowhere.  A lot like this post!  I promised to write more.  Even if it is total crap.

Sorry.