Well, Shit

by gooseandsoda

It was a peaceful Sunday morning and I could no longer hide those pesky squishy feelings despite my better judgment, so I snuggled up to him. We lazed around in bed for hours, talking about nothing particularly important.

The previous day I had made fun of him for a terrible shoe choice, for nearly a solid eight hours – I took literally every opportunity to turn an innocent statement into a dig at the shoes. He knew they were a questionable choice, which I seized upon the instant I spotted them and said, “What’s up with the shoes?” and 30 seconds later he had changed into a different pair. You can’t show weakness to a predator; once they smell blood in the water it is over.

After a full day of kicking a good man while he was down, I knew I owed him a good pick-me-up, so I took the warm and fuzzy Sunday morning opportunity to show him how even though I had posted a photo of the shoes on Instagram assuming other people would confirm that they were, in fact, awful, I was rebuffed. Everyone seemed to agree that the shoes looked great. He seemed unconvinced this wasn’t a line of BS and said, “I am going to comment on how awesome the shoes are too.” To which I responded, “If you commented from my account it wouldn’t even make sense.” And he replied, “What? No, I’m on Instagram.”


I’m sorry, you’re what meow?

See the thing is, he once told me he wasn’t big on social media. That he had a Facebook account, but that was all, and he rarely ever checked it. This is important because I thought I was safe, and there are several photos ON MY PUBLIC PROFILE blasting the stuffing out of him and openly berating him with the use of clever hash tags (what? I’m not going to pretend they aren’t brilliantly rude). Although he is not identified personally, it is 100,000,000% obvious that A. It is about him. B. I’m a huge fucking cunt.

And then, so many questions!!!

1. Had he seen the photos?

2. If he had, why would he not have said anything? Or more importantly, why the hell would he still be hanging out with me???

3. Is this all an elaborate movie-quality scheme to make me adore him, so he can then kick me to the curb and enjoy sweet revenge?

4. Did he not see them?

5. If not, will he look at them now that I’ve paraded my Instagram all in his face? What happens when he does see them? How long do I have???

6. Do I take them down??? If he’s already seen them, it will be obvious why I did this if he ever checks again – will that make it worse?

7. Do I find a way to bring it up in conversation? If he hasn’t seen them, it will be awkward. If he has, will it clear the air?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it is sincerely not a shocker to him in the least that I am capable of being a major snatch. I spent an entire day giving him grief over a pair of his shoes. Thus, I decided that I’m not going to do anything.

If/when he has or will see them and it comes up, I am fully prepared to explain why he totally deserved to get destroyed for each incident (and truly, they were some choice moments), and I will offer to take it down if it actually does upset him in any way, because I DO actually care. And then, as my best girlfriend once so wisely advised me, I’m going to give him a Level 9 blowjob, sit back, and not say a word. Well, I might say “You’re welcome,” because I just can’t resist the chance to be an asshole.