Take Your Crap, Leave The Condoms

The not-really ex came over yesterday to get all his stuff. He’s a not really ex, not because we’re not doing “it” anymore – we aren’t – but because he never admitted we were having a relationship in the first place – we were. But in 5 months, a lot of crap accumulated in my house.

When the toothbrush arrived, it simply seemed logical. The condoms by his side of the bed, also logical. But the cookbooks, materials for projects, books about stuff we wanted to do together? That’s the stuff of relationships. And in a lot of ways, ours was great.

Okay, the relationship sucked. But the sex was fucking amazing. Amazing fucking.

The relationship didn’t really suck. Everything we did together was fun, and we did lots together. We had things in common that nobody has in common with anybody. We were always together, and it always ended in great sex. Our bodies were made for each other. And as hot as my body is, it is not easy to figure out. The thing is a mystery to me, but he went in, and didn’t come out ’til he knew how it worked.

But he never admitted we were in a relationship. Or that I mattered to him. Or that I was any different than anyone else – even though there was no one else. When I finally said it was over, I think he was genuinely confused. I began to think that the reason he never admitted it was a relationship was simply so that it could never be over.

So when I told him it was over, it was like nothing changed. Except that we stopped having sex. (Which sucked, because his body and….  god.) And he got angry and short-tempered with me. Like I was always doing something wrong. Just because I didn’t want to be his not-really-anything anymore.

So yesterday he came over to get his crap. He was in a bad mood from the moment he arrived. At one point, I laid on the bed, watching him gathering his stuff. And he lay down next to me. It was sweet.

For a moment I forgot how badly he’d been treating me, and I just saw him there and I thought that we should totally have one last fuck. A long, hard, messy one. I know full well it will be a while before I can find someone who can do what he did. He had taken off his pants before laying down, and I could see his magnificent cock through his underwear, right there, so close….I turn my head to make contact, and he does the same.

Then he adjusts so that he is lying on his side and makes a face as if something horrible has happened. Sure enough, he reaches under his hip and pulls out my vibrator. Nice. A little more wiggling and he unearths the headphones from under the covers too.

I look around quickly. The lube is on my side, the handcuffs are under the bed….

The condoms are right where he left them. And I picture the box of condoms I bought him for the vacation we just took together, and the fact that he always made sure they were with him when he went out dancing all night and I stayed in. Shouldn’t they have been left by the bed, with me, also? God, I’m an idiot.

He holds up the vibe. “It works every time,” I say.

He gets up and finishes gathering all of his things. My heart was breaking a little with each item that got packed up. But I couldn’t get him or his crap out fast enough. ENOUGH!

I just crawled into bed, right now. My vibe is right where it should be, under the pillow. And the condoms are still on “his” side of the bed. Someone will use them, I’m glad he left them. It’ll be like the whole Cinderella thing, if they fit…..

And they won’t fit just anyone. This is hard. Thank goodness he left the vibe too.


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