(no subject)
I'm sitting in England, typing.
Behind me, Chris lies in my bed. On my pillow. Wrapped in my blanket. I can't help but be disgusted. My room smells like feet that are not mine. No, we didn't sleep together. He attends King's College in London, and is a "friend" of mine. He wanted to visit Canterbury, so I offered to host his stay; I wanted to return the favor that he kindly offered to me during my last London visit. He let me sleep in his bed then, so now I'm letting him sleep in mine. So here he is, stinky and drooling, lying in my bed.
He is very dumb. I can't seem to ever hold a conversation with him. He always confuses my words, and I wonder if he has the capacity to truly just listen. I am so frustrated because I feel like I just wasted a weekend that I could have used to write one of my many essays, read one of my many assignments, write one of my many letters, plan one of my many trips. But no; I'm sitting here in my smelly room typing quietly because Dumble-Dee is snoring behind me.
And he tried to kiss me. He opened his mouth as wide as it could possibly go, and placed it over my lips. Like an open glass jar over my mouth; a wet open glass jar with a gross tongue inside. It was awful. And then, I had to have to most awkward conversation with him about how I'm anything but interested in a relationship with, let alone kissing, him.
I'm repulsed. And my room smells. I wish that my friends were here to help me laugh at this, but I am anything if not upset. Ugh.
Behind me, Chris lies in my bed. On my pillow. Wrapped in my blanket. I can't help but be disgusted. My room smells like feet that are not mine. No, we didn't sleep together. He attends King's College in London, and is a "friend" of mine. He wanted to visit Canterbury, so I offered to host his stay; I wanted to return the favor that he kindly offered to me during my last London visit. He let me sleep in his bed then, so now I'm letting him sleep in mine. So here he is, stinky and drooling, lying in my bed.
He is very dumb. I can't seem to ever hold a conversation with him. He always confuses my words, and I wonder if he has the capacity to truly just listen. I am so frustrated because I feel like I just wasted a weekend that I could have used to write one of my many essays, read one of my many assignments, write one of my many letters, plan one of my many trips. But no; I'm sitting here in my smelly room typing quietly because Dumble-Dee is snoring behind me.
And he tried to kiss me. He opened his mouth as wide as it could possibly go, and placed it over my lips. Like an open glass jar over my mouth; a wet open glass jar with a gross tongue inside. It was awful. And then, I had to have to most awkward conversation with him about how I'm anything but interested in a relationship with, let alone kissing, him.
I'm repulsed. And my room smells. I wish that my friends were here to help me laugh at this, but I am anything if not upset. Ugh.