I hate it when people don't know when to leave.

I love having people over for dinner (I hate cooking for just one person) and I enjoy good conversation BUT I have things to do. Things like my laundry. Things that I really don't want or need Mr. Daisy's supervision to do.

And it's not just tonight. It's every time he comes over. It's really obnoxious.

(But come to think of it, it was really obnoxious when we were dating too.)

You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right

I think I'm just going to make it MB month.

I think I've said this before, but when MB and I were dating I was really really sick with RA. For those of you who aren't familiar with the symptoms of this disease, you can look it up on WebMD. Basically imagine the worst case scenario and that's where I was (and this time I am honestly not exaggerating).

When I was first diagnosed I could hide the pain. I didn't limp and as long as I didn't sit in the same position for too long I was okay. But of course things got much worse before they got better (and they did get better--if I didn't tell people they wouldn't know today).

The worse things got, the more self-conscious I became. I knew people on campus were talking about me and why a former dancer now stiffly limped around the quad. My hands swelled up and began to disfigure. I couldn't walk in high heels anymore. I lost a lot of weight (actually, that wasn't so bad) but I also lost all muscle tone (that was bad).

I didn't feel pretty or attractive at all.

To make matters worse, I became completely uninterested in sexual activity. Frankly, it hurt too much to fool around.

To his credit, MB was really good about most of it. He didn't press things too much and he understood why I clutched his hand in a really weird way when we went out. I'll never complain about how he dealt with the RA.

Until the night he decided he needed some action and went to the strip club.

There are few things in this world to which I am unequivocally morally opposed. Selling sex is one of them. Call me a prude or whatever, but I think prostitution or any of its derivatives is absolutely repugnant. I can stomach most "sexual eccentricities" (I don't engage in them but when I think about others doing so it does not make me physically ill). I have no tolerance for a woman (or a man for that matter) selling her body. And I have no tolerance for men (or women) who are willing to pay for the experience.

(Can you tell I took Sex Ethics for my religion Senior Sem?)

But putting that aside, if you know your girlfriend is stricken with a chronic deforming disease and you've talked about how unattractive she feels do you really think the best thing to do is go to the strip club with the guys?

It accomplishes nothing (other than destroying the trust that should be present in an intimate relationship). It's not like the strippers will finish you off so you have to do it on your own time which men do anyways. The only difference is you are now thinking about some other woman's ass in your face.

To say I was hurt would be an understatement. MB could have backhanded me and it would have stung less. Of course in the end it bit him in the ass because it only made me even more sexually reclusive than I already was. I didn't want him to even look at me because I was afraid he was comparing me to the lithe, able-bodied women at the strip club.

We broke up a few weeks later because I could not trust him anymore. Maybe that was irrational of me, but when it comes down to it, if he did something that bothered me that much the relationship was not meant to be.