Relationships

Oof.

 

Boyfriend and I had to have a difficult talk. The kind of talk that is bound to leave at least one person feeling like they have been kicked in the stomach. I am the one that wound up doubled over this time.

But.

I am a girl who, when she says she genuinely wants to know what someone honestly thinks, means it, and means it big time. I don’t want to be placated, and sugarcoated information just leaves me with a stomachache. If left to my own devices, I will imagine worst-case scenarios, and the truth is often less painful than the anxiety-fueled horrors I can dream up in my head.

That wasn’t the case this time, unfortunately. This time, the truth totally sucked.

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Well-Played, Cat

 

Eliza strongly disapproves of human sexytime.

At least, this is what I have come to believe is true, after numerous occasions of her sitting on the corner of the bed, staring at us without blinking, while we try to ignore her and remain in flagrante.

I suspect it is because I am canoodling her man. She loved me before Boyfriend moved in. Now, she merely thinks I am pretty okay, and only because I am the one who feeds her. Boyfriend has become her most prized possession, and she follows him around, flopping on her back to expose her belly for rubs, and giving him the cutest, hugest anime cat eyes ever to be seen.

She has made it clear doesn’t appreciate my compromising his ability to use both hands to pet her at all times. This was reaffirmed this morning, when it was my turn for pets. Seeing we were unfazed by the laser beams she was steadily shooting at us from across the room, she decided to up the game by utilizing one of the most effective tools in the feline arsenal: the diaphragm.

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