Why I Hate Dirtbags.
Assholes will be assholes, no matter whether your relation to them is social or sexual. An asshole won't stop being an asshole just because he fucked you. A liar won't stop lying just because he kissed you. And the biggest douchebag in the world won't stop being the biggest douchebag in the world just because he held you.
I'm crazy about assholes. I love being pushed and shoved around by there egos and being pinned down beneath their tendencies. And that is why I have a problem. My problem is that I love assholes, and that assholes will always be assholes.
I made a mistake. In fact, I've made quite a few mistakes recently. I'm obsessed with my reputation but I've done a great job butchering it by putting myself in situations where I could be misjudged. I managed to hook myself the king of assholes, and I went crazy for him. I fawn over neglect, and he was the master of it. Because of that, the more he neglected me, the more I was doomed to want him, and neglect me was all he was ever going to do from the moment I left his side. I knew I could catch him at his nice moments, maybe snag him for another night or two when his guard was down, but I was too sidetracked by how attractive his mean actions were, and I wasn't paying attention to what the hell I was doing while I tripped over my cool and face-planted right in the lap of his damage. Unfortunately, I mean that literally.
And what happens when a bitch with feelings hooks up with an asshole without is what should be expected every time. You wake up with dirt in your mouth and as much as you want to believe it was worth it, actions to follow will prove that it wasn't. He'll continue to push you around as if he never used those hands gently. He'll continue to spit on your shoes as if he never used that mouth romantically. He'll continue to be an asshole, as if he never used that cruelty to his advantage. Three days later, what's done is done, and I can't take it back no matter how badly I wish I could: I got Dave Joyaled.