I should’ve known better than to even think for a second that there could be a reason for my quitting smoking. As logical as it seems that there should be and that that’d only be fair, life isn’t fair. Maybe it’s so I won’t be wheezing my ass off as much when I get woken up at least every other weekend by the weekend basketball game. There’s no way this fan and this noise machine, even together, are gonna beat out that ball bouncing just a few feet away. Someone might as well go hammering on the outside of the bedroom wall.

Last night was the third time in a row that he just “couldn’t” get in there. I’ve been cumming less and less myself these last few months. That’s cuz I’m just so sick of the lying and the teasing. And as always, God is of no help. He doesn’t care. No, he couldn’t care less. Tom’s latest line, excuse, whatever, for his sudden inability to know how to fuck, is that couples that have been together for a while, tend to become used to certain routines, that people assume too much, and therefore fall out of sync. This is utter and total bullshit. That’s like saying that the more you practice sign language, the more trouble you’ll have with it. How stupid and naïve does he think I am? He also claims that I couldn’t know this, but when you’ve been with a guy for a long time, it’s normal to have trouble getting in there at times. Yeah, right! With the exception of when it was too painful for me, Ron never had a problem, and I was with him on and off for 6-7 months. Bruce didn’t have a problem, and Al and Mark wouldn’t have had a problem if it weren’t so painful for me then. Al had premature ejaculation.

Jesus Christ! Can next door slam their car doors any harder? At least I didn’t hear any music, but it must be a tough job to rig a dog up to a car. If it’s not attached to the car, then it can definitely reach it. He’s gotta be parking deep in there for the dog to protect that stereo for sure. This all began after I screamed at them last July. Maybe the city did contact him after all, cuz if the music’s gonna stop, the door slamming’s gonna escalate.

Anyway, as I was saying, I just don’t know how many more years of excuses, lies, and games I can take here and it’s really weird, cuz out of bed, I always feel loved and completely unabused, but in bed, half the time I feel like a sex toy who’s head and whole being, actually, is being abused.

First he couldn’t get in from our side position, then he couldn’t get in up top. Then I said - to hell with it - and got up. Then he claims he wanted to screw, he wants a child, he would’ve gotten it in there, and he would’ve cum. Who the fuck does he think he’s kidding?! Now he tells me that if I’ll let him, and if I’ll be patient and not give up, he’ll get in there for the next few nights, and cum, too. Yeah, and I’ll be a millionaire for the next few nights, too.

It all comes down to the same thing - I’m sterile, God doesn’t give a shit, Tom doesn’t want a kid, and we’ll never have one. Even if his sex drive suddenly soared out of control and he got over his fears and came like hell, do you really think God would allow me a child? Hell no!

It’s too bad Paula never sent me the pictures she said she’d send, but what did I expect? I don’t think she has a camera, but she said something about buying one. At least she calls periodically. Shelly never even did that and despite the shit she was going through, I felt like our friendship was totally 1-sided. That’s typical of what God would have for me, too. The only difference is that I stopped going along with it one day. I love Shelly dearly and I’ll always appreciate her looking out for me back then, but it wouldn’t be fair, as unfair as life is, for me to be the one to do all the calling and writing.

Speaking of calls, Andy said he’s keeping really busy with work so he doesn’t think of pot. Therefore, he doesn’t have time to call NA groups to set something up with them or with a therapist. Then how is it that he has the time to call me every day? I told him for the hundredth time, that unless something’s wrong, I’d prefer not to talk every day, but it’s gone in one ear and out the other as always.