I didn’t expect it to bother me so much, but I guess it does.

At kickboxing today, they played this particular song. And I found myself thinking about the stupid message Craftsmate sent and getting massively pissed. I don’t feel like it was some grand betrayal or anything, but it was more the degree to which my place in the entire equation felt threatened.

One of my followers told me that putting Craftsmate in a situation where there was that kind of ideal painslut fucktoy whatever whatever could be massively bad. Which, ugh, gosh, why do I have to be concerned about this shit? I’ve never been part of the whole “make sure my man doesn’t stray” camp because I’ve found the entire notion of that ridiculous.

But then I find myself punching some imaginary girl on tumblr in a kickboxing class to a goddamn Beyonce song because I can’t seriously refer to myself in the third person, I’ve got a terrible pain tolerance and I feel small and awful when I’m degraded. And here I am thinking how profoundly awful it is that anyone is actually capable of it because I’m not.

Which is, you know, nasty and unfair to everybody involved. Because I know my relationship is stronger than random sexual details but then the pot gets a little bit stirred, I get a little bit anxious and suddenly I’m kicking the idea of a person.

Nice.