Or just plain full of it. I can't decide which.
I've decided to write a book about my experience as the partner of a sex addict. Not just because I want to write a book, but because I've kept so much silence for so long that it seems the only way to begin healing is to tell my truth.
If you didn't already know this, I work with Roi, and we work from home. This makes it difficult to get any space from him when I need it. Today I needed it, so I drove to a cafe/used bookstore that's known for great food and pretty reliable internet. I planned to type out the first chapter of my book which I had hand-written, and to work some more on it.
Then, oh dear Universe you have got to be fucking with me. Surely you did not seat one of Roi's booty-call freaks just one table over from me. Surely you did not mean for her to lean over and introduce herself laughingly to the women sitting between us so that my attention would be drawn to her and there would be no mistaking who she was. Now you're just fucking with me, right?