Scrabble

#72 loves Scrabble. He plays against his friends in person, via his iPad and in between, against the computer. He has such a great command of the English language I can’t believe I beat him the second time we played. (Although the word “myriad” was a bone of contention with us. He didn’t think I spelled it correctly. I got over 50 points for it so I’m taking the win).

A few days ago #72 sent me a text with a picture of his latest computer scrabble game. There were four words right next to one another. “Deranged. Babe. Dying. Cunt.” We thought it was hilarious. Of course at first I didn’t see the word “deranged” because that didn’t interest me as much as Babe’s dying cunt.

Is it dying? I think so. I got a little hand job after our swim in his awesome salt water pool, but I had to ask for it and it was a little awkward but it was something. Right? No, not anymore.

It’s been over 2 ½ years since I’ve been properly fucked. I’m going to be 47 in a few months and am worried that in a few years I won’t be fuckable at all. Not that I’m looking much worse than I did last year, but I can’t tell. But I’m sure that I’m not going to look better than I did a year ago, or today for that matter. Time’s a ticking. It’s not a baby clock. It’s a cock clock.

I had to end it. I tried, for a year and a half and he always begged me to give him another chance, that he’d do what I needed him to do AFTER this or that. And I know I picked the worst time possible, two weeks after his surgery, but I couldn’t take it anymore. He was lovingly calling me his girlfriend in his Norco stupor and where we’d go when he got better. And I snapped. I wrote him his morning email of support and happiness and then got a text from #71, I changed my mind. I didn’t want to be his “girlfriend” anymore, I knew how much he appreciated me and cared for me. He said it all the time. But that morning, I couldn’t take it anymore so I ended it. Lynn said fuck this, the deranged babe’s dying cunt was going to get some dick.

It’s been almost 3 weeks and I miss him a lot. I do. He was a great guy and I do love him, but it’s time to love myself more. I’ve already set up a Tinder account and got 40 matches in less than a week. I finally have something to write about. List it as a favorite, tell your friends, Lynn Halsted is back on the market and on the prowl.

Moral of the story, depending on where you put it, “over” is worth at least 7 points.