it wasn't what you did, it's what you didn't do. sure, i'd never seen you before, but you didn't realize i was a woman and have needs. you didn't acknowledge my mole removal. you said nothing about my eyebrow waxing. i even bathed and plucked my chin hairs. the pedicure was wasted on you. so i kicked you out. you didn't have to be such a baby about it, wailing "what? what did i do? jesus, you're hurting me!" when i started kicking you and puching you in the face. you winced like a girl at my bloodcurling screams and started bleeding like a little stuck piggy when i threw my lamp at you. that's the last time i take home a boy instead of a man.
where are all the decent men in this town? boston "men" are a bunch of sniveling, whining, little momma's boys. they're all "you're hurting me" and "stop going through my trash" and "stay away from my children or i'm calling the police," like some pathetic little college boy who's never had a hard time in his little fancy educated life. it makes me sick.