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Oh woe is me

Oh woe is me, my dear readers. It's 11 PM and I'm still in the office. My work is done, my eyes are closing and yet I still can't bring myself to leave. How can I, knowing that all I have to look forward to is an empty apartment and another sleepless night? I hate, hate, hate when Tom sleeps at his place.

We've had fights before. Big fights about little things, little fights about big things, but something about this one is just so unsettling. I'll start at the beginning: Tom has this 'friend' Jenna. Perfect little Jenna with no job who can spend her leisurely heterosexual days with my man. Sure I should be understanding - Tom does need a companion when I'm stuck in my employer's ("Alphaboss") clutches for hours on end - but I want her to die. No, excuse me, I'm a little emotional. I just maybe want her to choke and have to be given the Heimlich. But not by my Tom...she would like that too much.

I tolerate her as best I can. We've taken her to dinners and listened to her whine about how there are no good men in LA. I would tend to agree with her if I wasn't so savvy to the fact that what she was really saying was that "there are no good straight men and who I really want is your Tom." But I digress. I am a bigger man than her and have bitten my tongue over the past few months and allowed this charade to go on. That is, until three days ago.

It was Tom's birthday. I was sitting on his bed, covered head to toe in wrapping paper. Yes, I looked as cute as you think I did. And yes, it took me hours. And yes, I couldn't be more excited for Tom to unwrap me!

I heard the door open and Tom's breathless pant. He had been working out, keeping up his killer physique for me. Or so I thought. Or so I hoped. The desire rushing through me turned to rage when I heard Jenna's raspy voice. She's here! In his apartment! On his birthday?!

I ran to the bathroom, unseen and unnoticed, but not unaware that this bitch was trying to straighten out my man.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had to take action. So I grabbed a towel and covered up as best I could and burst out of the bathroom to confront this bitch head-on. I let that little priss have it. I stood up for what was rightfully mine and told her to find another tree to bark up and, if she knew what was good for her, to pick a straight tree this time. I went on to some harsher things that I will spare you readers from. In truth, I am a little disappointed for going so low. She left and I was alone to face my infuriated Tom.

I couldn't believe how he could still defend her. So I opened my big mouth and reminded him of when we watched "The Object of My Affection" and he said he'd consider "changing teams" for Jennifer Aniston. In hindsight it was a little immature but after all those sweaty runs and shared pinkberries was it really such a far-fetched idea? I reminded him of how giddy he got when Alphaboss told him how good-looking he is and that he could "get girls." Maybe he jumped out of the closet before really thinking it through? Maybe he still wondered if a companion with perky boobs and a stupid tulip tatoo on her stupid hip was something he could get used to?

So, I said some things I shouldn't have said. I questioned Tom's homosexuality. I accused him of using me for my family money and my agency perks. He turned on his heels and left. And with that sultry flourish of his wrist, he flipped me the finger. I knew I was wrong. I had made a huge mistake.

I gave into the evils of jealousy and Tom gave up on me.

Why am I such a self-destructive creature?

If only he knew how his absence torments me. I cannot sleep when he's not there. My dreams turn into nightmares. I wake, drenched in sweat, dreadfully missing him.

What do I do, dear readers? How do I get him back?

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