Insomnia, the Lecherous Orc, and Packing

Both before and after my death-nap on Tuesday I haven’t been sleeping much — I have been too busy packing and obsessing about everything I still need to do.

On Saturday night my ex, who still is living here, brought over an old friend of his, who I’ve never met. He seemed like a nice guy, but he was — to me, anyway — rather unattractive. I described him to someone and it apparently sounded like I was describing an orc from Lord of the Rings.

I assumed they were together based on the way he was looking at my ex, like some lost puppy who had just found his master. It was actually pretty cute. However, my ex was either not into him or more into me, because he ignored the gazes and ran to his room to show me that awful footage of that poor French vaulter who annihilated his leg. Then he insisted that I drink some of the wine he got.

The last time my ex had a friend over, things were more awkward with us, and he proceeded to make things even more awkward by, uh, bragging about my junk and then telling me about it. I have a feeling that the same sort of thing happened this time.

They went out and I was up packing, fretting, and despairing until like 3am when they came back, drunker than Bacchus himself on a bender. I heard a light tap on my door and answered it, fully expecting my drunken ex to make things awkward again. Instead, it was the orc, wearing only a shirt and boxer briefs. Unfortunately, he was very happy about something, judging from a certain protrusion. He said that my ex was drunk and wouldn’t get into bed and was kind of being belligerent. He asked if I would come get him into bed.

I did, but my ex was in his boxer briefs curled up, having clearly just gotten in bed. I asked him a few questions and he asked me to move so he could puke. Into a mesh trashcan. With only a paper Trader Joe’s bag for lining. He’s not really much smarter when he’s sober, but he was profoundly drunk. The orc started rubbing my back and thanking me for coming in there. I shrugged him off, and part of me started thinking that he wanted a threesome with my ex and me. Never. Gonna. Happen. However, any attempted touching or fornication with my ex would have been rape, that’s how drunk he was. He puked again, I shrugged off the lecherous orc again, then again, and got the hell out of there after admonishing my ex to drink water and sleep on his side.

Since then, things have continued to be awkward, with my ex checking me out like a starving, feral beast would leer at a piece of bleeding meat…yet he is keeping his distance. The packing is hell. I hate packing. I have a few things left to do, and I need to do it tomorrow, because the movers are coming the day after. Next time, I swear I’m paying someone to pack for me too. At least on Saturday I will be able to sleep again. No worries. Just sleep.

Maybe next time I’ll also hire a bodyguard to guard my door from orcs, lechery, and wayward, conflicted ex-boyfriends.

~ by Darren Endymion on August 11, 2016.

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