The day Sandro made me really ugly for the first time!

Sandro annoys me very regularly, of course. He often knows best. Better than scientists, doctors, specialists from all fields. Sandro is king of mansplaining.

Moreover, he really leaves everything behind. At home I don’t care about him. Not at my house.

All this is easy to handle in everyday life. We speak quickly to each other, get annoyed for a moment and then calm down again. The fact that there are hardly any major arguments is mainly due to me. I am insanely addicted to harmony.

Our differences have almost become a tsunami several times. But it never exploded. Until last week. The good man made me so hateful that my addiction to harmony quickly faded into nirvana.

Sandro missed an appointment that was important to me. Not in a figurative sense. He really overslept. He didn’t hear my countless phone calls. The reason is simple: he had simply drunk too much the night before. He was so blue he set the alarm for somewhere instead of 8. If he had really asked.

That’s not even important. I don’t care that it collapsed the night before. If he had been there the next day. I might have thought he smelled a little and his hangover a little annoying, but I wouldn’t have caused any drama. Not really.

But I made one.

A big.

Sandro and I agreed to meet at his car at 9:00 AM. At 9:10 am I called for the first time. At 09:40 am I stood in front of his door and rang the bell. At 10:30 am I called for the last time. My feelings were ambivalent. On the one hand I was afraid that he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. On the other hand, I knew he was just so deep asleep he couldn’t hear a thing.

The important appointment ended at 1:00 PM.

At 11:50 Sandro called me for the first time.

At 12pm I had 9 missed calls.

At 12:30, God knows how many “Shit, Ems, I’m sooo sorry!” messages.

I have not answered a message or call.

On the way home I kind of hope he will stand crying in front of my house misery, apologizing 986 million times while holding all the flowers in this city in my face.

But Sandro is not there.

And Sandro isn’t coming either.

At 4 p.m. he calls again.

Then WhatsApp again: “The hangover binds me to the bed. Do you want to crawl into bed with me?”

WTF!

WTF?

I’m calling now. He replies in a sweet voice. “How ugly are you?”he asks.

“Hardcore”I say.

Then I launch into the whole big hate tirade. He’s going to endure. A while. Then he agrees. And explains to me that I “exaggerate enormously”. Which makes me even angrier.

At some point I hang up. Without saying goodbye.

Then happens…. Nothing.

Not even the next day.

The next he writes: “I smoked us a peace bag.”

I have to laugh before refocusing on my anger.

It’s been two days now. I didn’t answer. To be honest, I still don’t know how we can get out of this number.

(@Sandro: Stop reading here. Dumbass.)

Do I miss him? Terribly!

Am I at least a little less ugly? Yes!

What do I think of make-up sex? No idea. Haven’t had a real one yet!

Ah, sex.

We haven’t had sex in a long time.

i miss sex

And now I’m going to google how to end fights in relationships. Well, I don’t have to. I have got you. Haha.

So what to do folks?

Thank you.