75

I don't know where did I get that sort of bravery (or cowardice, it depends on how you see it but I'm choosing bravery) when I walked away from him, feeling like a warrior, like a modern Mulan, escaping him and his expensive car with the built in driver, because no means no.

But yes, I do want to be his breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Or all of them. My battery operated boyfriends know how much I want to be his meal.

I chose no not because I'm challenging him so I'd get to be his meal. I'm saying no simply because I'm tired of being ignored, of being treated as if I'm invisible.

It's my day off, I