Sam takes away my mouse.
"You don't use any of the functions of that mouse, and I will use them."
And in its place, I get this miserable piece of black plastic that is too small for my hand and which is inaccurate in the way it points.
You know, when you are getting off with a guy, and you are kissing him and you slide your hand down his pants and he has a big dick. Then think about it when you slide your hand down his pants and he has a small dick? That is the difference between how these two mouse feel in my hand.
It slides around on my mouse pad, which is actually Derek The Dinosaur, one of my favourite kid's books, like a twink with a well lubed arse, not quite able to pick a spot to settle on with any great feeling.
Grrrrr! Not happy
I'm threatening to go and buy my own mouse.
Sam just looks at me like, go on then, go and buy one.
I shrink back into the study, I hate it when he does that.
(update – Sam buys a new mouse and gives me back my mouse. He's lovely, my boyfriend. Can't help wondering if I am just a whinger)
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