Help Me! I am Drowning in Self-Pity!

I never wanted to be with D. We broke up years ago for many many reasons.  Then one day I changed my mind.  Because I am one to pass the blame, I blame my brother in law.  One day he told me in passing, “You and D are only hurting yourselves by not getting together now and finally being happy.”

Shortly after that our world fell apart, but my mind was hooked.  My BNL’s suggestion was out of nowhere.  Sure, D and I flirted and smiled at each other.  Sure, we hung our almost nightly just watching TV and talking.  But really, did I want a short-tempered redneck that worked too hard with angry teenage children?  I guess after I thought about it; it didn’t matter if he was short-tempered if he never was with me.  After time, the teenagers even grew up to be young adults that moved away.  All that really matter is how he treated me, and I know he would do anything in the world for me.

Needless to say, I finally let him woo me.  He would compliment me even when I wore sweat pants and show up unexpectedly to my house.  Still, we had one problem. D was in a terrible break-up.  Moving from friends to a relationship would only work if D dissolved this relationship with the other girl.  Boy, did he complain about the other girl.  She drove him insane.  They broke up at least once a week.  It was because of this rocky relationship and one of D’s surprise visit that we failed miserably at our second chance relationship.  I should’ve known then that I was going to turn myself into the rebound girl instead of the next girlfriend.

It was during one of these visits that D had finally had enough.  Finally had enough of her shit that he was done.  He packed a bag and left for good…or so his story would go.  He said all the right things. He made all the right promises.  We had already had a relationship prior to the night, so I didn’t think of the consequences.

Of course, like every after school special, we stopped talking so much.  D stopped his random visits.  His rocky relationship would continue as he moved to his own home.  Instead of always being around, I never really saw him.  He stopped returning my calls and texts.  When we did talk, he would either be aloof or super attentive.  I learned that those super attentive moments would continue through the day or until we would give in.  He wasn’t with her; he wasn’t with me.  He was enjoy the single life with both of us.  This was not what I wanted, but I guess I let it go out of denial, and I had no choice if I wanted him in my life.  Why did I want him in my life? 

Still, I did.  After I gave myself permission to like him, I could not turn it off.  I was delusional.  Fortunately, I pretty much recorded the entire relationship.  It would be a fantastic book if it ended with him sweeping me off my feet, happily ever after.  That is not going to happen, no matter how many different ways I can imagine it.  Yes, I have several versions; partly because I read too many novels and listen to too many country songs.  These written account should see what I have been through.  They should convince me to be DONE once and for all. 

Now, here I am…YEARS from the first night of giving into my impulses, driving the long way home to pass his house…where, yes, the new girl’s car is parked.  I honk only to make him remember me and also to prove that I am not hiding my drive-by peek. I suck big time.  Even as I am beating my ego with a iron crowbar, I am googling D’s most recent Facebook friend.  What an idiot!

It is like his asshole behavior was more attractive than when he was nice.  Why is that?  The same reason that now that I am ready to be with him, he is not ready.  Basically it feels like he did all that work to get into my pants and once there, he was like, I can do better. And what do I do?  I swoon.  I bend over backwards to get his attention, to get him to see him, regardless of price to my self-respect.  And now after it is all over, it isn’t over.  I can’t get over the fucker. What the hell is my problem?

 

 

To Cheat or not to Cheat?

To cheat or not to cheat?  I don’t really understand the question.  Why do people cheat?  However, I do have a way of attracting guys in relationships.  This is partly because I fear commitment and because I’m slightly lazy when it comes to putting myself in those situations.  I have always been the person that tries to turn a friendship into a romantic relationship.  Perhaps it is because “they” say that people pick their friends based on a similar form of attraction.  Or perhaps, I really would rather be halfway to the sex with someone I already know.  Plus if it doesn’t work, friends can sometimes pull off string-free sex for a month or two because it gets totally screwed up.  Who knows?  Maybe that is the problem.

2012 was the year of NOT being THAT girl.  I wasn’t going to allow some guy to play me, only to find a girlfriend or a fiancé in the background.  I tried my very very best to not fall for that again.  It did not help one bit.  D only lied about his girlfriend, and I ended up doing it unknowingly.  Once again I have not kept my resolution, and I really had an okay start at that one.

Now D is injured.  He is stuck at home after a minor car accident. I have tried to be a good friend; I thought this would inspire us to be friends again.  Still the first chance he gets, he pexts me.  (Pexting is definitely a whole another story and not something I established my opinion about it.) Anyhow D and I have discussed the fact that he is NOT in a relationship with BF.  Now that he is stuck at home, my visits have always been prearranged and not when BF was around.  Furthermore, I “noticed” that my name was not exactly in his phone; my initial is though.  (Kind of the opposite of sneaky on his part)  So who is wrong?  Me?  Him?  Both of us?  Her? D and I are not in a committed relationship;  is it my problem if she hasn’t asked the right questions? 

In my twenties, I lived in the big city; but I still think there is a lot more cheating in the Midwest.  We could blame it on boredom, I guess.  I am the other woman, not the clueless happy girlfriend.  Both roles have their disadvantages.

About five years ago, I found myself in this situation for the first time.  It was the most crucial experience I have ever had; and since it happened, I have been spiraling downhill ever since.  Jay and I kissed in high school once, so when I ran into after my recent move it seemed like a dream routine relationship in my mind.  We were friends.  We were halfway there.  Proud of myself, I made the first move.  I asked him out for a quick drink with others.   It ended in some heavy petting and a return phone call.  Fairly simple.  I unmistakably inquired if he was  in a serious relationship.  Apparently that is basically giving a guy a loophole.  (My lesson could be to never finish people’s sentences and ask open-ended questions if I expect honesty.)

Of course on the fast track relationship, our heavy petting left us just wanting more, so being the slut I am, we settle for a discrete date that leads nowhere good.  The very next week leads to me seeing Jay and his “not-serious” girlfriend.  I know it is more than “not-serious” instantly because he would not talk to me anywhere near her or their table.  I went to high school with him; he was one of my brother’s best friends.  (Girls:  if you boyfriend does not have a single friend or acquaintance that is female, be wary of who they are hiding from you.)

I did not hear from him after that for a couple weeks.  Then after the New Year, he called me again.  I agreed to see him, but before the encounter, I heard rumors that he got engaged at Christmas.  Following another roll in the hay, I asked about the rumor.  Jay was engaged.  I am not proud to say that our relationship continued over the year they were engaged.  She got pregnant; he called me on his wedding day.  I offered to stop it; he said no and promised we would stop after the day.  It didn’t stop.  It didn’t stop after his daughter was born.  In fact, I think it finally stopped because I met someone else, someone unattached for once.  Within six months, he was divorced. 

For about a year or two, he was single or said he was. We met up once or twice in that time period but never habitually.  Our relationship never went to any commitment; not that I could ever trust him.   The thrill was gone for him after the relationship was over.  However in the last eight months, Jay has met a new girl; one that has money and loves to travel.  Now he wants me to help him out before the wedding.  After my refusal, he said I could come to the wedding this time, and I didn’t need to stop it.  The papers were filed last week and all was done.  He still wanted to meet to release the tension.

REALLY?  Why would anyone do this?  What makes me so appealing as a mistress?  Is this what single girls in their late-thirty are expected to be?  A mistress, a prude, a cat lady, or a divorcee?  Are those really my choices?  There has to be other normal people out there in the world. Is this a result of laziness on my part or just poor luck?  Am I just a slut?  How long are we supposed to be holding out these days?  Five dates?  Does that ever work? Does it take five dates to find hidden fiancées? 

Friendship, Love, or Multiple Orgasms???

My relationships are like a bad aftertaste that can span over years.  Either I invest too many emotions in them or the other person does.  D is done…officially. Five years of a love-hate relationship bookend by sex.  String free sex does not exist, at least not with him.  He wants to sow his oats all over town.  I am confident it is over…for now.  He may be someone who revisits every five years.

Simultaneously, Boz, from three summers ago, calls at least once every three months.  (I think I can use his real nickname here; because sadly, he has a nickname.)  Now I’ve mentioned him briefly before, but I didn’t admit to why I even consider him an option.  He lives with his parents and is literally a farmhand at thirty-five.  Still he is hung like a horse.  Something that might require work for many men, he does not have to try at all, which is good because he would never be able to find the spot on his own.  His mother spoiled him, but his father is probably hung, too.  She is just delusional from multiple orgasms throughout her many years of marriage.  I have always toyed with the idea of Boz, but once he is allowed in; he won’t leave. EVER. The list goes on and on with him.

Of course with my need for a change, I began to revaluate my relationship goals.   Based on my lessons in life over the last five years, I have learned the terrible truth about being friends with men.  Perhaps after a few more mistakes, I will realize that guys are only friends until they get into your pants. No matter how good of friends I thought I was with a man; they have proven to only be friends with alterative motives.

Second I learned, having a large penis is not everything….at least not for a long period of time.  Being well endowed is like being blind…okay not really, but blind people are supposed to have better hearing.  Having an enormous cock takes away from their brains.  Boz reminded me of this when he sexted me about licking my kilt.

In addition, I learned that honesty is not essential in those early dates for men.  Some guys will tell you anything.   When Jared told me on our first date that he wasn’t seriously dating anyone; I should have questioned further.  It was a little odd when our third date ended in me forcing him to admit the rumors of his engagement were true.

Furthermore, I broke a rule and actually dated a parent of a former student.  I was head over heels in love and dumped after I left for a school trip to Washington DC.  He married within the year.  Another dating fluke included my perfect gentleman.  Keegan called when he said, dropped flowers before our first date, opened car doors, paid for dinner, and was unemployed.  Once he got a job, he breaks up with me because I did not seem interested since he did all the calling.  In truth, I never had a chance to call; he always had the right timing.  It was all good because as a gentleman, he was slow to go around the bases.  All those manners apparently slow down the sex because after several dates, he stayed on first.  Perhaps he was hoping for another batter to hit him in.

Which brings me to the purpose of this blog; relationships are based on what?  Friendship?  True Love?  Multiple orgasms?  I think the lowdown dirty truth is that I am going to have to start completely over.  Pass on D; pass on the gigantic dick; pass on hidden girlfriends and fiancées.  Start over when someone I don’t know at all.  Start with first names and the whole shebang. And you, my blog, the people who do not actually know me, the people who may judge but do not speak, I promise to keep you in the loop.  I promise to try to move out of my comfort zone to find some new sex.  Now if only we could get guys with the big cock to wear a pin or something.

Tosh.Maybe if I’m Awake

Daniel Tosh may be the biggest tool on television, but that does not stop him from being as sexy as your second cousin during a long dry spell.  If he was not funny, he would never get laid.  Still, I caught myself laughing at one of his inappropriate jokes about women and realized he was sadly correct.  Tosh said, and this is hardly a quote, that women associate the feeling of love with orgasms, and that is why he never lets a woman get to orgasm.   Not a hard feat for many guys, but Tosh made me think about my own relationships.

Guys are definitely better in their old age.  Forty-something is better than twenty-something, and before that just does not count.  Forty-something are not in such a rush because they are old, face it.  They figure that they can do it once well and twice is pushing it.  Do it right the first time.  On top of busy lives, once a week would be excellent.

I love D more and more each time I hang out with him.  A year ago we were hanging out nightly, just chatting and watching TV.  I said no over and over again to his advances and flirtious behavior.  Months and months of chatting, finally I put out.  Now we never hang out without the purpose of having sex.  He cannot even visit without finishing the deal.  This would be perfectly fine, of course, if he still visited five times a week.  But now he “works” instead.  I see him every two or three weeks.  Clearly he has another girl or maybe he is just that old or maybe he really is masturbating in a hotel room on a job site in some random city in Ohio or Illinois like he says.  Regardless his phone does not work for some reason.  He is completely absence for a good two weeks after penetration.    I am smarter than this, still….

“They” say that the average husband would prefer sex five or six times a week.  But, D is not that great of a catch on the surface, so I can’t imagine him having girls all over the tri-state area.  In a attempt to get over my feelings for him, I have tried to convince myself of these flaws.  His balding head and dick shed…his poor grammar and his redneck ways….really, he is not much on the outside.  So, it must be the “inside” or is it just the orgasm?  Each time, I am so angry with him, but every time he comes around again I am all for it.  Is this love?  Or is this an orgasm that I have confused as love?

Reverse Cling

Well, hell!  I guess I lost the battle.  I played the game so well.  For years I pushed D away, trying to get him to be more independent.  When we dated in 2005, he was so clingy.  He called all the time, even to just leave a message.  Every night would have to involve us together.  It killed me.  Now our roles have completely reversed.  I am not sure where I went wrong.  I played hard to get.  I refused until the near end to sleep with him while he was with his next girlfriend.  I held off his advances week after week after week.  Only to find myself here!  What luck!

I am sure that playing the game was half my fault.  Or it was that one night he fought to end his relationship, only to end up at my house to escape.  It could have been me finally getting in the shower after he nearly ran my water cold until I agreed to join him.  It could have been that next week, ironically last Halloween, where I assumed his relationship was still over, and he was angry and missing most of the evening.

Guys always want this string-free sex.  That’s totally fine, but the only way to get me into bed is to shower me with attention and flirting through the evening.  I am not completely easy.  However, when D is done flirting and gets his way with me; he gets his 80’s jeans too tight.  He stops flirting, and something that was acceptable to do when he was in flirt mode is not acceptable in his post-coital .

Truthfully I love proper string-free sex.  In California, I had a couple good runs with it, mainly because I really have no interest in getting married or having children.  In the Midwest, it’s different.  Oddly enough, the men lie more.  I would say that half of the guys I have dated are trying to sample their choices before dumping their current relationship.  And honestly, I would rather be the girl they sampling than the poor girlfriend.  Still, it’s crappy a guy in the Midwest acts first, and if a girl does not actually asks him point-blank if he’s in a relationship.  Guys feel like that gives them a way out of their lie later.

Another problem with string-free sex in the Midwest is the inconsistency.   D and I have created a pattern, or rather he has.  I am not sure how it happened, but once I recognized the pattern, I knew I was losing the battle.  It goes like this:  I see D somewhere, at a store or a friend’s; and then three days later, he is trying to reach me to get some right then.  Sadly, he hides with work and whatever for nearly three weeks before the pattern begins again.  I think string-free sex should be at least once a week (although I prefer more).

The final issue with Midwest string-free sex is the secrets.  In California it is perfectly acceptable to have a fuck buddy.  They can be claimed, and although the relationship could end for any number of reasons, it is monogamous for the most part.   I always knew that my regular fuck buddy was only calling me once a week or so. D is so secretive.  Who knows what he is doing for three weeks?

Still, I wish life was again like a movie.  That Justin Timberlake movie where he has string-free sex, and in their deal, they promise to not sleep with anyone else without making it known to the other.  In today’s day and age, should people really be having sex with multiple people at once?

I guess what I am saying is that I have to get D to commit to at least these three conditions.  As I reflect once again on the morning after, I wonder what the day will bring.  There is a new Halloween party tonight, a year later.  After his visit last night, after seeing him at my parent’s three days ago, I told him he better not be mean at the party.  And sadly his response was, “Then don’t be so clingy.”

Oh, the world we live in…

Taking Sex off the Table

No String Attached is a new movie out about two friends that have sex without the ties of a relationship.  As much as anyone, I wish this could actually be true.  There is always someone who wants more from the relationship…more sex or more emotions.  Normally it is me.

When it happens to me, I tell myself, “I told you so.”  I have actually tried to steer clear of these types of relationship as I have grown wiser.  Not because I don’t like no string attached sex, but because often the strings just get more tangled in these situations.  It’s an oxymoron.

For once, unfortunately, I have found myself on the opposite side of one of these relationships.  I realize I would rather be the “victim” rather than be responsible for such pain.  This is probably just because I am a girl.  This is probably just because I got to play the crying loser so many times.  This is probably because some guys just can’t be shaken.

D and I dated years and years ago, and ironically I broke up with him for many reasons, yet number one was for something I believed was better string-free sex.  A different story, but it ended in the asshole getting married and wanting to continuing the string-free sex.  I have not made the best decisions in life; hence why now I have grown.

After D and I’s relationship ended, he ran away with his tail between his legs, and I moved on to the aforementioned failure.  I never went into the reasons for breaking things off with D.  In fact, we succumbed to the best break-up relationship:  he hid for a few months, and we never mentioned it again…well at least for a couple years.   This excellent break-up that still kept us friends was probably because I didn’t tell him every little detail to why I ended the relationship.  I thought I was being noble or respectful.  D and I have been friends for years.  What he needed from me was to end the heartache and what-ifs he still believes in today.

One reason I dumped D was because I was more independent than he was.  He was so incredibly needy and could not be alone; something he admits to even today. He immediately found himself in a new relationship, which is still continuing four years later.  He lives with her but hates their life.  I knew when we started dating that his hope was to move in together; he just appeared like one of those guys that wanted to settle down out of laziness.  They moved in together in less than six weeks.

Now D is faced with a relationship he can’t seem to get out of; mainly because it would cost him some money to find a new place.  It goes against the code of laziness to find a new house.  He dreams too big.  He can’t live with an apartment; he wants to house with a garage for less than five hundred.  It isn’t going to happen, not even in the Midwest.   I know the real reason he doesn’t want to leave.  He knows he has it good, and he is actually hoping to save some time.  Instead of getting a place and wasting money, he would rather fall in love with someone else immediately and move in with them.  Every girl’s dream!

Our friendship has been tested in these months of indecision on his part.  Because he can’t be alone, he travels around town visiting every person he knows over the course of the day, sometimes multiple visits per house.  He avoids his home unless it is dinner or time for bed.

At my house, he watches TV and says nothing.  I try to make conversation with him, and he answers as all true men in grunts and huhs.  It is like talking to myself, which isn’t even something I do in my alone time.  Now that I have given up on making conversation with him.  Another reason I broke up with him years earlier was because he called all day long, even while I was at work, about nothing.  He would call with nothing to say and nothing in common, but sex.  This doesn’t seem to bother guys.

Still this new friendship probably could have worked.  He whines to other friends about his relationship.  I guess he finds that because of our past relationship, a whole five weeks five years ago, prevents him from getting into dirty details.  When he does speak of his relationship, it is because he wants sympathy for his sad life.  I rarely had to listen to the whining. However, there was a little bit too much alcohol one night.

The other people we were out with were extra drunk.  I suggested something along the lines that he babysit me, so I am not totally stupid and could get home.  He laughs and makes a lunge like we are going to hug…it’s more like rubbing up against each other.  Again I am drunk.  I add that he should also not take advantage of me.  This begins the end of our friendship.

Beginning a rant about his girlfriend, he starts to remember our old times of only five weeks.  He remembers them fondly, and in his stories, it lasted years not weeks.  Not in my right mind, I actually suggest if he could get out of his stupid relationship and move out like he always talks about, we could have no strings attached sex.

I make it home in a dizzy walk alone; it’s only blocks. I have no idea what I have started.

D starts to visit more and more often.  He begins to suggest really long hugs when we part.  I don’t even hug my sister good-bye.  As we sit on the couch, he attempts to rub my feet.  I have learned to sit in a totally different chair, so as to not sit next to him.  He alludes to sex and how willpower is difficult.  It clearly doesn’t matter that he has a girlfriend.  His sights are set on ME!  In his fantasy our willpower overcomes us, and we just naturally move in together.  No work involved.

Another reason why I broke up with him five years ago was that he didn’t “date”.  He hung out.  He watched TV.  He tagged along on normal events.  The relationship was probably a tiny bit more than five weeks of sexual lust.  When the lust was gone, I was over it.  It should have only been no string attached sex in the first place in my mind.  D was never someone I saw a future with, sadly.  As he spends his time driving from house to house, I feel sorry for this poor girl he lives with.

For weeks we continued to just hang out; weeks that involved him accidentally bumping into me in order to touch me and more hugs.  Fed up with the defensive tactics I had to utilize in his presence, I began to attempt to not-quite-so-subtly get him to stop making the offensive remarks and touching me.  I explained that I didn’t want to be the girl he jumped to next, that I didn’t want a relationship, that his lack of loyalty to his girlfriend was unattractive, that I was, in fact, not lusting after him, I tried EVERYTHING! I told him that he was not allowed to visit my house with the thought of a sexual relationship.  It wasn’t fair to his girlfriend.

I was brutally honest, and finally about two weeks ago, I upset him enough that he didn’t visit for like four days, a miracle to say the least.    When I did see him out, he went to hug me good-bye, and I made him hug another friend too to prove we were hugging as friends.  In the end, our only meeting was short and sweet.  I love it when you tell a guy to back off and he tries to punish you for your accusations by backing off.  He really showed me.

Five years ago I broke up with him because he was needy and dependent.  Not to mention the teacher in me dreads D’s vocabulary and lack of social skills.  He doesn’t listen to anything, and when he doesn’t understand what is being said, he turns it into something sexual; making a vulgar comment about how just sitting next to each other is an extreme feat on his part.  His jokes make no sense most of the time and his grammar is atrocious.  Not an exaggeration but a true redneck.  Don’t get me wrong he is a loyal true friend and would help with anything in an instant.  However, he is more like a good friend with a mind of a teenager at forty and not a love interest.  We are better as friends.  The teacher in me can hardly avoid necessary cringes with every ‘it don’t’ and double negatives.

Upon D’s return, he did improve for a few days, but I can still see him slipping back to his old ways.  Clearly sex with him would include so many strings it would be impossible to escape without totally destroying the friendship.  Yet, I will have to be brutal.  Yesterday he asked me if I had fantasies about him, I looked into his eyes and said with a laugh, “No.”  It was hurtful.  Still I am going to have to be even more than honest.  Sex has to be taken off the table all together.

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Striptease

My sister decided to go out?!?!  She is far from someone that just goes out and drinks for the night.  It isn’t a bad quality; I have a lot of fun with her at our houses, playing cards or just hanging with the boys.  I felt I needed to jump at this particular opportunity to actually go out with her, but there was a catch in the evening.  My sister wanted to go to the Male Review at the local small town bar.

There are four bars in my town.  We have two stop lights and about five thousand people.  The bars are pretty segregated.  It reminds me of The Outsiders.  We have one bar for the preppy people, one for the middle class, another for the vets, and one for the diehard rednecks.  We joke about easily bar hopping in our tiny town in which even the wealthy are a little redneck; this only emphasizes the term “diehard rednecks.”

The RatTrap is the middle class bar, but on the night of the Male Review, women from every social class and every age were present.  When my sister and I arrived, the performance had already long begun.  The men had already redressed for at least a second time.  The women were wild.  Upon on our entrance and lame cover charge, another friend mentions that one of the strippers picked her up.  My sister and I laugh and find stools, so we can sit down with her and some of her friends.  I am not introduced to the girls, but as the night continues I know we could never be great chums.

At this time the strippers are dressed in various outfits, like the Village People: the policeman, the cowboy, and the construction worker.  One “man” in a sequined vest yelled into a microphone, “Ladies, what’s better than one dick?” pauses for effect and answers himself, “ Four dicks!”

The crowd goes wild, and the strippers  rip off their pants, exposing their undies.  One stripper has on a thong with an extra long, clearly fake, package hanging to mid thigh.  They start through the crowd, dancing with the women, dry humping people, tucking their thumbs into their boy shorts, and definitely driving the women crazy.

I am just taking the whole scene in.  One girl seems quite forced into allowing the stripper to kiss her neck.  While another girl was screaming in excitement as the stripper lifted his leg over her shoulder. Another girl was desperately trying to back up as the cowboy stripper, only donned with a cowboy hat and boy shorts now, shook his ass in her face.  When I look to my left, I see the thong stripper who now definitely reminds me of Mr. Clean with his bald head and tiny gold hoop earrings (side note: his beer gut was unlike Mr. Clean’s).  Mr. Clean proceeds to pick up a small girl a few tables away and lift her to his shoulders.  Then in the midst of the whole sight he rubs his entire face in her crotch!

I ask our friend, “When they picked you up, is that what they did to you?”

She nodded, “I didn’t see what you saw, but I am sure it was the same thing.  They caught me off guard.” She shrugs in acceptance of the embarrassment she had to face.  I could tell she would be paying better attention from now on.

At that point, only ten feet away from this poor forsaken girl, I knew I had to get away.  The strippers were converging on me like wolves from all sides.  Knowing I could be the weak link and not sure that I could get away without resorting to violence, I instantly move to the door, away from my sister and the other girls.  One of the other girls was now spread eagle by unidentified stripper that had lost all of his accessories.

I leave just in time because Mr. Clean is coming to the girls directly in front of our group.  I learn later that he actually pulls one girl’s hair at the table.  Her BFF, in tight white shorts and a flowering busty tank top, jumped up in her defense ready to throw down, but the stripper was smarter than that.  He moved onto our group.  This was when my sister joined me at the door.  The one friend there who had already been molested darted through the girls around her that she knew, skirting any contact with the strippers.

We are safe for the moment.  My sister is trying to snap pictures of a stripper rubbing his junk in a girl’s face.  She seems to be enjoying it since she is grabbing his ass.  We order drinks, safe at the bar, near the door.

Now the stripper has moved onto dry humping the next girl in my very old group of associates.  My sister and I start our trash talking instantly, checking this guy out.  We can be pretty funny when we want to be…maybe a little mean, but funny.  Harmless…  Anyhow, we don’t have a lot of work we need to do more than observing him.  His shaved legs, tattoos, boy shorts…..and the hunting boots do it all on their own.  He grabs the girl’s ass, as his stripper’s friend tucks his thumbs in his shorts revealing his plumber crack.  Some of these girls are wild.  We are the only ones hiding at the pool tables and the bar.

But wait, I am wrong.  The dance floor is packed with girls, while all the strippers are parading themselves through the audience.  After a quick snippet of “Humpety Dump,” the dance floor clears and the men begin to sell tickets for their undies.  Who wants some stripper’s sweaty nasty boxers?

The doorman tells me that I can get my own ticket for $2.  I explain that they couldn’t pay me to take a ticket.

Soon numbers are called and the lucky women are rewarded with the experience of dirty dancing with each stripper, removing their tight boxers, revealing again the boy shorts and Mr. Clean’s thong.  What’s worse than winning the men’s underwear?  Having to remove them in front of 100 screaming girls!

The show is clearly winding down.  The strippers complete one more circle around the room for last minute tips and good-byes.  I am positive some numbers are traded.  Heck, Mr. Clean just gets dressed and hangs out for the rest of the evening.

A girl who won a goodie bag from the local sex shop stops by the doorman.  Pulling a box from her bag, she smiles at my sister and I. “I just won my very first dildo!” she exclaims.

My sister inquires if that is really true.

“I have always just needed these,” she says as she shakes her fingers in the air.

We all laugh.  Someone tells her she will never go back, and we laugh louder.

The night was supposed to be funny.  I was sure that we would spend the evening laughing with our new friends and AT the strippers.  I guess I was surprised that we were only a few of the people there for that purpose.  Some of the girls had every intention of enjoying the erotic evening with Mr. Clean and his friends.  I had no idea that I would be fearing for my life, clinging to my sister for strength in numbers.

As the bar clears out, literally all the town’s players shuffle in trying to get the last of the horny girls.  The night continues with my sister and me.  Of course, most of the topics discussed are off topic of this particular blog; another time if you’re lucky. For now, my sister and I are much closer and probably should have a monthly outing minus the nasty strippers.

Pinch Me, I Love You

I haven’t written for awhile, but this isn’t a late blog, I didn’t mean to submit this months ago.  This incident just happened this past weekend.  I don’t know how things like this happen to me.  I can’t be totally innocent; it isn’t a coincidence that bad dating situations follow me.  If I knew how to stop the insanity, I definitely would.  I thought I took a break from guys three months ago.  Isn’t that like being on base in tag?

The Dumbass mentioned in “The Deed is Done,” and other blogs before it, finally ran into me last night at the local pub, three months later.  Upon his arrival last night, I repositioned my chair so that maybe I could avoid him a bit longer.  It even worked for a bit.  Some boys have this tunnel vision that stops them from checking out their surroundings.  Whereas, I believe, girls like to take an immediate inventory of the room to attempt to foresee and solve any possible problems, perhaps that bitch from high school is lingering around or that old boyfriend or, in my case, the guy that wouldn’t leave might be hanging around.

Of course, I decide to finish my drink and move to the pub next door to solve any issues.  My Best Friend for the Night, BFFN, without hesitation understands our predicament.  Successfully, I hide while our drinks our finished, I say my good-byes to others, making my presence known, and head for the door assuming I could just maybe avoid the problem altogether.  I am naïve.  I know this.  Before my exit, he makes a comment about me not talking to him immediately; still I think I could be safe.  I am happy to switch locales.

Entering the other bar, we scope out the surrounding, greet a few acquaintances, and find a seat. It is less than thirty minutes, and everyone from the other bar has moved to this one, the downfall of a small town.   As soon as we split up for the purpose of the bathroom, Dumbass is instantly hovering over my table.  Not caring for formalities or friendliness (it has been three months since we have even spoke), he jumps to why I would break up with someone like him.  He tells me, “I know you think you can do better than me, but have you changed your mind?”

I did use every excuse known to man when I broke up with Dumbass after barely two dates.  I told him it was me not him, I told him we lacked passion, I told him I was out of a bad relationship and needed time, I told him I liked his buddy more than him, and I told him it was just not going to work out.  Hasn’t anyone read He’s Just Not That Into You.  People make up harmless reasons to be polite.  In reality, I never could get myself to find any entertainment in kissing him; I did not specifically tell him this.  By the end of our second date I was dreading his puffy vacuum suction lips like my boss avoids buying clothes in her actual size. As I attempted to dissolve this dating drama, he retorts every excuse I offered.   In his defense, I did start with a couple “let him down” easy reasons; still I moved through the real reasons and made up some for good measure.  Know a good reason to stop dating someone after the second date?  I used it.  It didn’t matter.

This particular night, he is ranting on about how I am wrong, and we could be good together, wink, wink. Doesn’t the Bible state something about winking being a sign of the devil?  I believe it.  After listening to his diatribe for the millionth time I have ceased to state anything but the truth.  He soon parts but clearly stays nearby.

He hugs some girl and looks in our direction.  He orders a drink and looks in our direction.  He laughs like the big fat Santa he is and looks in our direction.  I was good at dodging his “look-at-me” moments.  I really did not care.  It was just that they were not short little glances.  I could feel them burning into me.

Personally, I was having a humorous time making friends with a townie with a mullet. Tucker was actually quite interesting.  My BFFN and I met him earlier in a pool game.  Unfortunately, he was forced to leave to order to maintain a restraining order his ex-wife placed on him.  He really wasn’t being disrespectful and insane, just friendly.  Knowingly we were still on alert.

After Dumbass realizes that I am an absent audience to his bizarre mating ritual, he begins to have an insane stare down challenge.  It is too much for me to withstand that I have to look up.  Ignoring him, I return to my conversation and BAM!  He has rocketed over, crouched down like a charging bull without horns.  Nothing has changed from his stare; the same sinister stare from six feet away, only now inches from my face.  I back up to the wall, shocked.  “You don’t know what you are missing!” he taunts.

“I guess so,” I flatly state, “I’m okay with that.”  He darts away after brushing four jazz fingers over my shoulder.

My friend and I are a bit flabbergasted.  All the same, the night continues.  We visit with random people and soon Tucker returns.  Tucker explains that his wife now has come over to this bar, but he is not leaving.  He doesn’t care what she says.  My BFFN and I agree that she is following him and giggle.   Mistakenly, I decide to share our experience with Jeff with him.  He immediately transform into Head Bouncer and personal bodyguard.

Now, I have only just met Tucker.  I don’t know him all that well.  Nevertheless, Tucker is an inch shorter than me, sadly thirty pounds lighter.  He is trapped in 1988.  I could beat him up without much effort.  He is hardly someone to pick for a bodyguard.  Dumbass could be easily four times his size for sure.  My BFFN and I make a feeble attempt to stop him, but he has already crossed a river of people and is standing behind Dumbass making small talk.  However from our point of view very little happens.

The night continues.  Friends continue to pack the bar.  At least forty minutes have passed; we are having a fantastic time.  Ironically, Tucker’s ex-wife comes to warn my BFFN about Tucker’s cheating issues.  My BFFN insists that we are only Tucker’s friends.  It isn’t long before Tucker has returned, and we can see his ex-wife making gagging motions behind us.  We try to contain our laughter (who needs to get in the middle of redneck spousal abuse, she probably could take Tucker, too) when Dumbass has stared me down literally into the wall behind me.  None of us even saw him coming.  He has been apparently perfecting the stealth of a fat ninja.  He looks in my face as hard as he can. Tucker puts his hand on Dumbass’s back.

“I can’t believe you!  Now I won’t get to come to your dad’s party this year.  He invites me every year,” he sneers.

“I am sure I won’t ruin your invite,” I state knowing my dad’s memory of such trivial things.  He invites everyone in town to his yearly July Fourth Party.  I am also in my mid-thirties, so I am pretty sure I have little to say about my father’s guest list.

Dumbass shoots behind my chair and instantly begins to knead my shoulders.  It is a Monica Geller back massage, the best worst massage in the world.  I dodge away from his hold.  Again, he leans in towards my face and mocks scornfully, “You just don’t understand.”  Then he pinches me.  That’s right!  The forty-year old vacuum sucker from hell pinches me.  Not just a playful pinch, a pinch so hard with a twist on the end.

“What the hell?” I screamed, “Get off me!”  He departs, and I rub my arm sure there will be a mark in the morning.

I teach middle school.  Please tell me that adults do not act like this for real.  I can’t remember the last time I was so violently pinched, maybe fourth grade by my brother.  Holy Cow!  Is this supposed to make me change my mind about dating him?  The only thing it made me do is want to change my phone number.  People wonder why I don’t care to marry.

He’s Just Not that Into You

Okay, I have accepted that I can no longer date this poor boy. I just hate to break the news to him. I toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, but now I have decided to use an old stand by.

I read He’s Just Not that Into You because I was heartbroken at the time. I recalled all the stupid excuses I have heard from guys. I recalled all the time boys never called back. I think I enjoyed the men that made excuses over the ones that didn’t call.

Now all I have to do is get brave. In my thirties, I have finally figured out how to break up with people gently…maybe. I just have to get up the nerve. I should practice, “It’s not you, it’s me,” “I just got out of a tough relationship and don’t know that I am ready for a new one so soon.” “I’m being transferred to Yemen.”