Tinder My Foot!

My relationship woes continue.  Of course, it was bound to happen, but I ran into D with the new girl.  Thankfully, she was not a super model, nor am I though.  I have tried to push through.  I don’t need him.  He treated me like crap for the last year; regardless of how he treated me prior to that.  The charm that he had when we first started this evil venture has long since wore off now.  He has not been that man for years.  I really have no idea why I am so hurt by it; my view of this make believe relationship is absurd.  Am I really this delusional?  I find myself wondering if it ever resembled the picture in my head.

ANYHOW, I thought I would change my outlook. I would find a new guy that would be perfect for me….or just someone different to stop my mind from thinking of what the freak went wrong.  My last few relationships have ended miserably.  Not to mention, I seem to actually attract losers.

Now I know what you are thinking…no one just attracts losers.  Well, this time I have actual proof that just by looking at me at first glance, losers stop and notice.

In my attempt to open the door to new people, I joined Tinder.  I know this is probably not the best way, but I am not meeting anyone at work.  The bar seems like loser heaven.  I don’t have a clue how to pick up a guy.  Should I just in a library or a grocery store and wait?  Should I walk loops around the park or go to church?  So, I started small.  I am trying.  I am new at this.

Tinder is a site to meet people in your area.  The app allows you to look through photos and short descriptions of people.  It is linked to Facebook, so it in some cases, you can see if your friends are friends with the person in the photo.  At first it wasn’t bad.  The rejection is painless.  If you like the photo or whatnot, you like it.  If you don’t, you don’t like it.  If the person in the photo receives your photo and also likes it, then you have a match and both people are told

So, all was well.  I met a couple guys too far away, but oh well.  I was still trying.  The other night I was contacted by one guy.  He seemed nice enough, and after a little chatting, he mentioned he thought we knew each other from a high school job.  I vaguely remembered his name, but I figured this was a decent sign.  Apparently we were both in relationships at that time so long ago.   It took another ten minutes of chatting for him to reveal that he was unhappily married and only looking for attention.  (He actually says this!)  He was not sure he wanted to step out on her just yet.  WTF?!?!?  What girl wants this?  Why would I want to give him attention when he is only lacking attention because he’s been an ass to his wife for the last ten years?  When I ask him about it….he says that they are best friends.  Oh isn’t that pretty and cute….what an asshole!

Any suggestions are welcome.  I am thinking I might try just about anything.

 

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.

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.

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.