Last Valentine’s Day

Sit on these lips.
Sit on these lips.

Last year on Valentine’s Day, I was single, as usual. I’m not one to go out looking for anyone on that occasion, but there was a band I wanted to see play at one of my hangouts. I ended up having a pretty good time and met a group of people that seemed likable. One of the group members piqued my interest for several reasons: he was retired military, looked ten years younger than his mid-40s age, and wasn’t from the area. Also, he’d been single for about a year and a half, so I knew he wasn’t on the rebound. From here on out, I will just refer to him as Horse Dick.

(**Note: First, let me explain about why I don’t like to date single guys from my area. Most of them have never even left the area and are mostly uneducated. Most do not take care of themselves and are somewhat lazy and have addictions. And many think that a woman’s place is not only in the kitchen but also should provide the main income. Just not my style.**)

After the group of us were hanging out and bar hopping, I ended up making out with Horse Dick in the middle of the street. His friends were amazed and saying we looked like two teenagers, because they’d never seen him act like this with anyone else during the time they’d known him. Horse Dick and I really hit it off unexpectedly, and he seemed so different from anyone else I’d met.

Sex was really awesome. He knew what to do with his hands and mouth, and he had one of the largest cocks I’d ever seen, hence the name Horse Dick. It was a little longer than the average length and super thick, perhaps a little too large for my tight pussy, because I was sore the following day. He was passionate and a great cuddler. I felt that I might not be able to get enough of this guy.

Since Horse Dick was retired, he had a lot of time on his hands, which I later realized became a problem. On the other hand, I had just started a very stressful high-security position at work that required a lot of seriousness and dedication. He was texting me throughout the day, which really helped me get through my days, and we couldn’t wait to see each other. Within the first week we went on a date to a park and then out for sushi. We made plans for the following Friday night. I had had such a bad week at work, it was the only thing I looked forward to. Plus, I was exhausted, so we agreed on a take-out dinner and movie night.

About fifteen minutes before he was supposed to arrive, Horse Dick texted me to tell me his friends needed a designated driver, so he decided to go with them instead. I was a little confused, because I didn’t know if he meant he was going to be late or he was not coming at all. He just wasn’t coming at all. I was furious!! I said why can’t they Uber it or take a cab? It wasn’t far from where they lived. I might have expected that type of behavior from someone in his 20s but certainly not anyone in his 40s! I told him how rude that was of him to stand me up. He wanted to make it up to me the following night, but I decided I wasn’t about to set aside another weekend night off to be stood up again. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to speak to him again after that, but I got a good night of sleep and decided to anyway.

We saw each other only once or twice after that, and the other times we’d made arrangements, he made excuses; his behavior was inexcusable. A few weeks later, I ran into his friends again. I hadn’t seen Horse Dick out anywhere. His friends told me that he’d left them all high and dry (he was their roommate), left the state and went to marry his ex girlfriend. I was completely shocked, because this was the woman he’d broken up with a year and a half prior, and to my knowledge, they were done. I suppose he was chatting her up the entire time he was seeing me or standing me up.

Horse Dick’s friends actually told me that I’m better off without him, that he had so many issues it was unbelievable. Of course, I never got to see all of those issues, thankfully, although I do suspect substance abuse may have been a major one. But once in a while I spy on his Facebook page and see that he still posts new selfies every other day.

Long John, the Pilot

He loved my ass, but he was an ass.
He loved my ass, but he was an ass.

When I was about 22, I worked as a secretary for a large company. Even though we had about 100 employees, there were never any guys that piqued my interest… except this one that came in to work temporarily. About 10 years older, he was a pilot fresh out of school and caught the eyes of all of the females that worked there. We were immediately attracted to each other. He was tall, short dark curly hair, blue eyes, very nice build, and intelligent. I’ll just call him Long John, because he had a huge dick.

I believe it was he that started the conversation, and we exchanged numbers. Long John asked me out to dinner, we planned lunch together, and eventually he made dinner at his place. All of this happened within a week, so it was pretty quick. I thought nothing of it at the time, given that I was very inexperienced with actual dating.

Then the red flags started. By the end of the week, he’d told me how great I’d look in a wedding dress. It was flattering, but I wasn’t looking to be married anytime soon. My cousin (a female) visited me while Long John was at my house, and he became jealous, because I wasn’t giving him attention. Even my cousin noticed this and thought it was strange. And then one night when we had some drinks, I noticed Long John’s entire personality change… to the point that I was fearful of making the wrong move.

Prior to meeting Long John, I’d arranged a cruise to the Bahamas. My friend bailed out on me, so I ended up going by myself. I needed a ride to the port, which was hours away, so Long John offered to drive. It was the longest, most awkward drive, because he acted like a dick and hardly spoke to me. He seemed angry that I was going on this cruise without him, even though I’d arranged it months prior. At that point, I wouldn’t have wanted him to go anyway, because he was acting like he owned me. The last mistake he made before dropping me off was telling me that he didn’t trust that I was going to be by myself.

When I came back to port, I had no one to pick me up, because Long John decided not to. I had to call someone and wait for hours for a ride. It was probably a good thing, because during my trip, I had a lot of time to think and realized I didn’t want anything more to do with Long John.

At work, he ended up calling in sick (which I knew was a lie) and then just stopped showing up. I was glad, because I didn’t need to deal with his awkward jealous glares. I’ve never seen or heard from him again. Not a bad thing.

Sex at the Beach with Frankenstein Head

He pulled my bikini aside.
He pulled my bikini aside.

I met Frankenstein Head when I was about 24. He followed me around one night when I was out with the girls and he kept talking to me. At first I ignored him, but he was persistent. He was two years younger and we’d gone to the same high school. I thought he was hot at the time – tanned, muscular, blond, blue-eyed. (The only reason I named him Frankenstein Head was because he had a huge forehead, and as he got older, it got bigger.) We had a lot of fun and got along great, so we were seeing each other for a few weeks.

We had the BEST sex ever right on a beach once in the middle of broad daylight. Hiding behind the dunes, I could hear families with their kids, and of course I was afraid of being caught. It was hot and sweaty and just amazing, because it was the first time I’d ever had sex on the beach.

At the time, I worked at a night club as a shot girl. One night at work, one of my co-workers came to me and said “my man” was dancing with another girl. Knowing he had a lot of female friends, I blew it off, because what guy is going to do something stupid in front of the woman he’s seeing at her work?

But he completely ignored me, left with the girl, and ignored my pages (yes back when people used pagers!). I was fuming!! Eventually, he came back to my work on another night and apologized, said he “bonded” with this girl, that all they did was talk about old times. But I didn’t believe him one bit. He said he was sorry, that I deserved better. I walked away from him, but he followed me insisting he was an asshole. I said no shit!

Then he had the nerve to continue coming into my club with his new girl. I’d throw ice cubes at him and some of the other girls I worked with “accidentally” spilled drinks on him. I think he finally got the hint.

As it turns out, he dated that girl for a short time, but she left him for his good friend and married him instead.

Date With a Cop at the Compound

He tried to seduce me with Enigma.
He tried to seduce me with Enigma.

I obviously had a thing for uniforms and guns and ended up on a couple of dates with another cop I met in one club, then left and saw him in another one that same night. He was persistent and I really wasn’t interested, so I made him work for the date and wouldn’t give him my phone number. Instead, I gave him my email address and corresponded a few times before actually feeling comfortable enough to call him.

He invited me over to his house for lunch one day, which was nice because I could leave quickly afterwards. What I didn’t realize was that he lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in the area and his house was surrounded by a huge wall with security gates, etc. I felt like I was at Hotel California – you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave without anyone letting you out. But since he was a cop, I felt that he was probably safe, so I overlooked that part and made an evening date with him.

Unfortunately, he never took me out on a real date and invited me back to the Compound. He made dinner, but he seemed a little freaky and rehearsed, blasting Enigma on the stereo and trying to seduce me. I’m not even sure we actually kissed, because I don’t remember. I do recall using his bathroom and wondering whose long hair was on his floor and how long it had been there.

I wish I could get into more detail with this one, but all I can say is I think he liked his cats better than me. They got more attention and probably got more out of the date than I did. As it turns out, he was Crooked Cop’s best friend, but I hadn’t met Crooked Cop yet.

Years later I ran into him a couple of times when I was married. He was doing the same exact thing he always did – at a club getting shitfaced and trying to pick up women.

Other Random Bad Dates

These shoes were not made to run from jerks.
These shoes were not made to run from jerks.

As I’m reading through my scrapbook, some of these I remember and laugh at. But some I barely remember or not at all. For example, this one I honestly do not remember whatsoever:

This was supposed to be a weekend getaway, but it turned out that I couldn’t get away fast enough. Probably in my early 20s, I was invited to spend the weekend in another town. There was no chivalry whatsoever. He would walk at least 3 to 5 steps in front of me, sat down at the dinner table before me, didn’t bother to open car doors, asked me for money, “joked” by saying annoying, sarcastic, demeaning things, and would put his hands on me in public to show that I was with him. On top of it all, I ended up paying for dinner! Apparently, I never saw this person again.

Meat Packer:
He never became an actual date, but I saw him at least weekly. This guy worked at my local grocery store’s meat department. He’d been flirting with me on several occassions, always making conversations, etc., but he never asked me out. So I finally got the nerve to ask him out instead. His response: “I don’t think my girlfriend would like that very much.” I was pissed and embarrassed, so I started shopping at a different store.

Stinky Pillow Guy:
Back before Tinder and Match and other dating sites, people sometimes met on Yahoo Personals. I was in my mid to late 20s when I met a guy that lived about an hour or so away. He was very polite and very sweet, even in person. We got to know each other for a few weeks online and by phone, and when I met him, I liked him. Since he lived far and I didn’t want anyone at my house, I made plans to stay the night at his house – on the couch. Our date consisted of me giggling at the fact he didn’t have many table manners, but it wasn’t because he was rude; he was just inexperienced. We went to a sushi restaurant where he proceeded to wipe his face with the o-shibori that was presented to us at dinner. Then I watched him butcher sushi rolls, because he’d never eaten it before. We then rented movies that he talked through the entire time. Finally, I prepared to sleep on his old pullout couch with an awful bar in the center that killed my back. Then he gave me a nice moldy pillow for my head, and I immediately suffered an allergy attack. I guess he assumed he was going to sleep with me and took it upon himself to jump in next to me and put his measley hands all over me before he started snoring loudly. I managed to ease my way out and left in the middle of the night and never turned back.

A Few Times I Dated Pilots

I just wanna fly...
I just wanna fly…

(**Note: I’m still going thru my old scrapbook stories, so many of my newer posts are derived from that.)

I used to live in an area where there was a flight school, so whenever my friends and I went out, we’d always meet pilots. I was probably in my late 20s when I met a pilot from Venezuela. He was in his 30s, and we hit it off immediately. I thought he had a lot of class, intelligence, and was attractive. He’d told me he’d been divorced for 7 months, but hadn’t been together with the wife “in a long time”.

I was really looking forward to getting to know him better, but after the crooked married cop situation, I decided to do a little research. Lo and behold, there was no divorce. When confronted, he became defensive and thought I was being ridiculous. I told him to call me when the divorce was final. I got a call from him a few months later at the beginning of the summer, and supposedly the papers were signed. Then the asshole stood me up for a date.

At the end of July, I bumped into him at a club where he introduced me to his new girlfriend. Four months later, they were engaged. Fly away, birdie, fly away!

Another pilot I met at a Best Buy while we were both arguing with the jerk at the computer repair dept. He seemed really cool, only a couple years older, and he was kind of hot. The first night we went out, he said, “I think I could fall in love with you.”

That was waaayyy too soon for a first date, and it completely scared me off, so I never called him again. I saw him around a few more times, and he thought I hated him. I didn’t hate him, but I was certainly not ready for the “L” word either.

The Time I Dated a Crooked Cop

This is me undercover.
This is me undercover.

Shortly after I graduated college and began a professional career, I went through a cop dating phase. I suppose it had to do with ending up in abusive relationships, and psychologically I was attracted to law enforcement types, because it made me feel safe.

Sitting at the bar in a small club with my girl friend, this guy walks up to order a drink and we start talking. He was maybe five years older than me, not at all what I would normally be attracted to, but for some reason I was attracted to this guy. He told me his name was John, and he was a DEA agent. Ah-ha! Now that explained the attraction.

Supposedly, John was “working” while we were sitting at the bar. I can’t remember if he was actually drinking or not, and at the time I didn’t think to put clues together. We exchanged numbers, kept in touch, he came to my house, left me gifts at my door when I wasn’t home (nice body lotions and shower gels), flattered me with compliments, and always said that I was a “good girl.” He’d never been married and no kids, and within three weeks I was beginning to fall for this guy. The problem was, his job required him to work so many hours that I rarely got to spend any real time with him.

Sex was okay… and I only say okay, because John had a slightly smaller than average Johnson. But since I wasn’t used to being treated like a queen, I dismissed that part of the relationship. However, John really enjoyed being with me, and once when he was doing me from behind, he got off in less than a minute. He said I wiggled my hips a certain way or something and it just got him off. I had no idea what he was talking about, but okay.

About a month into this situation, I’d told my Aunt Paula about him and wanted her to meet him. In my own naïve mind, John could be “the one”. Aunt Paula and I went out to dinner one night, then decided to have a cocktail at the bar. Some guy that was good-looking but a cocky asshole started speaking to us. He mentioned that he was a police officer in a certain city, and I told him that I was seeing a DEA agent that worked with his department. He started asking me questions, I gave him John’s name, and he said they didn’t have anyone that works for his department by that name. I insisted that he worked “with” the department, not “for”. He still insisted, so then he asked me to describe John to him. When I did, he said, “That’s Daniel xxxx.”

I said no, his name is John. He described more things about John, like how he spoke, what he drove, etc. He said, “No, his name is Daniel, and he’s married with a baby on the way. And he’s not a DEA agent. He’s a cop for our department.”

My jaw dropped. Aunt Paula and I looked at each other, and she said, “I don’t trust this guy. You need to give John a call.”

We left the place and went somewhere else – and the cocky cop either followed us there or coincidentally showed up. A total creeper, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept insisting that John was someone named Daniel with a pregnant wife. At the time, cell phones weren’t like they are today, so I used a pay phone to call John. He didn’t answer, so I left him a message that this cop guy was insisting he’s someone else and this needed to be explained to me immediately. Paula and I left, and I went home pissed off.

When I arrived home, there were messages from John to please call him, that this guy was just out to get him. John rushed to my house immediately and convinced me he married a woman because she had terminal cancer and she needed his insurance – but they are not in an actual marriage. He also said he really did work for the DEA, and he did admit his real name was Daniel. Apparently, “John” was his working name, because he was undercover and couldn’t reveal his true information.

He was very convincing, so I believed him for the time being. However, my Spidey senses told me to look into it more. Another relative knew someone else John/Daniel had dated, so we had a very long discussion in which I learned he did have a wife that he was in a real marriage with, she did not have cancer, she was pregnant, and he’s basically the biggest liar and player on earth. I was floored that someone his age would take the time to make up a bunch of shit for no reason. Everything he’d told me was a lie, and I was heartbroken.

Being that I was still in my 20s and my dark side was more prevalent, I put together my own undercover disguise and a “care package” to have delivered to his wife to prove he’d been cheating on her. Within minutes, I received an angry phone call from him. He tried using his threatening cop tactics on me, but I called his bluff.

I later found out that during the time we were seeing each other, he had sat in the parking lot of my apartment complex waiting to see if I had other men coming to my house. Now it made sense why he kept saying that I “was a good girl.” Too bad he was a bad boy… so bad that he ended up getting fired for stealing drugs from informants.

Old School Perv

Peering at me thru his lens like a creep.
Peering at me thru his lens like a creep.

During spring break when I was about 22, I met a really hot “older” guy from Los Angeles. He’d told me he was 26 but was actually 32. For me, that was a big age difference at the time given my proneness to younger men. He had long-ish blond hair (more of a surfer look) with light eyes, was in great shape, wore combat boots with shorts, and had a unique look about him that stood out. We kept in touch and visited each other once – him coming to my area and me going to his place in Florida.

His place was really nice; apparently, he’d done a lot of remodeling on his own, which was impressive. Although he was very hospitable when I visited, he was seemed immature for someone in his 30s. For instance, he drove a sporty type of car (at some point I think we valet parked or something), and he blasted the music and opened the door as if to show off. That didn’t impress me; in fact, I felt embarrassed. We went to dinner and a club, the type of club I’d never go to on my own or with friends, because I really hate techno music. What really ruined it for me and made me never speak to him again happened once we got back to his place.

We started out making out in his kitchen. He had me on the counter, our tongues down each other’s throats, my legs wrapped around his. We moved to his couch where things really started to get heated and clothing started unbuttoning and unzippering. We stopped for a few minutes to take a breather or a bathroom break or whatever it was before moving to his bedroom. He’d gone back to the kitchen or something while I was lying there waiting.

For whatever reason, I immediately felt something wasn’t right and felt like I was being watched. My intution told me to look around, and sure enough, I saw a blinking red light coming from his closet. When I confronted him, Old School Perv gave me some lame ass excuse that it was going to be a “surprise” for us to watch later, which I suspected was a lie. I thought how fucking creepy and told him that I didn’t feel comfortable with any of it. It ruined the entire moment, and I got up and drove hours home and never spoke to him again.

Drummer Boy

Another guy that can kiss my ass...
Another guy that can kiss my ass…

Drummer Boy was a drummer in a rock band that was a few years older than me. I immediately had eyes for him, however, I was skeptical because of my experience with band guys. We met one summer when I was planning a move to his  area. We’d had a great time together and the sex was good, although at this point I don’t remember much about it.

Drummer Boy had told me he’s ready to settle down, he’s tired of playing the games, etc… I had to leave to go back home, but I promised him I’d be back – and I was a few months later. In the meantime, we kept in touch, he called to say that he missed me and couldn’t wait to see me again. He wanted to show me his house on the water and spend some time getting to know me. I let him know when I was coming back, and he seemed excited.

I showed up dressed to kill to watch his band play. I wasn’t sure if he’d seen me or not, but when the band stopped, I watched him walk off stage. About 10 feet in front of me, he kissed some blonde chick, then looked at me and said,”That’s my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me??” I said.

I cannot even imagine the look on my face, but I wanted to fucking kill him for wasting my time and leading me on. He just shrugged his shoulders and gave me a sly grin, turned around and avoided me the rest of the night.

I found out from one of the bartenders that Drummer Boy had been with this girl since before I met him, they had a kid together, and this was typical behavior of him. Before leaving, I told him exactly what I thought. He tried to talk to me a few times after that, but I wanted nothing more to do with the prick.

First Time in a Scary Relationship

Yes, he really did write it this way.
Yes, he really did write it this way.

I just discovered a scrapbook I’d made in college that consisted of pictures, letters, stories, and miscellaneous memorabilia of boys I dated or crushed on. Upon reading it, I noticed a pattern in which I ended up in abusive relationships. The last entry has no story added, but the photos and memorabilia pretty much give it away and are a painful reminder of stupid mistakes I’ve made.

I was about 25 years old when I moved to a college town to pursue my professional degree. The very first people I met were my neighbors, a brother and sister that lived directly across the street with their parents. Both were very friendly and helpful, and we quickly became friends. I went against my better judgment when I started seeing Rocky (he was 19) as more than just friends. There was a lot of chemistry, which I still to this day think is rare in relationships. But he also had a good side to him that was cute and loving, or maybe it was just manipulation.

Why I said against my better judgment is this: Rocky was an alpha male, a high school dropout, his mother enabled him to take no responsibility for his own actions, and it turned out he was a drug addict and thief. He was employed, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t have to pay bills since he lived at home. I didn’t know all of this at first, as I was so busy with being a mom, my studies, work, and what social life I could manage to fit in. I was also extremely naïve, had very little romantic relationship experience, and I trusted people that were nice to me.

Long story short, Rocky and I had amazing sex… probably the best I’d had at that point in my life, and he’d taught me things I didn’t know. I don’t remember many details about it now; I just remember what kept me opening my door to him (no pun intended) besides the loneliness of being in a new place and knowing no one. Things got pretty heated in other ways that ended the relationship altogether.

I’m pretty certain that Rocky stole money from me, since he knew where I hid it, as he thought my student loans were “free money,” and I suppose he thought he was also entitled to it. He cheated on me the same night I had a dream about him being with another woman (next day he had a hickey on his neck). He took me out on one actual dinner date to a restaurant that I would never have chosen. Another time we went to a club (I always drove, since he didn’t have a car)… Now for the funny part – I had $20 on me, which in the late 90s was enough for me to have a pretty good time at a club for the entire night. He didn’t have money on him, so he asked to hold my money to buy my drinks so he didn’t look like a fool. Obviously, he was embarrassed, so I gave it to him.

Rocky was a jealous guy and once after being out with a girl friend for the night, he literally got down on his knees and sniffed my crotch like a dog to see if I’d been with another man. Another time, I got fed up with his shit and told him that I did meet someone else (whether or not it was true, I can’t remember) and asked Rocky how he tasted. Rocky went into a rage, punched out my window, threatened to burn my house down and destroy my car. I called the police, he was issued a trespass warning. Stupid, naïve me gave in to him a few weeks or months later. The final straw was when I found out he’d been smoking crack. Yes, crack… with his mother, and he’d borrowed my car to buy it. I was fuming!! On this particular night, he was high and proceeded to choke me until I almost passed out. I knew then that it was the end, he was arrested and the judge ordered him not to come within 500 feet of me for life. In case you’re wondering, the last page of the scrapbook was the actual restraining order.

The actual scrapbook with his pics, love notes, and restraining order.

Once I graduated college, I moved from the area and never heard from him again. I did some digging years ago, because that’s just what women do, and learned that he’d served some jail time for dealing in stolen property. Some things never change!

College Ex-Boyfriend – To Hook Up or Not?

Nip Slip
Nip Slip

I’d had something of his that belonged to my College Boyfriend as a child, and I’d kept it the entire time. Cleaning out some things, I decided to look him up, and eventually, I found him on Facebook. It was interesting to catch up, and I was surprised at the fact that he was married and how many kids he had, considering he was such a free-spirited, anti-kid type of guy when I dated him.

College BF and I communicated via Facebook and eventually through Kik. He was coming to my area and wanted to meet up. I knew he was married, but I didn’t think twice that anything would happen between us. I was beyond that and honestly was looking at him like an old friend. Besides, he’d changed physically, and I was no longer attracted to him; my tastes have changed. I invited him to my place, we had some drinks and caught up from the last 15 years of our lives.

When we dated, he was not a very sexual person compared to me. Our sex life was vanilla in comparison to what I’m used to having now. I was always the one to make the first move, even from the very first time we hooked up in college. I had no intention of making any moves with him during this visit, and he didn’t try anything either, although I would never have expected him to.

When he left, he sent me a text asking if I had expected to take things further with him. I told him that I had not. I was a bit put off by him asking me, because I felt zero chemistry with him during our visit, even after having had several drinks. And it surprised me that he “might” be a cheater. Boy, am I glad we didn’t end up together! Eventually, I deleted my Kik account, and we stopped communicating via Facebook. It’s been about two years since then, and I haven’t heard from him again.

I believe he was seeking an affair, but I am not about that. I do not want to be the “other woman”. After having guiltily done that once, I would never do it again. More to come about that later…

Forgotten Hookups

Sexting my legs
Sexting my legs

What a weird weekend! Maybe it’s the full moon or something – but I heard from several different guys I hadn’t heard from in a LONG time. My phone was dinging with text messages with both potential and old hookups, but I simply wasn’t interested in any of them.

One was from a 20-something guy I’d met a few years ago after a night of drinking. I’ll just refer to him as Mr. Bush, because I had to tell him to trim that shit up. We stayed in touch for quite some time, but I hadn’t heard from him since last summer. Never bothered to say hello, how are you, kiss my ass, nothing… but proceeded to send me a random text wanting to hook up – as if I’ve spent the last year of my life waiting for him (**chuckles**). Of course, by now his number is no longer in my phone, so I’m like who’s this? Not only does he tell me, but he also includes – get this – a mostly limp dick pic and his unshaved bush. I happened to be out with my friends, so I shared the pic with them for some great laughs and wtf faces. I told Mr. Bush I wasn’t available, he begged and begged, and I ignored him. Then he actually called me (gasp!), and I could tell he’d been drinking, which is probably the only reason I was hearing from him. I not-so-politely told him to go fuck himself and haven’t heard from him since.

A 30-something guy that I’d met on Tinder two years ago also sent me a text wanting to sext. I will refer to him as Banana Dick, because his dick was long and curved like a banana. Again, I had no idea who it was, because I do not keep numbers for long. Who’s this?

Him: “####, we met on tinder and fucked twice”.

Seriously, this was a few years ago, and I’ve had my fair share of forgotten hookups since. Once I established who he was, I reminded him we only fucked once (he was too controlling and into himself for me to want to do it again). He said we fucked twice the same night. Semantics. He was passing thru my city, thought of me, and got horny. Flattering. He wanted me to send him pics, so I just sent him a pic of my legs. He wanted more, and I wasn’t falling for it. Told me how horny he was thinking about me. Then he BEGGED me to call him so he could hear my voice, because it would make him get off faster. I’m sitting there thinking WTF?!! Where do these guys get off thinking I’m just here and available without any life whatsoever waiting on them for years? Fucking narcissists. I made the excuse that I had to charge my phone. He was so desperate, it made me giggle that I had control of this little bitch.

Another forgotten hookup wasn’t actually forgotten completely. I’d seen him on a dating site a few years ago and discovered he’d never left it. He contacted me begging to hang out again, and then I remembered why I wasn’t interested. Although he had beautiful mesmerizing eyes, his breath was terrible and the sex wasn’t enough to die for. Plus, he lives with his mom. Three strikes. No thanks.