The Time I Dated a Portuguese Man o’ War

I should have stomped his ass.

I should have stomped his ass.

Another really stupid mistake on my part. Right after I graduated college I had found a decent job in a professional office. Every week, however, people were getting fired little by little. None of us ever knew how long we had, and on top of that, the owner was kind of a creep. In the meantime, I had been applying for jobs that were in my actual career field, some of which were out of the area I was living at the time.

Over a holiday weekend visit with my family, I ran into Portuguese Man o’ War that I’d met before but didn’t remember much about the interaction. For whatever reason, we hit it off this time. (I think I was still hurting after my college boyfriend breakup, so I wasn’t seeing things clearly.) Sex wasn’t even good; he had a small dick and had bad breath from being diabetic, and he wasn’t even good looking, so I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. At the time, I thought he was just this really sweet guy. After only two months of seeing each other on weekends, I was offered a job in across the state where he lived, and we decided to get a place together.

About three weeks into our living arrangement, I knew I’d made a mistake. He turned out to be clingy and crazy. My job required me to bring my work home, even though it was unpaid. He didn’t like that. I said too bad, this is my career, and this is how it works in this field if I want to succeed. He also didn’t like the fact that this job was taking attention away from him – yes, that’s how needy he was. We were fighting like crazy, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of the situation safely, because when I told him I needed space, it angered him.

I’d kept a diary where I’d written my feelings about things over the years and had a suspicion that he’d been reading it. My suspicion was confirmed when I purposely wrote something about his small dick. That’s when things got really scary. He cornered me and wouldn’t allow me out of our bedroom. He was trying to get me to hit him so he could call the police on me, but I knew better. He did unacceptable things to torture my kid, and that’s when I knew I had to take legal action against him. I was issued a temporary restraining order against him, but officers allowed him inside the house to get his things without me being there. He destroyed my computer that I used for work, put itching powder (made with fiberglass) in my bras, rubbed deodorant all over the toilet seat, took all of my hygeine products, and said some pretty awful things to the officers about me. I’m sure it was obvious to them that he was a shitty person.

Not coincidentally, over a period of three weeks, I had three flat tires. We had to go to court over who was going to get to keep the apartment and to continue with the injunction. He claimed that I used him for money, that he’d paid for everything and I paid for nothing, which was a complete lie. I was fully prepared and presented copies of checks, receipts, etc., as my contribution to the household. Being that I’d moved a distance to live there and didn’t want to move my child again, he had clearly lied through his teeth, and apparently had a scarred history with women (I also learned that his ex wife had also had an injunction against him), I was granted a permanent injunction against him and was able to stay at my place.

But Portuguese Man o’ War didn’t stop there. He reported me to child services with claims that I did drugs in front of my kid all day long. I invited the caseworker into my home and explained the situation, and it was clear who was a liar. Besides the fact that my new job would have detected drug use, my kid didn’t even know what a drug was.

Thankfully, I never saw him again. Right after him is when I started dating cops.

Crazy Ass Messages from Foot Fetish Fans

Love my stilettos

Love my stilettos

I just thought I’d post some of the crazy ass messages I get on Facebook from foot fetish fans. This is one of the main reasons I hardly respond to messages on social media, besides the fact that it’s extremely time consuming. After receiving enough messages like these, I tend to stop bothering to check messages at all.

This kind of message results in me blocking you.

This kind of message results in me blocking you.

 

Sometimes I have to translate the messages. It’s probably not the greatest translator, but it appears this guy wants to stop watching porn. lmao

screen-shot-2017-01-06-at-12-33-46-pm

Yeah, I’m going to just up and go with some strange dude that talks about himself in third person.

Ummm... no.

Ummm… no.

 

And sometimes I just like to be a smart ass.

These toes were made for walking.

These toes were made for walking.

 

Let’s Talk About Condoms

Condoms: Latex or Lambskin?

Condoms: Latex or Lambskin?

I’ve always been a big believer in condom use, especially after learning the hard way years ago that the birth control pill isn’t very effective while using antibiotics, and other prescription methods weren’t compatible with my body.

I’ve probably tried several different types and brands of condoms, but there is always one or two that are preferable and reliable. Reliability is the #1 concern, otherwise, there would be no need for it in the first place, right? I’ve only had a condom break once, and it was an off-brand that I’d never heard of, probably some cheap shit made in China purchased at a gas station.

I’m not a big fan of regular latex condoms, because they irritate me and rub me raw. However, since Lifestyles brand is often given away free, it’s probably what I’ve used most. I’ve also used condoms with spermicides, and I will never use them again. They burned like hell and rubbed me raw, which caused more burning. I’ve also used ribbed condoms and found a little bit more sensation “for her pleasure,” but nothing too significant to pay the extra money.

I’m just finding out about polyurethane condoms, and I’m not sure I’ve used them before. From the Trojan website, the reviews seem to be fine except from men that said they were too small. I had a similar issue with a friend using Trojan’s Lambskin Condoms – he claimed they were too tight and he had no feeling. I’m not sure if he was telling the truth or not, so I made him use a latex condom instead.

For me personally, lambskin condoms have been absolutely awesome when it comes to feeling. It’s like not using anything at all. I suppose that’s why they are only good for pregnancy prevention and not for STD infections. These are great if you’re in a monogamous relationship, but if you’re having sex outside of that, they’re probably not the best choice. Another downside to lambskin condoms is the cost; the average price is $16 for only three condoms. I can go through the entire box in one day when I’m really in the mood. 😉

So now it’s my turn to ask the questions to my readers – what is your preferred condom and why?

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.

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.

I Tried…

14877624_1826759570901736_1090793624_nThe past few weeks have been emotionally charged with differentiating feelings. For about a week, I walked around in a daze, because everything seemed surreal, and I was in disbelief. I knew I had to leave town in order to get my mind away from the fact that every time I go outside, I see his house.

Leaving town helped. I went by myself to a city I used to live in, ran into very few people I used to know, said very little to anyone, and mainly read books in a quiet place. Instead of crying most of the day, it dwindled down to 2-3x a day, then one day I was so exhausted, nothing at all. But I do still cry.

I go back and forth about how I feel/felt about this person and how bad he was for me, but it doesn’t make the pain go away. There has been no funeral or memorial, and so far nothing has been planned. So no closure there. Besides that, there are still no answers, since autopsy and toxicology results can take up to 90 days. Even then, I still may not be privy to that outcome. There are rumors of suicide, but I don’t want to think that’s what happened, especially since we’d been in touch the night before he died, and he seemed fine – he even joked flirtatiously.

Most people have been very compassionate, as most humans are during a time of loss, but one horribly negative comment can spiral out of control. For instance, I was venting to someone that knew him about how upset I was that people were spreading suicide rumors. His response? “People die all the time. Life goes on.” No shit, Sherlock. That wasn’t the response I was looking for; I was looking for comfort, an open ear, and I expected that since we’d all gone to school together, he’d show some compassion. When I expressed how thoughtless he was being, he said, “Take a Valium or join him!” Needless to say, that “friend” is done for good.

Another friend has been very helpful. She called me every day to check on me, knowing what a basket case I was. We went out for a few beers one evening, and there was a great singer. My friend requested some love song or something that sounded sad. Then the performer started playing “Over the Rainbow”, and I about lost it. I had to walk out. My friend was trying to convince me that I needed to cry. Sure I do, but I had already been crying for three days straight, and I didn’t go out to cry more. Plus, I hate crying in public, especially when other people are having fun.

A few days ago, someone in his family started a memorial page for him on Facebook. Another school friend told me about it, but when I requested to join, I was denied. Apparently, it’s only meant for certain people we went to school with 20 years ago, but not me. I wish she hadn’t even told me about it. It just hurts even more to feel rejected again.

Last night I logged onto both MFC and Chaturbate, attempting to see how I can face the camera again. I didn’t do so well. Besides my tolerance level being so low for bullshit, I have been super antisocial since all of this has happened. I feel like I don’t even know how to talk to people anymore; I’m at a loss for words.

For fuck’s sakes… even writing this brings me to tears. I know it takes time to get over a death, but I’m ready to stop being so emotional. Maybe it’s the full moon… the pic from my last post is one he’d sent to me during October’s full moon. The pic from today’s post is the last sunrise pic he sent to me – actually, the last pic he’d ever send to me. Maybe it was his way of saying the sun will rise again? Who knows.

Bizarre Week & Feeling Blue

Feeling blue

Feeling blue

I’ve had the most bizarre few weeks. Several people I haven’t heard from in ages contacted me. Perhaps it’s the change of season?

One is a guy I dated several years before I was married – someone I have plenty of blog material about but haven’t the opportunity to discuss yet. He contacted me through Facebook. Apparently, I’d sent him a message about a year and a half ago and he’s just now seeing it. Thankfully, he has a kid and a wife to pay attention to now.

Another person I heard from a few weeks ago was College Boyfriend asking if I was safe from the storm. That was a huge surprise, because I hadn’t heard from him since that last encounter.

And then I ran into my ex husband – alone – which was a surprise not seeing him with Bitch Face. He denied that Bitch Face sent me that nasty text message saying to never contact him again, but I don’t believe he wrote it himself. And just like he’s always done, he believes everything other people tell him and repeated a rumor someone had spread about our child (which was far from the truth), and this upset me. Other than that, we had a mostly decent conversation and agreed that we needed to meet up to close the chapter we never closed. (The reason it was never closed was because he started dating Bitch Face and we stopped speaking.)

Then this is the most difficult part… I can’t even post the details about this yet, because I’m too emotional. Someone I’ve written about here started contacting me again, but because of our past, I mostly blew him off. But we did hang out a few times for a meal and just to chat. He told me he missed me, missed cuddling with me, and that loved me, which was nothing close to what he’d ever told me before. I didn’t believe him and figured he had an ulterior motive. Two days later, he was found dead. So I’m an emotional trainwreck at the moment, as you can imagine.

When I’m ready, I will post more about this. I’m unable to do any cam shows or photo shoots or anything that requires me to smile or focus right now. Hopefully, once a funeral or memorial service is arranged, I can start getting back to normal. For now, I’m living in a surreal world trying to deal with everything and find out answers.

I Am Not a Princess

These Princess shoes don't fit.

These Princess shoes don’t fit.

A few months ago, one of my oldest friends (since preschool) was posting all sorts of photos on her Facebook page about it being her “birthday month”. So there were multiple pics of gifts and dinners for days. Now this wasn’t a special birthday like her 40th or anything, so getting gifts and meals for the entire month seemed like a strange thing to me. Then it dawned on me that this particular friend is definitely more of a Princess than I had imagined her to be.

I have another friend that considers herself a Princess, especially on holidays and her birthday. She makes a huge ordeal out of it, buys herself special cakes, and insists her husband buy her expensive jewelry, even though they can barely afford it. God forbid if you forget to tell her “happy birthday,” because she’ll pout about it for some time.

I just don’t get these types of women. For my birthday, which I try not to make too public, I usually get myself takeout from a place that serves delicious food or go somewhere to for a few drinks. (This year, a work friend took me out for sushi.) But I cannot for the life of me imagine celebrating for an entire month. That seems a little extreme. I would prefer to go on a nice trip somewhere for a week rather than have “things” that won’t make me happy. But that’s just me… because I am not a Princess.