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.

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.

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.

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!

More Amusing Text Messages to a MILF Cougar

Just say no to annoying texts.
Just say no to annoying texts.

There seems to be a never-ending supply of this material! From the last post on this topic, this is the same guy that’s always asking “How’s your day?” or “How was your weekend?” over and over and over. This time he texted “Happy New Year” and I answered back the same. I have learned to avoid answering questions like these, because he wants to hear ALL of my sex stories (apparently via text as opposed to my blog), then he proceeds to ask me 150 questions (which are also repetitive). I’ve actually gone off on him before telling him that he asks the same f%^*ing questions over and over, that it gets old, and why is he so interested in my sex life? I know for a fact he gets off on these stories, but I’m not going to sit and text about it for hours when I have a blog that he can read to get his jollies off.




Then there’s this guy. I named him this in my phone, because I couldn’t for the life of me ever remember his name, even though it’s fairly common. I suppose it’s just because I have no interest in dating him. We did hang out one evening, but there was no sex involved. He had horrible breath and I wasn’t into him at all. I guess he’s to be admired for his tenacity, but begging just makes him look super pathetic.








And now he’s begging.





Just Some Holiday Stuff…

I want meaningful gifts.
I want meaningful gifts.

I’m not a big fan of the holidays, and I never have been (unless you count Halloween). I suppose it stems from my later childhood years, because things were always really stressful in my home. I’m also not a fan of spending a shit ton of money on a bunch of stupid crap that will eventually be broken or thrown away or outdated in a year. Not only is it a waste of money, it’s meaningless. I prefer to have experiences that give me wonderful memories, and I make my own meaningful gifts to give.

Except during the years I was married, I have spent a lot of holidays alone and/or single. Today I was reading through old emails and realized that I wasn’t alone two years ago at Christmas, because I had just started seeing Bawh-ston, and he kind of hung around even though I was trying to spend some time with family. I didn’t mind, because I liked him at the time, but he had pretty much invited himself. Last Christmas I was single, so a single girl friend of mine and I decided to take a short trip and drink cocktails… and we had a blast.

New Year’s Eve is a different story. I have spent the last three alone. I think last year I didn’t even bother staying up; I just said f*ck it and went to sleep early. The year before that I was still seeing Bawh-ston, but I’d bought myself a concert ticket and went by myself, because he couldn’t afford to go. And the year before that, I was newly single but driving back from a trip from out of town and (gladly) came back to an empty house.

This year? For Christmas, I spent time with family and my new cub (will blog about him later). I have no idea what this weekend will bring me. I haven’t made plans, and I really don’t care to spend money on going anywhere. Plus, I am not a fan of crowds. I would prefer to hang out with my cub somewhere in nature, have a few drinks, and ring in the New Year quietly. But we will see about that.

Amusing Text Messages to a Cougar MILF

Amusing myself with unmatched panties.
Amusing myself with unmatched panties.

I have to turn my ringer off at night, because sometimes I get these random messages at times when no one should be contacting me unless it’s an emergency.

This one, for example, came from a guy from out of town that I met about four years ago right after my breakup. It was probably the worst sex of my life. He was 33 and had no idea what he was doing in bed. I never saw him again, although he did text me once in a while. But this was the last text I ever received, and we hadn’t communicated in some time, so this was clearly out of nowhere. I think he got the hint.


This comes from a friend that I have hooked up with once or twice. He has some pretty interesting stories and fantasies that we discuss. He may or may not be reading my blog material… 😉 But he sends the same messages asking the same damn questions, and I don’t have time to text all day long, because that’s how it ends up when I do answer him.

New material, please.
New material, please.

I like to f*ck with wrong numbers. This one amused the hell out of me but apparently not them. I was hoping to keep the conversation going. 😉

Maybe Lexi isn’t sexy.

Three Strikes, He’s Out!

I'll take myself fishing.
I’ll take myself fishing next time. 

A while back when I was twiddling on Tinder and during a time I was in between seeing Big Liar, I swiped right on a man that was in his late 40s. I believe he was 49, to be exact. In his photos, he appeared athletic, he liked boating and a few other things we had in common.

On our first date, we agreed to meet at a boating dock and he was supposed to teach me how to fish. (Previously, Big Liar was supposed to teach me but never followed through.) I found a cheap but decent pole at Walmart, packed a cooler with some food and beer, and dressed very casually in a sundress over a bikini. And I waited for what seemed like hours before he finally said what time we were to actually meet (he had about a 45-minute drive).

I was pleasantly surprised at how much nicer this man looked in person, and he was dressed more for a casual dinner than a fishing date. I could tell we were both nervous, but we seemed to get along fine. We didn’t stay out long, however, because it started to rain. We docked the boat and waited in his truck until the rain subsided, drank some beer and had some really great conversation. Things seemed to be going well. Once the rain stopped, we had to get the boat out. Apparently, he’d left my brand new fishing pole on the dock, and someone had stolen it. I wasn’t too upset, he claimed he’d replace it, and he had to leave to feed his dog.

Date number two was a lunch date when he was on his way somewhere and couldn’t stay long. I have food allergies, so I have to be careful what I eat and drink. Whatever was in the tea I ordered gave me a reaction. I know my body very well, I usually know exactly what it is that is giving me a reaction, and I knew it was something in the tea. It usually takes a while to subside, but in the meantime I sat there feeling panicked.

Then he actually said this: something about my age and am I sure it wasn’t menopause. Ummm what??!!! I looked him straight in the eye and said I’m definitely too young for that, and this is an ALLERGY. I was offended, as I’m sure most women would have been. He had to leave, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there, because I felt like shit.

The last “date” went like this: He was on his way home from work, called me to hang out. I said he’s welcome to stop by my house and have a beer. Now this is in the middle of the summer in 90+ degree weather. I keep my A/C and fans on, but I don’t need it to be 60 degrees to be comfortable. He was dressed in clothes made for fall, and I could tell he was hot. I looked at him and realized I’m not even attracted to this guy anymore. We’d never even kissed, his eyes were too close together, and there’s just something about him that I can’t pinpoint that I just don’t jive with. He didn’t stay long, and as he’s leaving he says, “You’re house is hot, by the way.”

That was it for me. I thought to myself, fuck you, fuck your insults, and you never even replaced my fishing pole as promised. Fuck you.

I deleted his number out of my phone. He apologized for saying my house was hot. I ignored him, because it wasn’t half as bad as assuming I’m at the age of menopause. Every so often he would send a pic of himself on his boat, like I gave a damn. I’m sure he’s still on Tinder meeting new women to insult.

The 50-Something Frat Boy

Not a frat boy fan.
Not a frat boy fan.

(** First, I’d like to thank my followers for your support and interest in my writing. I feel like I’m finally able to sit down and say a little bit. Still no answers about my friend’s death, but time is helping things move along.)

Now, I’m going to tell you about another oddball I dated earlier this year.

As I’ve said before, many people have suggested that I date older men. Besides the “arrangement” site, I did meet someone about six months ago that piqued my interest for a short time. Over a three-week period, we hung out multiple times and went on one actual date. He was about 10+ years older than me, in decent shape, easy to talk to, seemed to have his shit together.

But in the bedroom, he was clueless and selfish. He was okay making out, but in the end, I did most of the work, there wasn’t much foreplay, he satisfied himself and was done. I made the excuse that perhaps he was tired, but it happened three times. The very last time it happened, I literally got up, got dressed, and went home. He asked me if everything was okay. I said yep, I just need to feed my cats (because even they gave me more attention than he did!).

A few weeks later, I was out and about and had learned that he’d just gotten out of an engagement about three months prior. Well, I was not aware of this, because I was pretty sure he’d told me he hadn’t been in a relationship in two years. So again, I was the rebound girl. I was pretty pissed when I learned that, so I sent him a text asking him to confirm this information. He said it was true. I was like WTF… how does that equal two years? Next thing I know, he walks into the place where I’m sitting, strolls up and sits right next to me, carries on loudly like a frat boy, and says nothing to me. I paid my tab, walked out, and sent him a text telling him he’s an asshole.

I never heard back from him again, nor did I run into him (thankfully) until recently. He paid the bartender to buy me a drink on him as an apology for being an ass. A week or so later, I ran into him again and thanked him. We chatted for a few minutes, mostly about work. I only told him that I write sex blogs for content, never of course mentioning this site or what I actually do on cam.

Suddenly, he became interested in me all over again, bought me another drink (I guess he thinks that’s his ticket in), and he’s been texting and calling me wanting to hang out. I’ve barely replied. Today I noticed he left me a voicemail the other day asking why I hadn’t called him back after I was done blogging one evening, because he’s really interested in reading it. He sounded like a total perv dweeb. I never responded.

Will I ever respond? Doubtful. Will I ever tell him about this site? Never!

Dating is (Mostly) Dead

My eyes are north.
My eyes are north.

I can probably count on one hand the number of “actual” dates I’ve been on in the last three years. (Hanging out at my place doesn’t count.) When my relationship ended, I resorted to PoF to see what was out there. I found it more to be plenty of sharks, plenty of liars, and plenty of needy leeches. And definitely plenty of assholes!

After being in a relationship for a long period of time and also being over the age of 35, it’s easy to forget what it’s like to date or to be single. Besides the lack of available AND quality people my own age, I had found myself to be very vulnerable and completely inexperienced… a virgin, if you will. (Not quite a virgin, but you get the picture.) I quickly remembered how shitty being single can be be when it comes to the world of dating… how being vulnerable can lead to stupid and hasty decisions all in the name of wanting to be loved or just cuddled.

The two dates I went on this year went pretty well. One was cocktails and dinner with a friend (we hooked up in the past but not anymore). He’s one of those people that I can have fun with no matter what without any hard feelings later. Another was with a man about 10 years older that I saw maybe a handful of times. We had dinner and went to a brewery afterwards. But he’s a blog post I’ll write another time.

It’s very rare that I get asked on an actual date, but when I do, it’s usually someone I do not want to date. This past Friday was exceptional, because I had three date offers. So what did I do? I chose to stay at home by myself, watch sappy movies and go to bed early.

Three date offers for me (especially in one night) is unheard of. First, I’ve had this guy I met a while back and sometimes run into (we hung out once, no sex or making out) begging me to do something with him. He’s nice, but something isn’t right about him… like maybe too rough around the edges. Plus, he had horrible breath last time we hung out. I’m looking for someone a little more polished.

Another offer came from a young and talented hottie, but there is definitely something off about him. It has nothing to do with his criminal history (*chuckles*), but he says some off-the-wall shit that makes me question his sanity. Keeping a safe distance from this guy. I need someone with a lot more maturity than what he has to offer.

And last, but not least, someone that I really like as a friend and only a friend keeps asking me to do things. It probably didn’t help that I “accidentally” made out with him after a few beers during a really vulnerable time a couple of weeks ago, even though I have zero physical attraction to him. I’m afraid he’s hoping for more than friendship, so I’m keeping a safe distance from him as well.

If I could take all of the qualities I like in all three of these guys and put them into one, there might be an actual date. While I would absolutely love to meet someone that can accept me for who I am and vice versa, I’m not holding my breath. I know my chances and choices are slim. I don’t want to waste my time going on empty dates with men that I know will lead to nowhere. After being single for three years, I realize that I may have to accept being single for the rest of my life, because I’m certainly not going to settle for anything less than what I want or deserve.

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.

And then there are those Sugar Daddy sites…

No sugar daddy at the Comfort Inn. ;)
No sugar daddy at the Comfort Inn. 😉

I’ve always been attracted to younger men and generally don’t date anyone more than about 4 years older than me. My entire adult life I’ve been told I need to be with an older man, because of the maturity level. But let me tell you – I have not seen much of a difference in maturity when it comes to age.

I’ve tried a spectrum dating sites over time – ranging from the typical PoF and Match and Tinder to Cougar dating. I thought I’d try out a sugar daddy site to see if I get any different results from men that supposedly have money (as opposed to half of the ones I meet that are unemployed), to see if I get treated better. I have to say that anyone that I was physically attracted to was looking for much younger women/girls 18-21. There were very few attractive men on there to begin with, and many were married just looking for a fling.

The first “gentlemen” I agreed to meet for lunch claimed he was in his early 50s (looked older) and lived about two hours away.  This was right when my job started cutting my hours, so I had some time to meet during the week. (Let me add right here that when I first meet anyone, I dress in appropriate office attire, so no one gets the wrong idea.) Of course he looked better in his photos, but I was trying to figure out if we would click. We met at a sushi place, sat in the back corner so we could speak. The place was super quiet, which made it awkward to have a conversation without everyone hearing us. First, we talked about what we did for a living and basic life things. (Oh… and he’s married, but she’s not interested in sex and hasn’t been in a long time.) I watched him eat his sushi with a fork, tried to teach him how to use chopsticks… it was a disaster… which made me think he’s not very refined for a man his age, but it gave me something to talk about.

As we finished up, the place started clearing out, but the two women sitting behind us were barely whispering, which made me think they were listening to us. Then he got on his phone and started googling something… his entire face changed from normal to lustful creepy… said something like, “So how do you want to do this? Want to get a room at the Comfort Inn down the street and see if we click? I know you could use the money.” He’d been googling hotels in the area. (Let me add right here that the area is not a place I would ever get a cheap hotel, no matter the occasion.) He wanted to leave right away.

I was taken aback, because this wasn’t the “arrangement” I was seeking. In fact, I had clearly stated in my profile what I was looking for, yet I was open-minded at the same time – and I certainly wasn’t asking to get paid to have sex with a stranger. Speechless, he could tell that I was uncomfortable by his surprising offer (not to mention that a place like the Comfort Inn would be a place to sleep when I was in college, but certainly not a place to take a woman if you’re trying to woo her.) Plus, I had clearly stated I’m not an escort, so at the same time I was slightly offended but it hadn’t completely sunken in yet. It was like the initial shock you feel getting unexpectedly slapped in the face.

I politely told him I’d have to think about it, since we just met, and it was a good excuse to get the hell out of there. Once I left and had time to absorb what had just happened, I was disgusted. I mean, how does a man claiming he didn’t want a “pro” or an escort meet someone like me and offer the same exact thing he claims he’s not looking for?

I had about an hour drive home to think about it all, sent him an email saying thanks but no thanks, and I let him know that his offer was offensive and cheap. He apologized, because that wasn’t his intention. We didn’t contact each other again. About a year later, I went back on the site and he was still on there without any changes to his profile. Some men just never learn, no matter the age.

After meeting two other men on that site, I deleted my profile. To be continued…

College Cub from a Cougar Dating Site

Mrs. Robinson panties

I met a 24-year-old College Cub a few years ago on a cougar dating site. His pictures were really cute – blond hair, blue eyes, average build. He seemed like he could hold a decent, educated conversation, which is important to me. He lived about an hour and a half away, and we only hung out twice, mostly because he was unreliable or wanted to show up at my place at midnight and stay the night when I had to work the next day.

Upon the first actual meeting, College Cub showed up with alcohol, which is more than what I’m used to. He was wearing sweatpants and a tshirt and looked a little sloppy, and he was much shorter than he alluded in his profile. We made drinks and sat on the infamous cougar couch to chat and get to know each other. He would be graduating college that year, and he worked in sales. He was definitely easy to talk to, and we seemed to enjoy each other’s company. A few hours later, we were all over each other… but he was definitely inexperienced and anxious.

I don’t mind giving a few directions, but College Cub had no idea what he was doing. I had to teach him everything… even to slow down when he kissed me, because he must have thought he was in a race. He didn’t know what to do with his fingers, so I gently showed him how to rub my special places and how to properly insert a finger without jabbing me like a cattle prod. He didn’t know how to use his mouth when he went down on my either, so I had to instruct him there as well. It was truly work and not that much fun for me.

College Cub’s dick was a little on the small side, which made it even more work for me in that department. A little short, and not thick, which meant riding him was going to take some extra skills. Finally, it was late, and he finished quickly.

We saw each other once more after that, and he remembered a lot of what I taught him, which was nicer than giving instructions while I was trying to get off. Once every so often, I’d hear from College Cub, and I’d spy on his Facebook page to see whether or not he was in a relationship and trying to pull one over on me – and he was. He was begging me to have him over, and I’d moved about 45 minutes from where I’d lived when I saw him prior, but he didn’t care. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he didn’t take that as an answer. Then I simply said I didn’t want to see him and to stay with his girlfriend. Still, he thought something was wrong with me. So… I ghosted him. But he kept up a conversation all by himself just fine for the next three days.

Talking to himself
Talking to himself

How NOT to get my Attention

I will turn my back on needy bitches.
I will turn my back on needy bitches.

Somehow I either attract super needy men or ones that are emotionally unavailable and nothing in between. This particular 40-something-year-old Football Coach I met earlier this year was super needy. We hung out once. Yes ONCE. No sex. We kind of made out but it wasn’t even memorable. There was something about him that I didn’t like, but I didn’t know what it was yet.

Football Coach asked me out to eat at a place where I can’t eat the food, so I politely declined. A day later he asked me out again, but I’d already made plans. (Also, I was still working tons of hours at my old job, so dating wasn’t much of an option for me.) When he started texting me late night hours one weekend, I was ready to be done with him. Obviously, he was out getting drunk when he was sending these messages. I guess I could tell at this point why I didn’t like him – he’s an ass and a BFB (big fucking baby) who can’t handle his alcohol.


After sending this, Football Coach sent me a long ass text equivalent to a one-page, single spaced term paper explaining what he wants in a relationship and thought we could have “something” together. I still can’t figure out why hanging out just ONE time could have led him to believe that suddenly we were in a relationship. I never bothered to answer him back, because I felt that by initiating more contact would make him continue to bother me, and I was in no mood.

The Guy with the Tic Tac Dick

My hands are bigger than his.
My hands are bigger than his.

Another blind date setup happened earlier this year. My friends (a couple) had a new roommate they thought I’d be interested in meeting. Their reasoning was this: he’s younger than me (35), rides a Harley, has a stable job, has tattoos, and is a fun and nice guy. Mmmkay. I saw some of his pics on Facebook so I had a better idea of what I was dealing with. He wasn’t bad, maybe a little nerdy (fine by me), seemed like fun in his pics.

The first time I met him, my friends had invited me over for a BBQ. There was chaos all around, so that made it difficult for conversation. But so far, he seemed nice. I ended up leaving when a couple of people there were arguing and I wanted no part of it. A day or so later, he contacted me that he’d like to hang out sometime and get to know each other better when things weren’t so dramatic. Okay, cool.

A couple of weeks later, he came to my place, we had some drinks and conversation. He seemed like a pretty smart guy, motivated, and had some interesting stories. We discussed doing things together – motorcycle rides, kayaking, hiking, etc. – things that would be nice to do with another person. We saw each other a few more times after that, but (in hindsight) it was because my friend arranged it (i.e. meeting them at a restaurant, them cooking dinner, etc.). He made jokes about himself, saying things like his dick was the size of a Tic Tac. When I asked why he would say something like that, he said he didn’t want buyer’s remorse. I didn’t take him seriously.

At some point, he mentioned that he’s great at massages… and I am a sucker for them, so of course I wanted to see what this was all about. Surprisingly, he wasn’t lying when he said he’s great at massages. Then his hands started wandering. That’s when I noticed how small they were. Like Trump hands but smaller. And small fingers. Of course, by now I’m wondering what else is small.

My back was to him while he was still rubbing my shoulders and now my chest. He started kissing me on the back of the neck and it went from there. To be honest, there isn’t much of anything hot and heavy to write about for this post on this particular guy, because he was an awful kisser and had a small dick. Tic Tac dick was probably the only thing he hadn’t lied about besides the massage bragging. Sex was awful (for me), but he seemed to enjoy it.

I wasn’t interested in a relationship with Tic Tac dick anyway, but I didn’t mind being friends and having someone around to do activities with. Suddenly, I’d stop hearing from Tic Tac out of nowhere, then weeks or so later, he’d text me out of the blue. This went on and off for a couple of months. Now here’s the kicker that my friends conveniently “forgot” to mention – he was newly out of a relationship… new as in the week before I met him, which is why he was their roommate. Are you shitting me? I knew that this would go nowhere, because there were small children in the picture, not to mention his ex lived about a mile from me. I just assumed he was going back to his ex during the times I wouldn’t hear from him.

After not hearing from him for several months, I received another text from Tic Tac wanting to hang out and give me a massage. By then I’d caught on to his pattern of bullshit, so I thought fine, a massage would be great. He came over, gave me a massage, I could tell he was expecting more, I yawned and said I’m tired, and he left.

A few weeks later, I found out from my friends that while Tic Tac was at my house giving me a massage, they’d kicked him out of their house, he had a live-in girlfriend that he was supposedly engaged to and was fighting with (did I mention she was also his employee?). I sent him a text asking (and hoping she was checking his phone) about his relationship status and did he want to come over and give me another massage. He refused to answer. In fact, he was such a big pussy that he never answered me again. Turns out he’s another huge liar and a player, even with small hands and a Tic Tac dick.

Apparently, he’d talked shit about me to my friends, including sexual details about me, which I thought was inappropriate unless you live in a frat house. My female friend said he’s a disgusting pig and a player. I couldn’t understand how, because now that I knew him for what he was, he had nothing to offer AND was horrible in bed. Who wants that?? Not me!

My First Blind Date

I guess he was into handcuffs.
I guess he was into handcuffs.

When I was in my twenties, I entered a contest at a club in Miami (that’s another blog entry in itself), where I met Lissa for the first time. We’ve been friends ever since, but back then I didn’t realize the extent of her bad sense of judgment when it came to men. I should have known when Lissa hooked me up on a blind date with a guy that she claimed was a millionaire. I had no idea what this man looked like or anything about him. He had a foreign name that sounded similar to asshole, he was a businessman and “had a lot of money,” as she put it. I’d never been out with anyone that “had a lot of money,” so I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

She told me to pack a suitcase. I was like huh??? She said to pack a suitcase, and bring a really nice cocktail dress. She wouldn’t tell me what was going on until I made her, because I damn sure wasn’t going to be pimped out to a strange man overnight. Lissa confessed he was planning on flying us to New York for dinner. New York??? That seemed a little extreme to me, especially for a blind date. I told her I didn’t feel comfortable with that at all, that I know nothing about this man, and I’m not flying anywhere. Instead, I agreed to meet him at his house on the water, we’d go to dinner and then a helicopter ride. Sounded fine to me.

I arrived at his house, which was pretty much a mansion, or at least it was to me. When he greeted me, I was shocked at how absolutely 100% I was NOT attracted to him, but I gave it a chance anyway. We went to dinner at an Italian restaurant and then on the helicopter ride, which was really cool. Still, I wasn’t feeling it with this guy at all. We went back to his house and had a couple of drinks. He said I could stay the night in his guest room. Okay. So I attempt to go to sleep. I could tell the sheets hadn’t been changed, which grossed me out. Then things got really weird.

Now this was before everyone had cell phones, so I had no way to communicate with anyone or to scream at my friend for setting me up with this situation. The guy was a total weirdo. I could hear him pacing back and forth, back and forth for hours. I wasn’t sure if he was snorting coke or what. He came into the room and lay down on the bed next to me. I cringed. I pretended to be asleep. I know he wanted to get it on, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. I just wanted to get the fuck out, but I wanted to be sober enough to do it. At some point, I didn’t care if I had alcohol in my system or not – I was ready to get the hell out of there and never look back.

I grabbed my shit and hauled ass out of there. He was still up and around, asking why I was leaving. I made some excuse that I couldn’t sleep (which was true) and I needed to feed my cats or something.

Fast forward years later… this guy winds up in the local news for miscellaneous things, including beating his girlfriend. So not only is he disgusting to look at, his personality sucks and he’s a woman beater. Ugh.

I never let Lissa hook me up ever again.