“Another version of me..is she perverted like me, would she go down on you in a theater”……. Oops, time for a station change….”U got it, U got it bad. When you miss a day without your friend, your whole life’s off track”

I laid in bed last night coming up with the whole new blog entry in my head. Except, today I’m writing something different than I envisioned.  Alanis Morrissette was going to be my theme song today.    Because the little demon in my head was trying her (my demon is a chick that I picture as Elizabeth Hurley in the movie Bedazzled) best to convince me that CS was out getting fucked by someone else. (He wasn’t). I got in my own head and came up with a whole post about getting played emotionally this time and how much worse it was than being used for sex.  And then I was wrong. So I had to blog about what’s in me that causes my vivid imagination to make up the worst case scenarios instead of just laying back and using a toy while thinking about the way it felt when he kissed me that afternoon.

I haven’t mentioned much about CS yet, I think for fear of jinxing it.  And this post isn’t really about him, but about me. But here’s the background: He’s 6’3, hot, and has a big dick. He is great at foreplay and keeps my mind blown and head spinning at the multiple orgasms.  We talk almost everyday, which is where Usher comes in, (actually on the phone, heller 1994!), connect like hell mentally too, and is the first guy that seems to be as crazy about me as I am about him. He’s my guy, I’m his girl. (We mostly forego the boyfriend/girlfriend label as we are at the age where we are getting asked to leave bars for getting fingered rather than the homecoming dance.) He drove to my “Cheers”, met my friends. On a side note, we are waiting to have sex. Which is terrifying. and exciting. I keep having this whole Baby from Dirty Dancing moment in my head. Because I think that’s how I might feel afterwards.

So what’s the problem? Me. I have Post Traumatic Swiping Disorder. (There’s a whole market you haven’t tapped for DSM-IV diagnoses American Psychological Association).  On the outside, I’m fairly confident. I’m pretty hot for my age. I’m fairly smart. I’ve got my shit together. But such bad dating experiences has my inner, insecure needy bitch surfacing as soon as I stepped into some feelings.   CS has had such extreme patience and understanding but I know it can be frustrating for him sometimes. Because for the first time I didn’t hear from him for hours, I’d already envisioned me on the couch crying with chocolate ice cream and watching a girly movie, instead of taking him at face value when he said he was truly busy.  How do you overcome such bad experiences and not take it out on the next?  I think the antidote is just time.  And trying to vent to my girlfriends when crazy, inside, demon bitch tries to take over.

“Just going to stand there and watch me burn. That’s alright because I like the way it hurts.”

The one guy I’ve never written about.  The only one who was not a fleeting hookup. The one that has been in my life for over a year and a half, if not exclusively, at least consistently.  He turned me into “that girl”.   He is a narcissist who literally pouts when he can’t get what he wants.  And he had me so turned around, that he made me hate me at times. Ours was the quintessential toxic “non” relationship.  Here is the story of NP (no where even near his real initials-more on that in second).

My coworker decided to swipe for me on an app I hadn’t tried yet.  I match with the hottest guy ever.  He’s tall, perfect body. From the text conversations, intelligent.  I meet him at his house and while it wasn’t the instant chemistry I now know exists , it was fun, and all I could think of is that this super hot guy was interested in MEEEEEE!  We hung out, messed around (blow job) and it was great.

We continued to talk/text and see each other once or twice a week. He was (is) super convenient, lives three miles from where I live and my office.  It was always the same thing. We’d be buddies. Mess around. Blow job.  I decided to do some research after this was going on for a couple of months. He’s a retired NFL player with a local presence. And for that little bit every week, he was mine. It was fun. Until it wasn’t.

I went for a few months without letting on that I knew who he was.   The truth came out after he threw a sock at me while getting dressed and I accused him of throwing like a girl. Apparently retired football players don’t think that’s a very funny joke.  Everything changed that day. He had a TV appearance he was filming that night for sports commentary.  He told me to watch closely when it aired, he was going to give me a nod and a smile and I was the only one in the world who’d know what it was for.

NP started traveling for his side gig after that. It was supposed to be understood that I was available for him and him only (which you can see by the former blog posts, that wasn’t going to work for me).  When he was coming back in from out of town, I was to drop everything I was doing, and be there waiting for him as soon as he got home.  If I wasn’t, he would ignore me for days, he’d send me Snapchats of songs that were meant to put me in my place. (Chris Brown-This Ain’t-for example) or pics of him at a famous R&B singers wedding to remind me who he was.  The more he did this, the more I’d resist him, just to prove to him that, to quote Pretty Woman,  I was “nobody’s beck and call girl.”  But I used him too. Anytime I had a bad dating experience, I’d call him up. To remind myself that this unattainable guy had a slight addiction to me. Major self-esteem booster.

One night I was out and refused to be waiting for him at his house (I knew the codes) when he got home.  The next day, he skull fucked me so hard I was bruised around my mouth.  As fucked up as this sounds, that moment made any future blow job for any other man fantastic. I’ve always been talented in that area but NP taught me the ways of deep throating.  It was kind of necessary as I really thought “This is the way it ends. Choking on a dick. How appropriate. And because of WHO he is, it will be all over the news too. Sorry Mom and Dad.”   But this was the night that put forth the toxic cycle him and I had.  Another time to “punish” me for not being there when I was told, he picked up his phone to text during a bad moment. All to show me I could be replaced.

It’s embarrassing to admit that this cycle went on for another nine months.  Over the summer I moved and started working an additional job. I didn’t have much time for him. He ghosted me. Blocked me on every phone number and social media account. This was a guy that I’d been seeing for over a year.  Now, I broke up with a three year actual relationship and didn’t cry. With NP I cried for two days.  He’d never cut me out of his life completely.   ANNNNNDDDDD….. then he came back.

I had grown accustomed to the fact that he was never wrong,. that everything was going to be my fault.  And I admit I went right over when he sent the “we need to talk message.”   He pretty much acknowledged that we were like a drug to each other.  We made the decision that until one of us (him) got married (engaged or relationship didn’t even count) that it would be him and me. That this would keep going on.

Fast forward about three weeks later, I’m sitting in a booth across from a guy that terrifies me emotionally. He gets me.  There’s so much chemistry around us that we almost got kicked out of a bar a few days later (more on that later).  He refuses to have sex with me because he doesn’t want to screw things up. And he wants me to be his girl. And I agree to be his girl.  The next day I get a NP message. “You busy?”  I stare at my phone for a few seconds , press down on his name, and hit “Block User”.

So, NP. The end of our game. The fourth quarter is over. The stadium lights have dimmed. I’ve walked off the field.

” He was no more than a baby then,Well he seemed broken hearted,Something within him, But the moment that I first laid Eyes on him all alone, On the edge of seventeen”

Yeah, I thought about the ultimate Cougar anthem, Mrs. Robinson, but could truly not find anything to do with, well, being an actual Cougar…. Welcome to the blog post about fucking someone you could’ve given birth to….

CB was a right swipe and a match, that was also 19 years younger. We chatted and decided to meet up. He was a frat boy home to visit and do an internship for the summer. I was super surprised that he met all criteria and seemed quite mature for his age.

The first night was fun. We drank and ended up having okay sex.  To prepare for the second time, homeboy must have ended up taking notes after a pornhub premium subscription. He still did not know exactly what to do but came much closer, and then did the exact thing most men won’t do in bed, he LISTENED……….. and much to our suprise………..SPLOOOOSSHHH…. Niagara Falls. There’s nothing that turns a man on more than a squirter.  Imagine being a 22-year-old and realizing you can make a woman do that. So, you’re welcome CB. I have officially changed your game and your sex life for the rest of your life. (On a side note, I may get to find out. On our third and final time, he mentioned that we should do this every five years or so).

The final time of this fling was in early August right after he went back to school. He came home one weekend JUST to see me. I’m talking four or five-hour drive here.  The text I received said “I’m home, lemme know if you tryna hang tonight.” To which I replied, “English please, I don’t speak millennial.”  The sex was pretty great that last time, but I could tell he’d definitely been around the frat house. We could not hold a conversation. I kissed him bye before I left and told him it would be the last time, but this is one hookup I’m sure will be imprinted in each of our minds forever. Cheers to discovering new firsts in your forties.

On another note, when I started this entry earlier, I sent a Snapchat since I was just curious how he was doing.  His senior year is going great, he’s still being a fuckboi, and wonders what I’m doing over Thanksgiving week……………………………

 

“You make this all go away, I just want something, I just want something I can never have”

Today I’m thinking about the guy I did not pick up online. I used traditions set forth by my ancestors that involves eye contact and lots of alcohol.  I have the same bar I frequent weekly, usually same regulars. This particular night someone new was sitting at my usual table watching the NBA championship.  We locked eyes several times. It was that feeling. Immediately.

He invited me to sit.  He’s a Heineken drinker that kept up with me shot for shot. He was here on business from out of town. He invited me back to his hotel where we had amazing sex until 4 AM.

Have you ever taken Ambien dear reader? If you haven’t, let me explain. If you have $1000 in the bank you had saved for your mother’s kidney transplant you would decide that money would be best spent on Loubotins.  Your best friend’s boyfriend might look a little more attractive and deserve a flirty text. You may eat an entire pizza and gallon of ice cream. Or in my case, you decide you have to see him and experience it again.  You then decide it’s a good idea to Facebook message him. tumblr_msp1b8pRtm1qej05do1_500But I digress.

This was a week long affair. As you can tell by the title, he was (is as far as I know) married.  But he became my kryptonite for a year. I had never, ever had anyone with that amount of chemistry.  And any man that followed could never measure up.

I absolutely love Kevin Smith movies.  Silent Bob makes a quote in Chasing Amy that says “So I’ve spent every day chasing Amy” referring to the one that got away and he can’t stop thinking about  Sex wise, I’ve spent the past 499 days “Chasing J”

“…. just be nice to the gentlemen Fancy… they’ll be nice to you”

Sorry for the brief delay and hope I didn’t lose any readers!  It was a tough week and and I had to find my Ellie-spiration again. (I can thank Marley for that).   Today “swiping up” is on my mind. The guys you swipe on that may be a little out of your league. The hot, fit, gym rat that you say, why not? You get the match and then are terrified he’ll actually want to meet you and realize you have a pronounced FUPA. Actually, that he’ll realize you can’t even see your own FUPA sometimes because you’re bloated from the night before alcohol.   That’s physically swiping up. (live at home guy was actually best body I’ve ever seen. Just wondering if he has to worry about his mom seeing it as he walks down the hall. ew).

I’m now on a new way of swiping up. I actually had to think  this if I should include two songs in this post… (I ain’t sayin’ she’s a golddigger…….).  I was always told by my mom that’s its just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor one.  Cheers mom, I’m listening.  While I”m not charming a king, a congressman, and an occasional aristocrat,  my chat box is full with an attorney, a surgeon, and a financial advisor.  And I support myself thank you very much, but what’s wrong with being a little spoiled every once in awhile? And basing my feelings on just attraction is not getting me very far at all.   Plus, these guys swiped on “me”. Meaning, I tried an experiment where I put all new profile pics not necessarily sexy as hell.

In a small way, I feel guilty for being superficial.  But it’s fun to play on the other side for a bit.

Always–Ellie

Aww yeah, hurry click. Can you send a nasty pic.

First of all, I love this song. If you’re a hip hop fan, make sure you listen to this by Ludacris.    This post is two fold, partly about sexting and partly about that first meeting. And the lessons I’ve learned from both.

Sexting–the phenomenon that has replaced phone sex.  The phenomenon that has gotten many a celebrity and political leader in trouble.   How many times have we started chatting and almost immediately been asked for a dirty pic.  One day, thinking too many men were beginning to see little Ellie, I searched for a random vagina online.  I cropped that bad boy (girl) matched it to my skin tone, and sent it on to dude. (This made Marley laugh harder than she ever has). I have also done it with ass. In a discussion with some girls today, we talked about dick pics.  I have received so many, they start to look alike. One of the girls mentioned that guys wouldn’t mind knowing that we show our friends their little friends. Well boys, I gotta tell you, 90 percent of the time, we are showing it to our friends to laugh. The other ten percent of the time we are showing our friends because we are extremely impressed.

Meeting–I have a new rule thanks to Lorna. If a guy hasn’t suggested meeting me within a week, he’s gotta go. Something is wrong there. Marley suggested today that some of these dudes just join dating sites to have someone to chat with. I thought about that further and realized she has a good point.  I took it a step further and said most of the ones I’ve talked to are trying to get free porn. Think about it, they get to talk to a live chick and see dirty pics. They have no plans of meeting you but they have no issue with sexting you and jacking off to your pics. Some even send videos of just that. I guess there are some lonely guys out there too.  I chatted with V for about three weeks. He was witty, he had all the right answers (I asked him what he was looking for on the app, he said “You, I did not know it at the time but it’s you”) I literally had to force V to meet me. He flat out said “Okay, but only for an hour. And don’t think we are going to go any further than meeting.” He showed up sloppy as hell and was one of the weirdest people I’d ever met.  As Lorna says “it’s too easy to hide behind text.” I did not talk to him for much longer than that.

Advice? Stick with the week rule.  And remind gentlemen that there are sites they can pay for to get what they are wanting from you. Unless of course you are drunk and horny, but be in control sista.

Always–Ellie

 

11/13 & 11/14/2017

Ha! Love reading this chica’s stories. I don’t feel quite so alone in my quests.

parlendezvous

Dale Davis

According to his profile, Dale was a sole proprietor (this turns out to be outdated info), owned his own house, didn’t have kids or want any (I’m listening), and there was a “very good reason for this.”

Within a few exchanges, he asked me to verify I did not have kids. I confirmed. He asked if I wanted any. “Nope.” He replied with a, “good me neither.” Followed by a, “can’t have them anyway.” I proceeded to ask if that was the “very good reason” to which he replied he would share more if this progressed. Soon after he asked if I wanted to meet as he was better with face to face than chatting online. I agreed. We made plans to meet for dinner the following evening.

11/14/17

We met in a town centrally located between both of us, the same town where good ol’ Ryan lives…

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