“Sweet, sweet heart of mine I’m gonna break again a million times. Is this true or gone. Have you turned to stone?”

Do you ever want to do holiday analogies? Like Santa Claus is to the Grinch as Cupid is to ___________.  Like the guy who would go around and steal all the jewelry out of boxes before a guy presents it at an overpriced cheesy dinner. Okay, I’m bitter. Had a date last night right in the area where CS and I hung out. The bar was actually at the restaurant directly behind where we had our first date. Then on the way home I had to pass the Mexican restaurant we would go to, and the hotel we fucked in, and the tavern where he asked me to be his girl.  That tavern is what this week’s blog post is on. Or rather the guy who runs the tavern.

DR and I were a Tinder match a few months ago.  He and I had a lot in common, being that we were both in the restaurant business. I failed, however, at finding out exactly which restaurant.  We had a decent date, went back to his place, listened to music, where I introduced him to my favorite non-mainstream band, Whiskey Myers.  I was super attracted to him. Until we had sex. Great kisser. Great dick. Selfish in bed.  We parted ways.

Fast forward about three or so weeks. My buddy and I went to the bar across the street from our restaurant, and there he is, sitting at the bar with his can of PBR.  We strike up a conversation, do shots of Jack Daniels ,which results in me blowing him in the parking lot after a hot make-out session.  We saw him again the week after, where he acted as if I didn’t exist. Didn’t say hello or even look my way.  Saw him again the week after, and he came over  to start talking to me, but was a total dick. Such a dick that my buddy was determined to let the air out of his tires.

Less than two weeks later I was at the tavern mentioned above. I was happy. Sitting across from the guy that was proving (I was wrong but didn’t know that at the time) to me that what DR said to me while he was being a dick was completely untrue. See DR told me that  I was the girl guys fuck but never care to date.  But at that tavern booth I was someone’s girl, and when my favorite band, Whiskey Myers, came on in the mix with all the popular music, I took it as a good sign.  Until I saw the manager going around to every table in our section but ours.  Even CS made the comment that it must be because we looked so cozy. But I knew better. It was DR.  My mistake was that I never told CS, and towards the end of our relationship, when we went there again at his suggestion, I felt like it was too late to bring it up.  I did mention to him that night that I knew the manager from my bar.

Two nights ago my co-workers and I went out to this bar and got a little trashed.  My friend turns to me and says “Look at this sexy motherfucker walking in. He’s exactly your type.”  I turned around and saw DR walking in and giving me that crooked smile. I told my girlfriend “He’s exactly my type. He’s hot and a douchebag with a beard. I’ve already had him.”  He began talking to me and bought me a beer and a shot. I thanked him, and walked back over to my friends. He came right over to my section with my friends and hung out with me the rest of the night.  He mentioned that he’d forgotten that how before we hooked up, he actually enjoyed hanging out with me and talking to me.  We caught up on things for about two hours. I asked him why he said what he did, he told me he was just making a reference to Tinder chicks in general. He told me that he’d seen me both times in his restaurant with CS, but he didn’t want to make things awkward.  He also told me that he knew we’d break up soon due to the change in our demeanors from the first time he saw us there to the last.

End of the night, he pays and asks should we leave together. I told him it was late. We ended up getting in my car, where he kissed me and asked “what now?”  When I asked what he meant, he said “well, you didn’t want to go home with me so I figured it’d be a blow job in the car.” Ahhhh….. there’s the douchebag back again.  I told him that I wasn’t giving out free blow jobs without getting anything in return. I rode him until I came twice (good thing I know what I”m doing on top because he’s still selfish),. He asked would he see me again next week. I left it at maybe.

I went home and sobbed. And messaged my guy friend (interesting fact, he’s the guy I matched with working on his Ph.D that I’d already met at my usual bar in my prior blog post. We’ve become bffs.), who told me to not cry about it, look at it like I used him. I felt so empty. Before I had sex that meant something, I was good at just using sex as a fun activity. Now I can’t.   I got off with DR, and it was intense, but at the end of the day, it comes down to I fucked a guy who told basically told me prior that I was only good for one thing.  Is the whole double standard thing still in play? Or is the best way to get  over someone not really to get under (or on top) of someone else?

I wanna be the Valentine’s Day Grinch. He had a heart ten times too small. I want one that turns to stone.

 

“I could have another you in a minute. Matter of fact, he’ll be here in a minute, baby, You must not know about me, you must not know about me. I can have another you by tomorrow. So don’t you ever for a second get to thinking you’re irreplaceable”

When I was twenty-one I had my appendix out. My surgeon was not that great and he left me a few abdominal scars. Every once in awhile, these scars will still be uncomfortable.  Not painful, just annoying. I think that’s the way it is with broken hearts. In the beginning, as soon as your heart starts to heal, you feel the pain like it is ripping apart. With time, you no longer feel like you’re going to split right open and cry,  but something will happen and you feel the tug at the scar once again.

CS gave me my closure call a little over a week ago. We had a civil conversation, decided to remain in contact and see what happens, i.e. if we could develop a friendship.  He apologized, which I appreciated.  He also said he didn’t think we’d ever see each other again.  Our main communication since we’ve broken up had been through Snapchat. I blocked him a few days ago because every time I see his name, it hits me in the gut that I was again passed over for someone else.

The same day I blocked him, I decided to dive head first back into dating again.  (It’s been harder for me to find a date this time than it was previously. My heart was not in it. Fear of rejection).  My first date was a guy named RS. We chatted all day and discovered he worked right down the road from my restaurant. He came in at the end of my shift. Now, this is how I know I wasn’t ready to do this. I’m a very girly-girl. I love makeup, hair, clothes, and shoes. I met this guy in my t-shirt and jeans and those god awful non-slip shoes.  He was pretty. All my co-workers could not stop staring at him.  But I’m not attracted to “pretty boys”.  We had a few drinks. Made out in the car for a few minutes. He texted me when he got home, I never texted back. (Is this considered ghosting? After one date?) My work friends were in shock. But again, I’m a firm believer in chemistry.

I did something I never do. I matched with a guy who I could barely see on a pic, but loved his profile.  We chatted for a bit on a messenger app. He told me that he was from the next state over but here about once a month working on his Ph.D. He then told me he was married but was just looking for friends to hang out with, nothing sexual necessarily, just friends. I told him I’d have to think on that one. He then continued to hound me to the point where I had to block him on the dating app and the messenger site. Fast forward two days later to Friday. I am at my usual bar. A guy comes over and starts talking to me. A really, really cute guy who’s just my type.  We talk and I introduce myself , to which he replies we’ve met once a month since October and I’ve introduced myself to him every time.  Now, I’m a bit of a drinker but I think I’d remember meeting someone four times.   TM proceeds to tell me how he comes to this bar once a month. When he’s in town. From the next state over where he lives.  Because he’s working on his Ph.D.   Fuck.  This can’t be a coincidence.  So I unblock the dude on the messenger app and send a message and looked across the bar, and saw him check his phone immediately after I sent the message.  I went back up to him and said “soooo…..”, to which he responded “I’ve got a date coming here. Please don’t tell her I’m married.”  Uh, that’s on you homeboy. Come to find out, he met Tandy in October, so it’s possible I could have met him then. I don’t think he was stalking me to my bar. I do, however, believe that he knew it was me when we matched.  He actually had a bit to drink and turned out to be a dick, who tried to convince me to do a threesome with his date. To which I declined.

And last night. The story of how my being spontaneous turned out to be reckless. And I was actually scared.  I matched with YR Saturday morning. We had no conversation all day beyond agreeing to meet for a drink. I’ve never met someone without any getting to know them at all. But fun is what I needed. To be wild.  We met at the usual bar. He is 6’6 and damn good looking. I kept getting a feeling that he was a shady character. He’d spent the last three months on vacation in a foreign country, and did not work.  And drove a brand new luxury car. But I was determined to be wild.  He’d had a little bit to drink when I got there, and told me he had very low tolerance for alcohol.  We did a couple of Cafe Patron shots mixed with Baileys (great shot, it’s called a Baby Guinness).  When I was on my second drink, he pulled me near him and said “Let’s get out of here and go fuck”, to which I agreed, on the contingency we use a condom.  We ended up parking in front of his house and hooking up in the back of my car with third row seating folded down. (I don’t know why I’ve never done this, it’s actually as much room as a bed.)  If I thought NFL player skull fucked me, it was nothing compared to YR.  CS once told me he’d had girls “tap out” before because he’s so big.  I am grateful for him right now giving me that idea, because I had to tap out. Close to ten inches down my throat and he refused to let me breathe.  And it still didn’t work.  He finally yanked me up by my hair, and asked “are you ready to fuck me now slut?”  He grabbed the condom and pulled me on top. After riding him for a few minutes, he turned me around to fuck me from behind. It lasted all of about three minutes.  I had a surprise after when I stood up to put my pants on. He’d pulled the condom off, and came inside me. Without my permission.  FUUUCCCKKK….. STD testing here I come next week.  He then proceeded to almost throw up in my car.   He got out the car, and told me he wanted to see me again the next day. I told him I just wanted to go home.  This dude could be the poster child for the guy you’re warned against on online dating. (He also called me twice this morning. I blocked).

Finally, there’s LM.  He comes off so non-douche bag. He’s also on the rebound. We’ve chatted for three days trying to get our schedules together. We’ve talked about everything under the sun. Sent pics of our kids to each other. It really scares me to see myself opening up again so fast. I’ve blocked my potential emotions out but who knows when we finally meet this week? He can definitely sense that I’m starting to back off from him. Spacing out our texts more and more. Am I ready?  I guess it’s just a leap of faith.

It’s been a fun week. Or at least an interesting one.

“We’re like fire and gasoline…I’m no good for you, you’re no good for me…”

 

Unless you’ve ever experienced the kind of chemistry CS and I  had, it’s hard to describe. We were never able to keep our hands off each other, even in public. Our first date, we ended up in the same booth at a restaurant, with his hand down my pants, and he almost gave me my first public orgasm. On our third date, CS and I both took a Friday off. We went to a local brewery and spent about eight hours drinking beer.   At the end of the night, we were approached by the owner who told us “If you don’t tone it down, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You guys are being lewd.”   This week, I had a couple come into the bar/restaurant where I work. This couple sat at the bar for six hours and told me that this was in the middle of where they lived, and they could not visit each others houses.  Exact same situation. By the end of the night, she was straddling him on the bar chair.  Since there were no kids near, I smiled and told the manager to just let it go.  Because I get it. And my body is craving that chemistry. And witnessing that situation, made the hurt come back just a little. I didn’t cry. But I did proceed to go out and do fireball shots with my new bar peeps to numb the ache of the scar that’s just beginning to heal.

When fire and gasoline meet, the chemistry of both components skip the spark stage all together and move straight toward an explosion. It’s hot, it’s dangerous, and it burns out quickly.  And then what’s left is embers that still smolder. CS was the gasoline, I was the fire.  He burned through me and moved on.  But I’d still give anything to feel him inside me one last time. (break up sex anyone?).  I don’t even like him as a person anymore.  But I’m craving that pure, physical chemistry.

My advice to the couple at the bar would be to slow it down.  Spend a day with no alcohol and just having fun with each other.  Don’t do anything  but kiss.  Because when you ignite too fast, you burn the entire house down.

 

“Wherever you are honey, I’ll Pray For You”

Breakup-Day 2. Once the hurt starts to subside, you start to see things more realistically.  I’ve found all the little things I missed.  On our last date, he disappeared a lot. It’s obvious now that he was texting someone else.  (I may have called him out on this in a codeine haze last night.) This was the same thing CS did with me.  Yet, still proceeded to fuck me on the hood of his car and tell me how we were going to spend the night together the next week. And sing the line from his favorite song in my ear “I can’t let you go.”

Seeing things in hindsight eases me missing him by almost 100 percent. Sometimes anger is the stage to be in.  As a female, we want closure, and answers we are never going to get.  I’ll never get the apology I want, he will never see fault. I’ll never get the answer of why he kept the ruse going.  Worst of all, I won’t know why he chose to come to my bar for our last date, knowing he was ending things. It’s just cruel.

So back on Tinder. Sure I’m on the rebound and it’s probably not a good idea to jump right back in, but there’d be no blog or broken heart if I made good choices. So far the most promising is a cop.  My heart isn’t in it because I’m scared of everything currently, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been listening to this song all day. I’d never wish major harm on CS but a flower pot falling on his head is fun to imagine.

“was gettin’ some head head Gettin’, gettin’ some head I was wit the kinda girl that make ya toes pop Super head what’s good? Super head what’s good? Super head”

The first fight is almost as important as the first kiss.  Where the first kiss sets the tone on if there will be a future relationship, the first fight will either send you down the yellow brick road for swiping (because along the online dating track you for sure will end up seeing munchkins, a cowardly lion, a tin man with no heart, and plenty of scarecrows with no brain) or make you stronger (but if I’m making Wizard of Oz references, wasn’t it SHOES that got Dorothy what she wanted? Glinda the Good Witch didn’t wave a wand to get a man to appear.) CS and I had our first major fight that dragged on for three days.  The fight began because of something he said after the first time I gave him a good finisher.   He’s one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met, so him to say something like he did without thinking made me wonder: do we, as women, have superpowers that turn a man’s brain to mush as soon as we drain them? Turns out, we kinda do.

I found an article regarding how a man’s brain changes after orgasm. A group of scientists scanned men’s brains both before and during orgasm and found that his cerebral cortex (the actual thinking area above their shoulders) shuts down during and about fifteen minutes after orgasm due to chemical release (Daily mail reporter, 2012). Which also makes me wonder could this be a reasoning behind the expression of fucking someones brains out. Also in today’s biology research, I learned that when men are dehydrated, their jizz is thicker.  Meaning, we give ourselves huge pats on the back thinking “Wow, I could really teach a class in this shit. I’m going to enter the porno Olympics and win a gold in blow jobs!”, but it has nothing at all to do with our performance.

So I guess we should cut them some slack. I guess that blood truly does rush to the dick….

 

 

Daily Mail Reporter. 2012. Too Tired For Pillow Talk: The Reason Men Don’t Talk After Sex. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2177158/Sorry-darling-I-just-help-How-scientists-real-reason-men-fall-asleep-sex.html 

“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.

“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”