VENEEReal Disease

“Do you consider oral sex cheating?”

I’m having déjà vu. I’ve heard these words before. Not only have I heard them before but they came from the same married jackass that spewed them 12 months earlier. Has he used this line so many times that he’s actually forgotten who he’s uttered this phrase too? Better yet, how many big busted, six foot tall blondes that he works with has he asked this question to in order to forget that he’s already broached this subject with me?

What makes this scenario particularly scandalous is that not only is the pint sized Puerto Rican married but he also has a kid on the way yet still finds it perfectly acceptable behavior to ask me if I’ve had sex in the office stock room. His wife is a lucky lady indeed.

Last year, it was a hot, sunny afternoon and I was alone in the office looking up porn working diligently when in walked Erik (the pint sized Puerto Rican). He was a very cute, well built, olive skinned man. Hispanic with jet black hair and beautiful big brown eyes. I instantly wanted to devour him. Then he smiled and my mind switched from thoughts of naked debauchery to wondering if his teeth would glow should the power suddenly go out. His teeth were nothing short of ginormous. Like Hillary Duff’s and Dr. Phil’s wife huge. If he thought these were an acceptable look for grills, I can only imagine what they must have looked like before.

We talked, we flirted and I felt that rush that can only come from the chase of the unknown. I had found my new pet project and Eric Estrada was it. Doing my homework like any good school girl determined to ace a test, I went about finding out all I could from his friend, my boss. Then I heard the words that would stop me dead in my tracks and put a damper on any dreams I might have had of dividing and conquering.

“He’s got the greatest live-in girlfriend.”

Shot down.

I certainly wasn’t getting any hint of a girlfriend while he was asking me what I did for fun. Nor was I when he was asking if I had a boyfriend. But a guy with a live-in girlfriend AND big teeth? No thank you. I think I’ll pass.

A few nights later, a few people from work were gathering at a local bar to watch the game. I knew Estrada would be there but paid no mind since I also knew that bar + football = single, eligible men. I and my best push up bra would be there in full force rooting for the team with the cutest fans.

After the game, everyone in my party began to disperse. As luck would have it, I had parked in a different lot from most everyone else…except Estrada, who being the true gentleman he was, offered to walk me to my car. After he insisted I sit and join him for one last drink, of course. Personally, I would have rather had my appendix taken out by a spider monkey but unless I felt like walking back to the dark parking structure alone at midnight I was shit outta luck.

Being slightly irritated and defiant, I asked him what his girlfriend was up to that evening. I had, after all, heard that she was a really “sweet gal”. As he uncomfortably shifted in his seat he launched into his “woe is me” tale about his son (didn’t know he had one of those either), his first wife, his days partying and what led him into AA. Sure, this was an interesting story and all but still didn’t account for the fact that he was sitting alone, in a bar, with 38 DD’s while his good little girlfriend was at home ironing his shirts and taking care of his son by another woman.

Then like a true cheating douche bag with no inclination that what he was doing may be construed as highly inappropriate leaned across the table towards me. With a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face uttered the words that every woman should hear at least once in their lives…

“So, do you consider oral sex cheating?”

After I reminded him that things hadn’t gone well the way of Clinton and Lewinsky his face fell like a lead balloon and I got up to leave. I asked if he would like to take his Diet Coke to go. Apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

A week later he proposed to his girlfriend. I wasn’t invited to the wedding.

So, why am I having déjà vu you ask? Because once again, I found myself alone with the arrogant philanderer. I had gone almost a year without seeing Estrada and the only thing that had changed was the tan on his left ring finger. Having come in to work on a project, I was left alone with Estrada while he boasted about how wonderful married life was yet asking if he could “show me something in the back room” while holding his fly. Watching his confidence level shrivel when I told him he held no interest for me and that no, he would not be seeing my goodies (nor I his) was worth all the vodka in Russia. Or my wet bar. Whichever is greater, it’s a close call.

Moral of the story: Never trust a man with Day-Glo teeth the size of cue cards.

Unwitting Homewrecker

Picture it…

Full moon, in the middle of the Mexican sea. Somewhere between Puerto Vallarta and Mazatlan. Cute girl stands at the rail overlooking the adult pool and stalking watching the adorable waiter that has come to know her quite well. Vodka tonic with a twist of lime. No card is needed. He knows her by name and automatically knows who to bill. With a wink and a nod, the order has been placed.

Across the deck, a good looking guy stands also looking over at the same pool.

Eye contact is made. Another wink and nod and it’s been determined that vodka isn’t the only thing coming that night.

Good looking guy walks over to cute girl and makes idle chit chat. They exchange pleasantries and he tells her how great her ass looks in “those pants”. He asks if they can go to her room and if she has condoms. And with the subtlety of a true gentleman, his intentions are made known. Who said romance was dead?

With that, CG and GLG head to the casino. A few shots and a Dos Equis later, GLG and CG are feeling quite chummy. Brief kisses and promises of what’s to come later while at the slot machine ensue.

Then these lovely words are spoken over CG’s left shoulder:

“Would you kindly take your lips off my husband? We are on our honeymoon.”

With a brief explanation and apology, CG grabs her beer and with head hung in shame leaves the casino and the now fighting couple, sure to need security intervention shortly and heads back to her room. Alone.

By the way, in case you all hadn’t guessed yet, cute girl was me. That was me being seduced by a married man. A man that was not wearing a wedding ring. He hadn't even been married long enough to get a wedding band tan.  A man that said he was there with friends. That was me being accosted by a pissed off wife. And that was me becoming the punch line for every argument they ever have until their almost certain divorce papers are signed. I will forever be THAT girl that GLG tried to cheat with on his honeymoon.

Born with a guilty conscience, I’ve replayed the evening’s events in my head countless times wondering where I went wrong. This hasn’t been the first time my need for penis has gotten me into trouble.

On my walk of shame I felt sorry for the newlywed bride. If that night was any indication of their future together, she may as well be looking for her next husband and I should have thrown his ass overboard when I had the chance and done the poor lady a favor.

After the feelings of sorrow and guilt subsided, I was filled with anger and resentment. How dare GLG interrupt my flirtation with the cute little Indonesian waiter with perfect teeth to bring such unneeded drama? It was MY vacation too and now I would be spending the remaining 3 days trapped on a ship looking over my shoulder and not standing too close to the edge. Just in case.

The next day, while in the hot tub playing a game I like to call “how long can I keep my hands all over your six pack” with my new friend, Hot Coco, Married guy decided to join us. Great.

Not particularly in the mood make the wife’s acquaintance once again, I firmly insisted that married guy go visit the other hot tub as he was not welcome in mine. After explaining myself to other inhabitants as to why I had just told this man to get the fuck out leave I was given high fives and a few “nicely handled”s. Mostly from the women.

I’ve often joked that I’m catnip for married men, however, I would never knowingly fuck around with one. That’s just plain bad karma and I’ve got my hands full with that little bitch already.

For the record, the next evening, I went back down to the casino alone. I sat down at the very same slot machine and I won $40. I'll be damned if I had auctioned off a kidney to pay for my first vacation in almost two years just to go into hiding, when for once, I hadn’t done anything wrong but try to get a little cruise ship tail.

But, next time I meet a man, I will be insisting on a background check.

With the exception of that little *cough cough* debaucle, the rest of my time on board lived up to everything you all have to come to expect from me. I drank too much, I smoked too much, I ate too much and I tried to seduce every man I could find that had 36” biceps. I don’t even know the meaning of the word “moderation” and I’m in no mood to learn about it now.