Dear Junk,
I realize that it’s part of the evolutionary process for you to grow hair but at some point you need to stop. If your hair is long enough to require shampoo AND conditioner than that should be your first clue that it is entirely too long. If your hair is long enough to run your fingers through and can stretch up your happy trail to your belly button then that is your second clue.
This next part is for your owner…
Dear Junk’s Owner,
Just because the hair may be thinning on the top of your head and you can count the hairs on your chest with the fingers of your right hand does NOT mean that you should embrace the mass of locks beneath the belt. As a male you probably prefer, if not require your women to be trimmed. Some even bare. Newsflash, women enjoy the same courtesy.
Gentleman owner, let me enlighten you on a few things. We as women are a complicated species, as I’m sure you are perfectly aware. Without even traveling south there is a list longer than the Great Wall of China that needs to be accomplished before even heading down to trim the mane. Faces alone we have to battle crow’s feet, blemishes, wrinkles, dry skin, oily skin, COMBINATION skin. Eye cream, face bleach, moisturizer, special face wash, masks, exfoliants, botox, the list goes on and on. Don’t even get me started on the women that have to wax or bleach their upper lip. Luckily, as a blonde, I don’t have to worry about that but I truly feel for the women that do and I’m sorry for outing you, ladies.
Once we’ve mastered the skincare regiment we have hair. If your hair is dry you need to moisturize it. If it’s oily you need to be wary of conditioner. To blow it dry or make it curly we need to add product. We need to color and maintain and often times our hair stylists are putting their kids through college on our dime. Most of us will probably even be invited to their college graduations. Do you know how expensive this shit costs?!?
But those things are just the base. The canvas you might say. Then comes the makeup. A tube of lipstick can cost thirty fucking dollars! Then we have foundation, concealer, powder, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow pencils, lipstick, lip gloss, lip PLUMPER. We as women spend more money on the part of the body above the neck than rent.
It’s a process and not one that I’m going to bitch about because it is also one of the wonderful things about being a woman. We get to play dress up on a daily basis. As women, we are artists trying to make ourselves look better to catch the eye of anyone willing to look. Consider that the next time you ask us “why does it take you SO long to get ready?”
Let me continue. Once we’ve perfected the art of hair and makeup we move south. Everything needs to be shaved and waxed within an inch of its life. Armpits, sometimes the arms themselves, legs, feet…TOES! We tan, we exfoliate, we lather ourselves with oils and moisturizers to keep the sagging at bay, disguise cellulite and to be soft to the touch.
Even after all that, we get to the bikini area. That’s a whole different Oprah. In order to maintain the secret garden we as women do horrific and barbaric things to the one part of our body that we can’t even see without a mirror. We take razors to an area so delicate going by nothing more than the sense of touch. We fold ourselves into Kama Sutra positions in front of the mirror trying to make sure we didn’t miss a spot. We use creams to DI-SIN-TE-GRATE the hair! If we choose not to shave or dissolve our southern tresses then we WAX! Remember the movie “The 40 Year Old Virgin”? Imagine somebody taking hot wax to your nut sack and ripping the hair right out of the follicles all on the count of three.
And now, I’m going to let you gentlemen in on a little secret. The hair doesn’t just grow on the sides of our pretty little lips. Oh no. It grows everywhere! Up towards your belly button all the way down your crack. Ever get a brazillion or Playboy wax? Didn’t think so, men. I ask you to try getting your butthole waxed, paying $100 and still trying to keep a smile on your face. Why don’t you try it sometime? I guarantee you will have nightmares and trouble sitting for weeks.
I’ll spare you on our need for shoes, clothing and the perfect $50 bra that makes us look as though we just had a boob job. Nevermind that we can’t breath but we do it for YOU.
But, for all this work we do to maintain ourselves for those that get to see us in the buff all we ask is that you take five fucking minutes and trim your Goddamn pubes. I don’t want to get hair in my teeth and I don’t particularly like sucking on hair. Nothing like wiping wet hair out of my face when I’m trying to make you feel good. I’m not asking for you to shave it all off...
I’m simply asking you to trim your fucking junk! PLEASE.
Kisses,
MMM
P.S. Although, men for the most part are aware of and appreciate what we as women go through and do take part in the art of manscaping, there are the unfortunate few who do not. This letter is dedicated to the clueless. To manscapers everywhere, I salute you and truly appreciate the hard work you put into maintaining yourselves so that for those of us that venture to the South Pole (pun totally intended) we aren’t forced to gag on your Dial flavored locks.
And to women that don’t mind a flowing mane of pubic hair, I apologize for generalizing by saying “we, as women”.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Christmas Eve In a Nutshell
I’m the oldest of four children and by far the least accomplished as was brought to my attention by my Aunt Betty’s endearing Christmas Eve toast:
“A toast to Cindy for getting accepted into the college of her choice AND for getting a scholarship!
…and to Nick for actually meeting a girl and for making it through two years at college!
…to Rosy for working at Memorial Hospital for almost two years now as a nurse!
…and to Joe (my sister, Rosy’s husband) for getting hired by the police department this year!
(Cheering and clapping followed by a long, hard blank stare in my direction)
…and to Melisa…
(Crickets)
(Chirping)
(Loudly)
…to Melisa…Gosh! We just love you!”
Nothing strokes your ego when you are already feeling the bitter loneliness of the holidays like a fucking pity toast. And that was just the beginning of the evening. The rest didn’t fair much better for my already deflated level of confidence.
But, all is not lost, I got a Snuggie, a sewing machine and lots of chocolate for Christmas. So now, instead of a man I’ll have my Snuggie to keep me warm, the chocolate to keep my endorphins up and a sewing machine to let all my clothes out once I’ve eaten my way through See’s Candy.
Looking forward to the New Year…In a BAD way!
“A toast to Cindy for getting accepted into the college of her choice AND for getting a scholarship!
…and to Nick for actually meeting a girl and for making it through two years at college!
…to Rosy for working at Memorial Hospital for almost two years now as a nurse!
…and to Joe (my sister, Rosy’s husband) for getting hired by the police department this year!
(Cheering and clapping followed by a long, hard blank stare in my direction)
…and to Melisa…
(Crickets)
(Chirping)
(Loudly)
…to Melisa…Gosh! We just love you!”
Nothing strokes your ego when you are already feeling the bitter loneliness of the holidays like a fucking pity toast. And that was just the beginning of the evening. The rest didn’t fair much better for my already deflated level of confidence.
But, all is not lost, I got a Snuggie, a sewing machine and lots of chocolate for Christmas. So now, instead of a man I’ll have my Snuggie to keep me warm, the chocolate to keep my endorphins up and a sewing machine to let all my clothes out once I’ve eaten my way through See’s Candy.
Looking forward to the New Year…In a BAD way!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Yet Another Shirtless Idiot
First of all, yay me for finally figuring out how to post a picture on this blog. Secondly, I apologize that this was the first picture to post.
Less than 12 hours after posting my Profile Pet Peeves, I received the above picture via text message. Sometimes one really has to wonder about the timing in which things occur. Didn’t I just write “put your fucking shirt back on?”
Let’s cut the crap. Mr. Morning Wood is a fucking moron. I don’t know what is more stupid. The fact that despite not having been out with Wood in almost four years he still deemed it necessary to try and poke my eye out or that he sent this picture to five other women in addition to me. That’s right, he sent this gem wishing us all a “Good Morning, lol” to six ladies. Any guy in his right mind should know better than to give the special six access to each others phone numbers. I guess this picture alone is proof that when a man has a hard on the blood rushes from his brain down to his nether regions.
I’m not going to suddenly claim I’m a prude (you guys know me better than that). I have received such pictures before, sometimes upon request even, but this gratuitous morning wood picture is too much and sort of, well…random, to say the least. Let me give you some background on Mr. Wood.
Match.com was our matchmaker. The first two things I noticed about him were his biceps and his love of reality television (sometimes I just can’t get enough of watching people act retarded on national TV). Upon first meeting in person he appeared to be everything he had claimed to be only with a weaker chin but I could over look that minor detail because he had amazing pecs.
We went out a few times but he was just shy of a two year relationship so I was a tad weary and decided that it might be in my best interest to let this one die down before I found myself too attached. We managed to remain in contact, often by IM or email but nothing more came of this great love connection. He also happened to live about 45 minutes away from me and he didn’t seem to be making that much of an attempt to visit me on my end.
It wasn’t until I found him on Myspace did I get the full picture at how dramatic and needy this guy truly was. What was news to me was the way he proclaimed his love for the new girl in his life. I was slightly surprised and a little disappointed but somewhat taken aback by his declarations of love for the girl with too much eyeliner. I will also make a mention that despite her having a nicer figure than yours truly, I was (and still am) way better looking. Come on ladies, you know there is something cathartic about being better looking than a guys ex or even current girlfriend.
I sent him an email to congratulate him and get the scoop as I was entirely curious as to what I had missed just since the last time we had been in contact. He immediately wrote back saying that I shouldn’t congratulate him just yet as he and his girl “were off and on like a light switch”. I found that to be a rather pessimistic view of things and wondered to myself why he would stay in a relationship where it was clear that things weren’t going to work out. Sure enough, one week later, all signs of her had been erased from his profile and he was listed as single. A week after that? You guessed it. He was in love again. Two weeks after that? Single. It is safe to assume you know where this is going?
He picked up on his text messages to me yet I was none to eager to meet up with him again. Every time I declined he would get pissy saying that I was a typical game playing woman. I’m sure he didn’t consider that he only texted me last minute when I had already made plans. I had also just moved an additional 30 minutes away from him. He was clearly not into driving out to my neck of the woods and I certainly didn’t have any desire to trek an hour and 15 minutes to listen to him bitch and moan about his ex and how she had done him wrong. Mmm, a bitter man that’s too lazy to drive, despite how many times I have driven to him…no thank you.
At one point, he even asked me to leave a comment on his page saying that I was looking forward to meeting him for drinks later. Knowing we had no such plans, I saw his little ploy for exactly what it was. An attempt to make the ex jealous. Now why on heaven’s green earth would I want to get myself involved in that stupid love triangle. I have enough issues of my own.
So, here we are two years later after having found him on Myspace. The ex and he got back together (big surprise) and she moved in with him. They had a son and have now split for good as of about nine months ago. He constantly leaves me (and many other women) cheesy comments on Myspace. I can tell this by the responses he gets back. I guess this is his way at receiving the attention he needs from the opposite sex. I find it a turn off that a man that is 36 years old needs Myspace to fulfill his need for attention.
Oh, and one more thing…even when he was “in love” with Max Factor he never actually took his profile off of Match.com. I’ll also let you know that he hasn’t changed it a bit since I actually met him…5 YEARS AGO! For your reading pleasure I present you with Mr. Morning Wood’s Match.com profile:
“Hello, I'm an honest man and i don't use out-dated pictures to represent myself. The oldest picture is 2 1/2 years old which is my main picture. The last several are mid January 2006 from one of my cruises which incidentally is not usually how I have my hair as it's way too short for my liking. I love cruises and have been on a 5, 7, 8, 10, 11 day cruises all within 3 years from the Bahamas to Mexico to Hawaii.
Less than 12 hours after posting my Profile Pet Peeves, I received the above picture via text message. Sometimes one really has to wonder about the timing in which things occur. Didn’t I just write “put your fucking shirt back on?”
Let’s cut the crap. Mr. Morning Wood is a fucking moron. I don’t know what is more stupid. The fact that despite not having been out with Wood in almost four years he still deemed it necessary to try and poke my eye out or that he sent this picture to five other women in addition to me. That’s right, he sent this gem wishing us all a “Good Morning, lol” to six ladies. Any guy in his right mind should know better than to give the special six access to each others phone numbers. I guess this picture alone is proof that when a man has a hard on the blood rushes from his brain down to his nether regions.
I’m not going to suddenly claim I’m a prude (you guys know me better than that). I have received such pictures before, sometimes upon request even, but this gratuitous morning wood picture is too much and sort of, well…random, to say the least. Let me give you some background on Mr. Wood.
Match.com was our matchmaker. The first two things I noticed about him were his biceps and his love of reality television (sometimes I just can’t get enough of watching people act retarded on national TV). Upon first meeting in person he appeared to be everything he had claimed to be only with a weaker chin but I could over look that minor detail because he had amazing pecs.
We went out a few times but he was just shy of a two year relationship so I was a tad weary and decided that it might be in my best interest to let this one die down before I found myself too attached. We managed to remain in contact, often by IM or email but nothing more came of this great love connection. He also happened to live about 45 minutes away from me and he didn’t seem to be making that much of an attempt to visit me on my end.
It wasn’t until I found him on Myspace did I get the full picture at how dramatic and needy this guy truly was. What was news to me was the way he proclaimed his love for the new girl in his life. I was slightly surprised and a little disappointed but somewhat taken aback by his declarations of love for the girl with too much eyeliner. I will also make a mention that despite her having a nicer figure than yours truly, I was (and still am) way better looking. Come on ladies, you know there is something cathartic about being better looking than a guys ex or even current girlfriend.
I sent him an email to congratulate him and get the scoop as I was entirely curious as to what I had missed just since the last time we had been in contact. He immediately wrote back saying that I shouldn’t congratulate him just yet as he and his girl “were off and on like a light switch”. I found that to be a rather pessimistic view of things and wondered to myself why he would stay in a relationship where it was clear that things weren’t going to work out. Sure enough, one week later, all signs of her had been erased from his profile and he was listed as single. A week after that? You guessed it. He was in love again. Two weeks after that? Single. It is safe to assume you know where this is going?
He picked up on his text messages to me yet I was none to eager to meet up with him again. Every time I declined he would get pissy saying that I was a typical game playing woman. I’m sure he didn’t consider that he only texted me last minute when I had already made plans. I had also just moved an additional 30 minutes away from him. He was clearly not into driving out to my neck of the woods and I certainly didn’t have any desire to trek an hour and 15 minutes to listen to him bitch and moan about his ex and how she had done him wrong. Mmm, a bitter man that’s too lazy to drive, despite how many times I have driven to him…no thank you.
At one point, he even asked me to leave a comment on his page saying that I was looking forward to meeting him for drinks later. Knowing we had no such plans, I saw his little ploy for exactly what it was. An attempt to make the ex jealous. Now why on heaven’s green earth would I want to get myself involved in that stupid love triangle. I have enough issues of my own.
So, here we are two years later after having found him on Myspace. The ex and he got back together (big surprise) and she moved in with him. They had a son and have now split for good as of about nine months ago. He constantly leaves me (and many other women) cheesy comments on Myspace. I can tell this by the responses he gets back. I guess this is his way at receiving the attention he needs from the opposite sex. I find it a turn off that a man that is 36 years old needs Myspace to fulfill his need for attention.
Oh, and one more thing…even when he was “in love” with Max Factor he never actually took his profile off of Match.com. I’ll also let you know that he hasn’t changed it a bit since I actually met him…5 YEARS AGO! For your reading pleasure I present you with Mr. Morning Wood’s Match.com profile:
“Hello, I'm an honest man and i don't use out-dated pictures to represent myself. The oldest picture is 2 1/2 years old which is my main picture. The last several are mid January 2006 from one of my cruises which incidentally is not usually how I have my hair as it's way too short for my liking. I love cruises and have been on a 5, 7, 8, 10, 11 day cruises all within 3 years from the Bahamas to Mexico to Hawaii.
I try and keep in shape and my body tan working out at least twice a week and my main employment is working in my home office selling full-time I was just recently released from a 2nd job due to facility closure of the postal service and I didn't accept a further assignment.
My dad is from “Some place in Asia” and my mother is from “Hickville” (yes, I changed the locations) I'm not a big fan of "chatting" and am very spontaneous and am looking for the same. Would much prefer to meet for a coffee or a drink to get to know someone. Musically my favorite current artist is: Rob Thomas/Matchbox Twenty. My all-time favorite artist is: Elvis Presley. I own a condo in "BFE" and drive a Tundra and a Mercedes and I mention this just to show personality and not to brag, some have commented that I shouldn't list what I drive or where I live but I say if I was bragging I would said I live in Malibu and drive a Ferrari, right? If you like to be impulsive and spontaneous, give me a wink and lets hang out. Thanks for your time in reading”
P.S. Contrary to popular belief, I should also let you know that I never even slept with this guy.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Online Dating Profile Pet Peeves
- People that claim to have MBA’s yet can’t figure out basic grammar or how to spell. Case in point, I was emailed by a guy that said he had graduated from Harvard and did undergrad at the University of Texas yet didn’t believe in periods and randomly ended and started paragraphs on a whim. Sure you graduated from Harvard, honey.
- Text speak in an email. Is it really that much more effort to write out “you” as opposed to “u”? Also, correct me if I’m wrong but “kool” or “kewl” is in no way saving you energy over just writing “cool”.
- Under “What type of relationship” listing “Hang Out”. What the fuck is that? When you have the option of using “Friends”, “Dating” or “Intimate Encounter” in case you aren’t interested in “Long Term” why use “Hang Out”? Does that mean you want to bring over a 6-pack of beer and play X-Box? Either way, I’m not interested in “hanging out”.
- Put your fucking shirt back on. Seriously. I for one can fully appreciate a well chiseled gentleman but come on, the cheese factor alone makes me want to gag. Especially if I’ve given you my cell number and you bombard me of pictures of you in the bathroom with a towel around your waist. When I want to see your pecks, I’ll let you know.
- Profiles that rival a Harlequin romance yet when you actually get to emailing or talking with them on the phone the deepest thing that comes out of their mouth is the benefits of using the Jackhammer position in bed. Charming.
- One picture posted…with 2 people in it. Who the fuck are you? I can only hope that the profile belongs to the attractive one and not the one that is playing wingman. Nine times out of 10, the profile belongs to the short wingman that needs to iron his shirt.
- What’s with all the personal trainers? I’m not sure if this is a geographical thing as I do live in North Hollywood but if I want somebody to teach me how to lung and do pull ups I’ll contact one. I’m on a dating website to find a date, not someone I have to pay to hurt me.
- Along the lines of the personal trainers. Why do they all contact ME? At first, I just assumed that since I’m curvy they wanted my business. However, that seems to be far from the case. They all swear to like a woman with a little meat on their bones. WTF?
- Nuvaring commercials. Not in any way related to online dating yet important enough for me to share with you how much I hate their commercials. If I hear that fucking song “Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday…” I’m going to go postal. And btw, I’m perfectly content using condoms or the pill. The idea of shoving something up my cooch, leaving it in for 3 weeks then pulling it back out is in no way an appetizing thought for me.
- Never trust the profile of someone that is smoking hot yet only seems to have one or two pictures. Both headshots or model pics. Sometimes, these pictures may actually be blurry as well. Trust me, if you’re hot you are going to have a gazillion and one self portraits posted. Shit, there are people that shouldn’t even own cameras that have at least three or four pictures of themselves up.
- Please don’t email me in all CAPS. You could have written the theory of relativity and I’m still going to think you are an idiot because you are still YELLING AT ME!
- When people scan and post their driver’s license pictures. Really? In this day and age that was the best you could come up with? REALLY?
- People that are “Separated”. In the eyes of God and the law, you are still technically married. You shouldn’t be looking for a date. Perhaps that’s why you are separated in the first place. Ever consider that?
That’s it for now. I’m easily irritated and highly judgmental so I’m sure this list will grow. As soon as I think of anything more I’ll be sure and let you know.
Tell me…what bothers you???
P.S. On a side note, just as I finished writing this I received an email from a guy named “RoBeRT *SwAg Is On PoINt*” and his email was in all CAPS. Seriously folks, I can’t make this stuff up.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Me Shallow, You Youngbuck
I really hate to kick a dead horse but I once again feel it absolutely necessary to share with you the latest batch of text messages from Westside Story. If only just to show you that I’m not crazy! He really is that cheesy. So here goes…
WSS: How are you today?
Me: Fine. And you?
WSS: Well…I DID get paid today. And I SUPPOSE I could be talked into making lasagna later, or something. *trying not to be a pest*
Me: Sorry babe but I’m stuffed. I made myself a dinner of Snickers bars and Reese’s peanut butter cups.
WSS: Lol who said I wanted to share?! *being smartass* I was just looking for an angle.
Me: I see
WSS: I figure it’s a delicate balance between keeping you entertained by my attraction and being bored. I expect I can get away with pushing my luck a LITTLE. Haha
Me: Maybe another time
WSS: Ok, but give me an excuse not to hit on you. Cause it’s a strong impulse on my part.
And there you have it, folks *swallowing my own vomit*
Now, for the story you’ve all been waiting for. My shallow hookup with a 26 year old. I’ve taken to calling him Youngbuck.
So, despite his inability to write out an educated coherent email he was certainly able to hold his own during an actual conversation. We seemed to be on the same page in regards to dating, relationships and life in general. I was pleasantly surprised. If he looked even half as good in person as he did in his posted pictures I was in for a real treat.
We met a few nights later and guess what? He did! He looked just like his pictures. I was getting the real deal. We had a few drinks and got to know each other a little better. In the back of my head I kept waiting for him to call me “dude” or “hooka” but not once did those words slip from his pretty pouty lips. But as there usually is, there was just one thing…
His eyes.
Youngbuck was wearing a pair of sunglasses. Inside. At night. Or rather they were tinted glasses? Not quite David Caruso style but just enough where I couldn’t look him in the eye when talking to him. At first it wasn’t such a big deal but after a while it really began to get on my nerves. I’d seen his pictures and I knew that he had both eyes. He didn’t seem to have a lazy eye either so I was seriously confused. So much so that I was losing my train of thought while trying to unleash my super power of being able to look through steel and tinted glass.
Finally, after I was tired of having a conversation with a reflection of myself I asked him if he could take off his glasses. He explained to me that his eyesight was poor and without them he wouldn’t be able to see. I figured that would be perfect. I would be able to take off my makeup and put on my PJ’s without him noticing. Yep, I’m classy like that. He didn’t buy it. So, the glasses stayed on.
Here’s where it gets weird(er). He left the glasses on during sex. Oh, sorry, I didn’t give you much of a heads up on that one, did I? Would you have expected anything less from me than to end up in bed? Please. I cut him some slack on the glasses in my living room but the bedroom? How bad does your eyesight have to be to wear glasses during sex? Plus, if his glasses are tinted and my bedroom lights are out, then chances are you can’t see shit, right? But, I let it drop because he was a good ride.
Here’s where our age difference becomes apparent. He’s 26, I’m 32 (as of last Friday, fuck you very much). I’m all for a good romp in the sack but this guy takes it to a whole new level. He is single handedly keeping Trojan in business. Seriously. Five times in one night?!? He even woke me up at 2:30 in the morning to get his groove on. Hello lube.
He’s come over twice after that and it’s the same thing. For God’s sake! In three dates I’m over it. I enjoy his company but just getting a text message from him makes my coochy dry up and crawl inside my uterus. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would ever be tired of sex. Quick, if you look out your window I’ll bet you see that pig flying too.
As is my luck, on date number three, Youngbuck told me that he “really” liked me and was having “feelings”. Ugh. Really? Now what? Nice guy or not, that “spark” is just not there with him either. I don’t know why but it isn’t. Perhaps I’m holding onto the romantic notion of chemistry a little too much but the moment he mentioned “settling down” with him, my innards curled up and I wanted him out…fast.
WSS: How are you today?
Me: Fine. And you?
WSS: Well…I DID get paid today. And I SUPPOSE I could be talked into making lasagna later, or something. *trying not to be a pest*
Me: Sorry babe but I’m stuffed. I made myself a dinner of Snickers bars and Reese’s peanut butter cups.
WSS: Lol who said I wanted to share?! *being smartass* I was just looking for an angle.
Me: I see
WSS: I figure it’s a delicate balance between keeping you entertained by my attraction and being bored. I expect I can get away with pushing my luck a LITTLE. Haha
Me: Maybe another time
WSS: Ok, but give me an excuse not to hit on you. Cause it’s a strong impulse on my part.
And there you have it, folks *swallowing my own vomit*
Now, for the story you’ve all been waiting for. My shallow hookup with a 26 year old. I’ve taken to calling him Youngbuck.
So, despite his inability to write out an educated coherent email he was certainly able to hold his own during an actual conversation. We seemed to be on the same page in regards to dating, relationships and life in general. I was pleasantly surprised. If he looked even half as good in person as he did in his posted pictures I was in for a real treat.
We met a few nights later and guess what? He did! He looked just like his pictures. I was getting the real deal. We had a few drinks and got to know each other a little better. In the back of my head I kept waiting for him to call me “dude” or “hooka” but not once did those words slip from his pretty pouty lips. But as there usually is, there was just one thing…
His eyes.
Youngbuck was wearing a pair of sunglasses. Inside. At night. Or rather they were tinted glasses? Not quite David Caruso style but just enough where I couldn’t look him in the eye when talking to him. At first it wasn’t such a big deal but after a while it really began to get on my nerves. I’d seen his pictures and I knew that he had both eyes. He didn’t seem to have a lazy eye either so I was seriously confused. So much so that I was losing my train of thought while trying to unleash my super power of being able to look through steel and tinted glass.
Finally, after I was tired of having a conversation with a reflection of myself I asked him if he could take off his glasses. He explained to me that his eyesight was poor and without them he wouldn’t be able to see. I figured that would be perfect. I would be able to take off my makeup and put on my PJ’s without him noticing. Yep, I’m classy like that. He didn’t buy it. So, the glasses stayed on.
Here’s where it gets weird(er). He left the glasses on during sex. Oh, sorry, I didn’t give you much of a heads up on that one, did I? Would you have expected anything less from me than to end up in bed? Please. I cut him some slack on the glasses in my living room but the bedroom? How bad does your eyesight have to be to wear glasses during sex? Plus, if his glasses are tinted and my bedroom lights are out, then chances are you can’t see shit, right? But, I let it drop because he was a good ride.
Here’s where our age difference becomes apparent. He’s 26, I’m 32 (as of last Friday, fuck you very much). I’m all for a good romp in the sack but this guy takes it to a whole new level. He is single handedly keeping Trojan in business. Seriously. Five times in one night?!? He even woke me up at 2:30 in the morning to get his groove on. Hello lube.
He’s come over twice after that and it’s the same thing. For God’s sake! In three dates I’m over it. I enjoy his company but just getting a text message from him makes my coochy dry up and crawl inside my uterus. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would ever be tired of sex. Quick, if you look out your window I’ll bet you see that pig flying too.
As is my luck, on date number three, Youngbuck told me that he “really” liked me and was having “feelings”. Ugh. Really? Now what? Nice guy or not, that “spark” is just not there with him either. I don’t know why but it isn’t. Perhaps I’m holding onto the romantic notion of chemistry a little too much but the moment he mentioned “settling down” with him, my innards curled up and I wanted him out…fast.
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