Again, I was starting something and got screwed. This time by a stupid popup. I accidentally clicked it and bye bye post! Goddammit! And it was GOOD, too! One of those ideas that start at one place and take you on this tide to somewhere else entirely. And even though I could go back and start from where I was, I'll never get that whole thought pattern back again. Goddamned technology!
Fine. I'll just post another (highly demanded) bizarre dating story. And hope that one day I'll get back to that phenomenal, more serious bit of writing I was so proud of. Here goes:
Okay, he IMs me, right? Right. And we have a very he-wants-to-get-laid-and-is-not-very-intelligent conversation. Why do they do this? I mean, I understand the need to be physical...anyway, that's a whole 'nother rant. So he comes over-during the day so I have an awake and aware Amethyst-on the pretense that he's going to take us to a movie. But when he gets there he claims that he has to go house shopping with a friend. I don't care, I really don't. But it IS kinda rude, you know? Especially because the person he's supposed to go house shopping with calls while he's here and has just woken up-which means that this is not a spur of the moment plan. Okay, so whatever. "I just wanted to come over and meet you." Get lost, already. And he's not even really attractive, at least not to me. So what does he want? You guessed it-sex. But I have Amethyst. Anyway, I give her something to eat and she goes out to the balcony to eat it. Which is perfectly normal; I have a pretty open apartment, there's a railing, and it's nice out there. What does HE do? Wanders into the bedroom-which door I have admittedly left open, but I thought he was just going to pick us up and go. I wander after him because well, I have all sorts of stuff in there that are no business of strangers. So he SHUTS THE DOOR and closes us in. Now Amethyst is a pretty easy going kid, but she was born with an insatiable curiousity. As soon as the door is shut she wonders what's going on behind it. Although maybe she didn't wander over there for a few minutes. In fact, I'm pretty sure she didn't. So okay, he sits down on the bed and I sit with him and he starts kissing me-and OMG is he bad at it. I mean, it was like my first kiss only worse. So I let him take off my shirt-no big deal, I almost never wear one around the house (except strike the almost part). Then he starts fumbling with my bra. And by fumbling, I mean fingers slipping up like a bumbling idiot. Okay, guys, any heterosexual man over the age of seventeen-and I'm giving the benefit of the doubt here, most say sixteen-should know how to operate a woman's bra. And any over the age of twenty-again, benefit of the doubt, should be eighteen-should be able to do it one handed. This guy was twenty-two. Did I laugh? I was so close. You have no idea. No, I said that I was uncomfortable because my three year old daughter was out there alone and it bothered me to shut the door on her. And put my shirt back on. He, being the male that he is-maybe I SHOULD hate men, given the opinion I have of them and the way they keep proving themselves worthy of it-kept insisting that she'd be okay. When I said I just couldn't get into it, he said "You have that tongue ring. Wanna use it?" I'll give him points for being a little more subtle than "Can I have a blow job?", but COME ON!! I said no and turned towards the door. Guess whose adorable little girl fingers were sticking under it? That's right: Amethyst and her undying curiousity. But she was polite enough not to just barge in, my little Bear. I open the door and retrieve her and usher his sorry self out. The end. By this point, dear reader-and yes, I know that's a cliche, get over it-I'm sure you're wondering if I ever have normal dates. Well, I don't think I've had one yet. I had one that was really phenomenal, and I suppose leaned more towards normal...but I'll write about that another time. It's too awesome to be soiled by being in the same post as creepy bile yellow guy. Bye, bye Bile.
Laters
Fine. I'll just post another (highly demanded) bizarre dating story. And hope that one day I'll get back to that phenomenal, more serious bit of writing I was so proud of. Here goes:
Okay, he IMs me, right? Right. And we have a very he-wants-to-get-laid-and-is-not-very-intelligent conversation. Why do they do this? I mean, I understand the need to be physical...anyway, that's a whole 'nother rant. So he comes over-during the day so I have an awake and aware Amethyst-on the pretense that he's going to take us to a movie. But when he gets there he claims that he has to go house shopping with a friend. I don't care, I really don't. But it IS kinda rude, you know? Especially because the person he's supposed to go house shopping with calls while he's here and has just woken up-which means that this is not a spur of the moment plan. Okay, so whatever. "I just wanted to come over and meet you." Get lost, already. And he's not even really attractive, at least not to me. So what does he want? You guessed it-sex. But I have Amethyst. Anyway, I give her something to eat and she goes out to the balcony to eat it. Which is perfectly normal; I have a pretty open apartment, there's a railing, and it's nice out there. What does HE do? Wanders into the bedroom-which door I have admittedly left open, but I thought he was just going to pick us up and go. I wander after him because well, I have all sorts of stuff in there that are no business of strangers. So he SHUTS THE DOOR and closes us in. Now Amethyst is a pretty easy going kid, but she was born with an insatiable curiousity. As soon as the door is shut she wonders what's going on behind it. Although maybe she didn't wander over there for a few minutes. In fact, I'm pretty sure she didn't. So okay, he sits down on the bed and I sit with him and he starts kissing me-and OMG is he bad at it. I mean, it was like my first kiss only worse. So I let him take off my shirt-no big deal, I almost never wear one around the house (except strike the almost part). Then he starts fumbling with my bra. And by fumbling, I mean fingers slipping up like a bumbling idiot. Okay, guys, any heterosexual man over the age of seventeen-and I'm giving the benefit of the doubt here, most say sixteen-should know how to operate a woman's bra. And any over the age of twenty-again, benefit of the doubt, should be eighteen-should be able to do it one handed. This guy was twenty-two. Did I laugh? I was so close. You have no idea. No, I said that I was uncomfortable because my three year old daughter was out there alone and it bothered me to shut the door on her. And put my shirt back on. He, being the male that he is-maybe I SHOULD hate men, given the opinion I have of them and the way they keep proving themselves worthy of it-kept insisting that she'd be okay. When I said I just couldn't get into it, he said "You have that tongue ring. Wanna use it?" I'll give him points for being a little more subtle than "Can I have a blow job?", but COME ON!! I said no and turned towards the door. Guess whose adorable little girl fingers were sticking under it? That's right: Amethyst and her undying curiousity. But she was polite enough not to just barge in, my little Bear. I open the door and retrieve her and usher his sorry self out. The end. By this point, dear reader-and yes, I know that's a cliche, get over it-I'm sure you're wondering if I ever have normal dates. Well, I don't think I've had one yet. I had one that was really phenomenal, and I suppose leaned more towards normal...but I'll write about that another time. It's too awesome to be soiled by being in the same post as creepy bile yellow guy. Bye, bye Bile.
Laters
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