I can be a real bitch sometimes. But if you’ve read any of my writing then you already knew that. Writing about how I feel in my own personal blog isn’t what makes me a bitch though. I may sound like a bitch or an asshole but it’s not that observable in everyday life. I like to think I have common decency.
But besides that, it got me thinking about the first time I was sincerely told I was acting like an asshole. Believe it or not, it was only about two years ago.
I met a guy through a mutual friend and was instantly attracted to him. Blue eyes, blond hair, nice build –you know the type. We can call him Johnny. Johnny was hot but also unavailable. Fuck. I may be a bitch, but I am not a home wrecker.
After troubling circumstances with a guy I was currently dating, my friends and I went to one of our favorite bars for a girls night out. I have never been a big fan of girls only night, probably because I am a big fan of hot men. But whatever. I have great girlfriends and we already have our buzz on so we arrive at the bar feeling quite chipper.
I’m ordering a drink and who do I run into? That answer is obvious.
Girl time will have to wait.
I’m drunk, newly alone and hungry for male attention. My goal was to find a rebound boy. But Johnny was the last person I expected to see there. I hadn’t seen him in over a year. He approaches me. He tells me how great I look. We talk. He is single now.
According to them, my girlfriends are sitting at the table watching us from across the room. They pretend like my love life is a wildlife mating documentary and begin commenting on our body language and what our next moves will be. The show would be appropriately named Bitch on the Prowl. They predict my signature hair flip. This signifies that I am going in for the kill.
Johnny and I exchange numbers. The bartender is making last call. We realize we are the last ones in the place, my friends are waiting for me in the car. We kiss goodbye. I’m pretty satisfied with myself. I did good.
The next day he calls me and invites me over. I decline. The day after that he calls me and invites me over. I accept.
I get to his house and am blown away by the immaculate and pristine accommodations. I knew he was hot, but dang, he must have money, too. Not to mention, I am greeted by the cutest puppy in the whole world. I think it was an American Bulldog, but I’m not a fucking dog specialist and I already had a few drinks to calm my nerves, so it could have been a miniature pony for all I know.
He asks if I want to go to a local bar and meet up with his friends to play some pool. As I mentioned earlier, I was still hung up on another guy. My sole intention was to use Johnny as a coping mechanism and to forget about my recent failure at love. Looking back, I think I was a tad more drunk than I realized and I slightly regret this decision. Here’s a good-looking guy who wants to take me out and introduce me to his friends, and what do I do? I avoid it at all costs. Go out in public? Meet his friends? I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I insist that we stay at his house and “watch a movie”. I am destined to die alone.
Then he says he just got home from work and wants to take a quick shower. Good, shower it up. I like a clean man. So, while he is in the bathroom washing his balls, I am sipping a beer and canoodling with the pup on his bed. He comes out of the shower in basketball shorts and lays down next to me. We start flipping through the channels looking for something to watch when we start kissing.
Everything is going great. Foreplay has begun.
I’ll spare you the details. To my surprise a few minutes into it, he finishes. He sighs and grunts his satisfaction. He gets up to go to the bathroom. I ask him through a closed door “is that it?”. No response. For the love of fornication! I still have my pants on!
Moments later he comes back out and lies on the bed next to me. I think he can see the disappointment seeping out my pores. I looked like a fat 8 year-old who just dropped their ice cream cone.
I look at him too, he looks discouraged. I ask him whats wrong. He says and I quote “we took things too fast.” In my mind I’m thinking, no! YOU took things too fast! I did everything right, apparently too right! But instead I blurt out “Why? It’s not like we are going to start dating or anything.” His face went blank, and then quickly transformed into rhino stampeding pissed when he said “that’s the SECOND ASSHOLE THING YOU’VE SAID TONIGHT!” I blushed and gave him a confused face and gently asked “what was the first?”
He stormed into the bathroom again. Maybe I should just haul the mattress in there. Seriously, talk about a role reversal. Some people just don’t understand the concept of reboundism.
I waited a few minutes and then yelled to him “I guess I’ll let myself out!” I think he could hear me arguing with the dog because he came out and was like “you’re leaving?”. As much as I enjoy getting called an asshole and watching you lock yourself in the bathroom, the party has to end some time. “I have to get up for work early tomorrow.”
He opens his front door and the puppy escapes and starts following me. He SCREAMS for the puppy to come back. The puppy does not respond well to commands. Or threats. I am scared for the puppy. I’m standing at my car door and Johnny has to physically come retrieve the puppy to prevent it from jumping into my car.
The night ended in a fashion that I like to call fucking awkward.