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Beat or Cheat? The first Mistake

19 Jul

Disclaimer:  This post is written with the sole intent of entertainment.  If you actually rely on a strangers advice, who doesn’t know your relationship from a jack rabbits asshole to fix your problems, you are more than likely an idiot.  You deserve to be dumped.  I’m surprised anyone committed to you in the first place. You will probably die alone.  If your lover has already cheated on you, I’m pretty sure it’s your fault. My best advice to you is to hit the gym and buy a low cut top.

I’ve recently been thinking about what makes a man want to cheat. More specifically, why men cheat when they have what seems to be a very desirable woman at home.  This woman is physically attractive, smart, ambitious and basically the epitome of what the less fortunate females of the world, wish they could be.  These men that choose to risk their relationships are either dead set on self-destruction, or maybe, just maybe, men and women have different views of what perfection is.  Surprise! No one saw that completely obvious answer coming.

This day and age the existence of successful and powerful women is widely accepted, and even sometimes expected. Men aren’t necessarily looking for the next June Cleaver or a hot version of Martha Stewart.

Some men are just born players. They learned in middle school that they were adored by the female population. But for others, there are definite preventative measures you can take.

After doing some hot and heavy research, most men had the same excuse.  They aren’t getting the sex they want at home.  If you want to keep your man, you have to sleep with your man.  These morally confused men find themselves at a fork in the road, he can either choke the chicken to their favorite porn, or he can find a hot girl who has the same destination he does, Pleasure Town, USA. So… will your man beat or cheat?

It seems more and more are following the yellow brick road all the way to the wizard of sex they find in the Bar of Oz. Cheating.  Another thing I found is that good sex reflects a good relationship, and vice versa.  Sexing up your routine shouldn’t be viewed as perverted or desperate, but as a natural connection between two people who love each other. I’m no expert, on anything really. But I think I make a valid argument, that many cheaters would agree with.  I started this post with my finger pointing at men, but women also cheat.  And I believe it’s for some of the same reasons.

The first reason I want to bang upon, is sex. Boring sex is a symptom of a dying relationship. Resuscitate your relationship by giving your S.O. mouth to mouth, mouth to genitals, mouth to whatever creepy fetish you might be into.   If your S.O. loves you, they will give it a shot, or maybe you’re just not a match.  Or maybe you’re just into some really sick shit and need to keep it between you and your online circle jerk.

If you’re not asking your lover to dress up as an alligator, while crawling around at the mall on a leash, your chances are good.

First things first.  Good sex takes communication.  Unless you’re dating a mentalist, your lover won’t be able to read your mind.  Tell them what you want.  I know, I know.  It sounds crazy.  But most people that care about you will be quite receptive.  Take the chance.

Communication goes both ways.  Be open.  Just because you’ve opened your legs doesn’t mean you’ve opened your mind. You may end up liking something you never thought you would.  If it hasn’t been made illegal yet, there is a reason for it. It either isn’t all that bad, or its so unknown that you may literally be able to have a sex act named after you! That’s money, bitch! 

Secondly, be confident.  Nothing ruins potentially great sex more than insecurities.  Don’t think about that double cheese burger you had for lunch.  Don’t think about the last time you shaved your legs.  Don’t think about when your parents are coming to town.  Concentrate on your pleasure, their pleasure, and live in the moment.

And last for now, remember why you’re having sex with this person. You supposedly love this freak on a leash.

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Let your freak flag fly!

29 May

For any of you that have dabbled in online dating, you already know that trying to find your soul mate on the world wide web is like trying to build a hurricane shelter out of Lego’s.

Times are changing though. More and more people are using the internet to find love, sex, or whatever other kind of top secret, creepy shit they are into.  Online dating has great potential to actually become what it already claims to be.  But there are still a ton of kinks that need to be worked out.

As I said in part one, Entering the Gates of Freak City, I let my friend, Baker sign me up for one of these sites while I was under the influence of some cheap wine.

Well, the entrance fee to freak city was at the very affordable price of my dignity.  SOLD to the lowest bidder! Who needs dignity anyway? It’s like that annoying cricket bitching in my ear, slow down, stop and think, you’re embarrassing yourself.  Oh, shut the hell up Jiminy. I got this.

In order to start meeting people in this clown palace, you have to fill out your profile.  Baker uploaded my most flattering photo’s and then began to fill out the “About Me” section.  This was her opener:  “If you like to party, then you will like me!”

She obviously knows way too much of my history to be writing this section. Everyone else had written self praising novels about their lives. I tell her to add that I am a college graduate and have, like, hobbies and stuff.   The section ended up being three sentences. Whatever.  I’m too drunk to care at this point.

It wasn’t long before all kinds of crazies were messaging me.  I won’t bore you with the normal people, because though they are rare, they actually do exist.  But I always found a flaw with them. It would be nonsensical for me to date someone who might actually be good for me.  Besides, healthy relationships are dull.

This site had a spiffy feature where you can view who added you to their favorites list. And lo and behold! Someone added me as their favorite. Sweet! Lets check this sexy beast out.

Hmmm.  It’s a very thin, short, 50-year-old, black man.

And he is wearing a do-rag, taking a “selfie” picture in a broken mirror in what looks to be a shanty town.  I shit you not.

My first thought was “how does he afford the membership fees to this site?”

I click to the next picture because let’s be real, he’s got my attention. The second picture is similar to the first except this one has the added bonus of pigeons surrounding him. WTF? It looks like some sort of fucked up family photo.  The third picture is just of the pigeons, huddled around shards of glass and cardboard.  He can’t be serious. He lives in shanty town with pigeons.  PIGEONS! Ya know? Like shitty doves!  This might be normal in some parts of the world but this is Florida.  I think I’m going to keep my options open and see who else is out there.

I exchanged a few emails with another guy. He seemed normal at first.  Until he started asking me why I hadn’t deleted my account yet. I asked him what he meant. He said “It shows that you logged in this morning. Why are you still on that site when you are talking to me? You need to delete it.”

Excuse me? RED FLAG. A couple of conversations and he is already claiming me as his own and forbidding me from talking to any one else.  Listen pal, I happen to work as Domestic Violence counselor (shocker, right?) and you clearly have issues.  I told him I found someone better looking to talk to.  Then he swore at me a few times. Well, that guy is out of the running.

I asked one user if he had a Facebook and if I could add him.  He said yes as long as I didn’t mind being bombarded with photos of him and his fiancée.

The next dudes username is BillyBob.  I should have known I already had a winner on my hands. But his pictures were cute and he started out nice with the traditional pleasantries. Then things took a turn for the worse.  He told me he was an ass man. Uhm, okay, I didn’t ask but thanks for the heads up. Then, he asked me if I had a dirty butt.

Just one of the glories of online dating. Apparently he had some sort of swamp ass fetish. Who knows? I didn’t bother to ask.  I just wanted to get me and my clean butt out of that conversation.  And that’s probably my cue to depart from Freak City and go back to regular dating. With people who wipe.

The anonymity of the internet can work in disturbing ways.  Ugly people pretend to be pretty people.  Losers pretend to be cool.  And freaks suck you into their freakdom by pretending to be normal.

Did he just call me an asshole?

28 Apr

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.

Thank God for Laser Tattoo Removal

5 Sep

Like most of my blog, this post is about what the hell is wrong with people today? When I saw a girl sporting a tramp stamp of a poorly tattooed BatMan emblem, it really made me wonder what thought process, if any, takes place before deciding to make such an everlasting mark on ones body.

I don’t have anything against tattoos. I’ve debated on getting one myself, actually.

I understand wanting to get commemorative tattoos and/or ones that represent your heritage.  What I do not understand is why you would let a 3rd grader with a severe tic be the artist of your choosing.  For the love of God, go to a reputable parlor. Your cousin, Rick the Hick,  and his $50.00 equipment he ordered off of Ebay, is in no way, shape, or form, a good choice.

Learn from others mistakes:

This piece of shit looks like it was drawn on an etch a sketch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who knew cooks had so many confining laws to adhere to?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lactose intolerant, maybe?

 

 

Pegasus style? sure why not?  Flying high in the sky, but only he has wings. Why is his horn so much smaller than hers? Why does he look so angry when he is in pink territory?  How did she light that cigarette?

 

 

She won’t ever regret this. Solid decision.

 

 

There’s a woman you don’t want to forget.  Smile of an angel.

 

 

Winning at Losing

Winning aka losing… in so many ways. This tattoo makes me bleed from my eyes. I never knew Charlie Sheen had so many freckles.

The truth is you should think before you ink!

Signs You’re Incredibly Boring

24 Jul

One of the searches I mentioned in my last post was for signs you’re incredibly boring. Well, why not give the people what they want?

1. The fact that you are searching for signs and symptoms of being a boring blob should raise a red flag.

2. If you take a quiz entitled Do you have a Boring Personality?  then you are a monotonous loser.  It should be insulting enough to your ego to even click on that link.

3. If you have less than 20 contacts in your phone, you are probably a lame ass.  If your incoming call list only consists of calls from your parents and therapist, I pity your soul.

4. If the few friends you do have eat Captain Crunch cereal in your presence just to drown out the sound of your vapid story, you are one boring son of a dick.

5. If you consider spooning to be a sexual activity then you are boring, and kind of a prude.

6. If your last Facebook status was “reading my facebook newsfeed” you are ten kinds of boring.

7. If your idea of a party is a box of wine and a Dr. Phil marathon then you need to change your life. And by changing your life, I mean getting one would be a good place to start.

8. If nobody has ever talked shit about you then you are just too damn boring to talk about. And trust me, people can manipulate any story into front page news of the Daily Trash Tribune.

9. If you are speaking to someone and they continually answer with ‘uh-huh’, ‘true’, ‘okay’, ‘what? I’m sorry I must have dozed off’, then you are most likely killing them silently with your duller than dull attempt at conversation.

10. If most of your clothes look very much alike then your style is blander than a head of lettuce. Seriously, I’ve breathed oxygen that had more taste.

11.  If you read this for a reason other than entertainment value, like say, to see if you are actually boring, well then, you are about as boring and useless as a silent movie at a blind convention.

Boredom comes from a boring mind. -Metallica

Never be bored and you’ll never be boring. -Eleanor Roosevelt.

Follow the Yellow Bitch Road.

21 Jul

As my stats number increases I often wonder how these people stumbled upon my lonely, little blog out of the infinite sites available to them on the World Wide Web. Who are they and what are they like?  I had a feeling I might appeal to the annoyed, the sarcastic, and obviously the bitchy.

As luck would have it, WordPress just so happens to reveal what some of these viewers typed into a search engine that ultimately lead them to my page.  Some were my target audience,  sadly the most rare. Other search topics just made me laugh.  And then there are simply the ones that made me want to give up on writing altogether.

Let me elaborate.  The following queries, I shit you not, are what people are actually searching for (spelling and all).  And they landed on my page!  Clearly, I have a problem and it’s my writing.

The Expected

-bitchtastic Bitches

Possibly they have been to my page before?

-how to get rid of an annoying bitch

Easy one, write a blog post about her.

-truthful bitchy rants

Right on.

-tired of stupid people at work.

Ditto.

-I’m a good enough person to forgive you, but not stupid enough to trust you.

I like you.

-I bitch therefore I am

I like you even more.

Hahahaha. 

-You know you suck when even your mom unfriends you on facebook.

-loving my work status for facebook

Pathetic.

-signs your incredibly boring

If you’re bored enough to search for the signs then you are a fucking Boron. A Boring Moron.

-your spouse sucking the life out of you

-Life sucks when you have a good heart.

-life sucks without sex

-whats wrong with the world

-fuck is also important in our life.

Fuck yeah.

 

WTF?

-i wonder what normal people think about

I wonder why there aren’t more normal people reading my blog.

-when live sucks jump

WTF? I have never been an advocate of suicide.  Annoying people should not kill themselves. They just shouldn’t breed.

-big boobs ugly face

I need something funny, but insulting for the insecure girls stalking on facebook

-Red traffic light hooker

facebook stalking… i wish you would update more

-real boob

 

WTF? ON CRACK

-Open your mouth a purse falls out

WTF does that even mean? Eat a sandwich like a normal person.

-Wife thinks im a idiot for going bald

I don’t recall ever doing a post on hair restoration or how it may affect your brain function.  Perhaps your wife thought you were an idiot all along.

 

There is more but I think you get the idea.   Anyway, no matter how you found your way here I am glad you made it.

Shit gets real at the Public Pool.

18 Jul

The bitch is back.  I’ve been busy. I graduated from college, met a boy, started looking into better paying jobs, yada yada yada.  But my awesomely supportive friends have encouraged me to continue writing. Even if they are the only 3 people who read it.

I’ve started going to the pool to swim laps for exercise.  Naturally, my friends and I made a few bitchy observations of our fellow pool goers.  We soon realized that the public pool is a place where people lose their inhibitions, and being self-conscious is unheard of.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to be the world’s next top model.  But I do make an attempt to be somewhat presentable and not allow myself to look like a street peddling slob.  You don’t have to be a wheat thin to be attractive.  You just need to dress appropriately for your body type.  Translation:  If your body resembles a lightly chewed gummy bear, do not strut around in a string bikini.  And god only knows what the hell you were thinking when you had the Batman emblem permanently inked above your ass crack. All I know is that it gives a whole new, horrific meaning to the term Bat cave. I don’t doubt for a second that an actual bat resided in your rotten rear end.  ANYWAY,  that disclaimer didn’t exactly come out the way I intended.

Some kids seriously piss me off at the pool.  I go to the pool to swim laps.  I am not there to flutter around pretending to be a mermaid.  I am not there to play Crocodile Hunter.  I am not there to play Marco Polo, blindly thrashing around like a retarded beaver.  I am there for exercise. Stay out of my way unless you want to play a little game I call Guess how long I can hold the kid underwater before he passes out.  See those lane ropes kid? Those mark MY territory, which I paid for.  If you cross into my lane, I will not hesitate to swim right over you. I don’t care if you swallow water, become disoriented, and flail around until you sink to the bottom.  That is what the lifeguards are for. Where are your unsightly parents, anyway?

Then there are the kids I pity.  Their parents are actually one of the reasons I decided to start going to the pool.  I don’t want to end up like the monstrously overweight, piece of pig meat, that can be seen basking by the kiddie pool, shoveling chili cheese fries into her garbage disposal of a mouth.  I agree, chili cheese fries are delicious. But, it disgusts me to see a morbidly obese person absorbing calories by the nanosecond, without a care in the world.   At least pretend like your health is important to you.

And then Beefasaurus the swimming dinosaur starts screaming at her son across the pool that it is time to leave.  Everyone is staring at you while you lose your voice trying to gain the attention of your mortified child.  Your son  is successfully ignoring you.  The rest of us aren’t as lucky. And no wonder he is ignoring you, you are grotesquely embarrassing. If I was your kid I would wear a shirt that says “I’m adopted”.

I just feel as though some people have lost all respect for themselves as well as those around them.  And it is very apparent at the swimming pool.

The truth is, if you can plug your nipple into your belly button, you shouldn’t be wearing a bikini.

You’re so Vain: Egoism Explained.

9 May

“I never understand why women think drama and bullshit are attractive to guys. They’re not. I’m going to be real clear about this, ladies, so pay attention: Prince Charming doesn’t come to rescue cunty lunatics.”                 – Tucker Max

Dealing with self-absorbed, pompous, unrelenting narcissists is exhausting. They think everything is about them.  The Sun rises and sets on their accord.  It doesn’t matter how hard you try, they won’t go away.  They’re like Herpes — uninvited and impossible to get rid of.  It doesn’t help that they come in all different forms.

The Blind Braggart:

These Narcissists honestly think the world of themselves.  They love to post self  portraits to any and all social medias, to bless the world with their self proclaimed beauty.    If they are not complimenting themselves, they are shamelessly trying to get you to do so.  They look in the mirror and they see the face of an angel.  We look at them and see what can only be described as a cross between Big Bird and a warthog.  The red lipstick you cake on in your homemade modeling photo’s only alludes to your resemblance of a rabid vampire bat. Stop wasting your time on foundation, eye liner, mascara, and blush.  Use the paper bag you brought them home in.

The Plagued Prima Donna 

The whole world has conspired against this egomaniac, or so they say.  They should like invent some kind of invention to like stop it from raining ever again because then I can fry my hair straight like everyday and I’ll be totally awesome everyday because it’s just so hard being me. These are the dumbest and most annoying kind. They try to hide their insecurity with their overbearing sense of self-entitlement.   Their attempts at gaining sympathy are laughable.  If your life sucks, it’s probably because you suck.  And let’s face it, most of the guys in your town know that you do.  Like the only reason anybody even pretends she’s funny is because Miss WordPress is sleeping with all of the judges.  Make yourself useful, and go suck a dick.

The Evil Egotist:

Possibly the worst of the Narcissistic family, the Evil Egotist chooses to gain self-esteem by bringing others down.  They flaunt their assets hoping to induce envy, when in reality, they are the envious ones.   But they assure themselves anything you can do, they can do better.   They expect everyone to cater to their feelings while showing total disregard for others.  The Evil Egotist is a greedy person willing to do anything to have the upperhand. They would take a cardboard box from a bum.   They would steal the condoms from a prostitute.  They would trample a 3 year old to catch one more glimpse of their reflection in a passing car.  While all the while never realizing that they sing like an angry camel and have a chin like a pelican.

My thoughts and prayers are with you if you find yourself  forced to associate with someone like this.  And if you think this is about you, you probably fall into one of these categories — most likely all 3.

It’s the little things

3 May

Ten minutes in a waiting room will really make you aware of how annoying people can be.  Once you are already irritated it’s easy to think of little things that piss you off. Here it goes.

Butt Explosion Etiquette
Nobody knows when their diarrhea will strike, so sooner or later they will find themselves having a butt explosion in a public bathroom. It’s nauseating to think about, but shit happens. What pisses me off is when they close the door afterwards, trying to hide the stench of rotting carcass. They’re not fooling anybody. They were in there for a fucking hour and it took 3 flushes to clear the bowl. So, of course when I go to use it, I open the door, and get shit winded in the face from the killer fumes they’ve trapped in the tiny, enclosed space. Do us all a favor and leave the fucking door open. Let that shit air out. Literally.

Delayed Response
I get really aggravated when I send somebody a text message and have to wait for their reply. My ego gets bruised when you don’t respond immediately. I don’t care if you’re at school. I dont care if you’re in a business meeting. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a threesome with King Tut and Janet Jackson. King Tut ain’t disappearing. He’s dead, he stays where you put him. And the only thing disappearing about Janet Jackson is her nose and her career. So, stop what you’re doing and fucking answer me. Thank you.

Annoying parents
I’m sitting in the waiting room of a doctors office. In walks a lady and her son who is about 4 years old. He is pushing a stroller with her 8 month old daughter in it. She sits down and the boy begins to play race car track with the stroller, circling our chairs like he is Dale fucking Earnhardt. He’s bumping into all kinds of shit, including people. His mother is playing on her iphone. Me and the other patients exchange glances of “WTF? Is this bitch for real?” I’m just waiting for the baby to go flying out of the stroller and becoming one with the cement wall. FINALLY, she calls him over and tells him to sit down. Then she proceeds to play some childish game on her iPhone with the volume on full blast. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Lady, you are an imbecile and I am not above disciplining you and your unruly child. I do not want to sit here and listen to your ducks and cows and bouncing balls background music while you ignore your kids. How old are you, anyway? What the fuck are you playing? Read a fucking magazine like a normal person. And for Gods sake, control that fucking animal you birthed.

 

I could go on, but I have a job and a life.

How serious is serious?

27 Apr

Have you ever liked somebody up until you realized the feeling was mutual?  It happens to me all the time.  I guess I just want what I can’t have. I thought it was a phase but I’m beginning to think I have a fear of commitment.

I consider my current relationship status to be friends with benefits.  But lately I get the feeling it’s progressing into something more.  The reasons are as follows:

1. Daily text messages.

He texts me to ask me how my day is going.  Since when does anybody give a fuck about my day?

2. Was that a date?

He invited me to go out to eat.  So, that afternoon I stopped by the drug store. I spent twenty minutes comparing razors.  The pharmacist kept looking at me like I might be illiterate. That, or I was contemplating on stealing it.  I splurged on the expensive one.  BOOYAH Pharmacist! I’m pretty sure I paid an extra $10.00 because it was pink. And I even bought an electric shaver also.  I was curious. Don’t judge me. Of course, I go to use it and the piece of shit doesn’t have any fucking batteries in it.  Maybe they should have put ‘buy your own damn batteries’ on the package.  I had to rummage through every piece of electronics in my house to find 2 triple A batteries.  Why the fuck doesn’t it take double A batteries like everything else in the world? Anyway, I digress.  The point is, I obviously felt that this night was special for some reason.  He paid for dinner and made sure to open the doors and all that jazz.  If it shaves like a date, pays like a date, and kisses like a date, is it a date?

3. Spending the night.

Most guys can’t wait to give their booty call the boot when the business transaction is complete. And if you want to cuddle you’re better off going to Build-a-Bear Workshop. I wish they had Build-a-Man Workshop.  They have Build-a-Bitch Workshop, it’s called a relationship (no wonder I’m single).  When the deed was done I’d gather my shit (Dignity not included. See what I did there razor company?) and be on my happy hoe way.  I actually like sleeping in my own clean sheets.  But now he offers that I spend the night.  I know the physical acts we just committed are considered to be one of the most intimate things two people can do together, but I feel like waking up next to each other is a whole new level of closeness.

4. Using his facilities.

He invites me over to watch a movie when I get off work.  He says that I can just bring a clean pair of clothes and shower at his house.  I told my friend this to see what kind of response it would illicit. She replied “You can’t shower at his house! There’s no way he will have good shampoo!” Plus my long locks need conditioner.  I think that’s a pretty valid concern.  I’ll never forget the day I woke up with a hangover at a male friends house. I had to shower before class so I didn’t smell like a hooker on a 3 day alcohol binge.  I was forced to use anti-dandruff shampoo for men, old spice deodorant, and I wore the same clothes I passed out in.  Then I walked into class smelling like a spicy man with a dandruff problem and my friend looks at me and says “have you seen your neck?”  It’s safe to say that was rock bottom but I think I deserve some credit for at least making it to class.  I continue to digress.  I feel like using his shower and shampoo is like domesticating our relationship.  It’s like sharing toothpaste. It’s like playing house.  It’s like committing to maybe, possibly, showering there on a regular basis.  But hey, maybe he just wants me to be clean for the post movie activities.

I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.  I’m probably over analyzing.  I just like to know what everyone is thinking and why they do certain things.  Hidden meanings are so aggravating.

It’s like my  motto, say what you mean, mean what you say, and say something mean.