Tag Archives: dating

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.

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.

Entering the Gates of Freak City

25 Apr

Breaking up is super fucking lame but sometimes it is inevitable.  I knew the end was coming. I was just getting way too nice, floating up there in happy love land.  Earth called, they wanted their bitch back.

You might be thinking I’m going to start rambling about my shattered dreams and how terrible single life is.  Not quite. I was bummed out, sure. But bitches always land on their feet.

Plus, wine is like superglue for a broken heart.

I am not single, I am independent.  The people with the best success rate of staying together, are people who know how to be alone. Dependency isn’t just a problem for drug addicts.

But that’s enough pep talk.

My best friend thought it would be funny to sign me up for a dating site.  I finished off the bottle of wine and agreed.

Honestly, this membership was a one way ticket to freak city.  And great ranting material.

This was the first guys selling point: ”I regularly prepare gourmet meals at home, for me and my dogs.”  Does that strike anybody else as odd?

First off, ten pictures of you with your dog does not make me believe that you’re a kind, animal loving, trustworthy guy.  It makes me believe that you have no friends. And it becomes a serious disadvantage when the dog has better teeth.

Secondly, I like a man who knows how to cook. I do not need a man who knows how to cook. I don’t want your first message to me to read: “I am cooking a really nice chicken, thai, hot, curry, with onions and spices etc,,,”.  Do I look hungry? Good for you! Cook it alone, eat it alone. Enjoy your burning hot, curry diarrhea that you will ultimately face in the morning alone too.  I’m perfectly happy with my frozen pizza.

More great lines from my potential suitors:

“I enjoy long, romantic walks to the refrigerator.”  Was this supposed to be funny? It might have been if you weren’t 200 lbs overweight.  And by the way, 200 lbs does not qualify as a “Few extra pounds”.

“Things like a pepsi or a bag of pistachios really make my day.”  I, too, enjoy the simple pleasures in life but at some point you have to raise your standards.

“Hey there young lady.”  I don’t want to date anybody that calls me young lady. I don’t have daddy issues. My issues lie with you and your 60 year old audacity.   “I do have kids, but don’t worry, they are all over 18.”  Oh, well that changes everything! I feel so much better knowing that you just have a couple 4o year olds running around.

There was one guy who actually seemed like he might make the cut.  Until, I noticed he had really small, feminine hands.  I know this may sound crazy on my part, but dating a guy with small hands totally creeps me out.  It’s like being felt up by a child. eek!

I am only at the gates of freak city. My exploration into online dating is just beginning. Stay tuned, people. Things are about to get interesting.

Desperate Download

2 Oct

Are you a pathetic loser who sucks at dating? Do you often find yourself at home on a Friday night, crying into your ice cream while wondering when Prince Charming is going to save you from the shit-breathing dragon that is your life?  Do the employees at your local Vibrators’R’Us know you by name?  Think of all the money you would save on batteries if you could just get a man in your life.

What’s that you say? You can’t get a boyfriend? Well, I’ve got news for you.  There’s an app for that!

Quit uploading new photo’s on your match.com profile.  With the use of this app, your longtime crush will be uploading his dick in your ass in no time!

I’ll share a few tips with you because I am a wonderful friend, and this is what the world has come to.

photo 1

Tip #1

photo 4

If he smiles back, it means he either likes you or he doesn’t.   Notice his face movements. If he cocks his eyebrows, he thinks you’re fucking weird.  If his nostrils flare, he thinks you fucking reek.  Take a shower for heavens sake.  If he closes his eyes, he thinks you are ugly but is contemplating letting you blow him because it is a known fact that ugly girls give great head.

Tip #2.

photo 7

AN OBVIOUS TIP.  Put a bag over your head.

Tip #3.

photo 8

And by putting your arm around his neck I mean, put your lips around his dick. She did say make him happy, at least as much as you can. Because you’re probably a loser.

Tip #4.

photo 9

If you’re not what society has deemed to be beautiful, find out if he likes dimples. If he doesn’t, VOILA!  You’re on your own.  Probably for the rest of your life.

Tip #5.

photo 10

Do NOT kiss with braces! You will get cut, and die! Some boys might be into it, but God sees it as a big NO NO.

Tip #6.

photo 11

Be as picky as possible.  If he doesn’t meet every trait on your list, forget him.  After all, you’re perfect, right?

*If he is good looking, respect for other peoples feelings is not required.

This app could be filed under the category ‘Useless’.

Tip #6.

photo 12

If you don’t have the nerve to approach a guy who has caught your eye, consider being his stalker.  Start by stalking his facebook photos until you find one where you can Photoshop your face next to his.  Break into his bedroom window and leave the picture on his pillow to let him know you are interested.

Tip #7.

photo 5

Go overboard? I’m pretty sure downloading this app was rock bottom.

Tip #8.

Do not use any of the tips listed above.

The reviews raved about this app.  One girl said that it only took the use of one of these tips to find her boyfriend.  I’m pretty confident it was tip #3.

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.

I am here for an oil change, not a date.

22 Feb

I am not going to answer

You can call, but I won't answer.

It seems like I can’t go anywhere these days without getting hit on.  Yes, most of the time it is flattering but nonetheless inappropriate.  And also awkward.  I feel the need to tiptoe around town avoiding the guys working in certain places that have blatantly flirted with me.  The most recent occurrence of this really made me laugh at his methods.

I take my car into the dealership I bought it from for service.  They instruct me to go sit in the waiting room until it’s time to surgically remove my arm and leg to pay for the oil change.  I walk in and of course there’s the usual mixture of snacks in a basket, like crackers, cookies, donuts, — anything I shouldn’t even be eyeing if I want to be ready for bikini season.  Eh, fuck it, I grab some peanut butter crackers because they’re free and I might be a nice bitch but I am also a broke bitch.  College is expensive, ya heard? I think I will make that my next post. lol.

In walks this hefty man, I’m guessing around 30 years old.  He kind of reminded me of Randy Jackson.  He asks me what I am waiting for.   Well, I have a dry mouthful of peanut butter crackers and normally I wouldn’t dare speak with my mouth full but every time I walk into this wallet-emptying-hell-hole I seem to say ‘fuck it” a lot more than I usually do.  So, there is no way I can be appealing trying to answer his boring,  just-leave-me-to-my-crackers-and-iphone-please, stupid questions.  Finally, he hands me his card and says he is being paged and has to take care of something important.  Well, aren’t you just Mr. Big Deal?  Thank God, now I can eat my crackers in peace and text my friends how annoying the guy that works here is.

You guessed it, Mr. Big Deal walks back in and sits down on the couch next to me.  You think this may have tipped him off but apparently not — I ask him “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for sitting here with me?  Don’t you have something you should be doing?”  He smirks and replies “Didn’t you read my card?”   Um, obviously not.  So I dig through my suitcase/purse to find the card I carelessly threw in there. A few minutes pass. lol. I pull out his card and read that he is the Sales Manager. Wow, he is a big deal.   And!!! (I know we don’t like excessive use of exclamation points but I am just that excited!!!!) His card reveals his name is “Big John”. HAHAHAHAHAHA. No.  You shouldn’t have a ‘big’ in your name unless you are a Pro Wrestler, Porn Star, or dating Carrie on Sex and the City.   And do I even need to elaborate that it’s on his business card?  The only big part about him is his belly… and his head. He proceeds to ask me how old I am and I tell him to take his best guess. He says 25. And I pretend to be slightly offended and tell him I am younger than that (by a year. lol).

At this Point I am just talking to him solely for entertainment purposes.  He tries to recover from the age insult by saying that I carry myself like a woman on a mission.  Make that a bitch on a mission and I might forgive you.  Then he offers to take me on a ‘test drive’ to help pass the time.  I am playing into his antics now and I tell him bring me the biggest, baddest truck on the lot.   During the short drive, he begins to interrogate me on what I am studying in school, what kind of truck my boyfriend drives, where I like to go for dinner, etc.  As much as I try to steer the subject back to the truck, he puts the pedal to the metal back to the subject of me. Ugh. But, I did end up giving him my number, but only because I am a nice bitch.  I like to tell it how it is but without intentionally hurting others.  But he called me and I never answered.  I don’t think that is the first time that has happened to him.

I just don’t know where these guys get off thinking it’s okay to approach customers in this fashion.  Car salesman have a bad rep as it is.  And now I feel uncomfortable going back there.  I mean, at least if I do see him I will still get some free crackers out of it.

The truth is, I’m flattered that you like me, but insulted that you think you have a chance with me.