"I don't have low self-esteem. I'm surrounded by assholes. There's a difference."
So, I apparently I didn't have any takers on that $20 bet then, huh? Cause you'd all owe me!
I tell SXB that he has to come pick me up, like a real date and then take me to dinner to a place of his choosing. Consider this another tip to share with any of your male friends: Women like to be taken on planned dates.
Side note: By planned, I mean, planned by the person taking her on a date, not her planning it and then him executing and paying for said date and then taking all the credit for such an awesome date. It really chaps my hide that these asshats ask us out and then ask us what we want to do, where we want to go, etc. Make a fucking plan and THEN call us! CALL!!! Don't text or email and try to work out location and time. It's a fucking phone. Shout out to Alexander G. Bell for this invention circa 1876 (by the way, he was 29 when he invented the telephone. Now we all feel completely unaccomplished. You're welcome).
Ok. I'm stepping down from my soapbox now. After some thought, I decide him picking me up is a bad idea because then I'm stuck afterwards. So I make up a lie and tell him I need to be near his place for some stupid ass reason or another. This way when (not if) he starts being an ass, I can just leave. So I pound a glass of Pinot and head over to his place. This is the part of this entry that makes me sound like an insensitive bitch, but SXB is in AA which is great for him. He's clean and sober for just over 3 years and I truly think this is awesome. He talks about it freely and I admire this, however I needed a glass to take the edge off and numb my own stupidity.
Fuckstick Move #1: I get there and he doesn't get up from the couch (he's in the middle of a video game). I should have left then. I know. He looks me up and down with the hungriest look in his eye and this just makes me melt. I'm a total sucker for this look. Anyway, he finishes his game and stands up in the most genuinely perfect fitting man jeans ever. This man has the most amazing ass and quads I've ever been witness to off of a football field. He leans down and tries to lightly kiss me and I turn my head. "I'm still mad at you. 3 months!...let's go to dinner."
Fuckstick Move #2: So we go to dinner. In the car on the way there I ask him some mundane question and he damn near snaps at me saying that he's told me the answer to whatever question I had asked "like 15 times." I brush it off, but then he says something along the same lines within 10 minutes of sitting down to eat. Still seated, I lean across the table, "Do you think I'm fucking stupid? Because you certainly speak to me like you do!" SXB replies looked almost surprised that I reacted like that, "No. Actually the opposite. I think you are very smart."
From here, we actually had a pretty good dinner conversation. I even made the point during dinner to tell him that I liked talking to him. Anyway, we leave and I had stopped and gotten a movie. So we went back to his place and curled up on the couch. About 20 minutes into it, he started pawing at me. I shrugged him off and informed him that it wasn't going to happen. He gave up for about 15 minutes and tried again. We both knew something was going to happen. I'm powerless. He's stupid hot. I can't be held accountable. He starts fingering me, but I'm wet before he even gets his hand down there (just in case I haven't driven it home...this man is gorgeous!).
Fuckstick Move #3: "You should give me some head." Sweet jeebus!! That didn't take long. "No, sir. YOU should give ME some head. We're now working on a credit system here and by my calculations you owe me about 10. That's being generous and not factoring in interest." He didn't respond except to promptly bury his face between my thighs. FINALLY! It's my turn. So I get off thanks to his par (at best) oral efforts coupled with his fumbling fingers and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction when suddenly his face is near mine. "How about some head now?" "Nope. Still not going to happen. Thanks for that though."
Fuckstick Move #4: Fumble. Fumble. Fumble. Penetration. Pump. Pump. BOOM! Literally, 2 minutes. At best. (probably more like 45 seconds, but I felt like giving him the benefit of the doubt which is that naked time sometimes moves slower than clothed time for some reason).
Fuckstick Move #5: I go to the bathroom, come back and we finish watching the movie without but maybe 3 words and minimal post coital (using that words loosely) contact. I get dressed and stand to leave while he stares blankly at the TV. "This is the part where you stand up, kiss me goodnight and tell me what a great time you had. Maybe even offer to walk me to my car." He stands and hugs me and says thanks right before he plops back down on the couch with his phone in hand.
He didn't contact me again for exactly one week.
So here's the lesson to be learned here (because we can do nothing here about my stupid ass letting it get anywhere near this far so we're going to treat it like a fable):
Don't be a jackhole. People don't change so for fucks-sake, don't engage in such self-destructive behavior.
Probably most importantly, no matter how beautiful his ass and quads are he's probably still a lame ass lay or a minute man, so don't waste your beautiful-self thinking it might be different this time because it won't be.
Another big thanks to me for taking one for the team and learning these lessons the hard way (reverse pun? Is that a thing?). On a brighter note, I meant an actual prospect just a few days after this SXB incident (as Rita and I now refer to it). The new prospect is a planner. He asked me out more than a day in advance (3 actually) and planned a date! He made some sort of contact (texts and legit pick-up-the-phone-and-dial calls) with me every day in between. We like him, so we shall call him LunchMeat. Random fun fact: He's an ex-football player...so he's beefy. Like a tasty gym meathead, just for me.
-Stoney
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