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suavely deranged - Page 6

  • Hint Taken Lesson Learned

    Same old story: boy gets approached by girl online. Boy uses e-mail and text game to land girl. Boy is secure and non-needy. Boy and girl become a thing. Boy forgets how he landed girl in the first place. Boy loses girl. Boy mopes briefly. Boy blogs about her oral skills.

    The last time this happened, I ended up on a month's stress leave from work (although, to be fair, I did have that MRSA shit to deal with, too - still no idea how I acquired it) and boy ends up on the (thank you, Eli Lilly) anti-depressant Cymbalta. Even though he had a fallback option to fall into. Cymbalta's likely off patent, but I highly recommend it. Not only does it soften the edges, it also has the Viagra-like side effects. So both I and Fallback Girl were rewarded.

    But this time is different (yeah, I know). Boy has rediscovered his purpose. So boy will deal. Whatever happens happens.

    I have left a non-needy message stating my intentions. Text. At a reasonable time of day. On a Tuesday. Completely sober. I know what happened, can almost pinpoint exactly when and take responsibility for it. Now it's her issue. I've done all I can. 


    Be well. Peace. Vaya con diablos. Next. No one-itis this time. She can be cool or not. It's on her.


    So tomorrow I'll be traveling to where we were supposed to go together. Concert tickets are already paid for although I had to book a hotel room. At least it has free breakfast. Whatever.

    It'll be an adventure. I'm on vacation. Maybe I can sell the tickets at a discount and recoup some of the money. If not, maybe I can sell one and use the other. The important thing is there'll be no moping, as originally anticipated. My focus is laser-like. I have more than an entire week to relearn all I forgot with her.

    Which is, of course, why she left. Thanks for listening, y'all. I don't have a support network. Again, take the Cymbalta. It's cheaper than Cialis or Viagra. You're welcome.

  • This May Sound Weird But....

    ...um, Pumpkin, that's pretty much me in a nutshell. I'm a phase. Gluten free, though. I've even eaten some of the food, since Ms. J's celiac.


    I almost hope there's someone else. Preferably black, because that's just natural selection. Then I can sleep. I miss Sleepytime.

    Saying she's focusing on her big new promotion and her fucked up, shiftless kids (although the daughter is hot) is pretty much chick speak for I'm banging someone else, ain't it?

    The only alternative is that I'll be looking in the mirror and staring at me will be the reason why she's not here (thank you, Kelly C. - too bad about the tour dates, seen her twice, well worth it). And, as the 2 of y'all what have been hereabouts more than once know, I do tend to make with the donning of the ever-popular hairshirt from time to time. So, I'd prefer not to go through that. Again. It would be easier to hate her rather than, you know, ME.

    Song of the night: Kelly Clarkson - I Hate Myself For Losing you


    It's not FB stalking if you check to see if you've been blocked. Now I have. Remarkably quick, too. Usually there's the obligatory few weeks of let's pretend we're friends first. She does have a certain je ne sais quoi. I actually have remained FB Friends with some of the womenfolks I still visualize with my cock in their mouths. And, to be actual and factual, that's pretty much alls I remember about them. My focus is tight. Money and head.


    But, let's make with the 20/20 of introspection: the very instant she swallowed my load on our first meeting, I knew I wanted to keep this girl around. And our second date was at a hotel. Dude, I wasn't going to clean Stately Deranged Manor until she earned it. Our first time (sadly, my memory serves me far too well, I'm aching for the Alzheimer's) was with a condom. After that, not so much. I've been doing a lot of that lately. Comes with banging the damaged, I guess. Like, after all, attracts like.

    I broke every rule afterward. Shit, I likely made up some rules just so I could break them, too. Anything worth doing.

    I said I love you. Meant it, too. In my defence, such as it is, I was inside of her at the time. Said it afterwards, too. Still do.

    I bought her things that caught my eye, were quirky yet inexpensive, and I thought she'd like. Inexpensive is the key. I'm saving for my retirement. Par exemple, when I was in California, spending time with the last woman I'd fucked before her (long story, don't ask, we're still friends), I found her some Tabasco, Champagne and Beer flavoured Jelly Bellys with cool bottles. After seeing how she pretended to like my Flintstones drinking glasses, I was able to find her some Snoopy ones for $2 USD (like, $50 Canadian) each. I just hope that when she's eradicating every part of me from her life she doesn't destroy them. They're worth, like, you know, $7 on the eBay.

    I made future plans with her and (this is the part, other than missing the way she gobbles cock, that's flat out straight up fucking killing me) didn't make her pay for the things that can't be cancelled. A hard lesson but a valuable one. Learn from my mistakes, kiddies. So, now, I have to make a drive I don't want to, to see a band I'm indifferent to, and had to throw good money after bad to get a hotel room. And yet, still don't hate her. I'm still down with just having casual sex. Did I mention she swallows when she's not begging for facials? How could I not miss that?

    When she mentioned she needed Bath & Body Works handsoap, I stopped and picked some up a few days later. And then I wonder why I'm in the Friend Zone. VIP section, in fact.

    That time she had to go to the gyno to get her IUD removed, as it had become dislodged and I insisted on driving her to and fro, because I'd do the same (or equivalent) for a dude or an ugly, fat chick. No one should have to drive themself to such an ordeal. And her kids don't drive. Yeah, I know, I'm a total chode. I care more about my friends than about myself, sue me.


    This is helping a little. Catharsis often does. And, let's face it, I don't have a support network. I have this.

    So did waking up (much too early, again) and realizing that I really only miss the dirty little whore (I still remember when she asked if she could be that for me) side of her. The drama, the cockblocking kids (except the daughter, girl's crazy and fine), the extra expense of gluten free foods in restaurants, not so much.


    I even started drinking again with her. She was kind of a lush. I'll always regret not taking advantage of the night she was passed out and her hot daughter was on E. Stupid (shakes fist) moral compass.

    Haven't had anything since she left. Yay, me! I should've known there'd be troubles when she ordered like 3 wines at the Applebee's (again, how I roll, I love love LOVE me some Applebee's - even got to look up a clueless waitress's skirt while she was cleaning a table; pointed it out to J and she laughed) on our first meeting. But then she kissed me (again, Memory Lane is a painful address, I remember every kiss) on her way to the washroom, and I knew we'd be intimate. There are certain kisses and touches when you just know. Looks, sometimes, too.

    I showed weakness (stupid teenage angst bullshit coming to pay a visit) when I didn't hear from her for 8 hours one day. We usually texted back and forth within 1/2 an hour. And then when she invited me for lunch the next day, I assumed it was time for the We Need To Talk talk. Which is all well and good but, I fucking TOLD her. I know that the second I told her I loved her (she eventually said it too, even broke down and cried over the shit her kids and her drunk ass, possibly dying, ex put her through), I could start counting the seconds until she left, but this was likely the straw what broke the camel's back.

    I was too thoughtful. I treated her well, but no pedestal. No one-itis, that would be Kendra. I wonder whatever became of her. Check the archives regarding that one. It ain't pretty, but I stand by it.


    Or maybe it's really not about me at all. But what fun would that be? I looked around and there conclusions were. No jumping. Definitely no falling. I loved her, but I wasn't in love WITH her. The difference is roughly equivalent to the difference between the Sermon on the Mount and the Crucifixion. Boys that look like me don't know how to use spell check.


    I'll always miss her. I know I'm fronting, but I'm actually in pretty heavy turmoil over this one. Because I'll always remember the time she blew me in her pantry. I'd remarked once after seeing her innocently assume the perfect position while doing something ordinary that I'd thought about whipping it out and smacking her across the face 5/6 times with it (she liked that). She said I should've (how could I NOT love that), so this time I did. Stupid photographic memory. No wonder I can't fucking sleep. Luckily, I have the kind of gig where I can show up pretty much wheneverish.

    And, since she works for Lindt, I'll miss the free chocolate. My most vivid memory of her is of a Saturday morning (she's someone I liked spending all day Saturday with) when we were sitting across from each other (instead of beside each other, it was a 2 seat booth) at the Denny's and I thought to myself: self (yep, really do talk like that, sue me), this woman chose you. You've had her and you will again.

    And that's what hurts the most. Hopeless romantic. Okay, just hopeless. There's likely an app for that.


    So, I'll go back to hating myself. May even make with the moping and pining for a spell. But this is the last time I'll speak of that fucking gay Amy story.


    Peace, y'all. 

  • Addendum

    At least she had the style to kick me curbside before her birthday. 


    On the plus side, now I can get back to saving for my retirement. I'd forgotten how expensive the dating can be. Even when you prefer the places with big portion sizes as opposed to the chic. Alas, I'm so the guy that gives unexpected small gifts frequently. Shit adds up.


    I'm mostly just upset that money has been wasted on tickets to see a band she likes and I'm indifferent to out of town on Thursday. Because she wanted to visit that town again and I foolishly thought we had something. Well, that and the way she sucks cock. Epic.

    And yes, I've told her so. Repeatedly. Because I care. And, all hype aside (I have no delusions of prowess, or even competency, so bear with me), she came. A lot. 


    I kinda hope there's someone else, as it gets tiresome always being in a Mexican standoff with oneself.


    All right, that's it. I may not have, you know, anything to do at work today, but I gots to pretend. Peace. Be good to someone.