Hottie McAccent and I stopped seeing each other in a very boring, just not calling anymore kind of way. I'd have more to say about it if I gave a shit, but this guy was so busy he told me he saw his last girlfriend once a week for 3 years. Next.
So after the Israeli I decided to behave myself for a while. That ended last night...with a bang. There's a bouncer I may have mentioned a few months back that has been trying to get me in his bed for ages. He's hot but for one reason or another I just haven't been 100% into it, so it's never happened. I also feel this immense amount of pressure since even though I know he wants to have sex, the non-animal part of me still wants the element of surprise rather than the strict planning of sexual penetration sessions that he seems to prefer. So after opting to have wine FOR dinner instead of WITH dinner last night, I started to text him.
I was being relatively open about what I wanted from him, to the point where he kept asking things like "you're fucking with me, right?", or "are you jk??"...this was his lucky night, I was finally ready to give in. One small problem...he was working. Since I'm a day-walker, waiting for someone to finish work at 3am is relatively unacceptable, but since it had been a few weeks since my last penis sighting, I thought I'd take one for the team. I decided to go out with friends and continue to extend my liquid dinner into liquid dessert, and then a liquid midnight snack. I washed all of my liquid meals down with Stoli sodas. Sure enough, come 3am I was still up, hooray for me.
The bouncer finally got off work around 3:25am and said he was coming over. Greeeat. By this point I'd been home for about an hour becoming one with my amazingly comfortable sofa. I was semi-conscious when I heard him buzz in. For a second, I forgot who I was expecting and I thought I'd maybe ordered pizza.I was much more excited to have double-smoked pepperoni in my face than I was to have a penis in it, so when I realized no pizza was coming, I was slightly disheartened. But whatever, maybe this would be okay too.
First of all he was sober. That's not good. I'd been drinking copious amounts of liquor since sunset, and the sun was now rising. I also had to work in 5 hours, again, not a good start. But when he grabbed me and kissed me passionately, I figured this might be the best thing that's happened to me in a while and I decided to just let go. I must say that I haven't been kissed this way in quite some time...since I was a kid actually, when I would come home from school and my dog would tackle me and lick my face because she missed me so much. Yes, that was the last time I was kissed like this. I've had less saliva on my face after a four hour conversation with my friend "Lispy Larry." Unfortunately this horrible "kiss" set the mood for me. I wasn't in the mood to have sex, but I was in even less of a mood to talk about it, so I was a good sport and went along with it, and it was fun...for about an hour. Gentlemen, unless your dick is filled with vibrating beads and twirls inside us, we do not need to be fucked for longer than 10-20 minutes. Come 5am I asked if he was going to finish anytime soon. I now had to work in 4 hours, and I certainly was not going to finish anytime soon. He said he couldn't finish with a condom on. Classic. And too fucking bad, it was staying on. Then we started the bobbing war. He was trying to push my head into his lap and I kept pushing it back up. The only thing I want in my mouth at 5am is McDonald's hash browns, thanks. I told him he had to finish soon because I...was...done. He wasn't impressed. Him and his blue balls waddled out the door around 5:30am and I passed out on my couch in peace.
Then I woke up to a text message from him this morning, "There's nothing to say...lmao, worst sex ever." Now I wasn't particularly offended by this. I had no emotional attachment to the bouncer and mind-blowing sex is hard to come by when your level of sobriety only allows you to do the starfish. I guess I was more irked by the idea that a guy thinks it's okay to "lmao" to a girl after fucking her. That's not very nice! And who talks like that...what are you, 5? What if I liked him? That kind of thing could have really hurt! So I had to respond..."Well what did you expect? You've been begging to fuck me for weeks and I've turned you down repeatedly. I tell you I've had 2 bottles of wine and want you to come over, so you do...7 hours later at 4am! Ooooobviously I just wasn't into it, or you".
Next.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Can I Borrow a Cup of Sour Milk?
Well, the neighbour situation has finally gone bad. Extremely bad. Aw well, we had a good run.
Around Christmas I liked my next door neighbour; in fact, he was my first human case study in The Nice Girl Project experimental phase. I have never slept with him since. In fact since then, I have had absolutely zero interest in him. The sex was average. That means I forget what it was like. If it's amazing, I remember, and if it's horrible, I remember, but I literally can't tell you one detail of how things went that magical night in December. The only thing I remember is he has a nipple ring, (weird), and he's hairier than a muskox in the middle of an Arctic storm. After that I started dating the minor and my neighbour was seeing someone, so we didn't really talk much. It was slightly awkward, but so was talking, so I was happy to cap our hallway discussions at "How are you?". About a month ago we started talking again, and this quickly turned into our neighbourly old set-up where him, his roomie and myself wander back between each others apartments and hang out on a regular basis. It's lovely, like an episode of Friends. Except, remember that episode where Ross and Rachel break up and you want to cry and kill yourself? It's more like that one.
This past weekend I was hanging out with my neighbour's roomie and neighbour was on his way back. He phoned me en route and said "Hey...I'm bringing a girl back to hang out, so I just want to make sure you're not all over me...if you want to be all over my roommate, please, show him the love, go ahead, but just make sure you aren't all over me." Wait. Hold up. Was I sending off my secret sexual muskox calling whistle again? The egos on men never cease to amaze me. This lovely neighbour of mine managed to offend me in so many ways, logarithmic equations are needed to understand them. Not only did this piece of work assume that I am so in need of his hairy, pierced physique that I am not able to contain myself even in the presence of stranger spectators, he also suggested that I move on to his best friend/roommate and that would be entirely fine, like I'm some kind of hooker or something. Jesus Fuck. If I got paid every time I banged someone I'd be a fucking millionaire, get a clue asshole. In a nutshell, this phone call did not sit well with me. Did I mention I was drunk? Minor detail, but it explains why I reacted like this: there was a bowl of sugar-coated sour candies on the coffee table. Ironically, I had given my neighbours the candies the day before. I took the bowl of sour candies and dispersed them evenly on his bed sheets, under the comforter, being careful to ensure that every granule of sugar made its way into the bed. I lay the comforter over it and hoped that him and his date would have a hot, sweaty makeout session on the bed before realizing that melted sour candies had become one with his Ralph Lauren sheets. I went home.
The next day I got a nasty text message from him saying I was some kind of douchebag and to fuck myself. Then another "I will never forget what you did." What this guy for realsies? He'll NEVER forget what I did? Me neither because it was hilarious, but save the "I Know What You Did Last Summer" tone for the PO-lice, freakazoid. This nasty text message convo went well into the night. I told him he was an arrogant fuckwad and he told me I was negative and bad energy. You would be too around arrogant fuckwads, trust me. So I told him I don't want to talk to him anymore. Delete. 12 hours later I see him in the elevator. Fuck.
Okay, that's only half of the neighbour story. Remember my upstairs neighbour? I slept with his hot best friend months ago, then a couple of months ago upstairs neighbour tried repeatedly and aggressively to get me in the sack. It was exhausting to hang around him, so I didn't do it often, but that smart little devil knew that eventually, my blood alcohol level would be so high, I would be powerless against his un-stellar advances. I pity fucked the poor guy once, and that was that. He smells like smoke and has a straw up his nose more often than in his mouth...there's nothing I find appealing about this one. Which, in true male form, makes me irresistible to him. I've managed to keep him at bay, but then bumped into the hot best friend about a month ago and hooked up with him. He's still yummy, but I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings so lied to my upstairs neighbour and let on that nothing happened.
Then about 3 weeks ago I was hanging out with upstairs neighbour and his friend. All was going fine until his friends gradually left and there we were, alone. It was a ticking time bomb. I knew that in no time I would have to be beating away his unsexy ass, so I made for the exit, much to his shagrin. The next morning I woke up to a text message from him: "You told my friends that all I ever do is throw myself on you and you're not interested in me? I'm done with you, nice knowing you." Hm. Now that was a thinker. I don't remember telling his friends that but it was entirely possible. And I agreed, it wasn't a very nice thing to say to his friends. But bigger picture, was this some kind of incredible newsflash? I'm not interested in him and he throws himself on me incessantly every time we're together, which ends when I finally manage to beat him off me and say the word "no" anywhere from 12 to 60 times. Hm. Perhaps the combination of cigarettes and cocaine causes amnesia. They should really put that on the package.
I didn't have any kind of a response because frankly I wasn't interested in being his friend, and I had more interest in having sex with a celery stick than him. I didn't respond or give two shits. But for the next hour he texted me and told me I was a slut among other things. A slut? Do people over 12 still say that? Isn't any single person over 18 a "slut?" Since just 5 days prior I witnessed him doing lines of coke off a bathroom floor, I didn't take much offense to him thinking that I was the dirty bird here.
So there we have it. In the course of a week I've been called a slut by one neighbour, and told to fuck myself by another. Now where the fuck am I going to go when I need to borrow a cup of Stoli? Assholes.
Around Christmas I liked my next door neighbour; in fact, he was my first human case study in The Nice Girl Project experimental phase. I have never slept with him since. In fact since then, I have had absolutely zero interest in him. The sex was average. That means I forget what it was like. If it's amazing, I remember, and if it's horrible, I remember, but I literally can't tell you one detail of how things went that magical night in December. The only thing I remember is he has a nipple ring, (weird), and he's hairier than a muskox in the middle of an Arctic storm. After that I started dating the minor and my neighbour was seeing someone, so we didn't really talk much. It was slightly awkward, but so was talking, so I was happy to cap our hallway discussions at "How are you?". About a month ago we started talking again, and this quickly turned into our neighbourly old set-up where him, his roomie and myself wander back between each others apartments and hang out on a regular basis. It's lovely, like an episode of Friends. Except, remember that episode where Ross and Rachel break up and you want to cry and kill yourself? It's more like that one.
This past weekend I was hanging out with my neighbour's roomie and neighbour was on his way back. He phoned me en route and said "Hey...I'm bringing a girl back to hang out, so I just want to make sure you're not all over me...if you want to be all over my roommate, please, show him the love, go ahead, but just make sure you aren't all over me." Wait. Hold up. Was I sending off my secret sexual muskox calling whistle again? The egos on men never cease to amaze me. This lovely neighbour of mine managed to offend me in so many ways, logarithmic equations are needed to understand them. Not only did this piece of work assume that I am so in need of his hairy, pierced physique that I am not able to contain myself even in the presence of stranger spectators, he also suggested that I move on to his best friend/roommate and that would be entirely fine, like I'm some kind of hooker or something. Jesus Fuck. If I got paid every time I banged someone I'd be a fucking millionaire, get a clue asshole. In a nutshell, this phone call did not sit well with me. Did I mention I was drunk? Minor detail, but it explains why I reacted like this: there was a bowl of sugar-coated sour candies on the coffee table. Ironically, I had given my neighbours the candies the day before. I took the bowl of sour candies and dispersed them evenly on his bed sheets, under the comforter, being careful to ensure that every granule of sugar made its way into the bed. I lay the comforter over it and hoped that him and his date would have a hot, sweaty makeout session on the bed before realizing that melted sour candies had become one with his Ralph Lauren sheets. I went home.
The next day I got a nasty text message from him saying I was some kind of douchebag and to fuck myself. Then another "I will never forget what you did." What this guy for realsies? He'll NEVER forget what I did? Me neither because it was hilarious, but save the "I Know What You Did Last Summer" tone for the PO-lice, freakazoid. This nasty text message convo went well into the night. I told him he was an arrogant fuckwad and he told me I was negative and bad energy. You would be too around arrogant fuckwads, trust me. So I told him I don't want to talk to him anymore. Delete. 12 hours later I see him in the elevator. Fuck.
Okay, that's only half of the neighbour story. Remember my upstairs neighbour? I slept with his hot best friend months ago, then a couple of months ago upstairs neighbour tried repeatedly and aggressively to get me in the sack. It was exhausting to hang around him, so I didn't do it often, but that smart little devil knew that eventually, my blood alcohol level would be so high, I would be powerless against his un-stellar advances. I pity fucked the poor guy once, and that was that. He smells like smoke and has a straw up his nose more often than in his mouth...there's nothing I find appealing about this one. Which, in true male form, makes me irresistible to him. I've managed to keep him at bay, but then bumped into the hot best friend about a month ago and hooked up with him. He's still yummy, but I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings so lied to my upstairs neighbour and let on that nothing happened.
Then about 3 weeks ago I was hanging out with upstairs neighbour and his friend. All was going fine until his friends gradually left and there we were, alone. It was a ticking time bomb. I knew that in no time I would have to be beating away his unsexy ass, so I made for the exit, much to his shagrin. The next morning I woke up to a text message from him: "You told my friends that all I ever do is throw myself on you and you're not interested in me? I'm done with you, nice knowing you." Hm. Now that was a thinker. I don't remember telling his friends that but it was entirely possible. And I agreed, it wasn't a very nice thing to say to his friends. But bigger picture, was this some kind of incredible newsflash? I'm not interested in him and he throws himself on me incessantly every time we're together, which ends when I finally manage to beat him off me and say the word "no" anywhere from 12 to 60 times. Hm. Perhaps the combination of cigarettes and cocaine causes amnesia. They should really put that on the package.
I didn't have any kind of a response because frankly I wasn't interested in being his friend, and I had more interest in having sex with a celery stick than him. I didn't respond or give two shits. But for the next hour he texted me and told me I was a slut among other things. A slut? Do people over 12 still say that? Isn't any single person over 18 a "slut?" Since just 5 days prior I witnessed him doing lines of coke off a bathroom floor, I didn't take much offense to him thinking that I was the dirty bird here.
So there we have it. In the course of a week I've been called a slut by one neighbour, and told to fuck myself by another. Now where the fuck am I going to go when I need to borrow a cup of Stoli? Assholes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)