Friday, August 1, 2008

that buzzing sound: is that my soul fighting with itself? or a vibrating cock ring?

The Boys are pissing me off this week, and even more irritating is my Handling of Them. I went to a farrrbulous wedding this past weekend: yes, I did just say a fab wedding. It was actually twenty-four hours of fun, so take note, people: it is possible.

At said wedding, however, I got roped into a seemingly endless conversation where he trapped me into giving him my phone number. He was a nice enough guy, but totally self-absorbed. I was into him at all, but I was sober and I can’t lie when I’m sober, so I gave him my number.

Homeboy has called me EVERY FUCKEN DAY since Sunday. When will this stop? I have yet to pick up or return a single call. The messages were kind of rude. One of them was like, “SERIOUSLY. Call me and tell me when the best time is to reach you.” Right, dude, the only reason why I haven’t returned your calls is because we haven’t found the right time yet. Then this morning—I kid you not—he calls me at ten to seven in the morning, and left me another message about maybe I was a morning person? Please stop fucking calling me. Isn’t there a rule about the number of unanswered phone messages a person can leave before entering the legal realm of stalkerdom?

Then last night was the worst. I went on a date with this guy who I didn’t know at all. This guy chased me out of a bodega in the neighborhood and last night we went out to dinner. I should have known there were going to be problems from the beginning because when I said I was free Wednesday, he asked me, “Do you go spinning?”

I said, “Spinning? Like at a gym?” Color me disgusted as he invites me to a spinning class. La-a-a-a-me.

No, we did not go spinning together. But we did go have a night of serious boozeness. Okay, here’s how the night went wrong. Literally on our first drink, he kissed me, on the lips, without warning or asking. I couldn’t even get out of the way. I…think that’s wrong. I didn’t like that one bet. Throughout the night he kept kissing me and I could not make it stop. Seriously, dude? What’s up with that?

He was a nice enough guy, though. He brought me a rose. We had a nice dinner. He was holding my hand, too! On a first fucken date? Really? I didn’t know how to be like, “Please don’t touch me” without being too much of a bitch, so I just went along with it.

Then, fast forward a few hours and much boozeness later, he’s trying to come into my apartment with me. I said, “NonoNO you’re not coming up. I’m not sleeping with you.” But he was really fucken insistent that he see me upstairs, and of course we end up having sex and while it’s not bad, I didn’t want to have sex with him, and shit just happened. The weirdest part about it was that homeboy had a VIBRATING COCK RING with him. Who the hell carries a vibrating cock ring around with them? Man, that was a shocker.

This morning he pulled the “I’m going to fuck you awake” tactic, and I was like “Get the hell off of me, dude.” Then he practically begged for sex. God, what is more pathetic than that? The bed was a bloody mess; I was pissy; there was a dude in bed with me who I was hating more and more with each passing moment.

All of this shadiness made me miss Joe, who always asked me if he could even put his arm around me, let alone kiss me. Why did I put up with this behavior last night? Is booze really to blame? Why do I let guys just have their way with me, only to feel like crap about it later? Thoughts, anyone?

And now, another person whose calls I’m going to have to dodge. Thank you Jesus for caller ID.


Papagayo said...

this is proof that the homos are not the only ones with complicated and messy sex lives... but to answer your question, just say no. it gets you respect and feels good sometimes. you don't have to do anything, fuck 'em, right?

Anonymous said...

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Anonymous said...

is porn the only winner during credit crunch?