Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: Alaska, alcohol, alexis, asshole, dating, New Zealand, roommate, yacht
Not too often do you get to award this reward to someone. But I found a man deserving of the title “Asshole of the year.”
The sad part is… I fell for it.
It all starts in the spring: My date with a kiwi.
He was sweet, worldly, entertaining, had a beautiful accent and liked country music. That to me = perfection! Except for the part that he worked on a yacht and only spent a few months here and there.
We went on a few dates, had a wonderful time and then he left for Alaska. He was in Alaska for two months. Of which during this time he emailed/texted me often. Naturally I thought he was interested and therefore I was excited for his return in September.
This man told me over and over how excited he was to see me and couldn’t wait to hang out… blah blah blah. I am usually smarter than that. I never fall for these types of lines. But for some reason they seemed to be true when they were spewing out of a New Zealander’s mouth. Lies. All lies.
September arrived. He visited me at work the day before his birthday. Everything seemed to be as it was two months ago. He said he had no plans for this birthday so I told him I would go out with him if he wanted. He said yes and that he would call me the next day.
No call.
I didn’t hear from New Zealander for three weeks. By that time I had gotten the picture of course that he wasn’t into me. I never called/emailed/texted him. I figured if he wanted me, he’d find me.
After three weeks went by his roommate stopped in where I bartend to visit me. Roommate and I had been good friends, so I was curious as to why I hadn’t seen him in three weeks either. He apologized and said he just didn’t want to feel uncomfortable around me “after all that happened.” What all happened??!! I went on a few dates with New Zealander and didn’t hear from him again. It’s not a big deal. It’s not rocket science. He’s just not that into me. I accepted that. What’s worse is the rest of the information I found out from Roommate. He was drunk and ended up spilling info on the New Zealander that he later regretted he told me.
Here’s what I found out:
-New Zealander=asshole
-He has a girlfriend in every port
-He wanted to make me his girlfriend in this port
-His girlfriend from Alaska just “showed up” and ruined his plan to do the preceding
-He was going to get rid of Alaska girl and then call me
I told the roommate that he could go ahead and tell the New Zealander that he never has to call me. I’m not interested in being one of his “girlfriends.”
Once we settled the fact that I’d never date an asshole like New Zealander, Roommate and I decided we should all be friends. So he calls New Zealander and tells him to come to the bar… with his Alaska girlfriend. That was fun/awkward.
So all was well. Hung out with New Zealander as a friend, with his girlfriend and all was well. That was Wednesday. Friday the girlfriend moved to Boston, all wasn’t well.
I was totally content being his friend. Until Saturday.
New Zealander and his roommate came into the bar on Saturday to salsa-it-up. They stayed the whole night. And consequently got a tid bit drunk. Roommate asked me if I wanted to hang out with them when I got off work at 2:30am. They wanted to go have a drink on their small boat (not the actual big yacht.) I said sure, you know, “since we were all friends.”
As we walk down the dock to the boat, Roommate pulls a fast one. He said he was tired and was going to bed. Smooth. I think he felt bad talking shit about his friend so he was trying to make it up by putting us together. Wow.
I said, no fucking way, and I decided to go home.
Or did I? Stay tuned…
Part two: Get ready…. RUN!!!
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, boyfriends, commitment, dating, kissing, men, relationships, sex
My passion.
I have an obsession with unavailable men, as Anastasia so lovingly pointed out yesterday in conversation.
Let’s do a play-by-play:
Alexis: Hey, I’m coming to visit you soon.
Anastasia: Awesome.
Alexis: So have you decided if you’re actually in a relationship with that girl?
Anastasia: Fuck if I tell you. You come and visit and if I’m in a relationship with her, you’ll make out with her and ruin my life.
God, It’s so true. Apparently I have a thing for unattainable goals (and by goals, I mean humans). It’s not on purpose. I just happen to fall for people in relationships. Something tells me it has to do with commitment and my utter fear of the word. Therefore, if I subconsciously seek unavailable men, commitment will never be an issue. Healthy, very healthy.
I’m not a bitch. It’s not something I seek to do; I just crush on spoken-for men. I never act on these crushes…well, except for on my birthday a few weeks ago.
I’ve been crushing on this dancer friend of mine, par for the course since I’m sure his girlfriend is lovely. I would have never done anything under any other circumstances.
The situation: my birthday, drunk, his arm around me. Logically, after a few shorts of tequila, I attempted to kiss him? The tequila pretty much erased my memory of the evening. The world may never know if this actually happened, but I have a strongly undeniable feeling that it did. I definitely shoulda called it a night before the shots started.
I’m not proud of my action but it made me think of the past and my history of crushes in relationships. The list is much longer than I expected. I don’t want to break up the relationships of these men but knowing their relationship makes it unrealistic for them to reciprocate feelings, therefore I wouldn’t have to worry about commitment. My innocent crushes remain innocent and avoid complication.
Complication only sparks when I make dumb ass mistakes.
Ah commitment. A seemingly easy task for most people. However, I cannot seem to take that leap. I won’t even commit to a date a week in advance. Too much may happen between Monday and Friday, I may like someone else, something better may come along… You just never know. Hence why most men don’t stick around for too long. They find the “hard-to-get” game that they think I’m playing, fun and quirky in the beginning. Until they realize I’m just never “available.”
I blame my commitment issues on my father. Isn’t that what most daughters do? My dad had quite a few girlfriends when I was growing up. I learned fast and young to never get attached. They always left. When he finally met one that stuck around for awhile, I was so taken aback by the possibility of someone staying around that I tried everything I could to drive her away. Including hiding under the bed when I first met her to crying and slamming my bedroom door when I found out they got engaged.
As I grow up I realize my petty fear of commitment is completely ridiculous and is something I need to get over fast if I ever hope to get married. In attempts to get over this fear, I still have not managed to rid myself of the desire of unavailable men or completely inappropriate men. Those who I do tend to date are ones that I would never have any sort of a future with… a.k.a a drug addict, someone who lives in Texas, a traveling yacht employee… etc.
To catch up on my latest failed dating adventures:
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: this and that | Tags: alcohol, ambiguity, anastasia, dating, feelings, friendship, relationships, sex, women
I hate that word. Answers are what I want. Yet, ambiguity is all I seem to get. Many shades of gray; never black or white. Meeting every potentially monumental life decision at a hypothetical fork in the road is frustrating. Downright tiring, even.
So, I seek facts in a vain attempt to piece the puzzle together. This is what I know:
- I want to smoke more than my lungs allow.
- Drinking more than my liver approves of is a nightly routine.
- My feelings have changed, they have gone from lovely, wish-the-best-for-a friend to do I have romantic feelings for said friend?
- I am female.
- Said friend is also female-of the lesbian sort.
The fact that my only desire is to smoke and drink myself into obliteration is a blatant sign that I’m lost right now.
So here I am: confused. I hate the word “confused” as much as I hate the word “ambiguous.”
Yes, I am confused. My relationship with my friend is ambiguous. The sooner I own up to these detestable words the sooner I will sort this out, hypothetically, right?
Here’s the thing: I pride myself on being an open-minded individual. I pride myself on seeking out unique traits and characteristics in friends and adopting them as my own. I would have never discovered martinis and Thai food otherwise. Ask Alexis, I’ve always said I wouldn’t rule out the chance of dating a woman if I thought, genuinely, the relationship would provide a chance for pure happiness. And I don’t understand those who disagree with this mentality.
But it’s so easy to preach accepting words when the prospect isn’t staring you in the face, waiting for you to make a decision one way or the other. I am staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun, afraid to move in any direction for fear of accidentally setting off the trigger. Have you any idea what this feels like? I doubt it, and if so, offer guidance…please.
More facts are in order:
- I’ve never, ever, been attracted to a female the way I am now.
- And even since this “discovery,” I’ve never noticed a woman walking down the street and thought to myself “Nice titties, girl. Come home with me”
- This, I believe, is exclusively an attraction to the person while ignoring gender.
It’s one thing to be attracted to someone’s personality; to their sense of humor; to the way they handle adverse situations or their taste in music. It’s a completely different ballgame, for me at least, to be attracted to someone’s body; their touch; their sexuality.
I am attracted to her personality and sense of humor. We compliment each other well. While I don’t always agree with the way she handles those bigger-than-thou life situations, I enjoy listening to her and talking through them. Our conversations give me a sense of pride in her decisions while providing valuable learning opportunities. And, honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful. I understand that the last few sentences sound like an ill-thought cover letter, but they are honest.
But that word-confusion-rears it’s ugly little head here. If I’m going to be brutally honest (and I might as well; what better platform than here?) I do like her touch. Her hugs and back rubs improve lousy days and ease my troubled mind. But even in my most drunken state, I’ve never thought it would be mind blowing to sleep with her; or on the other hand, how horrid it would be. Identifying solely as a straight female up until this point has protected me. I’m wrapped tight in a blanket of indifference; of ambiguity.
How can I honestly say to myself that I wouldn’t like something if I’ve never tried it? That would limit life experiences and deny the opportunity of growing as a woman; as a human, even. I pity those who, so rigid in thoughts from either upbringing or ignorance, would begrudge opportunity for personal growth. I don’t want that, at all. I don’t want to ruin an opportunity that could open my eyes to a completely new mentality and view of life.
But, at the same time, I don’t want to involve a friend’s feelings when I’m not certain of the outcome. If my feelings; my thoughts; my emotions were the only thing at stake, I would jump, jump, jump. I would, without a moment’s thought of anyone’s opinion. It’s reckless, yes, but at the very least, this would result in part of me opening and closing quickly. Ambiguity would disappear as fast as my next drink or cigarette. At most, maybe, perhaps, possibly, I would discover a new piece of me that lay dormant for years, for whatever reason, and could adjust accordingly in future endeavors.
The last set of facts:
- She likes me.
- She’s interested in a romantic relationship… if I am.
We’ve had endless conversations that circle about our “situation”, resulting in both of us shaking our heads in our hands while saying with bated breath “I don’t know, I don’t know.” So, how can I honestly take that plunge knowing a friendship that’s important to me and feelings are at risk? How can I look myself in the mirror each morning knowing I’m playing with someone’s heart and emotions so carelessly and…ambiguously.
I’m not sure I can do that. The only thing I’m certain of right now is that I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how to figure it out. No matter how much I write and talk about this, I’ll walk this road alone. And I’m terrified to take a step in the wrong direction. Ambiguity: I really do hate that word.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alexis, boyfriends, dating, girlfriend, relationships, sex, sex-ting, tequila, women
I never wanted to become the “other woman.”
It all began very innocently.
Two drunk friends upping the stakes of a regular game of fooseball. If he won, I’d kiss him, if I won… well I don’t think I got anything out of it. Doesn’t matter anyways, I lost and had to kiss him. Innocent turned into PG 13 when one kiss turned into full make-out outside in the freezing Wisconsin winter air.
Ah, but how innocent kissing turned into fucking. At his parent’s house by the way. While his mom was home. It was magical. Especially since she came and watched TV with us later…
The post-sex awkwardness did not exist. I don’t live there, so we remained friends and parted ways. It was one of those post-sex-high-five then peace out situations, very unattached and unemotional. That is my favorite situation. Of course, now every time I go back to visit I have a fuck buddy.
The second time I had a vacation romp with my old friend was during a family wedding that I swung by his work and had a little fun. His work? A funeral home. Enough said.
We didn’t really keep in touch in between our wild sexual encounters, until one day when he out of the blue emailed me. Thus beginning our email/texting long distance sex game.
We were both young, single and bored. Why not send naked pictures and talk dirty?
I had never done the cyber sex thing so I was nervous. The first picture I sent was of my butt. Very PG 13. I kept it this way out of fear that he’d show our mutual friends or he’d send them to my father. All of which would be a bad situation. We continued on the PG 13 track for months, just emailing pictures, nothing too exciting. Plus he would always mention how much “fun” we had during my visits. To be honest, the sex wasn’t great, but I enjoy the concept of having vacation sex.
After a few months of our email affair, the emails ended. I heard through the grapevine he got a girlfriend. I was bored of the cyber sex anyways, so it was good for me. Plus my fear of them ending up on facebook kept me from wanting more.
One night however, after I had stumbled home from the bar at 5am NYC time, I got a text.
“How are you? I miss our fun.”
Huh, maybe he broke up with the chica.
In fact, no he hadn’t. He still wanted to do pictures. Turns out, after two months of dating the girl, he wanted more of my action. Something I wouldn’t have wanted to offer if I was sober. Three shots of tequila and two gin martinis said different. Alcohol = horny. And I was alone.
The filter I had the previous months flew out the window as did my morals. PG 13 turned to R. He could ask me to take a picture of anything and I did it. Of course he reciprocated. Once I sobered up, I freaked out about the girlfriend thing. He said he deleted the pictures and she’d never know. What a classy fella.
In my drunken/depression months of early 2008, this continued often. Sex-ting had become the only relationship that I had. I never wanted to be the other woman and I never actually slept with him again, but I still felt like we were cheating.
Now, more than a year later it hasn’t stopped. And he is now engaged. I’ve gotten him to stop for months by saying I didn’t want to do it anymore, but he is addicted I think. He will ask me if I want a picture, I will say no and he will send one anyways. I have so many penis pictures on my phone, it’s disturbing. I delete them when I remember. He doesn’t even send them at appropriate times, like 3am on a Saturday. Now they come when I’m having dinner with my parents, or eating breakfast on a Tuesday. It’s very strange. He has put me in the category of the “other” woman and I don’t know how to get out of it. And he’s ENGAGED!
He talks about wanting to fuck me when I come visit, I just don’t know how someone can be engaged, yet completely dishonest.
I don’t reciprocate anymore with the pictures or sex conversations, but when I get drunk… well lets just hope I don’t get that drunk again.
I really don’t find looking at penis pictures to be any sort of a turn on, so I am unsure as to why he keeps sending them!
- Alexis Patron
Filed under: this and that | Tags: alexis, boyfriends, dating, men, relationships, sex, sex-ting, women
I admit that I have wondered what it would be like to be the “other woman,” but never have done it, nor do I think I would. Well, I did “accidentally” make-out with my boss who had a girlfriend, but that was just a drunken time. I’ve never dated a married man. I just don’t think I could do that. The problem is, however, I’m pretty damn close to having an affair with a taken man. And I don’t know how I ended up there.
I read the following article yesterday and decided I should write about my “sex-ting” relationship I’ve been in for the last two years. Read this article and look forward to my story about how an innocent boob shot sent to a single man, turned into years of sex-ting with a now engaged man. Oh how does it happen…
- Alexis Patron
CNN – and the lessons they teach…
Thinking about being the ‘other woman?’
Like the David Letterman Debacle wasn’t bad enough, now we have the story of Steve Phillips, the ESPN analyst, who had an affair with a 22-year-old coworker.
Unfortunately for the 46-year-old sports dude and married father of four, his latest dalliance (and apparently there’ve been others before her) turned bunny boiler when he broke it off with her.
Brooke Hundley, the jilted junior, allegedly went ballistic; repeatedly emailing and calling Phillips’ long-suffering wife, tricking their 16-year-old son into an online flirtation, and then finally showing up at the family home, scaring the crap out of everyone.
Lucky for Hundley, the Phillips’s declined to press charges, but her reputation, both professionally and personally, is shot. (His too. He’s since been fired from ESPN and has entered a treatment facility.) Obviously, being some cad’s side action is always a sucker’s game, but if you’re going to do it, do it right.
Choose carefully
It’s bad enough that you’re “dating” a married guy, but when you start sleeping with someone who’s in a position of authority over you, you’re screwing yourself twice. Every good grade will be chalked up to your romance with the professor and every promotion, credited to time served on your back. Don’t kid yourself that nobody in your class or office knows, because people aren’t blind and you’re not that slick.
Don’t go home with him
Maybe he’s too cheap to pay for a hotel room, could be he secretly wants to get caught . . . then again, maybe he’s just a sociopath, but I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve heard about a marriage dude bringing his girlfriend back to the house he shares with his wife and kids — usually when everyone’s out of town, but not always. Letterman even took his mistress on vacation with his family! Whatever his motivation, resist. You’re already hurting this woman by having sex with her husband; at least have the decency to stay out of the bed they share.
Accept that you’re No. 2
Married guys will tell you a lot of things in their quest to bed you. That they haven’t slept with their [insert bitchy descriptor here] wives for [insert insanely long period of time here] and that they’re only staying together for the [kids/finances/etc.].
You need to know going in that you will always come second. (Or third. Or fourth.) Sure, you might get expensive gifts, but you’ll also be spending nearly every holiday by your lonesome, you’ll never meet his friends, and plans will be canceled on a moment’s notice if something more important (i.e., anything) comes up.
You’re not his first . . .
When an acquaintance of mine started an affair with a married coworker, she was furious when I suggested this might not be the first time he’d strayed during his very long marriage. She screamed that I was a cynic and that their love was a special flower they alone shared. (On the conference room floor.) Okay, she didn’t use the term “special flower,” but that was the gist.
A week later I got an embarrassed call back reporting that, contrary to what he’d told her, he’d been straying since his wedding day. A cheat and a liar — who would’ve guessed?!
…And probably won’t be his last
Most guys don’t leave their wives for the women they’re seeing on the side. Yes, I know — your grand passion is “different.” Snort. But what if he actually does splinter the family into bits and make a (semi) honest woman out of you? According to the Web site, “Beyond Affairs,” only 3 percent of men marry their affair partner and out of those, only 3 percent of those marriages last. And why would they? You’re committing to a relationship that was built on lies and deceit.
On second thought, maybe you want to rethink this whole “other woman” thing.
Filed under: this and that | Tags: alexis, dating, france, valentines day
I have to admit I do enjoy a good romance from time to time. Since Valentine’s Day just passed I’d like to share a story of one of my favorite dates.
Living in Paris, the majestic city of lights, I dated a very lovely French man. I met him through my host family, in a very traditional set up. He was a gentleman, dark and handsome, and he spoke to me in both English and French.
One of my favorite dates with my French love was just plain classic.
I wish our love affair had ended like this.
We began the afternoon strolling through historic district of Le Marais, where he told me of his background, his aspirations and his studies. He then took me to this little studio near La Bastille where he volunteers helping children and we listened to poetry readings that some of the children wrote.
A short promenade along the Port de Plaisance de l’Arsenal and La Seine, we ended up at a sushi restaurant near Hotel de Ville. The restaurant on the top floor of the building overlooked Notre-Dame and La Seine, it was breathtaking.
Post sushi, mon amore and I walked along La Seine, seeing the beautiful city lights begin to gleam, we made our way to Le Tour Eiffel. We sat in the grass on the Champs de Mars and listened to musicians softly play their music while we watched as Le Tour Eiffel sparkled for ten minutes on the hour. It was out of a dream. Just wonderful.
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If this love affair could have lasted a life time, I would have been content. Sadly enough with our differing religious backgrounds, we could never actually date. But I will always mark this date down as one of the most classically romantic dates I’ve had.
Filed under: this and that | Tags: alexis, anastasia, dating, hookah, sex
So…Alexis and I went on a date once and we’re both ready for the truth to come out. It was eerily similar to the plot of Lady and the Tramp (I the lady, obviously; she the tramp).
The night started out fairly innocent: dinner and drinks with a mutual friend. Sure, we shared stolen glances across the dinner table, but of course that’s to be expected. Our friend pussied out and wanted to go home early, but I think we were both secretly pleased. We parted ways with our friend and strolled down St. Marks street to our favorite hookah bar for a nightcap.
To be honest, that hookah bar is actually a dump with piece of shit owners and creepy-ass waiters, yet for some reason we still managed to frequent it every weekend for a year. We must have had “LESBIAN LOVERS’ written all over our faces when we walked through the door because the creeper waiter seated us at the most tiny, dimly lit, romantic table in the whole joint. We sat cheek to cheek on the hard wooden bench. It was classic.
In the beginning it was funny but our forced date quickly became awkward and uncomfortable. I couldn’t reach for more alcohol without brushing my elbow against breast. And when I grabbed my purse? Let’s just say I was happy Alexis wasn’t wearing a skirt that night.
The hookah ended up being terrible and we both got physically sick (not from our accidental date, however). To this day we theorize the waiter laced the tobacco with a roofie in an effort to have a two-thirds passed out threesome with us in some Bed-Stuy apartment. After half a beer and four puffs on the hookah, we decided it would be best to call it a night, but we still had our nightcap…
just like this, all night long.
Just kidding.
Turns out we like men.
-Anastasia Beam and Alexis Patron
Filed under: alcohol, this and that | Tags: alcohol, alexis, dating, dirty dancing, men, relationships, women
So I’m in this “relationship.” I have no idea how it got to be a relationship, because I have been trying to ditch him since the first date. I’ve only been on two dates with him and the reason I went on these dates is because he truly is a nice man and I wanted to be interested in him, but as it turns out… there just is not enough alcohol. I met – let us call him Earnest – at this bar I work at where they have swing dancing. I really enjoyed dancing with Earnest so I thought I’d give him a shot. So since our first bad date, I have tried many things to turn this man away without making him cry.
First date: Blues dancing. Never a good idea on a first date – think Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing.
us, date one
Way too much touching on a first date, so I started off slow by telling him every tragedy I’ve faced in my life. He stuck around. I decided to step it up on the second date.
Date two, thought I’d give it one last shot: Attempts to turn off Earnest…
- Made him go to four different restaurants before I picked one.
- Made him pay once for the parking garage at the first two restaurants, then again at the meter for the third and fourth restaurant.
- Stuffed my face with pasta, then told him I used to be 215 lbs… only 7 months ago.
- Casually mentioned I was a hard core drinker/alcoholic and as I took a sip of wine, he asked if I was “recovered,” I shrugged and said “nope”.
- Talked about all my best friends and some of the guys I’ve dated.
Other sabotage attempts:
- When he mentioned he is ready to settle down and buy a house (he’s 12 years older than me by the way), I told him I never wanted to get married, settle down, have children or buy a house and told him of my plan to move to Santorini, live with my best guy friend and own a sea otter and take many Greek lovers.
- I mentioned that I am straight up crazy and hard to handle
- Flirted heavily with every other guy around
- When he told me he wasn’t religious at all, I mentioned that I used to be very religious and I am in the process of finding a new church
Short of telling Earnest that I’m pregnant or making out with a stranger in front of him, I’m running out of subtle ways to get rid of him. I realize I could step it up and say that I’m not interested, but I was trying to let him down easy.
I even said that I prefer yoga to sex – and he STILL WANTS TO DATE ME!
I don’t get it.
-Alexis Patron
