Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alexis, eric dane, kissing, mcdreamy, men, new zealander, player, relationships, yacht
Read part one: Asshole of the year
I have done the walk of shame many-a-time… but the run of shame? Never happened before tonight.
Oh you cunning little New Zealander, you. How the hell did you convince me to stay?
I was not about to be left alone with the player New Zealander after his roommate went to bed, so I decided to go home. New Zealander had to escort me back up the dock to free me from the locked gate. We made small talk which was nice. After all, I was trying to be his “friend”.
He fidgeted with the lock, thus encouraging more conversation. By the time we got through the gate, our conversation had taken a deadly turn into personal sharing and emotional story time. It was no longer about work, weather, rainbows, and various topics acceptable to discuss with strangers in awkward social situations. He shifted the tone into loneliness, his Alaskan girlfriend, hopes and whimsical dreams. Shit. How did it get so far so fast? I was just trying to be pleasant.
Ten feet away from my car. I was ten feet away from freedom and almost released from the obligatorily numbing pleasantry exchange. But no, of course the conversation took a nose dive for the worse:
New Zealander: Yeah, this job can be lonely sometimes when you move around all the time
Me: If you are lonely, fix it. I don’t buy the whole shit theory that your job makes you lonely. If you miss your girlfriend who just went to Boston, go visit her. Okay. Well…have a good night. I’m sure everything will work out.
Attempt to exit stage left.
New Zealender cue tears.
Me (aside): Fuck me sideways. He’s crying? He’s fucking crying? I’m so fucking close to my car I could touch it and he’s CRYING? Damn this shit night will be longer than I had hoped.
He literally cried. Wept. Man, this player is fucking good because I fell for it. He cried! Everyone has a weakness and mine just happens to be tears. When I see eye ducts flowing freely with beads of saline and emotion, I want to fix it.
Tears streaming down his face, he started to explain his “situation.” He was lonely. He wasn’t sure he liked the job. He doesn’t want to work and travel all the time…sob.
I did my best to be a friend. And I thought I was doing a damn fine job. It was now 3:30 am and cold outside.
We sat outside talking at the gate until about 4am, when we decided to go sit on the warm little boat and finish our talking. By this time I was hooked. This “poor” guy was so broken. I actually, legitimately felt bad for him.
He grabbed a sweatshirt for me from the “big yacht” and then we went to go sit on the 30-footer, or small yacht. He laid out on the bed and I sat on a chair on the bed so we could finish talking. I prided myself on being JUST A FRIEND. I did not want to date or hook up with him in anyway, I still knew he was an asshole.
I kept thinking as I sat there “please don’t fall for me right now, please don’t fall for me right now.” I knew he would. I have some sort of a weird power with my eyes that when used properly I can totally seduce men with the blazing blues. (*note: New Zealander later told his roommate that my eyes were what made him do it.)
As he gazed into my eyes, he started saying shit. “You are an amazing person.” “This feels really right.” “You are very beautiful you know that.” To which I responded, “yeah I know I am thanks.”
I kept saying to him over and over “I will be a really good FRIEND to you.” It didn’t work.
Next thing I knew he was kissing me. I let it happen for a second and then pulled away thinking ‘please think this is a mistake and don’t do it again.’ I really wanted him to not kiss me. I knew I had no control over the situation. If he kissed me, I’d definitely kiss him. Why? Because kissing is my most favorite pastime and he’s hot. So I was just hoping he would have realized it was a mistake. But he didn’t.
He pulled me up to the bed where we continued making out until 6:30am!!! I totally KNEW BETTER! WTF. I totally fell for all his lines and I knew it was such a bad idea to do that. Good news is I didn’t sleep with him.
I do have to admit, it was super fun making out with the hot New Zealander. But what followed, was utter humiliation. At 6:30am I said it was time to go home so we got off the boat. Oh! Wait! Here is a fun side note: we weren’t supposed to be on that boat and his boss was awake now. Awesome. I was shuttled back onto the small boat to wait. We had to WAIT until the boss went to bed and stopped watching the cameras. New Zealander went onto the big yacht to watch his boss and communicate with me via phone as to when I could get off the boat. Talk about humiliation.
A call around 8am told me to RUN! The boss had gone to the bathroom and I had to literally run down the dock. After sitting alone on the small boat for an hour and a half. I was pissed. I knew I’d never hear from New Zealander after that. I knew it was a bad idea. I don’t regret it, because it was fun. Plus New Zealander was quite attractive with his seducing accent, a strong jaw resembling Eric Dane’s and McDreamy eyes… But still, I would like a little revenge for having to do the run of shame.
-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: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, bali, bisexual, facebook, gin, husband, indonesia, marriage, men, ring, sex, wedding, wife, women, yoga
Well sort of…
Traveling is always so much fun. Especially when it is international travel. Going abroad to a new country allows for the possibility for the traveler to “let loose.” Well in my case I tend to “let loose” on any given occasion, but apparently found my recent trip to Bali, Indonesia an occasion to REALLY let loose.
I figured since Bali in on the other side of the world the concept of “what happens in [insert vacation destination] stays in [said location,]” to be incredibly true. How would anyone find out about what I did in Bali?
Damn facebook. That’s how.
With the technology revolution, nothing is private anymore. Everyone is bound to find out everything down to the tiniest little mistake you make while on vacation in a foreign country. Nonetheless…..I have an extremely hard time keeping secrets about myself actually secret.
So, of course in light of my new “marriage” I had to tell everyone.
I had a wonderful time in Bali. I was there on a yoga retreat, which was pristine. However, once the three hours of yoga wrapped up for the day… the drinking commenced. Obviously. No better way to regain burned calories than with alcohol.
The biggest drinker of them all? My yoga instructor. Ironic. So, I, of course, happily joined the festivities and purchased a bottle of gin for $2. Anastasia (the biggest gin whore of them all) is so jealous…
Mix my eight months of abstinence (not on purpose,) with a little alcohol, the heat of the equator and a plethora of flexible men doing yoga and you, my friends, have a recipe for fucking disaster. Luckily, all the men I met were gay. Well, at least I thought they were. Until one unfortunate night when I learned of their bisexuality. Queue hormones.
I did not have sex. I wanted to have sex. But no sex happened. So naturally, instead I spiritually married a bisexual man.
It all started when the Balinese thought that my yoga instructor, lets call him Yani, and I were husband and wife. So of course we ran with it and Yani referred to me as his wife for the rest of the trip. I thought it was all fun and games until the concept of “consummating” our marriage came up. I said I wouldn’t put out. (I haven’t quite sorted my feelings on sleeping with a bisexual man yet…) So my “husband” told me he’d be forced to take a second wife who would put out.
I became first wife. It was a fun game. Until I started to realize that he thought of me as actually “spiritually” being his wife.
It wasn’t solidified until he bought me a ring. Yes, a ring. We now have matching wedding rings that have symbols of the earth carved into them. He bought me this ring to symbolize our spiritual union to each other and the earth? Hell if I know, he’s a yoga teacher, it’s all spiritual.
I do not wear the ring on my ring finger, because I would like to get laid sometime, so I wear it on my index finger.
All in all, I did not make too many bad decisions, I only kissed two men, one of which was my husband, and I didn’t fuck any inappropriate people. I only got married, so I’d chock up this trip to a success.
Weddings in Bali are so much better than in Vegas.
-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.
Automatically when you wake up next to someone naked after a night a drinking, your mind races. You think, “what the fuck, what the fuck did I do last night?!” Well, luckily that wasn’t the case when I woke up to a naked Brandy on that Sunday. Don’t get me wrong, I was shocked she was naked, but I had nothing to do with that. She was passed out when I got home and I didn’t realize she was naked until the next morning. Brandy, gotta love her, she’s a good friend and another fellow bridesmaid, and yes I have motorboated her boobs, but I just wasn’t planning on sleeping with her naked.
My head hurt. I don’t think I had been that hung over in forever. And awesome, my mind – complete blank. Could not remember anything from the last two hours of my night. Fantastic. I know when I don’t remember a thing it means I must have done something super stupid.
It was time for the breakfast recap… I wanted to die a little bit.
At the traditional breakfast recap, it was Kaci, Brandy, Katie, two other girlfriends, Kaci’s mom, Kaci’s boyfriend and Kaci’s brother. Kaci’s mom peaced out early because she started throwing up. Which is typical after a traditional Montana wedding.
I was sitting next to Kaci’s brother, Ryan, who I hooked up with in college. Kaci freaked out at the time. Yeah, that didn’t go so well. So I knew better than to try and do that again… well, soberly knew better.
The stories began… which all of them seemed to revolve around me. Every time they told me about another person I mouth fucked at the reception, it was like a bullet to the head. You know, when you realize you did something super stupid? Yep. As I sat next to Ryan a sneaking suspicion came upon me… I think we made out. So of course one of the girls blurts that one out, “Hey Ryan, didn’t you make out with Alexis too?” “Nope!” He answered enthusiastically. I breathed a sigh of relief, Kaci would have killed me. But I still had a sneaking suspicion that we may have…
When Kaci wasn’t around, the other girls informed me that yes, in fact, I did mouth fuck her brother again. Awesome, just awesome. He’s hot though, so I’m not complaining!
So what did happen Saturday night? I’ll tell you this for sure… I am not allowed back in that town again! Well at least not until people forget about the shit show that I starred in on Saturday night.
Saturday
At 9am all of the bridesmaids met at the salon to get ready for four hours. We all complained, because who needs to get ready for four hours?! Turns out we needed that time. Jill allowed us two glasses of champagne each before the wedding. She didn’t want the priest to kick us out. Which was a definite possibility given the veracity of this group.
I do have to take a moment to share what happened with my hairstyle. I had one of the small town hairstylists do my hair, never doing that again. I should have just curled it myself. I asked for medium curls… 45 minutes later she is done, I look in the mirror. Holy fuck I looked like a French poodle on steroids. My hair stuck out past my shoulders in these tiny ringlets that went out of style in 1850. She loaded it with hairspray so there was no getting out of it… Wow, my friends were laughing so hard they had to excuse themselves to the bathroom so as to not offend the hairdresser. Good, I didn’t want to get laid anyways.
Luckily my hair is so thick, it calmed down before the wedding, but still was a disaster.
The wedding was beautiful and went off without a hitch. It really was a beautiful experience. But now for the fun part.
Once the wedding was over… it was time for debauchery!
We showed up at the reception hall after about an hour of pictures. It was time to drink. All of us bridesmaids had these bright yellow dresses that I referred to as my “Golden Ticket.” Meaning – I was going to get what I wanted, when I wanted. With both men and booze. I loved my “Golden Ticket.”
Shoving my way to the bar with my golden ticket, I commenced the inhalation process of alcohol. Drink of choice? Lime vodka and redbull. Nasty. Everyone else was doing it, so I jumped on board. Of course the treasured favorite of tequila came later.
Let’s piece the night together. Here is what I remember: most of the reception, making out with at least two guys, falling on the floor during an exquisite dance move, tequila, more kissing, more tequila, and finally pictures. Ohhhh the pictures. There is a beautiful picture of “snapper delight” in the bathroom. “Snapper delight” was my weekend nickname since I had a freshly waxed vag… I have no idea who had my camera and why they would take a picture over the bathroom stall. I actually don’t remember the actual dance move, but I slide across the floor and I believe I knocked over a child, who immediately started crying. I think I hear his mother say, “Oh honey, it’s just drunk Alexis being herself, she didn’t mean to karate chop you in the face with her heels.”
Here is what I don’t remember: Leaving the reception, going to the bar, the third and fourth guy I made out with getting home. Oh wait, I remember drinking a martini at the bar! Yes, I remember something from the bar!
Pictures put me at the bar after the reception, so I know I went. But the next thing I remember is running away from a guy’s car, freezing and trying to figure out how to get to my friend’s house. Why was I running? I think he was finger banging me and I finally came out of my drunk blackout, realized who I was with, and got the fuck out of there. Fast.
The guys:
1) Aaron – yes I do remember making out with him. Picture to prove it.
2) Oh shit I forgot his name… I swear I knew it before. Ok well he is like three years younger and I made out with his brother also.
3) Josh – brother of “no name” listed above. Also, the same guy who I remember running away from his car. What is my thing with brothers? This is the fourth set of brothers. My god. Plus I have made out with two of my best friend’s brothers. Jesus. That is a weird phenomenon. Gotta love similar DNA.
4) Kaci’s brother – which to this day we will both deny… and I cannot 100% guarantee it, but the girls say I did. And I have a lot of pictures with him, so I’m assuming I did.
The recap breakfast was very informative. I spent most of the time shaking my head. And saying “yep, yep, I did do that.” But that wasn’t the worst part. It was going to Jill’s mom’s house for presents and seeing all the adults from the wedding. I was greeted with laughter and “oh shit, you were tanked last night.” Lets just say, I made an impression.
-Alexis Patron
Most of my relationships haven’t worked out. I’m quite picky and I like the chase, neither of which bode well for my marriage chances. It’s one thing to pick up a man at a bar for free drinks and making out, but when it comes to relationships I’m highly selective. I’m not quite Harvard selective, but if I’m gong to be spending months of my life being dedicated to one person, I’m going to be ivy-league selective at least.
Anyways, today I purchased a flask. It’s my recession flask and will help me save money at the bar. No matter what my mother thinks it’s not an alcohol-problem flask. As I was walking home, thinking about how the flask would help me meet strangers later that night, a thought occurred to me. Which qualities would I pick out of the leading men in my favorite and coincidentally most lame romantic comedies? This obviously is the easiest way to land the perfect relationship, you know, if I ever decide to take the plunge.
- Money: I’m not saying money is the most important thing in life, but you know what? It fucking helps. I think I speak for all the poor folk out there when I say not having to worry about rent or paying for health insurance makes life a whole lot easier. That said, I need a man with Richard Gere’s money in Pretty Woman. We’ll be in love, so it won’t be a direct exchange of cash for sex. And if I keep telling myself that, it’s totally true.
Cash. Money.
- PDAs: Next on my list is a pair of steel balls, so to speak. I pretty much hate Tom Cruise and most of his movies, but at the same time it is a personal goal of mine to have sex on a train, Risky Business style. I mean, it’s bound to happen since I spend over ten hours commuting every week, at least. In the Air Tonight happens to be the song that magically plays in my head whenever I have a sexy dream. Well, that or anything by D’angelo. It’s absolutely fate. So obviously I need a man who is okay with the occasional pda that turns into sweaty sex in the public eye.
Half way through my list and I’ve already featured two movies with hookers. Yes, I agree. It’s a sign..
- Romance: Not completely lost on me, believe it or not. I have been known to disrobe for a romantic gesture. I went through a phase in college where I watched the Notebook pretty much on repeat. Ex boyfriend took note, went through his old baseball cards, found all my favorite players, and wrapped them up in string, the same way Noah’s notes were wrapped up for Allie, and gave it to me randomly one night. How. Freaking. Adorable. This got him a steady diet of blowjobs and the king treatment.
More romance is needed in my life, badly. So a little bit of Noah’s dedication to his woman is appreciated. His beard is also welcome.
I'm in love.
- Soundtrack: I think every woman at one point or another has had a Paris-related fantasy. I’ve never been but if Alexis brags about how amazing it is one more fucking time I’m going to go a little nuts. So, you know, in the spirit of that, I would like my magical movie boyfriend to come stocked with an iPod containing the entire soundtrack to the movie Amelie. Good lord, it’s amazing.
- Sex. When it comes to sex, I want it Diane Lane/Oliver Martinez Unfaithful style. Anyone who owns this movie owns it for the soft-core love scenes and nothing else. Trust me, I couldn’t resist when I saw it laying in the $5 bin at Wal Mart, just waiting for me to pick it up and bring it home. I needed to add it to my collection for the bathroom scene (probably not the safest for work), and the bathroom scene alone. It was a fine purchase, made ridiculously uncomfortable when my father told me how good of a movie it was.
Sometimes it’s fun to pretend life is a movie. I’m pretty sure I will find myself in a situation more closely related to Fatal Attraction than anything in this post.
-Anastasia Beam
I woke up Sunday morning on the futon after passing out for a short while in the sexiest way possible: wife beater on, no pants, laptop on my belly, iPod shuffle still playing, and in a state of complete confusion. Most priceless image ever? I think so.
Needless to say, I had an eventful weekend. I really put my liver to the test this time and somehow managed to not experience a hangover. It has taken years of blood, sweat, and borderline alcohol poisoning, but I proudly know that I can drink almost a full bottle of wine, and handfuls of gin and tonics without a hangover. That might not be something to be proud of…but nevertheless…
I went out to watch the Sox/Yankees game on Friday. I actually didn’t expect much out of the night. I couldn’t keep my eyes open at the bar, and was struggling to find conversation with a friend of mine. On any other night, I would have just headed home, but I promised a friend I would stay up til she got off work at 11. The fact that being awake at 11 on a Friday night has recently become a challenge to me is really, really depressing.
After taking about an hour to suck down my first gin of the night, I headed to the corner of the bar for a refill and there he was. I have unoriginally dubbed him the alabama slammer, for obvious reasons. I’ve previously declared on this blog several times that a tall man with a beard really is all I need to be happy. Well, ‘bama was real tall and his friend had a beard, so the two of them combined equaled my perfect man.
I tried to sneak by him to get another gin and tonic, and he commented on my “budging.” I apologized and begged for forgiveness, of which he could not deny coming from such a cute girl with amazing eyes. Cute girl with amazing eyes? I’ll take it. I’ve been in a man drought lately.
I figured it couldn’t hurt to hang around, and pretty soon we were exchanging jokes and personal history. I’ve heard stories about charming southern gentleman, but I always thought it was a myth, like unicorns. How is it possible that just a difference in location can transform men from douchey pervs to suave lovers? This guy was one hundred percent suave and, while skeptical at first, I quickly became putty in his hands. He laid it on thick. I had to start drinking more just to keep up.
We spent the rest of the night building up a good rapport, of which I only remember one specific part. ‘Bama is in law school. He was telling me of his intentions to charge $300 an hour one day. Naturally, I told him he sounded like a man whore but if I ever needed legal advice I knew who to call. It must have been my adorable smile or beautiful eyes, but he promised to give me a discount on his hourly rate.
Recognizing a perfect opportunity to drop my own smooth line while simutaneously coming off like a whore, I grabbed his neck, pulled his ear to my lips and whispered “I promise you I won’t need the full hour,”
Needless to say, he understood the hint I dropped and we made out obnoxiously in the back of the bar for the rest of the night.
It was the perfect way to snap me out of my funk. I needed it bad. I was dangerously close to the point of no return with women. And there’s no better way to break out of a I-might-go-gay-from-lack-of-sexual-contact-with-men-funk than by fooling around with a Southern man who had a nice build. Do you know the last time I touched a man’s stomach and felt distinguishable abdominal muscles? That would be the last time I had a sex dream about Hugh Jackman, and good god even that was years ago.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: birds and bees, douche baggery | Tags: alexis, humor, men, relationships, women
I had no boyfriends yesterday morning, but somehow by the end of the night, I had to break up with two guys. I have no fucking idea how that happened. Seriously how many times do I have to break up with these guys? I am getting so damn frustrated. Why the hell won’t they just let go?
First breakup – Earnest. I had to dump Earnest again tonight. One week after our initial break up. I thought the text message break up was sufficient, especially when he called me back and said that he was bummed it didn’t work out and he hoped we would still be friends. I really thought that meant he got the picture.
Well tonight we had to have yet ANOTHER discussion about how I don’t want to date him. I once again had to tell him very crazy things to try to dissuade his interest. I started off the evening by telling him that I might consider dating women since I just hate having sex (Which is untrue, I was just trying to scare the guy off). I went on and on about how I am apathetic towards sex, get no pleasure out of it and I consider it along the same lines as making out with someone.
That didn’t work. Then I just had to be straight up rude.
I was working at my bar during this time so he was just hanging out. After work, he walked me to my car so we could “talk.” Apparently he didn’t believe me before when I told him I’d never want to date him. It was time to be harshly honest. I told him it was never going to happen, even just casually. I was bound to cheat on him. I haven’t had a boyfriend in ages so I’m not used to having to be accountable to anyone, I enjoy being single and I hate rules of dating. For example, if I want to make out with a random stranger, I don’t want to feel bad about it, hence why I enjoy being single. Earnest seemed to be getting the picture after this.
I told him I didn’t want to hurt him so this had to end now before I went and did something crazy like make out with his brother or best friend. I have done it before many-a-time to scare off a man, but Earnest is way too nice for me to be such a bitch like that. I think he was a little shocked at this point, but he understood. It was actually the most honest I had been with a man, just telling him straight up that it just isn’t going to happen. Ever.
Phew, so I think it is FINALLY over. I just don’t understand how many times I need to dump this guy. I think the blunt honesty might have done the trick.
One break up down.
Then driving home, Mistake called me. My coworker, who I dumped once, he forgot, re-dumped me, tried to get back together with me two weeks ago, I turned him down, and now he tried AGAIN. He called to talk about this new guy he is trying to fix me up with (long story, I’ll have to tell you all about that later) and he wound up saying that he wanted to have sex again and make out in public. WHAT?
Ugh, I was so tired from having to break up with Earnest, I just didn’t have the energy to have to do it again, so I listened for a long time to Mistake explaining how he loves our friendship and “in a way I do kinda love you.” Shit.
Mistake didn’t even let me get a word in, he just kept talking and talking about our relationship. He told me he was just dumped by his ex so he thought we should hang out again. Seriously our “relationship” was such a disaster before that the thought of dating him again makes me kind of want to vomit. He invited me to meet his parents, said we should go on a date, have sex from time to time. Is he crazy?
I couldn’t say a word. I had worked for 16 hours, was so exhausted, already got rid of one boyfriend, why the hell was this day never ending?
Finally when I could speak, I said: “Listen, we are friends now, which is nice, I just don’t think we should go down the dating road again. Plus I kind of like this new guy, remember?”
Mistake: “Oh yeah, I was just saying if that doesn’t work out, you know.”
Mother fucker, JUST LET GO.
Finally after an hour and me saying over and over again that we shouldn’t date, Mistake said ok and we will talk about it later. I give up. He just doesn’t get it. Time for drastic measures, I need to meet his best friend.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: birds and bees, douche baggery | Tags: anastasia, men, relationships
Call it low standards, call it a shameless need for attention, call it whatever you will, but if you dress a bearded man in any baseball paraphernalia (excluding Yankee garb) I am sold. That’s all it takes. Sure, a good personality and sense of humor are both desirable traits in the opposite sex, but if I’m drunk and I meet a bearded man who likes baseball, there is a 100% chance I will make out with him. This has gotten me in to trouble on many occasions.
I was waiting for Alexis at one of our pubs. The Red Sox and Yankees were in a heated battle, and one of my favorite players was up to bat. I noticed a cute bearded man standing next to me. I nudged him, delivered (and subsequently wasted) one of my most awesome pickup lines of all time: “I’ll bet you $20 Manny Ramirez hits a home run right now.”
Manny swung at the pitch, and with his swing I heard the unmistakable crack of a long ball. He had jacked a towering shot. Normally, I’m pretty confident with a few brews in me, but with my Babe-Ruth-style called home run, I knew it would be a matter of time before I was fucking this dude. He was impressed as well, and proceeded to buy alcohol, hookah and food for myself and Alexis the rest of the night.
At the end of the night, we obnoxiously made out while Alexis awkwardly waited for us, exchanged numbers, and promised to see each other soon. I was really excited. Not to overuse an old cliche, but if it seems to good to be true it most likely is. Not only did he have a stable job at a good company, but he was cute, had a witty sense of humor, and came from an area in Boston I’m familiar with.
Looking back, some warning signs were there from the beginning and I ignored them. Instead, I foolishly figured it would only be a matter of time before we shared leftovers in post-coital bliss.
For example, I have this bad habit of facebooking people quickly. I should probably apply the three-day calling rule to facebook. As soon as I got home from our first date, I requested his friendship on facebook. Weeks went by without a response. I didn’t jump to the conclusion that he had bitterly rejected me via the book because we were still hanging out. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t calling me or avoided me, we had been on several dates that included heavy petting. So I just assumed he hadn’t added me yet because he didn’t check his facebook that often.
My budding relationship with the perfect Bostonian guy came to a perfect halt one Friday when we met up for some drinks. We spent a few hours drinking and chatting about various things, before he invited me back to his apartment. I happily accepted. Finally, I thought, it was time for some weed and sex.
His apartment was only a few blocks away, and I walked there with that giddy-obnoxious grin people get right before they get laid. It didn’t last long. It’s pretty hard to keep a pre-sexing-smile on your face when your pseudo boyfriend delivers the verbal equivalent of a swift kick to the balls.
“So, I’m not really sure what the deal is with us,” he started, “but I have something to tell you.”
Hearing “I have something to tell you” alone is enough to end a relationship, but following it up with “I’m married”, as he did, was something I had not heard before, nor expected.
The man who wore no wedding ring, lived in a studio apartment and was barely a year older than me was married? Lovely. His wife turned out to be a pathological liar who was fucking some dude two blocks away from my apartment.
I’ve probably seen her dozens of times.
Despite the fact that I was more in love with his East Village apartment than him, Alexis encouraged me to break it off so I would avoid the crazy bitch coming home with a bat to us in bed. I broke off
all communication with him; I’m pretty sure he knew why.
He eventually accepted my request on the book and there it was in the middle of his profile: the dreaded married status.
Everyone knows if it’s on facebook it’s official.
-Anastasia Beam
