At 16, I was cute. I was a size 5 with a big ol' ass and hair like Pam Anderson (yeah...I love her...so what if she's got Hep C and makes more sex tapes than Jenna Jameson!). I was bubbly and happy and obnoxious like 16 year old girls are. I have been told that the demise of my bubbly attitude was around this time when I dated Skunk.
He had a mullet. This is an important detail being that it was 1998. (His hair styles did not get better...at one point he had purple and orange and etc with this crazy Flock of Seagulls shit going on. Guess he was just ahead of the time and didn't wait til Emo was in...) But his eyes were so blue. They were gorgeous. And he smelled wonderful.
We dated for many months (I was 16. That's a long time in 16 year old time!) and he was the first guy I slept with. So of course my heart was attached. And then he went to Pizza Hut...
One night...after many fights that include but are not limited to him grabbing my face and squeezing it like I was a bad 5 year old that stuck out my tongue, I was sitting in my super awesome room (Black lights and strobe lights and a bomb ass stereo...my room was tight!) waiting for Skunk to get off work. It started to get late and so I called his house thinking he was there. His brother informs me he isn't supposed to tell me where he went...followed by he went to Pizza Hut. ?????? Why not just tell me?
When he gets home and we are talking about him being at Pizza Hut he claims he was with D and that they just went to eat...I later find out that he was with this chick he works with and that they are most def sleeping together. My poor broken heart!
To make it better, I find out he is not only sleeping with her but obtaining oral favors from a friend of mine and making out with another friend of mine. What a slut!!!! And when we are breaking up and talking about things that really aren't important I feel cuz once you state that you're breaking up that should be it. You should not crush some body's bubbly happiness with statements such as "You laugh too much" or "You're always bouncing around and excited about something" or Goddess FORBID "You're childish and immature! You wanted a Teletubby that talks for your birthday!"
NO HE DID NOT!!!!! First off, it was the yellow one. And LaLa was totally cute! And second off she said Faggot Faggot. (I don't think that was what she was supposed to say but it sounded like it and being 16 and thinking things are funny all the time, I loved it!) I carried her everywhere and loved her like a newborn baby is loved by an adoring mother! HE had ACTION FIGURES glued to his bed! But I'M childish and immature! My room was the epitome of awesome and his was the epitome of a 10 year old nerd. (I do realize that the cheating should have made me angrier than being called childish and immature but I really think that the bigger picture is the hipocritical nature of his statement!) And he baby talked. Like a giant pussy! So while I did love the Teletubbies and the Power Puff Girls...I could still kick his ass!
Once again, I'd like to reiterate....
HE HAD ACTION FIGURES GLUED TO HIS BED!!!!! Just sayin'...............
Showing posts with label Dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dating. Show all posts
Friday, May 20, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Dating...A Plethora of Excitement I AM NOT Prepared For!
I have a policy on dating (and I do mean casual dating...not serious pick-out-towels-and-wall-paper-naming-kids-dating) . Don't ask, don't tell. If you aren't witty enough to say "Are you seeing anyone else?" then I'm entirely too cunning to tell you. Maybe cunning isn't the word I want; I think I mean smart. I do this because there is no "nice" way to approach the subject. Exactly how do you tell someone "Hey! Yeah, dinner sounds great Thursday but Friday I plan to go scuba diving with Steve!" I think it's unnecessary.
At the same time, I am, in fact, witty enough to ask. My first questions are:
When asked, I will say "I am dating around." Details are unimportant, as we are not committed. If at some point we become committed, I will no longer be dating around. But while we are not in a relationship (or relationshit, for the only way to know which one you have is to play the hand) I feel that both parties are equally free to explore other realms of interest. (Note: if any of your realms of interest include feet, poop, or vomit, please keep me uninvolved) I do not enjoy relationshits, so I try to keep it honest.
Relationshits come in many forms. They don't usually start out as relationshits. They're typically relationships that take a turn for the worst and become relationshits by way of controlling, abusing, mistreating, and generally ass holish behavior. Everybody has had one and I feel it's a low blow to real relationships to continue to call them relationships. Call it what it is: relationshit. If your relationshit begins as a relationshit, you did not read this blog properly and need a reading comprehension assessment in order to move forward to any future blogs.
All of the above being said, The Injun was a short relationship and a quick relationshit. In an effort to prevent future relationshits, I have started dating. I believe that dating will shortly cause me to take 2 days off work in a row and hold myself up in my house cleaning and singing loudly while ignoring anything that has a penis. (Note: This is generally a bad sign and means that because I cannot afford a vacation I have decided that cleaning was needed.) Currently there are 5 men pursuing me (that I'm fully aware of). My phone never shuts the hell up and sometimes I turn the ringer off and pretend that the bill wasn't paid for an hour. I also have a horrible memory so I end up double booking. This has been completely accidental and I have escaped unscathed both times, but could possibly not be so lucky in the future.
There are some promising prospects. But I will be dragging this dating thing out as long as possible because I really don't want a relationshit right now. The only way to avoid relationshits: avoid relationships.
At the same time, I am, in fact, witty enough to ask. My first questions are:
- Do you have a girlfriend?
- Are you married?
- Are you seeing anyone?
- Are you a serial killer?
- Do you drink copious amounts of alcohol daily?
- Do you smoke pot more frequently than you wash your ass?
- Do you have a criminal record longer than my forearm?
When asked, I will say "I am dating around." Details are unimportant, as we are not committed. If at some point we become committed, I will no longer be dating around. But while we are not in a relationship (or relationshit, for the only way to know which one you have is to play the hand) I feel that both parties are equally free to explore other realms of interest. (Note: if any of your realms of interest include feet, poop, or vomit, please keep me uninvolved) I do not enjoy relationshits, so I try to keep it honest.
Relationshits come in many forms. They don't usually start out as relationshits. They're typically relationships that take a turn for the worst and become relationshits by way of controlling, abusing, mistreating, and generally ass holish behavior. Everybody has had one and I feel it's a low blow to real relationships to continue to call them relationships. Call it what it is: relationshit. If your relationshit begins as a relationshit, you did not read this blog properly and need a reading comprehension assessment in order to move forward to any future blogs.
All of the above being said, The Injun was a short relationship and a quick relationshit. In an effort to prevent future relationshits, I have started dating. I believe that dating will shortly cause me to take 2 days off work in a row and hold myself up in my house cleaning and singing loudly while ignoring anything that has a penis. (Note: This is generally a bad sign and means that because I cannot afford a vacation I have decided that cleaning was needed.) Currently there are 5 men pursuing me (that I'm fully aware of). My phone never shuts the hell up and sometimes I turn the ringer off and pretend that the bill wasn't paid for an hour. I also have a horrible memory so I end up double booking. This has been completely accidental and I have escaped unscathed both times, but could possibly not be so lucky in the future.
There are some promising prospects. But I will be dragging this dating thing out as long as possible because I really don't want a relationshit right now. The only way to avoid relationshits: avoid relationships.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Anybody Seen Goonies?
So back in the day, my boyfriend was Puerto Rican. (He was a giant ass...I do not say this because he was Puerto Rican. I say this because he was, in fact, an ass.) We fought horribly and I didn't take his shit. When he started a fight, something was getting broken and generally speaking it was something of his. Because I have the tendancy to be insane. Many people can confirm this...
Lately (like within the last 2 years) I have mellowed. I'm not sure why but it has happened and this is how I know:
One night (or morning more accurately as it was about 3am) my boyfriend called after a night out and what sounded like the equivalent of a case of beer. I asked how his night was and blah blah blah like ya do when ya hear from someone at such a time and don't have much to say (insane me would have said "are you out of your damn mind? Do you know what time it is?"). Somehow this conversation turned into a talk about my love for black men (which I don't really have...there are some very attractive black men- Lenny Kravitz, Blair Underwood- but I generally date white or brown boys). This stemming from the Puerto Rican Ass...as he was very dark complected. When I asked what this had to do with anything, I was informed I should shove a Baby Ruth up my "twat" so I could have all the chocolate I wanted in there.
WHAT?? Did you say that out loud???? I heard it come out of his mouth and kinda giggled...surely he was joking as no sane man would say that to a crazy person. Turns out that an insane man would.
So this became a favorite joke and we ("we" being my equally insane friends and I) regularly make Baby Ruth jokes...and would eat them in front of said insane man, smiling because the best jokes are the ones that nobody else gets. What makes it even better is that he never remembered stating this...
At least I remember the crazy shit I do!
Lately (like within the last 2 years) I have mellowed. I'm not sure why but it has happened and this is how I know:
One night (or morning more accurately as it was about 3am) my boyfriend called after a night out and what sounded like the equivalent of a case of beer. I asked how his night was and blah blah blah like ya do when ya hear from someone at such a time and don't have much to say (insane me would have said "are you out of your damn mind? Do you know what time it is?"). Somehow this conversation turned into a talk about my love for black men (which I don't really have...there are some very attractive black men- Lenny Kravitz, Blair Underwood- but I generally date white or brown boys). This stemming from the Puerto Rican Ass...as he was very dark complected. When I asked what this had to do with anything, I was informed I should shove a Baby Ruth up my "twat" so I could have all the chocolate I wanted in there.
WHAT?? Did you say that out loud???? I heard it come out of his mouth and kinda giggled...surely he was joking as no sane man would say that to a crazy person. Turns out that an insane man would.
So this became a favorite joke and we ("we" being my equally insane friends and I) regularly make Baby Ruth jokes...and would eat them in front of said insane man, smiling because the best jokes are the ones that nobody else gets. What makes it even better is that he never remembered stating this...
At least I remember the crazy shit I do!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Call The Po-Po Ho!!!!
What is it about me that makes men insane? I am aware that I'm not incredibly unattractive...but I'm positive there isn't a woman alive that's looks make a man insane! I'm not amazing in bed and I'm not a horrid bitch (ok...well I guess that's debatable depending on the boyfriend but...). But somehow they mostly end up being criminally insane...or just fucking nuts.
Newest one to pop up? The Injun. (I do realize that I have skipped a whole hell of a lot but I'll back track...this just really needed to be noted cuz it's grating on my nerves!) Last year when Fingers and I broke up (Fingers = ex. That's all that's important about him to this tale) I began seeing this boy. Long hair, tattoos, HUGE arms and chest...ya know. He was overly sweet and overly attentive which Fingers was not. And I enjoyed this even though I'm not good with the clingy type. UNTIL...
He blew up on me because I wouldn't sleep with him...then again blew up on me when (months later) Fingers and I had gotten back together...and I don't handle fighting well. I'm a talker not a fighter!
We begin seeing each other again when Fingers rolls out again (So I like to stay in familiar territory...is that so wrong?) and he is amazing! Sweet, nice, supportive, looks amazing without a shirt...until we commit. And then he suddenly has demands and a really bad attitude.
After being chased down the highway at high speeds, forced to pull over and "talk" with him (which was really a talk with the cops that were called about the domestic dispute that had errupted in a parking lot full of people which is a great tale for another time), you would think that this signified a problem...ok. It did. And I got it. But he was also pretty fuckin scary. So I felt a little more comfortable keeping him calm and sane until I planned my attack.
His attack wasn't very well thought out...which meant that mine didn't have to be at all. It was a little more instinctive. See, one night he had called and asked about hanging out. I said nope...not on this night. He felt it was a good idea to get drunk at a mexican restaurant (which is understandable on Wed nights when it's half priced margaritas! Not on a Thurs...) then to call and pick a fight because I wouldn't let him spend the night (after informing me that I am his girlfriend whether I like it or not and he will be my boyfriend whether I want it to be that way or not). After hanging up (see previous statement about "...not a fighter") and throwing my jammas on, I recieve random drunken texts that make no sense and several phone calls...followed by a loud VROOM!
And all I can think is "I know this mother f*cker is NOT at my house!" Yeah...he was. And so being that I'm a SANE person with RATIONAL thoughts I assume that when I don't answer my phone or door, he will admit defeat, hang his head, and retreat back to his damn TeePee! NO! He will not! He will, however, jump the 6 foot privacy fence and stand by my bedroom window repeatedly calling me. He will also attempt to get in the french doors (dead bolted!) and then use his ID to get in through the garage door (after getting a drink from the water hose because breaking and entering works up a thirst)...enter my room with blood pouring down his leg and arm...and act like this is totally normal and natural. His response to "I called the cops" will be "If you had called them they'd be here by now" and then he'll sob incessantly while hugging my legs and saying "I love you! Why are you scared of me?" and then tell the cops he lives here and I'm "trippin".
I'm going to open a mental hospital...that way I know where my exes are and what they're doing. And when I'm sleeping...they will all wear straight jackets.
Newest one to pop up? The Injun. (I do realize that I have skipped a whole hell of a lot but I'll back track...this just really needed to be noted cuz it's grating on my nerves!) Last year when Fingers and I broke up (Fingers = ex. That's all that's important about him to this tale) I began seeing this boy. Long hair, tattoos, HUGE arms and chest...ya know. He was overly sweet and overly attentive which Fingers was not. And I enjoyed this even though I'm not good with the clingy type. UNTIL...
He blew up on me because I wouldn't sleep with him...then again blew up on me when (months later) Fingers and I had gotten back together...and I don't handle fighting well. I'm a talker not a fighter!
We begin seeing each other again when Fingers rolls out again (So I like to stay in familiar territory...is that so wrong?) and he is amazing! Sweet, nice, supportive, looks amazing without a shirt...until we commit. And then he suddenly has demands and a really bad attitude.
After being chased down the highway at high speeds, forced to pull over and "talk" with him (which was really a talk with the cops that were called about the domestic dispute that had errupted in a parking lot full of people which is a great tale for another time), you would think that this signified a problem...ok. It did. And I got it. But he was also pretty fuckin scary. So I felt a little more comfortable keeping him calm and sane until I planned my attack.
His attack wasn't very well thought out...which meant that mine didn't have to be at all. It was a little more instinctive. See, one night he had called and asked about hanging out. I said nope...not on this night. He felt it was a good idea to get drunk at a mexican restaurant (which is understandable on Wed nights when it's half priced margaritas! Not on a Thurs...) then to call and pick a fight because I wouldn't let him spend the night (after informing me that I am his girlfriend whether I like it or not and he will be my boyfriend whether I want it to be that way or not). After hanging up (see previous statement about "...not a fighter") and throwing my jammas on, I recieve random drunken texts that make no sense and several phone calls...followed by a loud VROOM!
And all I can think is "I know this mother f*cker is NOT at my house!" Yeah...he was. And so being that I'm a SANE person with RATIONAL thoughts I assume that when I don't answer my phone or door, he will admit defeat, hang his head, and retreat back to his damn TeePee! NO! He will not! He will, however, jump the 6 foot privacy fence and stand by my bedroom window repeatedly calling me. He will also attempt to get in the french doors (dead bolted!) and then use his ID to get in through the garage door (after getting a drink from the water hose because breaking and entering works up a thirst)...enter my room with blood pouring down his leg and arm...and act like this is totally normal and natural. His response to "I called the cops" will be "If you had called them they'd be here by now" and then he'll sob incessantly while hugging my legs and saying "I love you! Why are you scared of me?" and then tell the cops he lives here and I'm "trippin".
I'm going to open a mental hospital...that way I know where my exes are and what they're doing. And when I'm sleeping...they will all wear straight jackets.
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