Number one.
…there are a multitude of ways NOT to get to see me naked. Not that there are a multitude of guys WANTING to see me naked, but those in this vast online dating pool that do, are making some pretty big mistakes.
Which is making me laugh.
A lot.
Which means I should tell you about them too, right? RIGHT. So, here’s to the first douche-canoe in this category of 101 ways NOT to act on a date with Lessa.
Our first victim said all the right things. Oh he was a smooth motherfucker. While he was GONE, that is. He works on the Slope, and thus we made contact via email, and then text and phone. We talked late into the night, likes dislikes, compatibilities, so on and so forth. Things were looking good. If nothing else? Lessa was gonna get LAID. WHOOT.
Not the first night, of course, what kinda slut do you think I am? (The kind that hadn’t had sex in SIX YEARS. THAT kind.) So he finally comes home, I shower the stink of walmart off me, and go over. And we talk and cuddle and he falls asleep (he works nights, it was expected) and I go home content we made a connection.
Only to get a text that there was no spark, nothing, so how about friends, maybe even with benefits. I say ok. (SIX YEARS PEOPLE!) He’s out of town for a week, comes home, and invites me over. It was fantastic. Of course, any oaisis after a desert is gonna be good, but well, I was happy, and he said he was, so it was all good. Only to get a text saying I don’t understand friends with benefits after he comes in to see me at work, and holds my hand, hugs me and then… the text. WHATEVER.
So, i have my surgery – and that night, a text about how he’s an idiot, and what was he thinking, because all he can think about is me, and if I’m alright, and please please can he have one more chance? I say ok – because everyone deserves a second chance, and well, he was back to saying all the right things again. He found me beautiful, body soul and mind, and couldn’t wait to get home and prove it. He was falling for me, he said, and knew we’d found something special. I joined a site with him, played RIFT obsessively to get to his level, and generally had lovely conversations each and every day. Hell, he even LIKES Moulin Rouge!
I get dressed to kill, pick him up at the airport looking hot as hell, and he’s all over me. I’m ok with this. We get to his place and it’s mindblowing again (not AS much as the first, but I was content, thank ya), and I’m definitely ok with that. I get a couple hours sleep, his showerhead falls and hits me on the head when I take my shower, I fix it, and go to work.
Only to get a text right after I get off, when I’m supposed to head back over to see him – telling me he feels nothing, we tried, it’s over. He unfriends me on Facebook (after keeping some other whore he said he HATED as a friend) as well as on the other site, so on and so forth. A complete cut off of all communication.
We didn’t try anything, motherfucker, but my patience! And it’s GONE. So I press him for an answer via email, and he decides to tell me a few days later that I’m beautiful inside and out but… my “body oder detests [his] nose.” and our “chemistry was a mismatch” because of it.
Excuse me? You smoke a pack a day, and kissing you is like licking a fuckin’ ashtray, and _I_ have a body odor you can’t handle? never got any complaints before, and I’m highly doubtful I ever will again. You certainly weren’t complaining when you was all up in there. Maybe if I had more testosterone, you’d find it more appealing.
But whatever. Fine. Keep the $ you owe me, mofo. I have [vastly over]paid my whore.
