Surgury update
For those that don’t know – i had surgery on Nov. 25 – uterine Ablation, to stop heavy menstrual flow.
Update as of yesterday: unsuccessful.
Beaver Boy
And lets not forget beaver boy… so named by Peppermist because every time we looked at his pictures we went “….DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN.” That boys’ 6 pack carried a halfrack of its own!
Anyway – totally hot. In Vegas, but has family here, visiting soon. So we talk, he prefers the phone, we chat on skype, and all he wants to know is what I think when I see his picture. Ok – Daaaaaaamn. No he wants specifics. I laugh. He tells me he knows girls like me never expect to get guys like him, and though I’m a little “thicker” than he usually goes for, that don’t mean i’m not cute.
He does point out more than once though, that HE didn’t message me first, his “niggas” were on his account and did.
Now we’ve already mentioned how I hate the ‘nigga’ this and ‘nigga’ that they say over and over again. The night after the ‘date’ with number two, we were supposed to have another chat, about which I was told to “try not to laugh so much – I know it’s just because your nervous and shy, but it’s annoying” and over over that ‘actions mean more than words” and he was a “serious man” who knows I just wanna know “what a ‘nigga’ be workin with”.
Well, having had my fill of such talk the night before, I tell Beaver Boy that I’m unavailable to chat. He messages me the next day with this:
“Funny how you was online all night, hm?”
Now, my PHONE has the app for the site we’re on, and it checks in for messages and it can seem like i’m online. I did not tell him I wouldn’t BE online – just that I was unavailable to chat. Which I was. So I call him out on his vaguely stalker like ways, and tell him that I don’t appreciate being called a liar – and he’s all “Actions speak louder than words.”
Well then listen good mofo – KABLOCK.
Next?
Number two.
I like men. ALL men. Of all shapes and sizes and colors and tastes. I like men who make me feel good, who stimulate more than just my body, who make me feel wanted. With that in mind, when our second victim contacts me, I say ok to a lunch date.
He shows up at work, and the first thing he wants to know is, of course, “What made you like black men?” And then he promptly scoffs when I tell him I’m not about color. Now he has ZERO reason to think otherwise, and he finally drops the subject, and we talk about other things while I chow down on lunch before returning to work.
Afterwards, he says he wants to see me again, and suggests I come on over to his place that night for dinner. Excellent. So I get changed and wash the stink of work off me, and head that way.
He doesn’t even let me park the car – he comes out and hops in and – no lie – says “So, where ya takin me? I ain’t got no money.”
…Really.
So, since I wanted coffee anyway, I head to the coffee shop. I mean, I was listening to that warning bell, but figured coffee wouldn’t hurt. I bought him a pepsi, while he went off to the back of the store and bought himself a toothbrush and some toothpaste. Oh, and aspirin, because he has a pacemaker and just being in the car with me was making his heart beat too fast…
When we get back to the car, he starts in…
“If you gonna spend money on something, why not get us a hotel room. Then we can spend all night together and really get to know each other. I mean, I can pay ya back if you want..”
….REALLY.
Now we know why he wanted the toothpaste/toothbrush. Smirk. Needless to say, THAT wasn’t gonna happen. Especially when I stopped at 7-11 because i had to pee, and motherfucker spends the last cash in his pocket on alcohol shooters, and proceeds to drink them all, and tell me that I’d be safe in the hotel because “Willy don’t work till mornin after a couple of these..”
THEN he kisses me. And shoves a piece of candy in my mouth – without letting me back away fast enough. Tells me his uncle says that’s how ya know a girl likes ya, if she’ll take the candy. I pointed out I didn’t have a choice, spit it out, and drove his ass home. While he’s telling me all about his ‘niggas’ – which is something that drives me insane.
I get him home, and he sits there, and tells me that I’m obviously ashamed of dating a black man because I didn’t take him to meet my family.
O_o.
I pointed out he didn’t take me to meet his mama either, and he points to the house – his house – and says “Wanna meet my crazy ass mama? I live with her.”
O_o!
And he starts preachin at me, tells me his take on Adam and Eve (….Eve was beguiled by Satan, which means she had sex with the “snake’ and that’s why cain was a murderer – because he was satan’s child…) AND calls me a liar when I say something as I’m looking up at the stars, which were outside my car window, on my left… (“You’re lying! You looked up and to the left, that means your lying because GOD is on you RIGHT SIDE..” No, motherfucker, the window is on my left side, and you’re on my right, and honey, you ain’t EVER be considered godlike by me…)
Then, as if THAT weren’t enough? The final nail in his coffin… “I saw picture of your son on Facebook – he’s a big boy. Hope he don’t come at me, it’d be a shame to have to cut your baby.”
Oh.
no.
he.
DIDN’T.
Even if in jest, NO ONE THREATENS MY KIDS. EVER.
Kicked his ass out, and the fucker calls me NINE TIMES between 1:30 am and 6am. I put his number on auto reject, and he texts me. I tell him to move the hell on, because it’s never gonna happen, and he tells me he was just excited to have me in his life, and didn’t want to run me off…
1. You never had me, and never will.
2. WRONG MOVE, ASSHOLE.
It’s been two days without a text. Maybe he’s finally gotten the point.
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.
Dangerous curves ahead…
I look at it like this. It’s kinda like – buying a used car. Yup. exactly.
You find a likely little number, and you pat it, and poke it, and kick the tires a bit, and it purrs for you and promises that it’ll be a good little car. It’ll take you where you want to go, and assures you that you’ll enjoy the ride.. You don’t mind that it’s got a little dent here and there, a tear in the dash, a smudge or two, because when you slide into the seat, it fits like a glove, and it wraps around you and murmurs rumbling promises with the turn of a key…
So you go for it, as there really isn’t anything to lose. And at first, oh, the purring rumble continues, a devilish delight taken into the way it moves, the way it corners… until one morning, after a delightful little drive, it stalls out without warning. No worries, though – it’s probably tired.
Then, after a few false starts, there’s a long drive where everything is right with the world – the engine hums and the tires cling to the road, and sliding into the seat feels like being wrapped up in heated excitement. Your breath quickens, and your smile widens, and fingers grip and hold on tight as you take curve after curve after curve on the road. That rumbling murmur is back, the devilish little growl, and all is right again.. you know you’ll be good friends, with those moments of pure joy…
Then, another stall. This one bigger than the first. And this time, you notice that there’s a little tick in the engine, and there’s a crack in the oil pan you didn’t notice before, and maybe there’s even a dying spark plug.
And around the same time, you start to notice there are a few other cars out there, rumbling for some attention. Sure, there’s a few obstacles in the way, but for the most part, the different possibilities seem to be popping up all over, and they all want to take you for a drive, and explore some curves too… They might have been there all along, but you just didn’t notice. Or they might have just noticed you were looking, now that you’ve test driven another like them, and are waiting for their turn..
Either way, the possibilities are opening up, and are endless… and suddenly, suddenly? Those stalls just don’t matter anymore. That first test drive, well, it’ll come around or it won’t… it’ll stammer and stall, or there might be another fun drive in the future… but in the meantime? There’s a whole batch of other possibilities waiting to be explored..
And I think it’s high time I start enjoying the drive. Hee.
