For some reason, unavailable men are like a comfy blanket on a snowy day for me. I know exactly what to expect, I know where it’s going to end up, and I know when it ends. I’m fine. I won’t get hurt -- someone will, I’m sure. But as long as it’s not me, game on. I know it comes off insanely selfish, but I am an only child.
I’ve been attempting to break my habit of being a side piece for sometime now and I’ve been doing pretty good. But entering into the other side of the dating world sucks the life out of you
and sometimes you just want to have fun, leave with a smile your face, and call it a night.
I’m not proud about what I did, but I’m comfy with the idea of going to hell and feel free to judge all you want. But I’ve got needs too! Plus he had been calling me lately and begging to go out--so who am I to say ‘no’?
We met up in college, I was gross looking and he was gorgeous. He never judged, never made me feel second rate--dare I say he was a gentleman? I know I’m hardly the belle of the ball and whatnot, but it felt good to have someone hold a door for you and just be nice.
We had sex the first time during a long weekend alone in my dorm. It was the beginning of the semester and neither of us had the desire to go home. So we camped and made occasional trips outside for food, entertainment, and ciggies.
He had broken up with his girlfriend (who would later become his wife) and needed a shoulder to cry on.
I didn’t want to be alone, so I wasn’t about turn down the company, especially not the extremely attractive kind.
We had been drinking and shit happens. It happened a lot over the next few years, they’d break up and I would be there help him through the tough times. She never liked me. She judged me because I was overweight and did whatever she could to prevent us from hanging out. It didn’t work.
My next foray into being the other woman was with a friend from work. He was in a relationship and miserable. She was dreaming of the white wedding and putting the pressure on him, while he was more concerned with reliving his life in the dorms and figuring out if it’s socially acceptable for someone over the age of 22 to have a beer pong table attached to the ceiling and played the Rocky theme when lowered. Oh and the answer is YES.
Chapter three of Cameron’s trip to Whoreville was a married guy I meant through some mutual friends. He was unhappy with life and I did my part to put that skip in his step.
Ok, so I know I shouldn’t do this. Could I have picked better (unattached) guys? Sure. But it’s easier with them. They’re broken and easy.
I’m not saying all married or attached guys are miserable. There are some who are in happy relationships. I just seem to find the ones who aren’t.
But yeah, I got in touch with a personal favorite of the past and had fun. I needed it. I’ve been Suzy Serious for a while now and I needed to lighten up. But since I can’t go to Lyndell’s for a half-moon cookie, I figured I’d do the next best thing. But that didn’t happen.
Ladies and gentlemen, I thinking I’m growing a conscience.
It’s only taken how many years? But better late than never. He picked me up and that spark wasn’t there. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other and things have changed. Well, for me they have.
When I was sitting next to him in the car, he was rambling on about life, his wife, work, and other random bullshit I really didn’t care about. Looking back, I think when I asked how everything was going, I was expecting him to keep it light and playful. Like it used to be. I didn’t want to be emotionally involved and I didn’t actually care.
You say certain things out of common courtesy, but you really don’t care. Oh so I’m asshole? Fine.
Dinner was even more depressing. In the grand scheme of things, it was my favorite resturaunt. WAS. Since losing weight, I can’t have certain things, such as fried foods and Chinese food. I use to love Chinese and now if I have it, I either projectile vomit from the grease factor or I’m bloated for a week thanks to the salt. (Because who doesn’t find a bloated girl in skinny jeans attractive?) So we just stay away from it to be safe.
I should have said ‘yes’. But I said it wasn’t a problem and dined on some steamed veggies, while he stuffed his gullet with all of my former fatty self’s favorites and booze.
So while he sat shoving pork fried rice and mysterious sugary gravy into his mouth, he announced he’s leaving his job with no prospects insight.
I’m sure wifey loved that one. Homeboy married a girl who grew up with money coming out of her asshole.
Her parents dispise him and openly called him ‘white trash’ once. I know it’s wrong, but they have a point. On top of the soon to be unemployed news, his wife was very close to having triplets.
‘It’s going to be great! I’m going to be a stay-at-home Dad! I’ll have time to paint and take care of all of that landscaping and build that pond or maybe a pool? Is it hard to build a pond? Do they have directions for that? Just me and the babies in nature. That would make a great painting! Are you sure you don’t want a chicken finger? I wonder if *blank* would let me build a chicken coop. We should live off the land more.’
After I stopped my head from spinning, I asked him if he ever babysat or knew anything someone who’s looking to become a nanny should know. Minor details, really. But I’m sure the last thing his wants is three human bobble heads. According to him, he’s a fast learner. “So there’s nothing to worry about. How hard could it be?” Oh well, I feel safe and you’ve calmed down whatever anxious feelings I had for the welfare of your unborn children.
Godspeed, sir. Is it too early to contact the DSS?
There was a time when I found this fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants attitude adorable. Now I wanted to break a chair across his face and remind him he’s an adult. I took everything inside me not to explode and cause a scene in the restaurant. I saved it for when we were in the car. I asked to be taken home, he started to whine and something inside of me just snapped.
‘You need to get back onto whatever ADD meds you’re suppose to be on and grow up. I know I’ve made shitty choices over the years, but my God. You will have three creatures needing your love and guidance. How are you going to take care of them, if you can barely take of yourself and your wife is going to be the main bread winner? Do you honestly thing that’s going to fly with her? Are you fucking insane? Fathers are suppose to be strong human beings and the backbone of any family. Not some flighty spastic who’s more concerned with digging up the yard for whatever project that will be thrown to the side.
I know, it was probably harsh. But better hear it from a friend, than from her divorce attorney. To make the situation even more awkward, he started crying. I have a problem with men crying, I can’t take it. I get the douche chills. I know you’re allowed to have emotions and express them occasionally, but don’t cry in front of me. Your water works dried my vagina up and the slightest bit of sexual attraction that was left is long gone now.
I took that as my sign to take the T home. Later I got a nasty email from him that read like a note someone in the 8th grade would give their evil arch enemy. It was good for a laugh. I contemplated posting it on here, but I don’t feel like being sued. Not like I have anything for them to take.
But knowing my luck, the judge would rule in favor of him and I’d have to work off whatever money I owed him…by babysitting.
Sorry folks, I talked to Kristy and Claudia -- the BSC is closed for business.