Hey there Lovers!
Boy what a week I have had! Today we’re going to take a little break from the Rick saga so I can update you on the day to day happenings 🙂 And my what happenings they have been!
Now then, at the end of last week I was at an all time low. No sex. No money. (Why oh why do I ebay drunk?) No men on the horizon and nothing to look forward too career wise. Just endless uni and menial tasks to complete. Blurgh. I had thought I had found a lovely new boy and had enjoyed a few colourful sex fests with him and was looking forward to more until he dropped the text bomb. These were his exact words:
“You’re cute and awesome. However I want to focus on myself for a while.”
What the hell had happened? I wasn’t clingy or weird, in fact when he didn’t text me for days on end I followed suit and maintained radio silence. What did he want?!
But of course I didn’t put any of this into text as I wanted to remain cool, aloof and oh so mysterious. (Although really, what mystery is left after someone’s rooted around inside your treasure chest?) So I texted back:
“Ok no worries, just don’t focus on yourself too hard (you’ll start to chafe) xx”
Nice, aloof and yet still putting sexual images into his head, even if it was just man to hand conversation and I wasn’t involved anymore. He laughed and sent back some lame message about how he’d keep that in mind and all that nonsense. I was totally bummed. And although he said it had nothing to do with me it kept gnawing away at the back of my mind. I stayed strong though and didn’t text him. That was until I talked to Ben.
Ben and I met on Plenty of Fish and he seemed like a lovely bloke. We chatted for a bit then organized to meet up on Saturday night for drinks.
Yay for even the possibility of sex! (Although I must say my ravenous sexual appetite was starting to get quite disturbing.) Still, it was something fun to do on a Saturday and I set about planning my menu for the day before so I didn’t accidentally ruin sexy time with unwanted flatulence.
A couple of hours later Ben asked for my number which of course I gave willingly. Then he asked for my Facebook.
I don’t give out my Facebook anymore because goddam boys are clingy! I’ve had far too many experiences of continuous poking (pun intended) and endless likes. It’s just not worth it until you actually meet the guy and suss out his stalker status. So I said no and waited for a reply.
What the? I texted him asking what he was playing at only to receive his reply of “Yeah no Facebook and no meet. I just don’t feel comfortable otherwise.”
Ex-queeze me? You don’t feel comfortable? What do I have to do next, spread my cheeks and let you dig around just to satisfy your ‘comfort levels?’ Needless to say I lost a lot of respect for him at that moment. But my raging inner sex drive urged me onwards and I agreed, grudgingly giving up my name and asking for his.
Hello? I waited an hour and texted again. Still nothing. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’d just been rejected because of my Facebook page.
This guy had been a total keen bean after seeing my five POF profile pictures (which may I add were pulled directly from Facebook) but as soon as he logged into the old book of face it’s as if my pictures made his penis shrivel up to the size of a gherkin. (Although maybe it was that size the whole time. I guess I’ll never know now will I?)
Did I look that bad??
I logged on to do a little re-con. Sure my profile picture is a very tipsy me dressed as a Belgian beer wench with fake green plaits and badly chosen beer. And yes my cover photo is an extremely drunk me writhing on the floor with Will performing Total Eclipse of The Heart on a karaoke stage, but surely that’s not too bad?
Here’s the kicker. The bastard didn’t even give me his name so I could do the appropriate thing and judge him by his stupid drunk photos as well. I mean come on dude, fight fair at least.
So you can imagine what this little episode did for my flagging self esteem. What was I doing wrong? Well in hindsight I know exactly what I did wrong next. I popped over to the local and bought myself a tasty (yet disgustingly cheap) bottle of wine and drank it. For lunch.
So around three o’clock I had the brilliant idea to text the fellow before Ben who needed to ‘focus’ on himself and see what the real story was. I could pretend I sent a great witty text but I don’t lie to you guys (although sometimes I wish I did. Really, it would save a lot of embarrassment on my part.) So here is the wonderfully well thought out text I sent.
” Heya so I know this is an annoying question but I’m finally drunk enough to ask yay! Did I do something to make you not want to hang out anymore? Was my vajayjay too small, my head shaped too much like a potato, my butt too bumpy? I’d just really like to know so I can fix it for next time cause this is kind of a recurring thing :-)”
Yeah not so much. Luckily he was good enough to answer back a day or two later saying my vagina was fine (thank god) and that he really did just want to be single for a while.
Huh. Fair enough.
So that was him sorted. I was tempted to torment Ben with endless annoying bordering on stalker-like texts just to teach him a lesson about giving his number to a total stranger, but my heart just wasn’t in it. Instead I decided the only way to get back in the game was to ride that horse until it’s dead between your legs. Ok I’m not so great at analogies but you get the idea right? I went right back online and restarted the search.
And that’s when I found him.
Irish. 28 years old.185cm. Brown hair, blue eyes.
Houston, we have lift off.
Pickup line of the week: Your body is 75% water, and I’m thirsty.