Showing posts with label problems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label problems. Show all posts
Aug 13, 2008
Gentlemen don’t tell
There are some things a guy should keep for himself. There are accidents, stuff like that, things that can completely screw up your life (or, if you’re SMART enough, they can provide some good fun for you). Anyway, the idea is that sh*t happens. And all these “accidents” that happen along your lifetime just add up, sum up and eventually manage to drive you mad, no matter if you made fun of them or not. Because, generally, you don’t make fun of them. You can’t tell about this stuff to your friends – and it’s understandable. Gentlemen don’t tell. Period.Last night, happy and excited, I found out that A, my latest flirting extravaganza, really meant it with the three dates rule (and, no matter how stupid I consider that idea or concept or whatever, I’m not going to talk about it right now). Anyway, the fact is that we were sharing my bed, cuddling and kissing, whispering and caressing each other – having fun and, all in all, we were getting ready to do it “as they do it on Discovery channel”. And then it happened: Badda Bing!
My body, my flirting king body rejected me and told me to go to Hell, after promising me the moon and some extra. Most unfortunate is that A. also promised me a looot of things (“I’ll do this and that and that, too”). Anyway… the idea is that everything was destroyed in just a couple of seconds… MAYBE a minute. Badda Bang!
Because I finished. I was done. “Oops”-like. “WTF-was-that?”-like. Badda Bing and no Boom Boom Boom. You get the idea. It was that most absolute embarrassing thing. As in “I’m sorry, I dunno what happened”, as in Speedy-Gonzales style… actually, it seems that I proved to myself that indeed I am Mr. Fast. Damned coincidences!The fact is that you feel so bad in such moments that you can’t describe it in words. I was shocked, ashamed and I just didn’t have the guts to look into A.’s eyes. I was feeling her – she was ready to start laughing, she was ready to grab the phone and tell her friends, she was ready to ask questions or just go away. Anyway… one thing is certain: no girl in the world can imagine what goes through a man’s mind and heart when something like that happens. When stuff you don’t talk about happens. When stuff we don’t like to admit is true… that’s the real deal with Gentlemen don’t tell. And it sucks.
But, to end this on a lighter, happier note, it just got to me: I should’ve told her “It’s your fault, biatch! You and your stupid three dates rule! You see how close I was to explode into my pants?” And then we would’ve laughed and gave it another try. Or not. But since I was inside and kind of did my job, she counts. Beat this!
Aug 5, 2008
That’s PMS, aaaaight?
As you all probably know, I said the big words to I. (no, not “I love you”, but “Bye-bye”). Her reaction was pretty nice and unexpectedly calm, she took it to the chin and even said something like “we’ll have random sex every now and then,” which was pretty cool, you know? So I was ready to become a Don Juan again, re-start my flirting quest and enroll the Flirters Top Spots (and if something like that doesn’t exist, I was ready to create it).Anyway… the point is that I was happy with what my life was turning into: for the first time in many, many years I had been caught in a love-triangle: P, I and me, two girls and a guy, excitement, more Don Juan-ism and hormones skating freely in my testosterone-filled body. Stuff like that. I was proud.
But things had to turn to the darker side.
Because, as I was anticipating back when my “relationship” with I. was nothing but a big question mark, things at work are pretty ugly now. Remember the episode when she sent me a message to look at her and she opened her legs in a Sharon-Stone-Basic-Instinct type of thing? Well… things are about the same, with a few small differences: she doesn’t send me messages anymore and, whenever it happens that my eyes turn her way, she doesn’t open her legs anymore, but her middle finger rises like a statue up in the air.Thankfully, she barely talks to me now, which is good. However, I can only believe that all my colleagues at work know (or, at most, will know soon) that I have a tiny little wiener, that I suck in bed, my mouth smells like crap and I was a virgin when I first dated her. OR that I’m gay and like IT big. I dunno… I’m sure it will be something bad, anyway. The good thing is that I don’t have plans to date anybody from work anymore, so it won’t be a loss. However, it still sucks.
Or, just as I said in the title, it could be nothing but I.’s PMS. That would really explain her strange behavior. Case closed!
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