AC Pilot, Part 2

Read this before continuing on.

I haven’t spoken with the pilot for a couple months now, not since January 11th specifically. I would have written more about him sooner, but I was waiting to see what my decision on him was going to be and where things were going to go, and then I got annoyed with him and backed away and we just stopped talking. Let me take you through the last year with him.

He lives in Toronto and usually only flies into Regina every couple of months or so, sometimes more, but it’s not always an overnight trip. So after the first time he came over, I didn’t see him again until sometime in the late summer. We texted several times a week, he liked talking on the phone too, but I hate it. So every once in awhile I’d answer when he called, but most of the time I’d ignore it. Despite me telling him how I don’t want to talk on the phone, he would still try it. We talked about everything, including other men and women in our lives. It was nothing serious, although he would often wonder if I would date him if he lived in Regina or I lived in Toronto. My answer was always “maybe”. I would have considered it in the beginning, but we wouldn’t have been right for each other in the long run. He’s into some rather specific sexual fetishes, and I think he’s confused about his own sexuality. He experiences a lot of guilt regarding his desires. We had a lot of conversations about them, and I told him many many times that he is allowed to explore and want what he wants, as long as it’s not illegal and doesn’t hurt anyone.

I’ve told you about his fetish for women’s underwear and clothing. He liked knowing what I was wearing, but sometimes it was more so he could fantasize about wearing my dress, rather than imagining me in it. Or out of it. Prior to his visit in the summer, he would send me pictures of lingerie he was looking at online. It was usually Vanity Fair, either white, blue, or pink. He liked panties, bras, and slips. He kept saying how hot it would be to go shopping together and he’d buy me some to wear. And of course he talked about wearing them himself. I asked why he didn’t just buy himself some, or shop where he was. I’m sure there’s a much better selection of what he likes in Toronto. He could shop online, or go into a store and say he was shopping for his girlfriend. Hell, with the type of lingerie he likes, he could say he was shopping for his grandmother in the nursing home! But he was too embarrassed to do that. He did order a few things online, but as far as bringing anything with him, he would never do that. I told him to just put them in a gift bag and anyone checking his bag would assume he brought a gift for a woman. What’s the problem? Still too embarrassed. So, when he came through in the summer, I met him at his hotel and stopped at Sears on my way over. I bought us both a pair of pink satin panties, and stopped in the lobby ladies room to put mine on.

When he opened the door to his room, he was just as cute as I remembered. I could see why flight attendants of both sexes would flirt with him. He was a lot of fun to make out with. I liked kissing him, and I liked his hairy chest. Truth be told though, he could have used a bit of manscaping. Men, I cannot stress enough the importance of grooming around your penis. If the dentist congratulates me on the health of my teeth and I don’t even own dental floss, your hair is too long.

He loved the panties I was wearing. Literally could not stop touching them. He was very interested in the toys I have and asked that I bring one or two along with me. I brought a couple of my favourites and let him choose. Of course he chose the one that looked most like an actual dick. He kissed me up and down my body, trailing his hands along with his tongue. He had good hands that worked me inside and out. And then he wanted to use the toy. Before I got to have fun with it, he gave it a mini blowjob. (He liked to talk about his one fantasy where I could wear a strap on and make him give me a blowjob.) Then he fucked me with it. I don’t often orgasm when I’m with a man, but I did that day. I asked him if he wanted to wear the panties I’d bought for him. He said no, that was ok. I couldn’t believe it! I told him to get fucked and put on the goddamn ladies underwear I’d just bought for him! So he did. And I swear, he almost came just by putting them on. We started making out again, and let me tell you, it’s a little weird running your hands down a man’s body and feeling satin. It wasn’t bad though. Actually kind of nice. I mean, it’s soft, I like touching myself when I’m wearing nice lingerie, so it’s kind of the same thing. It didn’t turn me on, but it didn’t turn me off. It was just a new experience. He loved it though. When I finally pulled his dick out of his panties (I never thought that was something I’d be saying) and put my mouth on him, he was done in about a minute. I’d like to take credit for that, but granny panties did most of the heavy lifting there.

We did not have sex.

He left the next day and we continued our regular contact. I began to grow tired of our conversations. In matters of life, he would give me advice/lectures like my dad. If we talked about sex, it was always about his fantasies, and I was rarely the star. They got more intense as the weeks went on. I’ve had some great sexting with men in the past. Really great. Screenshot this for later kind of great. The pilot was not great at it. For starters, it was always about my ass. He’d fantasize about the big white panties I’d be wearing, pulling them down, and burying his tongue in my ass. I admit, it doesn’t sound that bad, but my kitty got awfully lonely in these fantasies. After awhile, my ass wasn’t even the understudy. It was all about his ass. He wanted me to order a strap-on for the next time he was in town and use it on him (He would pay for it). I had already told him several times I didn’t know if that was for me. And every time I engaged in conversation about it for curiosities sake, he took that to mean that I was starting to get turned on by the idea. Almost everything he liked, I really didn’t care one way or the other about. I wasn’t opposed to most of it, but it also wasn’t anything that got me revved up. I’ve licked and fingered an asshole or two in my day, and it’s not something I work into my own fantasies, BUT, in the moment, it can be pretty hot. Anything that you’re doing that gives another person so much pleasure is a turn-on. What really turned me off about doing it with the pilot was how much he talked about it, and tried to push it on me. It was the same with the lingerie. He would send me pictures of things he liked and ask which I liked better. I do not give a fuck what kind of panties you want to wear. I can’t imagine him finding any panties that I would think were sexy with a dick bulge.

Oh, I should mention the strap-on wasn’t anything that was new to him. He had been sleeping with a woman who loved using one on him. She was quite dominant. They probably could have had a very nice relationship with both their needs being fulfilled, but she was already married. And the things she wanted sexually, she had to step outside her marriage to find. The pilot worried he would never be able to find anyone who he would be able to share all his needs and wants with. He would go to these hottub parties and get fondled and blown by gay men. Sometimes there would be a woman thrown into the mix, but it was mostly men at these parties. And he would wonder what it was like to have a dick in his mouth and to perform oral sex on another man. He had a fantasy of having a threesome with me and another man. He wanted us to give the other man a blow job together and then watch me have sex with the other man. But he wasn’t gay or bisexual. *eyeroll* Ok man, whatever. Don’t label it, but don’t be afraid of it either. If you want to suck a dick, suck a dick. And finally, he did. But all these things he did, all these thoughts and fantasies he had, he felt so guilty about them. He started going to see a therapist about his “urges” and to try and fix them. Of course I told him that if the therapist agreed that he has a problem, he should find another one. But if they were actually helping him with acceptance, then great.

It was getting to the point that if he brought up sex, I just didn’t even want to continue the conversation. In November, right before my birthday, he offered to buy me a dress I wanted. It was gorgeous and expensive, and not at all in my budget. And he wanted to buy it for me. I said no. He tried to convince me to let him and I just couldn’t. It was not something that made me comfortable at all. At one point, he told me if we dated, I could have all his money. Everytime I went out, he would tell me how he wished he could be with me to watch me get dressed and be waiting for me when I got home. More than once he said he wanted to be my girlfriend. THAT turned me off. I like a sexually dominant male. I don’t want a girlfriend. And he knew that. He knew that’s why it would never work out between us in the long run. We might be able to have some fun here and there, but that would be it. And the fun in this whole situation was getting to be less and less. He was going to be in Regina after new year’s and we had plans to get together. But the closer we got, the more he kept asking about things. Like, was I going to bring the panties, was I going to get a strap-on, etc. Constantly. I got really annoyed, and he knew it. I was starting to make excuses for why I might not be able to meet up with him. I finally told him he was putting way too much pressure on me. Cross-country sex should be fun and exciting and freeing, not stressful. His flight got delayed in Winnipeg anyways, so it turned out to be a moot point. We didn’t talk much the week after that, and then nothing at all.

Yesterday was St Patrick’s Day and it reminded me of last year when I had first met him. I decided to send him a quick hello, see how he was doing. Right before we stopped talking, he had begun seeing a flight attendant with another airline. Maybe I should have left well-enough alone, but I hoped it would be a quick hello, how’s life, you doing ok, cool, ttyl. To start with, when I sent my message, his response was, “who is this?” Ouch. I didn’t respond. About a half hour later though, he sent another message saying, “Amy? Happy St Paddy’s to you too”. I said “Yep”. We had a brief conversation and I ended it with, “Well, I just wanted to say hi because I was thinking about you. I have to go meet a friend. Take care and have a great night”. He said the same and I breathed a sigh of relief. Until an hour later when he messaged me again. Asking about my night, why we stopped talking, etc. I said I hadn’t thought about it, and I was on my way to the pub, so, again, have a good night. He texted me again today. I should not have texted him yesterday. I should have let it die. But now, now I’m going to have to stick my dick in his ass. Sigh.

Men I’ve Never Met, But Made Me Cry, Part 3

Nick is recent. This past weekend recent. Nick is 26, tall, good looking (there’s a pattern here lol), smart, funny, educated, great job, owns his house, close to his family, sweet, kind. And the asshole who stood me up on Sunday night.

He messaged me on kik (a messaging app) over 3 weeks ago. I didn’t know who he was. He said we had chatted on pof awhile back and I had given him my username. Then he found me on pof and sent me a message there too.  Our conversation flowed easily right from the beginning. It started quite flirty, and I had initially placed him in the casual category, until I started to know more about him. I liked him. He felt the same way. He wasn’t really looking for anything beyond casual to start with, but within a few days told me it was obvious we’d be great in bed, but he hoped we had a connection beyond that. We talked every day, and were making plans for the weekend. Then he got sent to Edmonton for work. He develops and implements training packages and whoever was supposed to be doing it in Edmonton quit, so they sent him out there for 3 weeks. It actually worked out ok, because I was leaving for Cuba in a few days, and then would be at the farm the weekend after I got back, and then he would be back the weekend after. And that’s when we planned our date.

Even though we did some sexy messaging, he told me he has a 3 date rule when it comes to sex. But he might change it because we had been chatting so much. I told him no backsies! It was going to be at least 3 dates because I liked him. I don’t sleep with men I like right away. He told me I make him miss home. We talked about vacations and how he hasn’t taken one in over 2 years. He said he doesn’t need one because I’m his vacation. Fucking charming, right? Our conversations covered a lot of topics. He told me he trusts me, he’s never been this open with anyone and he could tell me anything. What he did was tell me everything I wanted to hear.

His flight got in late on Friday, and I had plans on Saturday, so we settled on Sunday for our first date. We were both looking forward to it. Or so I thought. I lost all interest in talking to other men. I turned down booty calls. I was getting invested in this guy. The last time we had contact was Saturday afternoon. He hasn’t responded to my messages since. And his pof profile is now deleted. I am sorely disappointed. It’s another bruise on my heart.

And now I’m suspicious because it’s exactly how Ryan stood me up. Twice. I’m in Groundhog Day, dating edition. I’m tired of fucking around, and I am becoming less and less amused by the encounters I have.

The only thing worse than a sad goodbye is no goodbye at all. 

Men I’ve Never Met, But Made Me Cry, Part 2

Scott. Scott happened in between my contact with Ryan. He was tall, handsome, 37, good job, funny, sweet, smart, interesting, charming, thoughtful. He travelled for work a lot though. He worked in the field of hazardous materials and had been all over Canada and the US to clean up various sites. He was in New Orleans after hurricane Katrina, he’d been to all kinds of accidents and there wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. He’s the guy that gets called when a site is too dangerous for anyone else to enter. He was in Alberta when we initially started talking, but Regina was his home base. We chatted almost every day. I wasn’t interested in talking to anyone else, I couldn’t wait for this man to have a break in his schedule so he could come home and we could meet.

Our conversations were rarely sexual, but they were flirty. He would ask me how my day was going, or message to say he was thinking about me. Then one day, we had this conversation….

S: You’re just the total package, hey?

A: Well, I don’t like to brag about it, but yeah, I’m a catch.

S: Well you’ve been caught, sweetheart!

A: It would appear so!

S: Far as I’m concerned, we’re a couple. So I tell everyone lol

A: haha You’re not really telling anyone that!

S: Nah, but I can’t wait until I can

A: Me too

S: I don’t mean to scare you, but I honestly think I’m starting to fall in love with you!

A: Really? How do you know?

S: lol I just feel it…hard to explain, I should have kept that to myself, sorry.

I don’t have all our texts anymore, so I’m going off the stuff I got screenshots of. I’m not exactly sure what was said next, but it was something along the lines of I was glad he told me and that I’m not going to say the same to him, but that he is someone I could see myself falling in love with and I do have feelings for him. He told me that was enough for him. And then:

A: I’m a…realistic romantic shall we say lol We haven’t met yet, so it’s always in the back of my mind that it might not be real.

S: I know, and that’s why I think I’m fucked up with the way I feel about you, but I like it and think you’re the most amazing person ever! Haven’t found a flaw in you.

A: Oh I have them! Do you fall hard and fast in relationships?

S: Perfectly imperfect.

And now from memory again. He does not fall hard and fast, and did not expect to find someone like me on a dating site. It’s taken him by surprise. He asked what my flaws are, and every one I came up with, he found a way to put positive spin on it. It was a bit of an intense conversation for me. I’m glad it wasn’t in person because I don’t know if I could have kept my composure. It made me anxious and excited and emotional. I started tearing up. The way this man made me feel is a feeling I’ve been craving ever since that night.

The next day was the last day we spoke. It was brief, just a couple of texts. I went out that night and when I messaged him the next day, I got no response. I tried a couple more times, and sent him a message a couple of weeks after on his birthday. Nothing. I already felt a little unsure of my feelings because I hadn’t even met him yet, but I allowed myself to be hopeful. And now he was gone and I felt like a fool. Even now, all these months later, writing about it makes me sad. I’ve always wondered about people who fall in love online before they’ve even met each other. I don’t wonder anymore.

What I do wonder about is what the fuck is wrong with this guy?! Did he scare himself off? He’s still on pof, but often doesn’t have his pictures public, and his city has changed. He was in Montreal last time I checked.

“The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her.”

Bob Marley

Men I’ve Never Met, But Made Me Cry Part 1

The next 3 posts are not fun sex stories, but it’s important to me to write about the bad, along with the good, even though remembering it really sucks.

In the fall, I started talking to Ryan. He was tall, cute, 26, great job, owned his own house, funny , smart, confident, flirty, sweet, all the things I look for. We had really great conversations, and then he just disappeared. He didn’t respond to my messages, and he deleted his profile from POF. Oh well. We had only chatted for a week or so, maybe a bit longer. It’s not like I had fallen in love.

He messaged me again at the end of November, beginning of December. He had a new profile on pof and asked if I remembered him. Obviously. I asked what the fuck happened to him and why he dropped off the face of the earth. He told me his work sent him to Edmonton or Calgary (I don’t remember) for a couple of months. He worked in IT. He apologized for disappearing and said he didn’t think it was fair to start anything with someone when he was going to be gone for so long. I accepted his apology and told him not to do it again, to just let me know if something happened in his life. My plan was to keep it casual with him though, a guy who does that doesn’t get anything more than sex with me. So we flirted and would send sexy messages. We were flirting the first night the 20 year old came over. Actually, when lil Jon showed up and rang my doorbell, I didn’t get up to answer it because I was talking with Ryan and had just invited him to come over. By this time Ryan and I had been chatting for just over a week. His response was that he didn’t want this just to be about sex. He wanted to actually get to know me and take me on a date before anything physical happened. Aww. I told him that was really sweet and I was ok with that. And then I got up to let the 20 year old in.

Ryan and I kept having great conversations. My plan to keep things casual was failing with every conversation we had. He was winning me over with his charm. We had set up a date for a Friday night. I had other plans that evening also, so the plan was him to pick me up when I was finished and we’d go grab a late drink. Our last contact was around 5pm that day and he told me how much he was looking forward to finally meeting me in person and to just message when I was done and he’d come get me. I messaged him about 9 to let him know I was on my way home to freshen up and would be ready by 930ish. No response. I get home and get ready, still nothing so I message again. Nothing. I washed off the makeup I’d put on and took my carefully selected dress off and hung it back in the closet. I’d been stood up. And wouldn’t you know it, his pof profile was deleted again. If you’re keeping track, the same man stood me up the same way 2 times. 2 times! I was sad about it. The little fucker made me feel feelings I hadn’t wanted to feel, and then abandoned me without a word.

Jump to January a few weeks later and he messaged me again! This time, he started the conversation with “Hi, remember me you dirty girl?” “Oh, is this the Ryan who stood me up and disappeared for the second time? Yeah, I remember you.” “I used you like the slut you are. I still have all the pics you sent me, great jerk off material.” “Why are you being a jerk now?” “Because that’s what you want.” “No, it isn’t.” “To be treated like a filthy slut. You like it, admit it.” It was at this point that I blocked him and cried a little. I didn’t and still don’t understand why he was so sweet before, and then decided it was ok to speak to me like that. Asshole. Oh, if you’re wondering what kind of pictures I sent him, well, I look pretty sexy in lingerie. I have never sent a picture that I would be embarrassed by if it was not kept private. I’d be pissed for sure, but not embarrassed.

The Cuban

I recently took a winter holiday to Cuba. It was beautiful! I highly recommend it. It seems everyone expects me to have some adventures when I go away, and by adventures, I mean sex. I recently came across a term I think perfectly describes my sex life up to this point and how I approach it. “Sport fucking”

I do it for fun, when I want, with who I want. Cuba was no exception. Our first night at the disco, I met Alex. He is a security guard at the resort we stayed at and sooo cute. My memories are slightly foggy, but I remember dancing and drinking and having a great time. And then I was introduced to Alex and the next thing I know, the disco is quiet and dark and I’m in a corner with his dick in my mouth. The silence was broken by the sound of his balls slapping me as me bent me over a table. From there, we moved to the beach. He didn’t speak much english, but he understood me when I asked, “Can we have sex on the beach?” Don’t worry, we used a chair, I didn’t have to douche any sand out of my vag after. From there, he took me to a random, unoccupied hotel room where we continued our path of carnal carnage. He walked me back to my room and we said goodnight. I’m told when I got in the room, I serenaded my friends with my rendition of Spice Girls “Wannabe”. You can imagine how great that was. My friend had been starting to worry about me, and had sent me a text, but my phone was in the room, so that wasn’t helpful. She was even about to come looking for me, but she never would have found me.

The next day, I couldn’t remember his name or even his face. Every time we passed a security guard, the girls would ask if that was him. I’d look and say, “No” or “I don’t think so”. Real classy. But when I saw did see him, it was just in passing, and he did look vaguely familiar, so I had a feeling I had found him. On our last night, we went to a nightclub on the island called The Cave. It was cool, but I wouldn’t do it again. It is literally a bat cave. An old one. You have to walk down this spiral staircase into it. It wasn’t as claustrophobic as I thought. It’s a little low in places, and there were vines hanging everywhere, but there were big holes in the top so you could see the sky and air could get in. On the bus ride back, someone (me) suggested skinny dipping in the pool. So we get back and strip down and jump in! There was a security guard there at the time, and not surprisingly, he was perfectly fine with 7 or 8 women getting naked in front of him ;)

My security guard showed up and started chatting with me from the edge of the pool. I asked him if we had met before and he said yes. I asked if we met in the disco. Yes. Did we meet on the beach? No. What? That was my friend. Oh, well where is he? He’s coming here in about 20 minutes. Oh ok, I’ll wait. Tell him to hurry. A few minutes go by and I ask him where his friend is and he says, “There is no friend. You really don’t remember me?” I laugh and say I was pretty drunk and I thought it was him and to stop messing with me. Then I told him to prove it was actually him and to tell me all the places we “met”. He passed the test so I told him to get in the pool, and he did. He said we should meet on the beach. I said, “Later. Can we have sex in the pool?” “Yes”. hahaha So we start making out and then he sees one of my friends is still in the pool. So I swim over to her and tell her I’m going to have sex in the pool. She’s cool with it and swam to the other side to enjoy the Cuban sky. I go back to Alex and he’s like, your friend is still here. And I’m like, So? And he’s like, Ok. Sex in a pool is not all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, it was fun, but it’s not going to be my first choice unless I have a good silicone lube with me. (Silicone will stand up to any water sex you may have. Showers, pools, etc) From there we decided to meet on the beach again.

I dropped my stuff off in the hotel room and took a walk to the beach in my towel. Alex wasn’t there yet, but the sun was coming up and it looked so beautiful, I couldn’t resist dropping the towel and taking a run into the ocean. It was amazing! But Alex didn’t show up. I wandered around the resort and ran into some ladies I’d made friends with who hadn’t made it to bed yet either. And then I saw him. I called out his name and he came over to me. There was a guy watching us and he tells me that’s his boss watching. Whoops lol I tell him I’m going to bed and start back to the room. I meet him around the corner and he tells me again that was his boss and he has to get back to work. I got him in trouble. haha I tell him I’m leaving that day, so, bye forever! And then I went to bed.

That was my sexy Cuban story.

Lil Jon

When I was in my late 20’s, maybe 27 or 28 (right now you’re probably thinking to yourself, wait a minute. Isn’t Amy only 27 or 28 right now? Thank you for the compliment, but I am not 27 years old anymore.), I was in a cougar competition. Since we weren’t even 30 yet, we basically disqualified ourselves. But kept playing anyway. Fast forward to my 33rd year on this planet and I have begun my actual path to cougar town. Btw, does anyone watch that show? I’ve watched all seasons and find myself enjoying it’s sweet, predictable storylines. And I’m jealous of Jules’ various wine vessels. But, I digress.

My path to Cougartown begins with a hot 20 year old bisexual, Jon. I had been talking with him since early this past summer. We met on Tinder. It was actually a weekend that I was in Saskatoon and seeing what Tinder had to offer me there. If you’ve never really looked around when you’re in Saskatoon vs Regina, humour me and do it the next time you visit. What you will notice is how many good looking men there are. Seriously, all the tall babes with a penis gather in Saskatoon. What also gathers on Tinder in Saskatoon are men from my past. Well, there was one. But that’s a different story. I’m a little all over the place with this story. Whatever.

Back to the boy. The boy with a man-sized penis. It turns out he was just in Saskatoon for some schooling of some sort. Those details aren’t important. What’s important is that we sporadically flirted and sexted for months before I finally allowed him the pleasure of pleasuring me. It was a drunken night in December after a Christmas party at which I looked particularly fetching. I decided I looked way too good not to be fucked and messaged him to come over. Actually, he was my second choice. I’ll write about my first in another post. Anyways, I got Junior to come over and it was a lot of fun. A lot. He may only be 20, but the kid knows what he’s doing. He was dominant and skilled. Sometimes, a girl wants to be told to get on her knees. It was hot.

There were a few weird messages after that. He was looking for validation that he was good in bed and had a nice dick. He would message to come over, but I always said no. Sure, he was good in bed, but I don’t like being messaged at 8pm on a Tuesday asking me if he can stop over on his way home from work. Or he would message me on the weekend as I was getting ready to go out and want to come over before I went out. I would message him after the bar like a normal booty call. He didn’t like that. After one such message, he told me to forget his number. I didn’t even bother responding to that. In fact, I laughed out loud. I guess I hurt his feelings. But not enough for him not to message me 2 days later. I booty called him again on the weekend and the next morning, he sent me a message letting me know how much he doesn’t like 2am texts. I believe his message was something like, “You only message me when you’re loser drunk and couldn’t find anyone to fuck at the bar. Go fuck yourself.” I laughed again and didn’t respond. He messaged me again several hours later and apologized for his message because he felt bad telling me to go fuck myself. I told him that if I was going to be offended by any part of the message, it would be the part where he thought the reason I go out is to try and get laid. And the fact that he thought I couldn’t find someone to take home. I mean, come on, look at me! I’m a walking sex bomb. I told him I know I haven’t made myself very available to him, but I don’t like short notice. Messaging me during the day or early evening and wanting to come over asap is no different than me messaging at 2am and wanting the same thing. He told me he just wants some effort from me, so I agreed. I said I would make more effort to see him if he made more effort to to give me some notice. You kinow, message me at lunch if you want to come over that night. He was ok with that and then we had a normal conversation. Fast forward to the next weekend and we texted on Saturday earlier in the evening and we were both going out. I think I messaged him around midnight or so and made a joke about whether or not it was too late to message him. He didn’t end up coming over that night, but did the next morning and we had some fun sex.

So that was sometime in January. Fast forward a couple of weeks and I sign up for speed dating at a local pub. It was fun, but no love matches. It was a small group, 10 women, 6 men. And guess who was one of those 6 men. Yep, lil Jon! So, if my math is correct, I have slept with 1 in 6 men in Regina. Great. I mean, seriously, only 6 men show up to a speed dating event, the first one I’ve ever been to, at a pub I don’t go to, and I’ve already seen one of the men naked.

That was the end of lil Jon. I haven’t seen him since, but he still snapchats me once in awhile.

The Most Annoying Question in The Dating World

There are a lot of annoying questions that get asked in the dating world. However, I would say the most annoying questions is: Why are you still single?

As if there’s a simple answer! Allow me to try and explain why this question gets me worked up. In some instances, it would seem the man asking is attempting to pay me a compliment. Case in point, I received a text message just minutes ago from a man I started talking to on the weekend. It read, “So how is someone with that amazing smile still single? Or is that by design?” I know, you’re probably thinking to yourself, he’s just being nice, he doesn’t mean anything by it. And he actually IS paying you a compliment. I know. And that’s why I deleted my original response to him for a simpler, “I’m single because I’m single.” But what I actually wanted to do was call him a jackass and tell him to never ask that question ever again. Why? Let me rant on and tell you why.

Complimenting something you like about my appearance while following up with a question about my relationship status makes me feel like you think that’s the reason someone should want me. This man knows absolutely nothing about me. He is attracted to me. He’s seen me at McNally’s a few times, has been too shy/intimidated to actually approach me, and so he messaged me on pof. That’s ok. But we have had minimal conversation up to this point. He doesn’t know that in addition to having a great smile I’m also hilarious, smart, charismatic, charming, kind, a great cook, etc.

Another side of the question is after we’ve actually spoken enough for them to get to know me a bit and then ask the question. Like, you seem so great, so why are you single? Translation: What’s wrong with you? What are you hiding? In my best moments, I let it go with an eye-roll and tell them I don’t waste my time dating anyone who isnt’ right for me. I may be too picky, but I often give too many chances as it is, and I’m not going to settle just because someone else thinks I should. In my weaker moments, I allow the question to creep through the cracks in my self-confidence. Why AM I single? What the fuck is wrong with me? When I ask these questions to myself, it does not make for a pleasant brainstorming session. I have a couple flaws. But after I acknowledge these, I remind myself of how awesome sauce I am and remember that it’s not a matter of men wanting or not wanting me, it’s almost always been my decision. There have been far more men who have wanted to be a part of my life than there have been men I’ve wanted to spend time with.

I’m single because I’m fucking single. It is a choice. I do not want to be alone forever, but I am not afraid of being alone. And I would rather be alone than be in a boring, abusive, unfaithful, or convenient relationship. I guess it would be a lot easier for most men to accept an easy answer, like, “I just got out of a relationship” or “I’ve been focusing on my career” than to hear my honest answer. Fuck those guys. Stop asking questions you don’t want to hear the answers to! Rant over.

Kris & Kelly: Kris Doesn’t Come Home

So, I haven’t heard from Special K (Thanks to Mike for the nickname) all week. He hasn’t called, texted, written, or sent any pigeons. How am I supposed to evict someone who doesn’t even show up?!

And then yesterday, I receive a text from Kelly. It reads, “Kris went to court this morning and is going back this afternoon. They want jail time from him. I’m gonna have to come by at some point and start getting his stuff though then when he gets out he will pay you.”

Me: “Nope. Anything that crack addict may have left here can be picked up by him personally when he pays me and returns my iPad.”

Kelly: “lol he didn’t tak an iPad his computer is missing to if I don’t get his stuff back he sending his friends to get it.”

Did this bitch just threaten me?! I’m not refusing to give Kris his stuff back. But I am refusing to give it to this little cunt. Given what I know of their relationship, how am I supposed to even know if they’re actually still dating? Since douchebag Kris is now wearing stripes, she’s probably been taking her slut show to all the club bathrooms around the city! And seriously? His computer is missing? It certainly wasn’t any of my friends who took it, which only leaves him and his “friends”. I just told her I’m not going to argue with her and Kris can pick him stuff up personally. And that if he’s in jail, it’s not like he’s going to need it anyways. Although, come to think of it, he could probably use that lube…

Kris & Kelly: Kris Goes to Jail

This is my 200th post. Yay! I wish the content were a little better, but here we are. For your amusement, shock, and disgust.

Friday comes along, the day my roommate is supposed to have his rent money. I sleep in since it’s my day off and I hear him leave the house around 10 or 11. He’s gone all day. At 6:30, I text him to ask when he’s going to be home and that I need his rent money. No response all night. I text him again in the morning and tell him I need his rent money TODAY. $100 he still owes from October, $600 for November, $40 for cab, and $20 for stolen lube. That’s a total of $760. Plus, I still can’t find my iPad. I looked everywhere. I left it in my room when I went to Saskatoon last Saturday. I don’t remember seeing it since.

Close to noon, I get a text from Trashbag Kelly (how she’s saved in my phone). It says, “Kris is in jail. he got pulled over for a 0.8 he goes to court on Monday and he says he should be out then but i have to come get trigger today”.
Me: That sucks, but what am I supposed to do about my rent? He still owes from last month, plus this month.
TK: I don’t know. I’ll tell him to get a hold of you on Monday
Me: I don’t mean to put you in the middle, but if you talk to him, tell him monday may be too late. I have bills to pay and my life to live and his fuck up is not my problem. I’ve been very patient with him, but he needs to figure out a way to pay me today, jail or no jail. I fed and watered Trigger, but he’s pretty low on dog food. When do you want to pick him up?
TK: I’ll let him know if I talk to him and I’ll pick him up sometime this afternoon
Me: I may not be here. (Does this fucktard expect me to wait around all day for her?)
TK: I’ll text you beforehand to see if you’re there and if not I can just wait until you are.

An Hour and a half later:

TK: Are you at home? I need to know I have my friend that is going to pick trigger up.
Me: Yes.
TK: Ok can u answer the door when he knocks he will be there right away
Me: Does he know how to use a doorbell?
TK: I don’t know he said he is going to knock.

That response killed me! Sarcasm is lost on her. She doesn’t know? Is her friend a time traveller from the year 1732 before the doorbell was invented?!

I wait for this friend to show up. I even turn off the tv, and open the door to the porch so I can hear this stupid knock on the door. I hear nothing. I did see a truck drive away though, so maybe he was there and I didn’t hear him. But a short while later, a girl showed up. Just a tiny little thing with a squeaky girl voice saying she was there for Trigger. Now, this girl was happy to see this dog. She hugged him and he lost his mind when she came in. He obviously loves her. She should adopt him.

So, now the dog is gone. My roommate is in jail. I’m pretty sure he has a current DUI, plus who knows what from prior. I continue looking for my iPad and since he’s gone, I’m going to search his room. What’s the first thing I see when I start looking? A crackpipe. A motherfucking crackpipe! I had to google it just to know what kind of pipe it was! I’m very drug savvy. I was livid. LIVID. This cuntrag was not only smoking cigarettes in my house, but also crack?! I was appalled this douchebag was doing drugs in my house. I mean, do whatever kinds of drugs you want to, but don’t do them in my house! He wasn’t even trying to hide it! It was just laying right there in the open. Luckily I didn’t actually find any drugs. At least, I don’t think I did. Like I said, I’m not very savvy. I did find some lovely new decorative rocks that I added into a candle holder though. My house has been smelling fantastic!

I also found my favourite soup spoon bent to shit and burned. One of my metal measuring spoons was burned black. 3 of my drinking glasses were in his room. One had 5 cigarette butts and ashes in it. One was broken beside his bed. And one was sitting in between the window and the screen of the window. There were many empty beer cans and bottles. One broken bottle. The stolen bottle of lube. Various papers of which I read all of them. Some were payday loan agreements, some were work documents for sick time, some were detox and drug rehab coinciding with his time off work, and one was a letter written to his parents. The letter was essentially and apology to his parents for everything he had put them through and how he wanted to make them proud and he knows he’s been a disappointment up to this point. It was dated 2011. There was a simple note written underneath in response to him: “You can keep this letter. It’s full of lies.”

I texted his dad. Yep, I ratted this kid out. He’s only 23 and this is his life? I figured if he was going to be moving back to Estevan, his parents should know he’s still a strung-out piece of shit liar. His dad’s response was simple. “If you feel unsafe, call the police. He has to hit rockbottom.”

I packed all his clothes into garbage bags, threw away anything related to drugs, and picked up all the empties. As I was moving his bed, guess what I found?! The Sasktel remote! I told you it would pay off remembering that! Oh, and I use the term “bed” quite loosely. He only has a mattress. I want you to picture an alley in a big city you’ve only seen in the movies. Imagine the homeless people, the rats, the cats, the junkies. Imagine the garbage. Now imagine if there were a mattress. That mattress you just imagined is the mattress this guy sleeps on. Without any sheets most of the time. And his girlfriend sleeps on. And that they have sex on. Are you throwing up yet?

He had nothing of value. Mostly clothes and random junk. He doesn’t even have his house key with him, so thankfully he won’t be able to get into the house. He won’t be allowed back in. His things will be in the backyard. Well, some of his things. Depending on how much money he shows up with. I’m sure I’ll have some sort of an update after tomorrow if he actually shows up or contacts me. Anyone want to hang out tomorrow (Monday)? lol

Drunk Roommate

I am evicting my roommate tomorrow. But first, let me tell you a couple of stories so you’re all caught up. I’ll start with the last week of October. It was early Tuesday morning. 4am early. I was soundly sleeping in my bed when there’s a knock on my door and my roommate pokes his head in and says my name. It took me a couple second to realize I wasn’t dreaming/nightmaring and woke up with a jolt. WHAT. “I really need to talk to someone. Can I talk to you?” Fuck. Ok, what’s up? (Real all his parts in a drunk voice. Because he’s smashed again) “I was trying to talk to someone online, but my computer was too slow. I just, I don’t know. I just feel like my life sucks and everyone hates me.” Why do you think everyone hates you? “I don’t know. I just do. Sometimes I think I should just…*pause*…I don’t know. I mean, I believe in God, so I would never actually hurt myself or anything, but…I dunno.” I wake up a little bit more. Am I going to have to talk this fucker down off a goddamn ledge at 4am in the morning? Let me mention I have to work at 7am, so I’m not super happy to be woken up by this idiot in the first place and then he goes and has the nerve to try and manipulate me with this fucking suicide talk?! I am not making light of suicide. Once you have heard everything, you will understand why I believe it was mostly bullshit and manipulation. Of course, there’s always a chance he’s serious, and so I listen. He goes on. “Do you know why Kelly and I were fighting the other night?” No, I have no idea why the two of you ever fight. “Because we went to Habano’s on Friday and I caught her fucking some other guy in the men’s bathroom!” Uhh….come again? “Yeah, so I punched him, all 3 of us got kicked out, and I kicked his ass when we got outside. And everyone keeps telling me I can do better than her, but, I love her, you know?” Sure, you two seem like the perfect couple on the outside. “Anyways, I should let you get back to sleep. I’m sorry for bothering you, I’m going to let you get back to sleep.” Great idea. Good night.

I am almost back asleep when there’s a knock on my door again. “Amy, are you still awake? I, um, I, uhh, I chickened out on what I actually wanted to talk to you about.” What, Kris? “Umm, well, I, uhh, umm, I, well, like, I need a ride to work this morning. But I don’t have money for a cab. Could you lend me some and I’ll pay you back on Friday?” Seriously? How much do you need? “$40 would probably be enough. The job site is in White City.” Will you let me sleep if I lend you that? Fine.

So I get out of bed. It’s 5am now. He is talking the whole time saying how he appreciates it and blah blah blah. I look at him and say, “Kris, stop talking. Just shut the fuck up. Here. I’m going to bed.”

I hear him go outside a bit after this for what I assume is a smoke before catching a bit of sleep before work. I fall right back to sleep. When my alarm goes off at 6, I get out of bed. All the lights are on in the house. I can see his bedroom light on under his door, and his dog whines when he hears me moving around. I go to let Walter out and the back doors are open. Not unlocked. OPEN. Wide open. I guess I’m heating the whole neighbourhood while extending a warm, welcoming invitation to anyone who loves a Tuesday morning rape and pillage. I assume this asshole isn’t home so I go and let his dog out also. I take a look around the yard to see if the gates are open too. Nope. He managed to make sure the gates to the yard were closed. Gates that are low enough to easily climb over, and don’t lock anyways. But not with it enough to close the doors to the house. Brilliant. As I’m scanning the yard, the memory of the conversation from the night before creeps into my mind and my eyes come to rest on the garage. What if he’s…in the garage? Fuck it. I have to get ready for work.

If only that was the end of this exciting morning. As I’m putting his dog back in his room, what do I spy laying on his mattress? A bottle of lube. Not just any lube. Passion Parties Warming Lubrication. The fucker helped himself to my product shelves! And judging from the amount that was gone, that fucker was wandering around the city like the greased up deaf guy from Family Guy! Add another $20 to his bill.

When I get home from work that night, he’s home. I give him shit for leaving the doors open. He tells me he doesn’t remember much except that he owes me $40, he ended up at work and his boss told him to go home, he woke up around noon at a friend’s house, then he came home and slept. Stellar human being.

That night, a girl shows up at our house who is not Kelly. This girl is a Teletubby. Head to toe, red Teletubby. I don’t know who she is. I don’t care. Kelly is back by the weekend.

Friday comes. Rent day. I pay rent. He doesn’t have rent yet. Surprise! He assures me he will have it the following Friday. Monday night. I get home from work. Before I even get in the house, I can smell it. Cigarette smoke. Once I get in the front door, it’s like a wave hits me. I’m beyond pissed. Kris comes out of his room. Drunk. Again. And he says to me, “Amy, I have bad news.” Yeah, Kris? Is the bad news that my house reeks of fucking cigarette smoke?! Don’t smoke in my fucking house! *Looks like a deer in headlights* “Uhh, I mean, I did, but it was in the back porch and I had the door to the kitchen closed.” (The “porch” is just a little landing between the kitchen and the basement.) I don’t care where you smoked in the house, don’t fucking do it again. It stinks. You know smoking isn’t allowed. Don’t.Fucking.Do it.Again. “I’m really sorry, it’ll never happen again. The bad news is actually that I’m moving out on the 15th.” (I fail to see the bad in this news.) He tells me he got another job and he’s moving back to Estevan. And of course he once again asks if I hate him and says I never talk to him. I explain that he’s been nothing but drama since he moved in and I want no part of it. So pay me my money on Friday, move on the 15th, and we’re all good.

Tuesday. I’m at work and he texts me to ask if I know where the Sasktel remote is. I tell him to look under the couch or in the cushions. He already did. Then I don’t fucking know, you idiot! He also tells me he doesn’t know what is happening with his new job now. They may not want him to start until freezeup. I don’t respond. I’ll wait for Friday to see if he pays rent before we talk about anything else. I look for this remote for the next few days. Nothing. I move furniture, dig into the couch, even look in the fridge. Nothing. I assume he had it while he was drunk and who knows where it ended up. Remember this little fact about the remote for the next post ;)

I don’t see much of him during the rest of the week, although the one day I want to take my iPad to work, I can’t find it. Uh oh. Thursday I’m woken up at 5:55am by someone knocking on the front door and I can hear a truck outside. The dogs bark and I hear him tell his dog to be quiet. (Sidenote: This poor dog still gets absolutely no attention. He’s constantly being told he’s bad and to lay down and stop and no and fuck off. He’s a bad pet dad.) I yell to him that someone is at the door. Moments later, I hear the truck drive away and I tell him that too. I’m going to guess that was his ride to work and he didn’t bother going in that day. Stay tuned for the weekend, kids!