Irish Ginger John

i don’t know if you know this about me, but I have a bit of a soft spot for gingers. Not as much as a certain best friend of mine, but a spot nonetheless. And you can’t really go wrong with an Irish accent. That brings us to Irish Ginger John. Not to be confused with Ginger Jon, who I may tell you about another day. 

IGJohn was a friend of a friend. Kind of. He knew a guy I knew. A guy who had a little, unrequited crush on me. I was at my regular spot one Saturday with some friends and ran into said guy I knew. His fiery haired friend was with him and it wasn’t long before his hands were on my ass. It may have been the ginger, it may have been the accent. It may have been the crisp summer air. Or it may have been the bottle of whiskey with which I had soaked my body from the inside out. I’m not sure, I’m not a scientist, ok? But I went home with him.  

It was pretty fun. He had a lot of energy. And he enjoyed having his anus played with. A lot. (Shortly after we arrived at his apartment, I received a text message from our mutual friend who told me I could call him after this guy disappointed me. I guess sleeping with one of his friends was not a big enough hint that I was not sexually interested.) He told me a great deal about his past and I suspect he is still in love with his ex wife. I don’t always sleep with men with baggage, but when I do, I end up as their bedmate therapist. At one point he seemed to be confused about what was coming out of his mouth and asked “why am I telling you all of this? I’ve never talked about this before.” What can I say? Drinking, combined with my trustworthy face make for all kinds of confessions. I keep most of them secret or anonymous, except for research purposes of course. Or if they turn out to be an asshole. As is the case here.

I think he may have made up some excuse to get me out of his apartment afterwards too. I don’t really remember. Whatever. I’m not really one who likes to stay and cuddle or go out for breakfast anyways.

I ran into this man a few weeks later at the same pub. He came with us to Denny’s after and proceeded to hit on my friend. I had not yet told her who he was, so she was briefly turned on by his charm. Briefly. Until I announced to the table that he and I had already fucked. Point, Amy. 

We leave and drop my friend off first, and he opens the door and steps one foot out the door as he asks her if he’s getting out there too. She says no. We drop him off next and he turns to me and says, “So are you coming in with me then?” I laugh hysterically and say, “Hell no!” What a fecking douche.

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