Some Clues Perhaps…

Greetings again, readers!

As I’m settling into the new job, I’m almost beside myself with what a “normal” schedule feels like!  I’ve been working on my erotic fiction writing a little (perhaps I’ll start a blog for those…) I’ve actually had time to date a bit…some good experiences, some bad, but recently nothing horrifying, thankfully. I have recently been on a few dates with one gentleman in particular that presents a very unique situation…time will tell how that works out, but my curiosity is piqued.

I do seem to constantly get asked for dating/relationship advice from MEN.  This, I don’t understand, considering I’m the Queen of Single Women. So…today’s blog, I’ll answer a few general questions I seem to get asked…and these things work both ways, so men, I’m not picking on you!

Be warned…if sexual topics offend you, DO NOT READ FORWARD!  (If sexual topics offend you, why in the hell are you reading my blog?!!!) 

“Why don’t I get any responses to my online dating ads? Or when I send messages to women?”

For one…are you batting entirely out of your league or pursuing someone who isn’t compatible with you?  I see this a lot.  While it’s admirable to shoot for the stars, the worst someone can say is no…don’t complain when you KNOW someone is out of your league…or even that you know the compatibility isn’t there.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had smokers contact me when it says in numerous places that I WILL NOT date a smoker because of my severe allergy.  I’m an avid gym-goer, and specifically state that I like athletic, fit men…yet remarkably overweight, sothlike creature still send me messages nonstop. I’m not going to reply to your messages because it’s pointless.  Also…just because you sent a flattering compliment, when someone doesn’t reply, it doesn’t mean she is ungrateful or rude, she simply isn’t “feeding the pigeons”  (That one is for you Mikey!)  If you even say thank you to some people, they take that as an open door that there’s a shot at meeting you and will harass you endlessly.

“I chatted with this one girl for months, now she won’t meet me in person finally…why?”

The fact that it took you MONTHS to ask her out makes it seem like you stuck her on a back burner while you pursued other interests, or perhaps weren’t actually single.  With women, you HAVE to strike while the iron is hot…if you have her attention, ask her out THEN.  If you wait, you’ll lose her.  Some other guy is going to realize she’s a catch and snatch her up, or she will decide you weren’t as awesome as you seemed because you kept putting her off.

“Why is she not talking to me after the date…I thought things went well?”

This could be a number of things…YOU may have had a great time, but did you make sure SHE was enjoying herself?  Don’t EVER go on a first date to a movie…you can’t even talk! Pick a restaurant/cafe/coffee shop with a gentle atmosphere and quiet so you can get to know one another.  Did you come on too strong…or too casual?  The trick is to show genuine interest on that first date, but don’t smother her.  Don’t enter her personal space unless she invites you…but keep your body language open so she can read your interest. Try not to bring up sex, past relationships, religion or politics.  Keep conversation light-hearted and get to know one another.  Talk about movies, music, things going on, food…see how much you have in common.  If you’re unwilling to exchange life information, she may see that as you being a guy only looking for a casual fling. Ask questions about her also…she needs to know that you genuinely want to get to know her.

“How do I know when it’s okay to kiss her?”

Nothing is more awkward than the “Do we kiss?” vibe…neither are sure of the other’s interest, and neither wants to be rejected.  As a woman, unless she is dominant or aggressive, she will generally expect you to move in for the first kiss.  Read her body language…if her body is turned away from you, crossed arms, crossed legs, showing signs of  “blocking” contact, don’t attempt the kiss.  If she has smiled, flirted, played with her hair, touched you in some way, shown open body language…by all means, Kiss the Girl!!  If you don’t, she may feel like you aren’t interested.  When in doubt…ASK!  I personally find it flattering and a bit sexy for a man to say something like “You have beautiful lips…May I kiss them?”  And don’t make it a long, drawn out make-out session… a brief, lingering kiss without tongue is sufficient…she will lead you if she wants more. That one simple first kiss and stepping away can leave her craving more…don’t be afraid to build a little anticipation.  (And men…if you want to make her weak in the knees, make sure you’re a great kisser before going in for a long kissing session…we’ve all had bad kissers, and you can’t wait to break away from those!)

“When is the right time to move to the intimate stuff?”

If I have to explain this to you, you probably aren’t ready to date.  I can’t answer this.  Some people have sex on a first date, it’s amazing, and they go on to get married.  Some people wait a month or more, it’s mediocre, and things just fizzle.  Only the two of you can answer that, but before you close that bedroom door, make SURE you’ve discussed your intent, safe sex, STD’s, pregnancy worries, and likes/dislikes, or else you’re in for a complete disaster!!

“We had sex…it was great for me, why won’t she have sex with me again?”

This one is pretty easy…several factors come into play.  Firstly…how much did you hype yourself, or brag about Mr. Happy?  If you exaggerated any of that, she ‘s going to be disappointed and think you exaggerate everything.  BE HONEST…it’ll get you further. In the bedroom, were you an attentive lover?  Ample foreplay?  And guys…come on, it’s the 21st Century…. YOU HAVE TO GO DOWNTOWN!!!  Seriously…why do men think they don’t need to do that, but they demand oral favors themselves???  Puh-lease.  That door swings both ways….she should be tasting some sausage while you’re exploring the secret salad. (Women, you need to be doing it too, so don’t laugh!)  You may have been satisfied…but was she?  If she wasn’t, did you offer to help her reach the finish line?  If you got up and left and didn’t so much as OFFER to satisfy her, you had better not even expect to hear from her again, much less sex.  Would YOU go back to a woman who straight-up left you deliberately with blue balls??  I didn’t think so.  Was there a performance issue (too soon, couldn’t rise to the occasion)?  Those aren’t deal-breakers, but reassure her it’s not a normal issue, still be attentive to her, and there’s a good chance she will give it another shot.

“Dating has gone well, but she won’t commit…why?”

Well, gentlemen, there are female players too.  This isn’t ALWAYS the case…she could be crazy about you, but she may feel like the two of you aren’t compatible long-term.  I’ve been in this position myself…I dated someone I was absolutely crazy about, but I knew he wanted to have children in the near future, and I can’t have any.  In my eyes, it would be unfair to waste his time in a relationship with me knowing I can’t give him what he wants.  Fellas, don’t be afraid to ask her WHY she won’t commit, or why she’s pulling away.  Chances are, she isn’t a player…something has her worried.

“I’m curious about all these new Open or Polyamorous relationships.  How can I talk my girl into it?”

You can’t.  It HAS to be something you both want.  If she wants monogamy, and you want more than one woman on a regular basis, the relationship is going to die…she will lose trust in you, and chances are, you’ll chase what you want secretly.  If she isn’t into it equally, let it go, or you’ll lose her. When a woman is giving you all she has to offer, meets all your emotional and sexual needs always, and you still want other women, she will begin to doubt her self worth and wonder why she isn’t good enough.  If you want other women, you’d better be DAMN sure you’re willing to give her other men equally to show it isn’t a selfish situation.  That table MUST be equal if it’s going to work.

I think I answered all the “big” questions…I’ll be happy to answer more, no matter how funny or serious

Kittie

The Archangel

A very important bit of information I was given in my early twenties was “Never discuss religion or politics”, pertaining to the business world.  I’ve found both of these topics are generally a good idea to avoid in early dating as well, for obvious reasons.

I realize most of you don’t know my views on politics or religion.  My views are simple…I hope if I ignore them that they will go away!

The topic of today’s blog is a “gentleman” I shall simply refer to as The Archangel…which is what he had felt the need to call himself during text exchanges… (Do you already see where this is going…?)

Archangel and I met through a dating site…after a few weeks of messages and his gentle persistence, we exchanged phone numbers and moved forward to texting.  While texting, he seemed insistent on digging for information about my dating history and past relationships.  I assured him I was very single, with no time to juggle men as a single mother who works 2 jobs, as well as emotionally free and clear of any attachments to my past.  Although I wasn’t entirely warm to the idea of going on a date with him and having my reservations about attraction, I agreed to a very casual meeting at a pub for a drink and early dinner.  He seemed nice enough, and perhaps he would make a decent friend if nothing else.

When the day arrives, he anxiously double-checks to make sure I’m still going.  I’ve NEVER stood anyone up…I always have the decency to cancel if necessary, and I try to give at least 24-hours’ notice.  The fact that he seems so sure I’ll not show up is a bit of a concern.

I arrive at the pub, and he looks exactly like his photos, which is a relief.  He is a very nice-looking man who takes very good care of himself.  ALWAYS a plus in my age group.  While his appearance was a positive, right away I feel an awkwardness in his presence.  He seems uncomfortable right away, before we even sit down.

When we sit, he seems reluctant to make eye contact more than a fleeting second at a time.  This isn’t a good sign.  I was already apprehensive about even meeting him, and now his discomfort is making me very uneasy.

The waitress comes, and I order a hard cider.  He orders sweet tea and gives me a glare and says “I don’t really drink.”  This was the same man who told me he goes to pubs almost every night…and now he wants to guilt trip ME for ordering a cider?!  This is already going badly.

We begin chatting a bit, and it’s about as pleasant as a root canal.  The waitress returns with our beverages, and we place our orders.  He insists I order first, and I order a small sandwich, and he orders an appetizer saying “I’m not really hungry”.  UGH!  PLEASE let this end quickly!!  I want out of there!!!!

The conversation continues while we wait on the food.  I’m so uncomfortable that I don’t even want to drink my cider.  He continues his line of questioning about my past, which I try to dodge.  I have nothing to hide, but a first date isn’t the place to talk about your past relationships, honestly.  You should be discussing life topics, how your day was, your interests.  Not dredging up the past.

Out of the blue he states “You must be really jaded.”

I disagree and state, “Jaded, no.  Have I learned some painful lessons and become more cautious? Absolutely.”

Then somehow, out of thin air, he suddenly tells me that I need to go to church and be saved by Jesus and asks what religion I am, when the last time I went to church was, and if I believed Jesus was our personal savior.

What. The. Fuck.

I don’t think he expected what came flying out of my mouth next…and we all know I’m not the most talented person at holding back what I’m thinking.  For the sake of not offending my readers who are of various faiths (I am agnostic and judge no one for their religious views or faiths), I will not share every detail of the things I spat out, but needless to say, the tables turned and he was suddenly the one feeling very uncomfortable at the table.

I proceeded to eat in silence and nurse my beverage to cool myself down.

The waitress came around to ask if we wanted dessert…I shook my head no…I just want to go home.  He proceeds to order himself a dessert.  Fuckmylife.

When his dessert arrives, he offers me a bite, and I politely decline. (I dislike chocolate…I know, un-American!).  He continues eating and asks “You don’t mind that I ordered this, do you?”

Confused, I reply, “No, why would it bother me what you eat?”

“Well, since you’re paying, I should have asked if dessert was okay to order…”

I’m almost positive my face turned 4 shades of red.  I looked him squarely in the eyes and before I could open my mouth, he continues,” I mean, who came up with that stupid rule that MEN pay for a date anyway?”

I can’t hold back…even the table next to us of 8 people stopped and were listening.

“Sweetheart, let me let you in on a little somethin’ ” I say calmly and evenly. “I have a policy that I never EXPECT a man to pay for my portion of a date on a first date, but I’ll be damned if I have a man ask ME out, tell ME where HE wants to go, try to degrade me like a common hoodlum for my religious stance, berate me as a human being, then EXPECT me to pay for HIS dinner.  I think you’ve mistaken me for one of your little doormat women back home in the south.  Now, I’ll be paying my tab and leaving.”

His mouth hung open…a bite of cake patiently waiting on his fork to be eaten.  I think i heard crickets chirping.

“I – I was just sayin’ it’s a silly policy”  He retracted. “I would never let you pay…I’m a gentleman, I should pay for dinner!”

As if on cue, the waitress magically appeared and dropped off the check.  Without hesitation, he snatched it up, placed cash in the folder, and asked if I wanted to stay there for a drink or go somewhere else for a while.

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.

“No, I need to get home, I have my roommate there with my daughter and I promised I’d be home in 2 hours,” I fib.

“Can I walk you to your car, then?” he asks.

Reluctantly I agree…already plotting how to damage him permanently if he even TRIES anything.

He walks me to my car not far from the door, and then…the best part happened…

“I had a great time, I’d love to see you again, soon I hope!” He said.

Really.  Are ya fuckin’ kidding me?!

…..I can’t even make this shit up.

Bipolar, Batshit Crazy, or Blitzed…?

Welcome back, my little readers!!  Sorry for the delay.  I have a few stories ready to add, I’ve just been so busy!  I decided to leave the job with the insane Jerry Springer dramasphere, and move to a nice, normal 8-5 desk job at a tech call center.  If I don’t get some semblance of normalcy in my life, I’m going to need to get committed!

This episode’s character will be called Batman.  And yes, I believe he is as mentally and emotionally unstable as Batman/Bruce Wayne!!

I met Batman on a dating site (big surprise!).  His profile states he is from Birmingham, AL, but he works in Louisville for months at a time, and is relocating here as soon as he finds a place he likes. We chat at great length for a couple of weeks, everything is going amazingly well.  He is extremely handsome, incredible body, lives in the gym, very sweet, seems intelligent, balanced, no games, looking for just one girl…the total package!  (But you know what that means, there’s going to be a catch… like having a tail or 6 nipples.)

He is making a return to Louisville in a few days, so he makes plans to meet with me over a casual dinner.  After numerous texts and 2-hour phone calls every day, the plan is set and he is ready to head up here for work and to meet.

As soon as he is checked into his hotel, he calls to confirm the meeting.  He asks if  I mind picking him up rather than drive 2 separate vehicles.  Of course, I agree, it’s not a big deal for me.

As I pull in, he is carrying his things into the hotel.  I offer to help.  When I get out of the car, he tells me how amazing I look and we exchange a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.  He is very handsome, a great boyish, bright white smile with perfect teeth.  Again he tells me I look great…and me, being slightly socially awkward and shy, I blush, smile and graciously thank him. I follow him up to the room to drop off his things.

He asks if I mind of he takes a quick shower, and I tell him that’s fine.  I turn on the tv as he suggests and sit down to wait.

Suddenly, out of the blue, he YELLS, “God, can’t you even compliment me once? Jesus Christ, I’ve told you twice how awesome you look and you haven’t said a fuckin’ word about me! Why don’t you learn how to greet your date, god damn!!”

I’m so taken aback that I can’t even breathe!!  All I can do is say I’m sorry…what else do you say to that, especially the way it was said? I wasn’t trying to be rude or standoffish, I thought I had been very polite!  As he hops in the shower, I’m seriously debating leaving and cutting my losses.  Was I really rude in not returning the compliments? Now I’m checking my own manners, thinking I really was in the wrong.

He comes out of the bathroom in just a towel to grab his jeans (And I won’t lie, I’m LOVING the view!).  As he gets ready, jeans on, shirtless, I make sure to compliment the view and tell him that he looks amazing shirtless and joke that he should go to dinner like that.  He doesn’t seem amused…I guess it’s too late to make up for it now.

I notice him pull put a liquor bottle from the fridge and take 2 strong drinks straight from the bottle.  Ouch.  That makes me doubt myself when a guy needs to drink like that on a first date with me.  (Come on, at least wait til the second date when you KNOW what a monster I am!)

We leave to head to dinner, and he reaches to hold my hand as we walk to my car.  I’m getting some EXTREME mixed signals now!  We ride quietly to the restaurant, and take a seat inside close to the bar.  He orders a tall beer, I order water with lemon. As we chat a bit, he continues to berate me over the poor greeting when I first arrived.  I don’t even know what to say!! Then he says I’m acting very standoffish and I’m making him uncomfortable.  I’ve had enough…

“Don’t bother ordering any food, I’ll just take you back to your hotel and drop you off.  I’m not putting up with this,” I say abruptly.

Instantly he begins apologizing for “giving me a hard time” and “Let’s just let it go”.  Throughout the brief dinner, the topic keeps coming up in short spurts.  I’m constantly uncomfortable.  He wants me to sit on the same side of the table as he is…him being in my personal space after attacking me verbally is making me even more uncomfortable. 

I don’t get the chance to finish my dinner, he pays the bill and is ready to go without asking if I’m ready.  At this point, I’m grateful to go!

We get back to the hotel, and he gets out of the car, then gets extremely upset that I don’t want to come up to his hotel room to hang out.  I explain to him that it’s already midnight and I get up at 6am, and I’m already ridiculously tired.  He is borderline throwing a temper tantrum and causing a scene.  This is CLEARLY a guy who never gets told no.

Needless to say…I left.

…I can’t even make this shit up.

It’s Been A While

I apologize for my absence.  In my frustrations, I have thrown myself completely into work, and as a result, have been exceptionally stressed out.  I’m finally taking time now to sit down and pay attention to the stress relievers in my life…namely, this blog and video games. (Don’t you judge me!)

My dating life, as of the past year, has been virtually non-existent. 

I have never been approached in public, be it out on the town for the night, the gym, the market, or even a restaurant, where I frequently dine out alone. 

Online dating has left me empty-handed as well.  Occasionally someone will pop up and talk a GREAT game, but it always boils down to they aren’t really single or they are juggling multiple women.  My favorite: They disappear for no reason with no warning.  The evil side of me wonders (hopes) if they’re lying in a ditch in excruciating pain.  The realist in me says “It’s probably for the best, chick.  A real man would at least say goodbye.”

What have I been doing with all this spare time, you ask?  I’ve been getting a LOT of coloring done and caught up on several shows and movies.  What can I say…I’m a productive kinda girl.

But, I haven’t given up ALL hope yet.  I haven’t begun collecting cats or ugly sweaters, so that’s a good sign!

But don’t fret…I have PLENTY more great stories to share, I just need to sit down and put them in writing.  The girls at work keep telling me I need to write a sex advice blog.  I laughed and said “That’s like Emeril Lagassi giving dieting advice.”

Bear with me, folks…I should be posting stories again soon!

Kittie

Who Needs Soap Operas?

While I must keep my workplace secret, I feel compelled to share the stories of the misadventures, hilarities, and drama that occurs daily at my job.

I manage a pair of spas, and our entire staff is female currently and owned by a husband and wife.  Estrogen overload, of course, leads to a TON of drama on a regular basis.  This is why I am exceptionally grateful that my office is nestled in the back of the building, and the owners also stay away a good deal to avoid the insanity.

Let me lay out scenario one… we have had not one, but TWO sets of Mother/2 daughters working here.  (I will not use anyone’s real names.)  Barbara is mother to Nicole & Allison. Pam is mother to Melissa & Marie (and other daughter Michelle also worked here at one time.)

We also have 2 sets of sisters, Emma & Sammie and Kathie & Kara. At one point we had a young girl working here who wanted to bring in her mother to work, and another girl wanted to bring her dad in to work.  (WTF, it’s family circus before I even get into the details!!!) There’s a reason they always say “Never work with family or your best friend”.  My workplace is the perfect example why!

Here comes the soap opera…fuck Jerry Springer…I come to work just to see what happens next!!! Try to keep up.  I thought about creating a flow chart, but it got all tangled up.

Barbara’s daughter Nicole is 19.  Nicole is addicted to Opana and loves younger guys.  Like…14-15 years old.  Barbara and Nicole both are having an affair with Barbara’s stepfather, who is paying for Barbara’s new implants. Allison is an escort on the side, and when she overdosed, Barbara just watched and did nothing to help. Allison is now clean and sober, but in an abusive relationship with a drug dealer (which thankfully none of that has ever come to work!) and dreams of moving to Vegas, getting her boobs and ass enlarged and starring in rap videos.

Emma and Sammie…I’ve NEVER seen two sisters want to kill one another so badly!  It’s so bad that we have to work them on separate shifts.  Emma has a pill problem, and Sammie is a DRAMA QUEEN!  She loves to talk about people and stir up shit. Emma’s mood swings are so severe it’s ridiculous, and sometimes what she says makes no sense at all, and she is occasionally delusional.

Kathie and Kara…I really can’t complain about the two of them.  They vaguely resemble one another, but their best friend who also works here, Chrissy, could pass for Kara’s twin almost!  All three are actually very sweet girls, show up for work 95% of the time, and rarely give me any trouble beyond the basic occasional lateness or missed days.  (I’m waiting for some big bomb to drop on that scenario!)

I’m saving the best for last…Pam’s family/extended family.

Pam herself is sweet (or at least always has been toward me.)  I know she has a spotty past, but hey, no one is a perfect angel in reality, right?  I never met Madison or heard a sour word regarding her.  Melissa also seemed sweet as far as I could tell, a reformed addict who got herself back together.  Marie seemed to be a troubled child, still young, already had 2 children, and moods varied with the day. Marie brought in her best friend to work, Carrie.  This is where things get interesting… Marie is sleeping with Carrie’s brother (and is now pregnant, I’m assuming by him, but I never asked).  Pam is dating Carrie’s dad.  Carrie is sleeping with Pam’s 14 and 17 year old sons.  This web is so tangled, I don’t see how anyone could possibly get out!!

Now, aside from those blockbusters, things are fairly normal.  Of course, minor spats occur regularly because hormones flare up and we women tend to be sensitive or catty, but those issues simmer down pretty quickly.  Many girls come and go…some last a few days, some last months, some work and quit and return on a frequency that makes Sybil’s personality changes seem rare.

*Sigh*…I don’t even watch TV anymore.  My work life is a complete entertainment series in itself.  But at the end of the day, I hang up my work hat as I walk out of my office door and leave it all behind.  My social life is plenty of excitement at home.

The Tale of the Tiger

This particular blog entry is very recent…the events unfolding here have happened in the past 48 hours. A mystery has unfolded in my life, and I’ve decided to make it an adventure since there’s nothing I can do about it.

Wednesday, June 27th, 2012:

I’m driving home from work, minding my own business, singing along with Mika’s “Lollipop” (Don’t you judge me!!) I get a call from Kitten, my teenage daughter.  This fact in itself is utterly staggering, considering teenage girls no longer talk on the phone, they text.

Frantically, Kitten asks, “Mom, did you order something??”

“No, why?” I reply.

“A VERY large package arrived…addressed to Kittie ****** (Mind you, NOT addressed to my legal name)” she says. “And the way the address was on there was weird…”

“Well, what’s the return address, genius?” I ask…considering my birthday is less than 2 weeks away, I’m thinking it’s a gift from a long-distance friend.

“MelissaandDoug.com on one label, Amazon.com on another label” she answers.  “This box is HUGE, like bigger than your king-size pillows, but it’s not heavy.”

For a moment, I get excited…maybe my parents bought me some new super-awesome cool-gel or down-alternative pillows for my birthday!!  “Go ahead and open it and tell me what’s inside.”

I hear some tearing and plastic rustling, then hear Kitten exclaim, “WHAT THEEE HELL?!!!!  It’s a giant stuffed white tiger!!”

“What?!!” I laugh. “Quit joking, what is it, like, a blanket with a tiger on it?”

“NO, Mom, it’s a freaking HUGE stuffed tiger.  It’s bigger than the dog!!”

I’m completely confused.  I tell her not to throw anything away, I’ll check it out when I get home.  The rest of my way home, the gears in my head are grinding, trying to figure out who on earth would mail me a big stuffed animal…a WHITE TIGER no less!  I’m drawing nothing but blanks.  I called a few random people I thought could be guilty, but everyone was as surprised as me.

I get home, and search the box for clues.  Nothing.  Zip. Zilch. Nada.  I even go to MelissaandDoug.com to look up the purchase order number on the label, and it comes up as “no matches.”  I walk into the bedroom to see this “huge” stuffed animal after seeing the pillow-sized box…

This is the part where I almost peed my pants.

THE FUCKING THING IS THE SIZE OF MY GREAT PYRENEES!!!  It’s the size of an adolescent human being!  It covered half of my queen-sized bed!! 

“Prove it!” you say? Please…allow me…

If you notice on the ear is a tag.  The tag is from the website it came from, MelissaandDoug.com, which is a site for learning/interactive children’s toys.  I decide I’m going to find out just how expensive of an anonymous gift this is.

I almost shit myself.

EIGHTY FUCKING DOLLARS!!!  How can someone legally justify selling a stuffed animal for that much money?!!

Of course, I post on Facebook, hoping someone will own up to the gift.  No luck.  Then the paranoia creeps in…who on earth would send something so incredibly random and expensive and not admit to it???

I go to bed that night with a head full of paranoia that I now have a very strange stalker.  I checked the tiger top to bottom for a hidden camera or anything suspicious.  I was so paranoid, I couldn’t even masturbate that night with the thing in the room…

At work today, I’m talking to my coworker Anna about it.  I tell her the address makes it apparent that the person has been to my apartment before…and I DO have a framed portrait of a white tiger over my sofa, but it’s not like I worship tigers.  (Although, now, as I write this I realize that I AM a big fan of zebra/white tiger stripe patterns.)

Then, Anna brings up a HILARIOUS point. “Maybe it’s someone you told about your Plushie fetish?”

Now, before you Google that and have a field day with the jokes, I do not GENUINELY have a Plushie fetish, but I have on occasion joked about how a Furrie/Plushie fetish would be pretty harmless and interesting, and that I would totally explore that just to say I did it.

But now that makes things even MORE interesting, because I’ve only made that remark to a select few people…

So…the amazing customer service tech at MelissaandDoug.com tried her best to help me, but we had no luck.  I’ve thrown in the towel and considered possibly donating it to the local Children’s Hospital.

As I’m driving home today, I receive another frantic call from Kitten…”Mom!  Another package came today addressed the same way!  It’s from Amazon too!  Can I open it?!”

I tell her to open it…ANOTHER seemingly strange and unique anonymous gift…a leather-bound cherry blossom journal.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.???!!!!!!!!!

I’ve come to the conclusion that the sender must want me to have grand adventures with the tiger…take her places, go to a movie, maybe dinner, see the world, and then write about it in the journal.  This means the tiger needs a name.  Her name is now Phoebe.

I rush home to check the package.  THIS time there is a packing slip…with an order number!  AHA!!!

I call Amazon.com and was connected to an EXTREMELY helpful customer service representative.  I tell her my plight…that 2 days in a row I have received random anonymous gifts, and I’m slightly freaked out that I may have a stalker, because NO ONE will fess up to being the sender.  After some digging around…a name was produced.

It wasn’t a name I’d dream in a MILLION years to hear.

Not my ex, who would love for us to get back together.

Not some creep who didn’t understand I wasn’t interested.

It wasn’t my best friend or family.

It was someone I had been very good friends with, and we unfortunately parted on less than desireable terms when he was shipped overseas some time ago and have never heard from him since.

Remember The Blouse Punishment, Shit Stain Sally and the Cheddar’s entries?  The gifts came from G.I. Joe.  Not so much as even a “Goodbye” or “Kiss My Ass”.  Not a word in all this time…now this. Confusion doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel right now.

…I can’t even make this shit up.

Driving Mr. Crazie

This entry…while in retrospect I am able to laugh at the person…I hope can serve as a warning to others out there about the dangers of stupid people who have no self-control.

I meet our subject in the online dating cesspool.  We talk at great length via text, and he asks if he can take me on a date the following weekend.  Throughout the week, we talk on the phone and text quite a bit.

I notice the topic regularly turns to sex, and I try repeatedly to steer things back to neutral ground.  Of course, like any average red-blooded American single male, he wants pictures and everything else, and thoroughly enjoys sending pictures of his junk, which he is quite proud of. (And I will admit, he had a right to be proud.)

I repeatedly let him know that I am not looking for a Friend With Benefits, a fuck buddy, a hookup, or a casual fling.  I am looking for something substantial, and I’m not interested in jumping into bed quickly with anyone.  He reassures me that he is seeking a relationship and is very into me, but he is a very sexual person and wants to be sure we would be compatible.  Red flag #1.

The evening before our date, I had a business meeting/dinner and then out with a few friends and he calls to tell me he is going out with his buddies.  Cool, whatever, no need to tell me.  I’m not your Momma or your girlfriend, I don’t care what you are doing.  Throughout the night he keeps texting…checking up on me.  I know this routine.  He suspects I’m on a date and is keeping tabs.  I end up getting sick from some mild food poisoning and lie down for a while to try to feel better.  I finally have the energy to drive home around 2am.

At 2:15 am, he calls me, quite obviously intoxicated, asking me to drive a half hour across town to a shithole nightclub in a crappy part of town to hang out.  What the fuck part of FOOD POISONING makes you think I want to drive that far to hang out at a bar I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to???  He keeps telling me how mean I am (this is a pattern anytime a guy doesn’t get what he wants…instantly I’m “mean”.) Finally I hang up and go to bed, less than thrilled with him.

The next day while I’m at work, he calls and texts.  He tells me he made a mistake, he spent ALL his money the night before out partying and can’t afford to take me on a date, but wants me to still come to his town to see him and hang out.  He said, “I thought you would back out anyway.”  Wow, so you tell me that I’m a flake before even meeting me, and that drinking was more important than a first date.  What a winner.  He can’t drive up because he was in a recent wreck and totalled his car.  We can’t even hang out at his place because….TA-DAH!  He lives with mom and dad.  “Why does he live with the parents?” you ask…because he just finished serving time for a DUI manslaughter charge.  Red flags # 2,3, 4 and 5!!!

THEN…oh yes, my precious friends…it gets better!  He asks me to come down to where he lives, an hour away, and take HIM to a movie!  It took everything I had not to laugh out loud on the phone.  He is basically BEGGING me to come visit.  At this point, I’ve lost all interest, and it’s now a cat-and-mouse game.  So, for a few hours, I let him keep begging.  Finally, he comes up with the plan “Okay, I can cover my own dinner, but I can’t cover yours.  Will you PLEEEEEASE come visit, I really want to see you.”  Finally, I agree, and take my sweet-ass time getting ready and going there.

I arrive to pick him up, and he is waiting outside (Thankfully!  I really had zero desire to meet his parents.)  He gets in my car and immediately asks, “So, am I as hot in person as I am in my photos? I didn’t photochop them”.  Photochop.  Wow.  That’s like fingernails on a blackboard when someone is completely ignorant.

He picks the restaurant, and I drive us there.  A casual place, nothing out of the ordinary, which is fine.  Throughout the dinner, he continually makes sexual jokes and remarks, and I just let them lie like dirty underwear.  Making a remark will only encourage his childish behavior.   I wrap up dinner as quickly as possible, because I’m very uncomfortable with him.

We get in my car to leave, and it’s after dark by that point.  As we drive, he pulls his dick out, and is trying to get me to look at it WHILE I’M DRIVING ON THE EXPRESSWAY!!!!  And when I refuse to look, he starts trying to take my hand off the steering wheel to put it on him! (What in the HELL has happened in the dating world that men think it’s okay to just whip their cock out and make you touch it?!!!) Finally I snap and yell at him to knock it off.  Of course, he bitches and whines about it and puts it away.

Within 2 minutes, he has his seat belt off, trying to kiss my neck and reach between my legs WHILE I’”M STILL DRIVING!!!  What in the FUCK is wrong with this guy??  I push him away, and that lasts all of a couple of minutes, then he tries reaching into my shirt!  (Mind you, I’m not dressed provocative in ANY way…blue jeans, a full-coverage pullover hoodie and sneakers).  I can’t get this guy home to drop off fast enough.

I finally pull in the driveway…and he has the NERVE to ask for a blowjob!

I ask, “Is this a typical first date for you? A girl does all the driving, pays her own way, then you get a blowjob or a piece of ass?”

His reply: “No, this isn’t typical…I don’t ever get shot down.”

…I can’t even make this shit up.

Cheddar’s, Lesbians, and Enemas

It’s a typical Saturday night…Myself, Kitten, Polly & Peter Pocket, and their daughter, Penny.  On this occasion, our other mutual friend and former partner in crime G.I. Joe joined us for dinner as his last night out before shipping off overseas.

We let the girls pick where we were all going to meet for dinner. Penny and Kitten chose Cheddar’s, so we all met up there. We are seated at a booth for 6, and assigned a server.  Poor girl never saw it coming…

Polly and I are already in rare form, as usual.  Polly and I had been out shopping earlier, and a Girl’s Afternoon always has us in a goofy mood.

Right out of the gate, Peter and G.I. Joe begin their gay banter every time the waitress comes to the table.  The table of 4 lesbians next to us is completely enthralled trying to figure out what exactly the situation is at our table.  In the beginning, I’m sure they assumed that we were 2 couples with children.  The truth of the matter is, Peter and Polly are married, Penny is their daughter, Kitten is my daughter, and G.I. Joe is flying solo.

As if trying to serve 6 people at a table isn’t difficult enough, G.I. Joe and Peter won’t give our poor waitress a break with the gay banter back and forth.  Polly and I can’t hardly breathe…the girls are hiding behind menus pretending they aren’t there with us.  The lesbians can’t stop staring.

The waitress leaves to put in our orders…a few moments later, a different waitress appears to inform Peter that the pasta dish he ordered isn’t available because they ran out.  Peter bellows out in Full Gay “Okay, who is the fat bitch who took my pasta?!!!!”

I saw the waitress first turn pale white, and then deep red and she couldn’t speak.

“I’m going to walk around this restaurant and find out which bloated whale is eating my delicious pasta!  This is unacceptable!!”

The waitress doesn’t even know how to reply…Peter keeps going, trying his best not to laugh.  The children are mortified.  Polly and I are losing it.  The lesbians are still staring.

The alternate waitress is trying to “reason with” Peter, who just keeps getting gayer and gayer until finally he breaks down laughing and places an order for another meal.  The waitress disappears to the back, and moments later our waitress reappears.

“Is everything ok?” she asks. “I’ve never seen that girl so red!”

Peter explains that he had given her a rough time and hoped he didn’t offend her.  The second waitress came back to the table alongside our waitress saying she had changed his order for him, and you could see that she had been laughing before she returned.  Throughout the night, both waitresses stopped regularly at our table to check on us.  (We seem to have a talent for collecting servers at restaurants.)

The food arrives, delivered by a manager…who looked very concerned that the food was for our table instead of the lesbians beside us.  We did our best to get him to crack a smile…no luck.  This guy had a massive stick up his ass!!

My meal was incorrect, missing a side item I had ordered and I politely brought it to his attention.  The manager left to correct the mistake.  A few minutes later, a third server returned with my missing side item, this time a young guy.  Dear Baby Jeebus help us… Peter & G.I. Joe were on a roll.

G.I. Joe began petting the server’s tie and asking him how he was doing, and telling him how fabulous he was.  The server didn’t miss a beat and played right along…this kid was good!

By the end of the meal, we had 3 servers constantly checking on our table…I don’t think it was a case of excellent customer service so much as the entertainment value. The lesbians had long since finished their meals and were just hanging around to see what happened next.

Polly and I begin discussing plans for an upcoming road trip and adult beverages we plan to make.  Somehow, the topic of people doing alcohol enemas to get drunk came up to disguise their drinking (I have NO clue how that even came up!), and me, being the random person that I am, suddenly proclaimed “Oh yeah! I still have those 3oz. syringes at home!”

The waitress suddenly vanished!

Apparently my conversation with Polly about Jello shots had blended over into Peter & G.I. Joe’s conversation about alcohol enemas…and our waitress thought the syringes for Jello shots were for the alcohol enemas.  Ooops.  My bad :-/

The lesbians are speechless and haven’t even bothered to hide their fascination with our table.

We finish dinner, pay our tabs, and EVERY server in the place made sure to tell us goodnight and come back again soon.  VERY soon.

The lesbians even said goodbye.

The manager still looked very constipated.

….I can’t even make this shit up.

An Average Day

I often get asked what the “average” day in my life is like.  Well…believe it or not…it’s almost as unbelievably insane as my dating/social adventures.  Between the insane text messages exchanged and the things I will do for a laugh, it’s constantly a circus being a part of my life.

A perfect example…last night, Sparkle (My gay male roommate) and I decided to run out for dinner to one of our favorite establishments, Old Chicago (Can I get a sponsorship, yo?!!).  Dinner was mostly uneventful…until the flock of lesbians behind us begin laughing…and one sounded EXACTLY like that dog on Boris & Natasha…what was his name, Dastardly?  It took all I had not to turn around and elbow her in the ear hard enough to make it cauliflower. 

Then, I excuse myself to the ladies room…that will be safe, right?  While I’m in there, two VERY large women (who I’m guessing had been sampling the World Beer Tour) enter the stalls to either side of me and proceed to have a FULL-ON conversation LOUDLY while in separate stalls, discussing an upcoming trip they’re planning “If no one is dying or in the hospital”.  WTF?!!!  Can’t you discuss that at the table?!  I was almost too distracted to tinkle!!!

Then, Sparkle and I venture to Meijer, and Sparkle made a big mistake…He walked off while I was looking at something, and left me unattended.  In no rush, I wander aimlessly through the store until I find him.  He is WAY at the other end of an aisle with home decor.  At the head of the aisle, where I stood, was the most adorable flower-shaped bean bag.  I yank it off the shelf and then Sparkle spots me. Just as I plop down on it, his eyes grew as wide as Pluto, he points at me, and his his unmistakable country gay boy accent, he firmly says “NO!”

“No, what?” I ask, wiggling my butt down into a comfy little scoop.

“Get up, now.  You’re gonna get us kicked out!” He says.

Now why would you tempt me with that???

So…I proceed to scoot allllll the way down the aisle on the bean bag like a kid on a sit n scoot as he backs away slowly.  (And yes, photos are posted on Facebook!).  Finally, he takes off and disappears.  THE GAME BEGINS!!!

Having no idea where he went, I tart screaming out “MARCO!!”

From several aisles away, I hear a faint “POLO!”

THE CHASE IS AFOOT!

He continues to hide, and the Marco Polo game continues.  Employee and customers alike look very concerned.  At a guess, I was probably a few more “Marco”s shy of being asked to leave when I finally found Sparkle. 

On the way home, the topic of Sparkle’s boyfriend comes up, and the age gap between them is one of my favorite things to razz him about. It’s a running joke at our house that I’m dying to scare the crap out of his boyfriend during an intimate encounter.  Our bedroom doors don’t lock, so often I’ve threatened to burst into his room mid-coitus, jump on the bed, and scream “SURPRISE BUTTSECKS!!!” and run back out.  I figure that should scar the boy sufficiently for a few years.

Welcome, to the average day in my life…which is far from average.

Check, Please!

“Miss Kittie,” you ask, “You go on dates, but we’ve never heard you talk about the intimate stuff yet.”

Oh, my dear loved ones…the reason that is the case is because Miss Kittie has been scarred by so many HORRIFIC experiences in the bedroom, she is reluctant to venture there very often!  Allow me to give a few examples:

The men who are easily intimidated in the bedroom. Fellas…stop thinking you’re playing out of your league and you won’t have a bad case of Soggy Tater Tot Syndrome between the sheets!! I’ve seriously considered keeping my own stash of Cialis in my bedstand and force-feeding it to men I intend to engage in a mating ritual with.  Even worse are the men who over-indulge in Liquid Courage beforehand and can’t perform at all.  Guys…if you can’t perform on Debut Night, do you really think a girl will give you a chance at Round 2??

Another hilarious FAIL in the bedroom…the gentlemen who trade naughty photos, talk up their game, show up for the party, whip out a Magnum XL condom…then drop trou to reveal something a toddler would be ashamed to show at the urinal.  How in the HELL do they get a flattering angle on those things that make them look worthy of a romp???  And worse yet, they wield the toothpick like it’s the Mighty Excalibur and expect me to worship the honor of being in it’s presence. 

Perhaps the most heart-stopping scare are the guys who DON’T warn you, or talk down what they have.  You get into the action, things are rolling smooth, he pulls out the snake, and you swear you hear THUD!! as the anaconda flops out…and the damn thing isn’t even at full potential yet.  Yo, dude, I’m 5′ tall…where exactly did you think that was going to fit???!!!!

Gentlemen…what is with the bragging about loving foreplay and having great oral skills…and then you don’t bring your A-game to the field??  Or worse, you forget the game totally??? Has porn taught today’s men that foreplay for women is unnecessary, but they fully expect a lengthy blowjob from us every time? And has even KISSING become a thing of the past during the Hokey Pokey?  And I swear to all things unholy, the next motherfucker that thinks spitting during sex is okay is going to get a vicious mule-kick to the face.

Last, but not least…the men with terrifying or hideous sex faces. I had a partner once who had the most distracting and girlboner-killing sex-face I’d ever witnessed in my entire life!!! I don’t mean his O-Face…no…just the awful faces he made DURING SEX…and he insisted on missionary style almost all of the time.  (And he wondered why I couldn’t orgasm…) The first time I opened my eyes and looked at him, I almost shrieked in horror.  I thought something was wrong, like a back spasm. But I realized he makes those faces the ENTIRE TIME!!!  After a handful of times, and trying to get him to change to different positions where I wouldn’t have to look at his sex-face (to no avail), I had to throw in the towel.   It was completely unacceptable.

With all of these things out there…is it any wonder I’d rather go buy a dildo and pass on those possibilities??

…I can’t even make this shit up.