Creepers being creepy

There is no easy way to say this…in the last week I have been a complete creep. I’m cringing at the thought of the creep that I have been. Creep is the perfect word to describe the behaviour that I have displayed. Why would I want to admit this to you? Wellllll, I’m hoping that I will stop it and the sick compulsion I have to continue to partake in this activity. Here goes…I’ve been a troll, although not in the way that one usually trolls online. I’ve said incredibly inappropriate things to a man that I have never met before. At the start I thought it was funny and I really do mean the things I have been saying, I do want to blow him until he can’t remember his name…but maybe just maybe I should refrain from sliding into his DM’s (Direct Messages on Instagram) and saying these things. But there has been an extreme lack of self control on my end. Lucky for me, this guy is lovely. He has told me not to stress when I get completely neurotic, even though he doesn’t know me and if I were him I probably would block me. I am the first one to admit that I have been fucking crazy, sounding extremely confident while saying these dirty things that would make anyone blush and then completely freaking out after I send them. I’m crushing hard and it’s pathetic. I know it’s pathetic. If anyone else told me that they were doing this, I would first laugh and encourage them to keep going so I could keep laughing but then I would say ‘come on dude…take it down 2845773929394 notches…you look psychotic.’ I am not this girl and I am not handling it very well…at all. So now like any good addict, I have to first cleanse myself and admit I have a problem (this post) and then start my rehab…no more contact for a bit because I look fully psycho (I will however, totally send him the link to this post as a parting gift.) So tomorrow will be the first day without contact…no more snapchats…no more slipping into his DM’s…no more boob shots without him asking…time to fully cut the cray. Wish me luck…

 

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No-Men-Bro update

Soooooo if we remember back to me not being able to last No-Men-Bro, which there was disappointment all round, except when I was climaxing. Anyway that isn’t the point. I just wanted to let my loyal readers know that my dry spell resulting from heartbreak lasted from New Year’s Day to Good Friday. But now we are back in the game…So I nearly lasted without the D for four whole months!!!!Maybe I am now destined to only have sex on public holidays though :p

Story about dating a fucked up baker is coming tomorrow…

This guy mos def lifts bro…

I have written about lovable hair pulling shorty, now I will tell you about the other Lebanese Australian man that I have dated, who is pretty much, the complete opposite of him. He was 6’4 and 103 kg’s, lets call him Unit, cause that’s what he was. I dated him years ago. I was intrigued by this guy. He was massive. We met on a dating website. we chatted for a bit and he seemed like a really nice guy. His pics weren’t anything special, amazing body, wasn’t too sure about his face, but I can get past that because he was nice. Reading that back, I sound like a shallow bitch, but that isn’t the case. When it comes to internet dating, after a while you do come with a side of skepticism. Anyway, he asked me out and wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with me. As far as I’m concerned that’s a pretty big no no, so I graciously declined and suggested another day. Why would I want to go out on a first date on Valentine’s day? My idea of Valentine’s day is watching seriously depressing movies like Blue Valentine and Revolutionary Road with pizza and red wine. I am not even being over dramatic, which is a change. I really do love those movies. The start being so promising and then life and it’s shittyness fucking things up for a couple where their relationship changes over many years. That isn’t me being a depressing psycho, that’s change and if a couple changes together or separately and then they fall apart. I am getting off topic, so we scheduled coffee in the morning a few days later.

The conversation before we had meet was pretty bland. He was a gentleman. Nothing sexual (eg. no dick pics) no dirty comments, nothing. I wore a really pretty pink floral dress and I felt vibrant and confident (okay, the confident part is a stretch, but I felt like I looked cute, still wanted to vomit though.) We actually pulled up at the cafe at the same time. This guy was fucking massive. I felt tiny beside him. It was hot. I felt like he was Shaq and I was his tiny wife.

The Pencils Of Promise 2011 Charity Gala

 

He gave me a kiss on the mouth, which for me is another turn on, it catches me off guard and I like the confidence it shows on their end. He pulled out my seat and we ordered coffees. So far, so good. He was lovely. We had heaps to talk about, actually we didn’t shut up. He came from a massive family and he told me all about them. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say and asked a lot of questions about me as well, (this can also be rare.) He had a cheeky smile and we had heaps of chemistry. I really liked the guy. He paid for our drinks, also a nice touch. He suggested that we watch a movie. I was excited, maybe we would make out in the cinema, that could be cool, old school, but I’ll give it a crack. He discussed that we would take both of our cars and that I would follow him because we were over in his hood. That is fine with me, still had not thought anything strange was happening. We started driving. I do have a rough idea of the area since a couple of my friends live over that way and this isn’t the way I would go to the movies, it’s actually in the other direction, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. We drove for another 10 minutes and I was still hopeful that we weren’t in fact driving back to his house…which we were. I was in two minds, most of me was saying, well that was cheeky. Where as the other part was saying, well played.

We walked inside, said hi to his housemate and he showed me around. He had like a separate area of the house, which had a kitchen, bathroom, etc, but was still connected. I don’t know why it was like that, but still not that weird. The weird part was when we got into his little section, there were mirrors all over the walls. Yep. Mirrors. He was renting, so he said that he hadn’t put them up, but who knows. The thing I was most upset about was that he didn’t even put a movie on!!!!!!!!!! Now that upset me. Not enough though, because we started making out on the couch. Unit was all over me and it was hot. So hot that we moved things into the bedroom, where there was more mirrors, I might add. So we both got to put on shows for not only each other but could fully work on our sexy faces and moves while looking in the mirror. That definitely enhanced the experience as well as the fact that I was fucking a giant. We hung out for a bit but I was getting restless and wanted to bail and go and see what my friends were up to. Little did they know that the date went down better than my delicious latte.

I booty called him a few weeks later and we hooked up again, but after that the novelty wore off. I have now ticked both the giant and the mirrored walls off my sexual bucket list. I will never fall for the movie trick again though, I want movie details, not directions to your house!!!

Breaking up blows

ATM, I’m heartbroken. (At the moment Clem, not Ass to Mouth!) It ended fucking horrifically. We were in some bullshit non relationship, that meant we spoke everyday, I would stay at his house a couple of nights a week, etc. Anyway, this is all about my top tips of how to handle a break up, fuck people that say this isn’t as bad of a break up, things ended and we no longer see each other, that’s a break up to me. Sure they might be things that I wish I had done.

  1. Save whatever self respect you have and stop messaging them. (I did this, after two days of abusive messages to him. Maybe I did tell him that I poured strawberry Big M over his car and that I was going to ruin his life. Okay that definitely happened. Maybe it backfired because he knows me that well that he knew that I wouldn’t.) As we have tried the whole I’m not coming back this time before, he knew it was over when he brought up facebook and I had said that I had already deleted him. That’s when it really sunk in for him. I don’t even want to write this, but I totally sent him lyrics to a song that we both liked. My advice, don’t do that, it’s lame. Write down your lame thoughts, it will give you something to laugh about when you feel better.
  2. As soon as it happens, watch stand up specials, all day if needed. I did this, it was amazing. I also recommend to watch your favourite romantic comedies like Fatal Attraction and Gone Girl, just to remember how great it feels to be a powerful woman.

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3. Don’t cancel shit to wallow. If you already had plans and work, go. It will get your mind off the shityness you feel. Probably best to avoid talking about it and getting white girl wasted if the night isn’t about you though. You don’t want to feel worse.

4.Allow yourself time to grieve. This is shitty. It fucking sucks. But you know what sucks more? Being with someone when things aren’t working. I’m three weeks in and I’ve got thousands of screenshots to send him of funny things that I have come across but I’m not going to…

5. Get a cat.

6.Eat pizza and then go to the gym. My favourite part about going to the gym once, is the fantasy that comes with it. Next time he sees me I will be in the best shape of my life and he will regret ever fucking me over. However, I will probably be have a stained shirt on with my hair up, glasses on (recently realised that I am more blind than I thought) and look utter ridiculous while he is knee deep in vagina. Probably has 3 girls on his arm and they all laugh when they see me.

7.Talk to other boys.

8. Listen to love songs…Then listen to angry songs…Then listen to Fonsay Beyonce.

9.Delete the messages, phone number, etc. I have not done this, because of my current excellent self control and because I am a digital hoarder. I still have text messages from wrong numbers dated back to 2010. This is mos def going to bite me in the ass *rolls eyes*

10.Do something nice for yourself. And most of all, be kind to yourself.

 

 

I hope this post has provided a laugh about such a shitty time. I really wish that I had done the Big M thing, so if you are still feeling bad…go and egg his house.

To the boy this is about,

If you are checking in, I miss you, even though I shouldn’t. I miss you screwing up my face like Adam Sandler does to that kid in Billy Madison. I miss you putting me in quiet time when I won’t stop talking. And I miss you always being worried about if I am comfortable. But I don’t miss all the bullshit you put me through.

 

Please comment below on what steps I may have missed :p

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m officially a bad person

You would think I would be out of stories by now. That is not the case…at all. I think it was last year, I met this guy on good ol’ Tinder. He was half Mauritian, half Aussie. Nice chocolate skin. Majority of pics were good. He had buff arms, looked like he dressed well, one pic was of chop sticks as seal tusks (okay, I can look past that, as I love a good face in the hole.) Anyway, I liked what I saw. He would write me essays, so that is what my girlfriends and I called him.

Essay decided to take me out for breakfast at a trendy Cafe on a weekday. I was running late and he got there early so he could get the perfect seat next to the window. I was so late, therefore flustered and off my A game. But, he was lovely. He was wearing a nice shirt and had gone to a lot of effort. He was fascinating. He had just moved back from New York after spending a year there for work, he was living with his parents because he was waiting for the tenants in his place to move out, was planning on buying a holiday house, had also spent time in Antarctica, liked watching the footy and rock climbing. Basically he was kicking the shit out of life, even told me about meeting Ryan Gosling and him being the nicest guy, even though he had no idea who he was. As we were talking, there was something off about him, but I couldn’t place it. He excused himself and went to the bathroom but I didn’t realise that he had paid for breakfast on the way back. Nice touch, I thought. I thought the date would be over but took me to another cafe for more coffee and cake and then we went for a walk. I knew I wasn’t that keen, but I thought, fuck it, give this guy a chance. He held my hand when we walked (gross) that sounds so mean, but I barely know you. What about if I saw someone I knew? What would I say? Anyway, we held hands. He took me to a park and we made out. He was fully into it, I was racking my brain as to what was bothering me about him. It was like the middle of the day on a Monday, that’s how inappropriate I feel this make out session was. Totally not my scene, but I obliged*. He walked me back to my shitty car and we called it a day.

Okay, so we are half way through this story. I know I am completely fucked up. Girls would kill for this put together dude. Nice, stable, easy going, up for anything, smart, etc. Think of the Sex and the City Episode, where Carrie says that she was trying a guy on to see if he fit, not really your taste but you will give it a go. A nice, vanilla life. Mos def not my cup of tea. 

So we kept on speaking and he wanted to surprise me at home one morning by bringing me pastries for breakfast. This guy was good. I had to see if this was going to go anywhere even though I clearly wasn’t feeling it. I had also realised why I wasn’t into it. Some of his facial expressions reminded me of a guy I went to school with. I know what you are thinking, no big deal, now you are just nit picking. Actual the guy that he reminded me of was autistic, (not that there is anything wrong with that.) But I could not be with a guy that reminded me of a guy I went all through school with and had a lot of really strange memories of. I can’t blame this guy for that, so I said that he could come over for breakfast. We ended up having more than breakfast, it was a three course breakfast. He was hooked. The breakfast wasn’t bad at all. Wasn’t boring like Al-Bran and he was hoping that I was satisfied like at a Continental Breakfast at a hotel. But I could not get the similarity out of my head. So thanks for the pastries but I guess I am getting back with my ex (my favourite excuse to stop seeing anyone.) He suggested that we could continue seeing each other without my ‘boyfriend’ knowing. I said I didn’t think so. A few months later when I went back on Tinder, I received more messages asking if I was single and wanted to hook up. I felt like he thought I was Mia Khalifa, everybody’s favourite porn star or maybe I just wish that.

*I feel like ‘I obliged’ would be the name of my autobiography. Not just in relation to sex but in regards to my whole life.

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Just another night of losing bile and brain cells…

Last year, I slept with a dude that I went to high school with. He fed me by candlelight, told me that I had always been the one and then we made love on rose petals and we both cried when we came. Ewwww how boring is that?!? I nearly put myself to sleep. That wasn’t how the story went at all :/ I got a message from this dude I went to high school with, saying that we should catch up. We caught up for coffee in a hospital, which I guess is a kind of weird place to catch up,  spoke about people we knew and about old times. It was really lovely, he’s a great guy. Fast forward to an evening of hanging out, he slept over, zero funny business, lots of funny movies and cheap laughs. It had been such a long time since we had connected on any level and it was nice to know that we still liked each other as the adults that we had become (even though, let’s be real…I’m hardly an adult.)

The next catch up session things got a bit loose when there was a bottle of scotch brought over, a lot of music doco’s…yada yada yada another bottle down, I am not pleased to admit how we acquired the other bottle. But I drove us to get it, and then McDonalds…At the lights we pulled up next to a cop car and I thought my life was over, as me not driving would be like a Greek tragedy. But we made it home safely, the only accident we were involved in was my upholstery getting ruined by the Coke he spilt, but that turned out not to be a thang in the state that we were in. There was lots of reminiscing, maybe some dancing by the stereo. I thought I was feeling fine and I was alarmed that it was 7am, we had had 2 bottles and I was still coherent…nek minnit its 10.30am and I wake up alone in the bath…uh oh. I get out of the cold bath, and see vomit all over the floor of my room. FUUUUCCKKK. I feel like I’m going to die and I have no idea what happened to him. Or me. Or between us…I don’t feel violated at all, because I probably jumped him and forced my drunken self on his ass if anything did happen, I mean. Dammit! I’m too old for this shit. Moments from high school are rushing back and I haven’t changed since then. Something that no 28-year-old wants to admit to themself, while sitting on the cold floor, next to the toilet bowl. All I know is, I spewed everywhere, I’m naked, he is gone, his phone is off, I’m going to die from alcohol poisoning and shame and I have to back it up tonight with another party. This isn’t a “hehe I got so white girl wasted and blacked out hehe” ditzy lie. I seriously can’t remember those three hours and it never came back to me. I lost significant brain cells. He doesn’t return my calls for hours, I try to clean up the vomit…that smell (vomits in mouth) the most unfortunate part of the story is that I have to meet my parents in IKEA because I have missed our lunch date. There is no hot water, which I am really confused about, because that has never happened before and it is the worst time for it to happen.

I message my friend to pick me up. I use her shower and she accompanies me to the Shopping Centre. Now I don’t love IKEA on a normal day, so today I feel completing boxed in and will either vomit or shit myself all over everyone on a Sunday, that’s not a great feeling as I lie to my mum saying that it isn’t self-inflicted and I think I have caught a bug. It was the longest two hours of my life and I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling sorry for myself at my friend’s house. I was also worrying about going to this party that I was meant to attend. The thought of alcohol was still making me spew and the self hate was at its worst. Thank God for my friend, she dressed me up, did my hair and make up and I started to perk up. We arrived at the party and I started on the water, being around people and retelling last night’s tale was making me feel more human as we all wondered what had happened during the black out hours.

So I didn’t hear from him for a while, but he is all class. He told me not to worry about it and that everything was all good. I was still mortified as he did not tell me what had happened. He told people that we had caught up and was the perfect gentleman…except for my best friend. While they were at a party, my best friend sent me a pic of the two of them. I shuddered as I knew what their conversation would have been about. So three months later some of the pieces were put together which were, that I had indeed thrown up all over him while we were having sex. Yep, thrown up on him. Yep, that happened. Yep, dirty drunken pisswreck vomited while fucking a dude that I use to make out with in high school. If there was a time to die from embarrassment, it would be now…however, at our next meeting I was just as pissed hehe don’t hate the player…hate the game. I am sure you are not surprised to hear that we did not catch up after that…he may or may not have fled the country.

A cautionary fairy tale…

Once upon a time, there were three fair maidens that ruled the land. Wait, wait, wait. Once upon a time, there were three hilarious, intelligent, sexy females that ruled the streets of Melbourne. In a bizarre coincidence, these three ladies all dated or lusted after 3 dudes that worked in different shoe stores, which is actually really weird.

The first maiden we will call Messarella. Messarella was trying to distract herself from the throws of life and decided to go on Tinder to build up her self esteem and date random dudes. This was never a problem and she usually had 4 on the go at once. So one day she swiped right to a basketball player that came from Adelaide. They had a mutual friend, so that provided her with some comfort. He was a manager at Footlocker. He would text her day and night and he was a bit of a sexual deviant. When they met up however, he looked strange and complained so much. As Messarealla wanted to keep herself occupied from the 3 other gentlemen she decided to keep him around for a while. It was the perfect situation, he would only stay for 2 hours and she was so sick of him by that time, she would count down the minutes after he had made her scream to him leaving. They tried to go out on a date once, but she felt like she was the mother of a 4 year old. Alas, the glass slipper didn’t fit and he probably went back to jerking off in the back room of the store or the public toilets at the shopping centre he worked at. Definitely not Prince Charming. More like Prince Deviant.

Barbarella, was the second maiden. She also found herself occupying her time on Tinder and she and Messarella sent endless screenshots back and forth. The ladies found Tinder to be somewhat of an interesting sport.  It was there that Barbarealla swiped right to a tortured artist who worked at Converse. She was intrigued by this scrub, who never had an money and lived with his sister who had a husband and a child. She would try to help him sort his life out, by listening to his problems, making lists of real estate inspections for him to go to, just by generally being amazing to him, while he was scrubbing it up and being utterly depressed. They had a few fun nights, getting messy but the cloud of misery that surrounded this guy, was not far away.  He ended up meeting a girl with a stupid name, but who looked exactly like Barbarella and ended things with her. Of course, the new girl he met wasn’t nearly as fun or easy as Barb is and she played mind games with him and totally dumped his ass, so of course he came back to Barbarella with his tale between his legs. However, Barbarella was smarter than this and smashed the glass slipper, and tried to stab him with it.

The third maiden was Hiprella. Unlike the other two ladies, she had met had met Mr. Adidas in the flesh. He would touch her up once a week at his school. Ok, maybe I should clarify that. She would go to the Tafe where Adidas was completing a massage course, she would blush at the thought of his strong hands. Whenever, Hiprella went shopping with another maiden, the other maiden would look in as they walked past the store to see if he was working. These two were teenagers again. If he was working, she would go and buy shoes from him and he was so generous to give her his discount. It was kind of hot. Hiprella would talk to him on facebook and they actually became quite close. Hiprella was getting quite keen on Adidas and decided to tell him that she wanted to hook up with him. He was keen and there was some interesting texts that went back and forth. But after a while, he stopped replying to her texts. He deleted his Facebook account and went MIA. So there was some recon work that had to be done to find out what the hell was this guy playing at, because it is weird to fall off the face of the planet, especially at this time of the interweb and foremost they were friends. Hiprella ended up finding him, but never got an explanation as to why he suddenly shut everyone out of his world. We suspect that he got a girlfriend, but that doesn’t excuse him for bad manners. So Hiprella bought those beautiful pink runners with terrific support and they still have more than enough tread on the bottom to walk on him when they run into each other in the shopping centre.

Therefore, lets teach our daughters to love shoes like Carrie does in Sex and the City. Not to fantasise about men who might help her put them on, because three out of three bad encounters with dudes that work in retail shoe shops should be a cautionary tale. Next story, we will go all Sleeping Beauty on it and talk about the time that I got slipped a date rape drug and woke up with a homeless man. Just kidding, I slipped him the roofie 😉