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Last Friday Night

Pop-music-alcoholSome nights just aren’t meant to go as planned.

Friday night was supposed to be a fun night out with friends.  It turned into one of the worst nights I’ve had in a long time.  It’s partially my fault.  I just don’t know when to say when, and I’m not just talking about alcohol.

It started out fine.  DC and I went to another local bar where Teacher was playing.  When we arrived there was a large table full of friends having dinner.  I knew most of them.  They’re a great group of people and they invited DC and I to join them.  Not long after we sat down, more friends showed up and joined us.  There were probably twenty of us in total.  We ate, drank, laughed, and enjoyed Teacher’s music.

One of the other people that showed up was Bacchus.  He brought a date and they joined us at the big table.  He and I had talked a few nights earlier about what might happen if I went Friday night and Viking was there, then if Mr. 7am showed up, then Paul Bunyan, and of course Teacher would be there.  It could potentially be one big cluster fuck.  Then Bacchus said “and then if you left with me.”  I thought it was funny and that the cherry on top would be me going home completely alone.  Turns out I wasn’t so wrong about that part.  More on that in a minute.

A little while later Teacher’s girlfriend, who I still think is the most bland person ever, showed up with her guy friend that was with her last time we were there.  She was sitting directly behind me at one of the pub tables, our backs to each other.  We never speak or even really make eye contact which is fine with me.  They didn’t stay long.

When DC and I went out to smoke the Viking showed up.  He said hello and went on inside.  The Viking is a guy who I’ve met a few times.  He’s also a friend of Teacher’s.  I saw him at another bar a few weeks ago when I was out with Bacchus.  We talked and had a good time.  Since the Viking and I were already friends on Facebook, I sent him a message the next day.  I told him it was good to see him and that maybe we could hang out sometime.  He agreed and said he’d let me know when he got back to town.  He works out of state.  Part of the reason I went Friday night was because I knew the Viking was going to be there.  I wanted the chance to talk to him more and maybe see if he was interested in hanging out more.

I had talked to Mr. 7am again on Wednesday, and he said he wanted to hang out this weekend so I told him he could just pick me up from the bar when he got off work.  I know I said I was going to stop seeing him, but I figured I’d give him one last chance.

He text me a little after 9:00 pm and said that he had to go home after work because he was going to get up early and cut grass before going back to work the next afternoon.  I was angry and hurt and embarrassed because I had let him do that to me yet again.  I told DC and she said I probably should give up on him because something just isn’t right with him.  I know she’s right and that’s what I should do.

tumblr_m7lajcEDVo1qchllgo1_500In my anger, I decided it was time to move on, so I changed my focus toward other pursuits.  I was no longer dickmatized and since Mr. 7am was no longer coming to the bar, I decided to try to talk to the Viking a little.  A bunch of us were outside smoking and talking and Viking sat down beside me.  We talked a little, mostly joking around and enjoying the crazy conversation that his friend and an old drunk man were having.  Things didn’t really seem to be going anywhere with him, so again, I decided to move on.

I had noticed the bar manager the few times that I’ve been to that bar, and I decided maybe I should give him a shot, just for kicks.  He did remember my name, even though I couldn’t remember his, but then again, most people find it easy to remember my name.  However, I wasn’t really in the mood to put any effort into him and quickly let that one go too.

The bar was getting ready to close so after one last beer I followed Bacchus and some others back to the room that he had gotten for the night.  That’s when the party really got going.  There were people in the room, outside the room, just everywhere.  I managed to have a really good time even though I wasn’t really on the prowl anymore at that point.  I was just having fun hanging out with everyone.

It did strike me a bit odd though that the Viking hooked up with the falling-down-drunk girl from a few weeks ago.  She seems nice, but evidently her standards are pretty low, as are his.  I was glad to have dodged that bullet once I saw how disturbing the “hook-up” looks from the outside.  They got caught making out in the back of a vehicle and then shortly after they left together.

tgif8So the numbers were falling but there was still a good crowd there hanging out.  I did manage to get into a conversation with the bar manager, and he seemed nice, but he also seemed to be stuck on the tall blonde bartender.  So again, I moved on.

Finally, we were down to the basics.  Just me, Bacchus, and Mr. & Mrs. Right.  They are friends that I met through Teacher and I adore both of them.  Eventually Mrs. Right decided it was time to go to sleep so she passed out on one of the beds in the room.  I was outside the room sitting on the tailgate of Mr. Right’s truck talking to him and some old drunk guy who disappeared at some point leaving Mr. Right and me to talk.

CqFOqHDHxZ8lAs we were sitting on the tailgate talking, I noticed that the curtain in the room was open about a foot.  Then I noticed the lights lower.  See, I forgot to tell you that Bacchus’ date had also passed out, on the other bed in the room.  She had been there for a few hours and was out cold.  While I was trying to be a good friend to Mr. Right and give him some relationship advice (I know I should not be giving relationship advice, so no comments on that one please) I saw something through the window that I wish I had never seen.

I was trying really hard to pay attention to Mr. Right talking to me, but it was very difficult considering I was watching Bacchus have sex with his date, with Mrs. Right asleep in the next bed less than four feet away, and I just couldn’t concentrate.  It was an odd mixture of shock, disgust, anger, and yet I couldn’t stop looking.  I was just praying that his date was actually conscious during it.  Otherwise, that would be pretty shitty of him.

So, there I was panicked and frozen sitting on the tailgate of a truck in a hotel parking lot watching my friend fuck some drunk woman (who told DC & I at dinner that she was married) while trying to give heartfelt advice to Mr. Right.  What a fucked up night it was.  It still makes my head spin just thinking about it.

To be true to the “confession” part of my blog, I have tried to be more than friends with Bacchus a couple of times, but only because he was flirting with me just as much as I was flirting with him.  He even came right out and told me one night that I’d have to make the first move.  I did and that turned out terrible.  He got scared and ran.  So that’s fine.  I think he makes a better friend anyway.

Wonderwoman_dodging_bullets_by_TopcowImage2dFI consider myself to be a good person.  Yes, I do bad things sometimes, but not terribly bad.  In general I’m a caring, compassionate, loving, smart, friendly person who tries to give people the benefit of the doubt.  So why is it that men keep choosing these skanks, plain janes, and old drunk whores over me?  Not that I really wanted any of those guys, but (and this is the narcissist in me coming out again) why would they not even try….or did they try and I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to take notice?  Either way, I’m so happy that I went home alone Friday night (the only part of the “plan” that actually went as planned).  I may not have felt that way when I first got home, but after a day or two of meditation and writing I realized where I stand with people and how many bullets I’d probably dodged.  So…yay me!

Happy humping & keep your options open, but watch out for those stray bullets!

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Taking out the trash

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I have a problem.  A trash problem.  It started about four months ago, when I moved in.  For the first time in over a year I found that it was my responsibility to take out the trash.  Well, that just sucked.

So I devised a plan.  I would take out the trash once a week when I was doing laundry.  I would take it out on my second trip to the laundry room when it was time to put the clothes in the dryer.  The trash bins are behind the laundry room, which is across the yard, next to the pool.

That worked for a while, until I got behind on my laundry.  I only got behind on my laundry because I kept forgetting to go to the bank and get quarters.  Damn quarters.

So as time went on and my trash bag sat in the floor next to the stove, I started having visitors.  Mostly male visitors.  Ok, fine.  They were all male visitors.  Very nice male visitors too.  Because each and every one of them offered to take my trash out for me.  Of course I had to decline, because, you know, pride and all.

I always told them that I was going to take it out in the morning, or later that day.  I never did.  Well, I did occasionally.  This went on for months.

Last night Bacchus came over.  We were sitting at the table talking and somehow the topic of my garbage came up.  Of course he offered to take it out.  I declined.  Then I told him that everyone tries to take out my garbage for me.  He admitted that it did bother him that I always had a bag of garbage sitting there.  I laughed.

He proceeded to grab the bags, yes there were two last night, and asked where the dumpster was.  I told him and he took it out.  When he got back I told him that he had completely fucked up my story.  Now it had an ending.  Or does it?

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Happy humping my fellow Oscars!

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My Lucky Year

new_year_2013Now that 2012 is over and 2013 has begun, I feel the need to come up with a new plan.  You won’t find any new year resolutions here, just a new plan for my life.  Actually, I didn’t have a plan at all for my life last year, or for many years before that, so I think just having a plan is a good start.  Don’t you?

New-pricing-plan

Since I’ve always considered thirteen my lucky number, I’m declaring 2013 my lucky year.  This year I will choose to be more positive and more open to all that the universe has to offer me.  I’ve also decided to make a conscious effort this year to be less of a whore.  Yeah, you heard right.  I’m going to reign in my lust for men and sex, and be more committed to being with just one person, hopefully the right person.

I know this must come as a shock to some of my readers, but even I have tired of the constant stream of pricks that have crossed my threshold over the years.  Sure, they have made my life interesting and exciting, but it’s time to give the old “social norm” a try.  It couldn’t possibly be any worse than what/who I’ve done.  Plus I have been relatively single for almost a year now so that gives me sort of a buffer year to have prepared for my upcoming year of monogamy.  Yes, I know monogamy is probably going to be difficult for me to get back into considering the lifestyle I’ve led over the past four years.  However in the years before that I was always in monogamous relationships and was very good at it.  Until my slip-up in my second marriage, I never would have considered myself a cheater.  In fact I abhorred cheaters.  I had been cheated on before and hated how it made me feel.  I never wanted to cause anyone that kind of pain.

integrity1No, I’m not trying to get all preachy and self-righteous on you.  I just want to make some changes in my life for the better.  I know there has to be more to life than serial dating, one-night stands, and broken hearts.  Of course I recognize the probability that I might fail in my quest, but either way I’m going to give it my all.

I am also going to commit to writing more often this year.  I’ve been a lazy fuck this past year.  Sorry about that.

Happy new year humpers!

My Breaking Point With Manwhore

Well, it finally happened.  I lost my damn mind and my ability to control my mouth.  Last night Manwhore and I got in a huge fight.  It was unexpected and over something seemingly insignificant.  As my sister said, “It’s about damn time.”

I sent him a text last night asking him to stop by the store on his way home.  He sent me a text back telling me that he was bringing a friend home with him, Whore #2.  Yes, the territory-marking bitch ice queen who was rude to me and who hated me.  As you can tell, I have such fond memories of her.  This was the same woman who he said he told not to contact him anymore because of the awful things she said about me.

So…when I got his text I replied “What?! Why?”  It’s bad enough he’s started up the whore parade again, at least he could have the decency to bring in fresh meat.  This stuff with bringing in tired old used pussy is just sad.  See there I go again with my big mouth.  I just can’t seem to help myself.  It seems that I have deep anger issues when it comes to Manwhore.

So, he got pissed off that I asked why he was bringing her over.  When they came in he immediately came in my room and said we needed to talk.  I told him that I didn’t want to talk with her here, but he insisted.  That really pissed me off.  So, in full-on pissed-off redheaded preacher’s daughter fashion, I let him have it, and was loud enough so that she could hear it all.  I told him things that I have held in for years, and a few things that were just for her benefit.  It was oddly freeing.  I was so mad I was shaking.

I haven’t gone that far over the edge in a very long time.  This morning I called my sister and told her some of what I told him.  She laughed and said that coming from anyone else it would be awful, but coming out of my mouth, it was just funny.  I wasn’t trying to be funny.  I was trying to spit fire, and burn his ass.  I think I accomplished my goal.

As I told him off he got angrier, I got louder, and he told me he hated me.  I returned those feelings.  I yelled a lot about how he admitted to using me, how he manipulated me and my feelings, how he fucked everything that he could get his hands on, and how he needed to leave me alone, get out of my room and go fuck the ugly cunt in the living room.  I didn’t call her an ugly cunt though.  I called her something far worse, and made sure I said it loud enough and enough times for her to hear.  I was terrible.  I admit it.  Anger does terrible things to people and I’m not immune.

He told me that he was so mad that he wanted to hit me.  I was prepared for anything.  He didn’t hit me.  If he had I probably would have pulled my .38 out of the drawer.  Thank God I didn’t have to do that.  It did get me to thinking though.  If we were fighting that bad, and getting that angry at one another, it was time to go.  So I told him I would move out.  Never mind the $4,000 I spent getting us into this apartment, or the $1,500 deposit I am going to lose.  I need out.

Then she walked in and looked like she was either high or drunk as hell.  She didn’t say a word.  He told her we were talking and closed the door on her.  Not long after he left my room he took her home.

I hate the idea of leaving New Orleans, this beautiful apartment, and Endymion, but I think it’s best for now.  I’m not ruling out the idea of moving back here at some point, but for now I need to get away from him and this city.

I haven’t broken the news to Endymion yet.  I hope he will want to stay in touch and maybe even visit one another occasionally.  If not that’s fine too.  I’ll miss him because he’s a great guy and my first cub, but I’ll find another cub to play with.

Dammit.  I hate how things can change so drastically in a matter of hours.  It’s time to let go and move on though.  I will more than likely return to the Big Easy one day.  I love it here too much to stay away for good.  Until that time, I’m going to stay with my sister and help her out like I should have done over a month ago.

To top it off, he brought her home with him again tonight.  She’s still here.  I am fighting the urge to pull out my .38 and start cleaning it.  Maybe I should at least unload it so as not to have any accidents.  I’m just kidding of course.  I would never do such a thing.  I’m too careful, and too good a shot, to have an accident.

This just keeps getting better.  I was about to post this when Manwhore came in to ask me when I was leaving and when I’d be back for the rest of my stuff.  I told him I’m leaving tomorrow and will be back probably Tuesday to get the rest.  I told him I’d probably need stay the night because that’s a lot of driving and I’ll be loading everything up into the truck myself.  Being the smart ass that he is, he said that if I didn’t leave at noon I could do it all in one day.  Then he said that his step-daughter is coming to stay a week, so basically he told me that I wasn’t welcome stay.  That’s fine mother fucker.  I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.  If I have to I’ll get a hotel, and I told him so.

How did I ever get so involved with such a lying cheating manipulative sleazy asshole like Manwhore?  Well, I’ve learned my lesson once and for all.  I’m finished with looking for a relationship.  I’m finished forgiving Manwhore and trying to be his friend.  I’m finished with old men that can’t keep their dicks in their pants, and I’m finished with Manwhore for good.

So here’s to all the men I’ve loved in New Orleans.  May you live long and prosper.  Except Manwhore.  May his cock fall off and may he never get any good pussy ever again.  No, I’m not still angry. 😉

This meeting of the She-woman Man-haters Club is now adjourned.

Happy humping!

Who am I?

I’ve been a cheater, a liar, a thief, and a slut.  I always got caught though.  Once caught I was forced to take a long hard look at myself and decide whether I wanted to continue being those things.  Consciously I always chose to take the path towards becoming a better person.  That doesn’t mean that it was easy to change my ways, or that I never did those things again.  I still slip up occasionally.

I really do want to be a good person and believe that I am a good person.  I’m just a good person who does bad things sometimes.  Growing up in the church I was taught that there is only right and wrong.  If you did wrong, unless you asked for forgiveness you were sinning and headed for eternal damnation.  It was enough to scare the pants off of a little kid.  Fear is what motivated me into being a good girl growing up, not a desire to be a good Christian.  I was afraid of God and the Preacher.  The fear of disappointing the Preacher also kept me from doing a lot of varied and nefarious things that I would have liked to have done.  Why do you think it took me 19 years to go on my first date and 22 years to lose my virginity?  I was scared shitless of being thought of as a bad person and of going to hell.

There came a point though when I screwed up so bad and got caught that I just gave up the fight.  I decided that even though what I had done was wrong, I had not done anything nearly as bad as what all they were accusing me of, so why not just do it.  That was fifteen years ago and I’m still somewhat stuck in that mindset.  I don’t know if it’s just my way of proving to myself that I am free to do what I want, or if it’s just a bad habit that I can’t get rid of.

For the last two years this blog has been my saving grace.  It has allowed me to express my innermost thoughts and feelings and to confess my bad behaviors.  I’ve been especially surprised by how writing has helped me think through things and figure out what I really believe and what I really want.  It’s forced me to look inside myself and when I go back and read over what I’ve written I am able to see my faults with shining clarity.

I don’t want to stop looking at myself and trying to make myself a better person.  If I were to stop doing that then what is the point of living this crazy life?

Manwhore told me last night that I would give away everything I had, every last dollar, to help someone.  That I am one of the best people he knows.  I wish I could see myself like that, but it’s so difficult knowing the things that I’ve done.  Even though I’ve literally begged God for forgiveness at times, I’m just not sure that’s enough.  I feel like no matter what I say or do, it’s never enough.

Every day is a battle for me, trying to reconcile what I was taught growing up in church and how I would really like to live my life.  I have so many issues with the church that it isn’t even funny anymore.  I may try to see the humor in it all, but sometimes that’s impossible.

I’m not exactly sure where I was going with all of this, but it feels good to get it all out.  So until next time…

God bless.