Adult play dates 

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I don’t have children but am aware of the concept of play dates. Evidently, what I’m unaware of is the “adult play date”. I had a date scheduled for Wednesday night that I needed to move to Thursday due to a work conflict. When I asked him if this was possible he responded with: 

I was going to come over in morning or day to play? . I am doing stuff on wed night. Does that interest  you? 

😳😳😳😳 Say whatttttttt???   O. M. G. 

I told him I wasn’t interested in being a booty call – geez, what happened to buying me a drink and at least pretending to listen to my entertaining and engaging stories??  

His response:  I understand.  Thanks for being honest with me. Your a sweetie ! I was just looking to play. Who know what the future holds! Good Luck with Festival! @

Should I have written back – “YOU’RE a real sweetheart yourself…”  Good Lord…

Back in the saddle – with pantyhose…

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I’ve been sequestered working in a small town with 3000 people (none of them single) for the last 4 months, thus there have been zero dating stories to report. I’m now back in the big city and it only took 2 hours and 45 minutes for the freaks to come out!  I must have either a doomsday wish or am oddly fascinated by the sheer bizarre mixture of humanity presented on Tinder. 

It took Fetish Guy exactly 3 messages to talk about pantyhose. He asked what I was doing over the weekend and I told him I was in an outdoor wedding. (It was 43 degrees with snow flurries.)  I’m sure he was just thinking “safety first” when he made the suggestion I wear pantyhose to keep me warm.  He then followed up the next day asked if indeed I had actually worn pantyhose. Okay, I get it, you have a pantyhose fetish. Can’t you hide it for at least 2 days?  Sigh….not sure I’m ready to do this again. But I have a date on Tuesday anyway. No, not with Fetish Guy. We shall see what circus freak show this one holds. 

Soldiering onward and downward….

For You (part 3)

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Because I will not contact him, here’s my next installment of what I’d like to say:

This week, you dropped your only child off at college. The only college I recommended to him. This child that “didn’t like” me, somehow chose the only school I talked to him about, the only school that is 50 miles from me and 500 miles from you. This child chose independence from you when you wanted to keep him home and send him to community college. 

My hope for you:  I hope this process was so painful it made you physically ill. I hope the absence of him in your home when you return from work at night is palpable. I hope you can’t sleep or function because the grief is so overwhelming. You used to tell me, the day your son left the home would be the worst day of your life. I’m just sorry I can’t be a witness to it. I hope, for once, you feel something that was brought about by someone else’s actions. I hope you go home to an empty house every night and contemplate how you ended up alone. I hope eventually you wake up and get sick at the thought you are 45 years old and still riding a merry-go-round of never ending whores and one night (or 2 week) stands, and wonder how you fucked up your life so royally.  But I doubt it. There will now be even more women because your son isn’t there to influence your moral compass. The merry go round will spin faster and faster until the casualties fling off and you control the switches. 

But mostly I hope I can find forgiveness for the piece of shit person you are at the core. Because this residual anger doesn’t benefit me.  Maybe someday….

Slutty Summer – it begins 

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I must admit, as a summer slut, I’m giving myself about a D-  Barely making an effort, not applying myself to the goals, going thru the motions and showing not a ton of interest or enthusiasm. But I’m currently seeing two guys. They are 500 miles apart. One is Big Daddy from Cincinnati (he was my first date last summer after the breakup, I’ve written about him before) and the other is a guy I met in Baltimore on my last trip there. He doesn’t have a nickname yet but it’s only a matter of time. And by “seeing” I mean sleeping with. I have zero desire to “see” someone. But conversely, I have zero desire to be a booty call. These are somewhere in between. We go out on dates, we talk, we have fun, we have sex. There’s no relationship but there’s not the – go over at 2:00am, don’t say a word, get in and get out. I’m still not ready for that. For someone who hasn’t had sex outside of a committed relationship in YEARS, this is still a pretty big step. I don’t feel bad, I don’t feel guilty. And I only feel mildly whorish. 

Big Daddy checks in about once a week. Sometimes once every other week. I rarely contact either of them first. Baltimore checks in every single day. I told him I wouldn’t be back for about 4 months but he seems undeterred. I was surprised I heard from him at all. We had a wicked flirtation. Very witty banter leading up to our meeting.  We had fun although I found him extremely quirky in a sort of sexy way. And, here’s the great thing about not liking anyone, I said anything and everything I wanted to without fear of whether he liked me or what he thought about me or whether he would call me again. I was prepared to have him never contact me again. When he kissed me – it was TERRIBLE!  One of the worst kissers, ever!  I told him it was too fast, it was just bad. It was like a 14 year old that didn’t know what to do during his first kiss so he slobbered too much and tried to remove your tonsils. I had very low expectations and was somewhat disappointed as I was trying to kick off the slutty summer and this was my best opportunity. But since it had been a year since my last encounter, WTF?  So I battled on. It’s a good thing, because as bad as he was at kissing, he was UNREAL using his tongue for other purposes. Didn’t see that coming…lol, see what I did there?? 😂 wow!  Good thing I didn’t give up on him. And the enthusiasm at which he approached the deed, was truly impressive.  Bless his heart, maybe next time, we’ll just skip the kissing. 

One of the most remarkable things about the experience was I was able to have an orgasm with a virtual stranger. Most of the time, that doesn’t happen unless I’m in love and it’s a deep connection that is emotional and physical. This was purely physically which is a good thing, otherwise I might never have another with a partner because I don’t know if I’ll ever be in love again. 

Will be seeing Big Daddy next week….

I’m a bad slut

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i had a chance to hook up with a French Canadian tonight and be a slut but I couldn’t do it. He asked me back to his hotel room and all I could think was – I need to go to sleep. Being whorish and promiscuous is exhausting.  So far, the Summer of Slut experiment is a fail. Maybe tomorrow….

Summer of Slut

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I’ve made a decision to have a slutty summer. Why?  Well, frankly, why not?  I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to “do the right thing”. For many many years, I haven’t had sex outside of a committed, monogamous relationship. And for that, I’m still alone and have had sex once in the last 14 months 😳 And that sucks!  The guy I dated for 2 months (that passed out in a sea of garden roaches) was such a raging alcoholic he (as a friend of mine said) “couldn’t get it up with a crane”! LOL!  I have no desire and let’s be honest, no capacity to be in a relationship right now. I went to Nashville over the weekend and made out with a 27 year old and a 30 year old. And it was great!  I’m working my way up to full sluttiness. It seems like it might be a lot of work….I guess it’s time for Tinder?? 

Does this mean I need to delete my blog about being common street whores?  Proving once again – you become what you disparage. 

Thank God I believe 

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My sister – my 10 year younger sister – got engaged tonight. While I am happy for her, I found out on Facebook. Not a call, not a text. I found out when someone else told me they read about it on Facebook. 

Two days ago:  I took my unused wedding dress to have it preserved (after arguing with the guy about WHY it didn’t need to be cleaned.) He was insisting it should be cleaned and I had to yell in the middle of the shop, with a line behind me, IT’S NEVER EVEN BEEN ON; I had a biopsy taken to see if I have cancer- I’ll find out at the end of the week; I filed paperwork to get a stalker to leave me alone; I packed for 6 months away from my home.   It was an emotional day.

Tonight- I went to my 30 year class reunion. Alone. And last week, on my 48th birthday, my “date” was passed out…in a sea of roaches….for the 3rd straight day. Happy birthday to me 

So right now, I wish I was dead. I would not kill myself because I’m afraid of going to hell. But tonight, I pray I don’t wake up in the morning. I cannot take anymore. I am a joke. My life is a joke. My existence is a joke.  So please pray for me. Either pray I feel better or pray that I end up having a bad biopsy or that I have a stroke and don’t wake up. But either way, I’m done. I’m exhausted. It’s not supposed to be THIS hard. All day, every day.  

I say thank God I believe because otherwise I would not be here. I’m done fighting. Done trying. Done believing.