There is a time in most people’s lives when they meet someone. Someone that they didn’t intend to stick around for or much talk to but end up somehow in their bed at 3 a.m. wondering how they hell they weren’t going to be there in the first place. For some that is all there is. A mind-blowing slightly drunken (or more than slightly drunken) evening of wonderful meaningless pleasure. It’s always been hard for me to separate the two. Meaningless pleasure from meeting someone. Of course there has been silly meaningless sex in my life but usually we leave as friends or just leave altogether. As I have grown I’ve been able to more or less open myself more to the opportunity of a raging night of mindless love but it never seems to turn out that way. Somehow I end up back there again, and it becomes more than mindless love.

I am much like a moth in my love. There are no words, so there can’t be any wrong ones. It is all scent so there are all the right words without saying anything. They creep up behind me when I’m not looking and trip me in my step and i fall into their embrace without thinking. The mindless love aspect. But then somehow a few digits are exchanged and it is back to scentful communication again.

Except this time, like all others, scent becomes fascination. And fascination becomes questions which become answers. And answers become pleasure and it is an ongoing cycle from there on out.

I can’t stay, I don’t want to stay. But I can’t bear the thought of leaving either. Love comes easy to those who read too much. It also comes hard to those who read too much. The honeymoon sweet is always fantastic but there is always a darkness behind that one never expects until it’s staring them in the face. This darkness has been looming over my shoulder, ready to show it’s face in exactly seven days.

(it’s interesting how such a cynical, angry girl can turn so soft with a lil affection isn’t it?)

It’s easy to hate everyone when you have no one. But the one I am to hate in the end of this story is simply myself. And isn’t always? Life is a big decision with lots of little choices in between. I mostly choose heart instead of head, which allows me to have a lot of fun. For a short time.

The words keep bubbling up inside me. When I’m walking home, when I’m listening to “My Torture,” when I’m lying in on top of my bed at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday drinking beer and wondering what the fuck I’m doing. But they never seem to be able to come out when that face is anywhere near me. I have my qualms but they never matter anyway so why I even bother to assess them I will never know.

I imagine I will continue to do reckless things with my heart until it ceases to beat. And in all the lovely imagery of novels that is a great triumph, to always let love win. But in reality it’s not nearly as glamorous as it seems in my favorite books. I want to be other things because I think those other things will think these things are glamorous and thus they will be. But really, it’s not about thinking, or being glamorous.

I will never let a man forsake what I have planned for my future, and thus love will not win this time.

(Source: www3.allaroundphilly.com)

Over the last three days while I have nursed my broken tooth I have taken a look at my more broken self. And by taken a look I mean picked apart every bit of it. This is what happens when you give a girl too much time to think. At any rate, I have no dates anytime recently to report on so instead tonight I will report on the inner workings of female brain when it is given pain, mind altering pain medications, and an x-box full of more movie one could watch in a lifetime. Let’s start from the bottom.

1.) Friday night I cleaned, filed, and painted my crinkled toes a lovely summery orange to get them ready for the open-toed shoes I will not be wearing in this boring town because it seems that it is winter here always. This was brought on by scratching my kittens ear and noticing there were still green spots from the last paint job about 4 months ago. Time to update.

2.) Thursday morning I shaved my legs (and armpits) in the shower. This is a HUGE accomplishment for me as I very rarely go through this ritual female act. I also proceeded to wear pants that were not too-big jeans so that I could feel the fabric with my skin, as opposed to with my overgrown bushes. This was followed by a comment 2 days later that I have nice legs. Good move.

3.) Tonight I played spring cleaning with my honey pot. Also an act I rarely do because it seems that I will never again get laid, or at least get laid in any fashion that would be anywhere near good enough for me to care in what condition my honey pot is in. Awaiting results as we speak …

4.) Over the last few months I have transformed my diet from all sugar to all salad. Not because I wanna be a skinny toothpick (which I would never be anyway) but because I truly LOVE salad. I put all sorts of wonderful things on top of it and drape it with extra yummy vinaigrette dressings and can eat my heart out, of course with the hope of losing a few inches around the middle and a cup size which leads us to …

5.) Contemplating going bra shopping. This is something I hate doing for a multitude of reasons. Mainly because they don’t make bras for girls with big tits that anywhere near cute, and because they’re expensive as shit. I used to be able to get cute bras, but then I turned 13 and it was all over from there. I have been on the hunt for bras without stuffing that are mildly attractive for a well endowed lady and haven’t found a whole lot. Apparently you must always want more breast, no matter how damn big they already are. Depression #1.

6.)While we’re on the topic of my chest I have also been seriously contemplating quitting smoking. People look at me like I’m a leper when I smoke here and also apparently it’s bad for me. I was also recently told that cigarette smoke is the number one cause of air pollution, but I don’t agree with that at all and no science will ever be able to prove it so fuck anti-tobacco companies. *Evidently I’m not quite ready to quit smoking just yet.

7.) Zits after 23 should be outlawed, but unfortunately they are not and have decided that my face is the PERFECT home! No matter what I do, if I pick, if I don’t pick, if I use astringents and masks, if I don’t, my old age, NOTHING makes a difference in the number of red dots invading my face. I simply cannot wear thick makeup anymore because my dracula phase and been and (thankfully) gone. What is a 26 year old girl to do?

8.) My lips, eyes, and nose I am totally satisfied with. Excellent.

9.) I have been on the search for the perfect mascara for my whole life. Sometimes i think I have found it and then it lets me down. I am starting to think that he’s, I mean it’s, not out there. It is amazing the similarities between mascara and men. It makes you look wide-eyed, even when you’re not, it can give you a black eye, it makes you look wretched in the morning if you don’t take it off before you go to bed, it’s all about the brush, it can make you feel beautiful, it can make you feel like a whore. Quite all encompassing I do believe.

10.) Struggle I do every day to make my hair do what I want it to do. My father has been telling me for years to let it just do what it wants but I fail to see the attraction of dishwater blond, long ,straight as a rail hair. I have successfully gotten over it ever being curly, but lately I have been simply lazy. I have failed to get it cut for almost a year and very rarely dye it the lovely red color I am now known for by everyone.

I assume if I change all these things about myself, rather if I put some effort into the way I look again, then one day perhaps someone will ask me out again and I may get laid and it may be actually worth the hangover the next morning. And by hangover I mean the sight of the other persons face at 9 a.m. How some women like the Lady GaGa have a constant good view of themselves is merely beyond my comprehension, but I strive more and more everyday to be more like her to hopefully one day it’ll rub off.

(Source: botropolis.com)

With my home state in a a state of political unrest, I felt it only fitting to talk about the art of domination. Since the governor of Wisconsin has chosen dictatorship over negotiation, today I will discuss the wonders of sexual domination, which seems only slightly more ridiculed than dictatorship itself. It has been my dream for a very long time now to be a dominatrix and here I will tell you why:

1. Patent Leather. Patent Leather everything. Boots, body suit, whips, vests, gags. I mean. Patent Leather. Enough said. (I would love to see old man Walker come out in a full patent leather body suit. It could totally swing the vote for him.)

2. Gags. Who in their right mind does not want to just shut their partner (or a stranger for that matter) up sometimes? Stuff a gag in their mouth and tie their hands up with a satin bow and have your way with them, how does this not sound like heaven? Your way can involve tongues and kisses, hot wax and an ice cube, or ass slapping to the max. And the best part is that the torture is all a part of the fun, the fun that can’t distract you from what you want to do since the other has no voice. Fabulous. (Apparently someone needs to stick a gag in Herr Walker’s mouth cuz I think he ran it a bit too much to his cohort in crime “Mr. Cock”).

3. Whips. I’ve always wanted one of those long black straight leather whips with a nice leather circle at the end. Doubles as a beating stick for any children that may arise from your kinky love session too. Whips can be used in a seductive manner, or in a domineering manner which is why I love them so much. Versatility bitches. (I saw many a sign in my romps around Madison in the last 2 weeks that said something to the effect of “bend over Mr. Walker,” apparently I’m not the only one who wants to beat his ass).

4. Cuffs. If you’re super rough you use cop cuffs, and if you got a lil sweetness in you you get the ones with feathers around them for a bit of gentleness in your domineering. Although it isn’t absolutely necessary a bed post is slightly in order to use these, unless you wanna do a rough and touch on the floor to the actual leg of your bed, which I may say, is equally as fun. Go for a walk or make yourself some dinner while they’re cuffed to the floor. Then come back and ravage them. (Umm, trying to plot trouble makers in the crowd of completely peaceful protesters to give yourself a better name? cuffs please).

5. Straps. Any kind of straps. Used as a whip, a knotting device, to tease or tickle, to cut off circulation. Straps are a wonder. Try suspenders. They give a little, but not enough to let them stop you, only enough to make them think they can, which is all the more fun in the game of torture. (If there weren’t 12 cops blocking his door during his fireside chat I do believe someone would have tied up old Scotty).

In any event, torture is all about the love in the end. Always establish a safe word with your partner before engaging in rough love. But do have fun, whip, tease, leave, gag, tie, lick, and fuck for goodness sake.

And for a final revamp of one of my favorite quotes, “No one wants to fuck Walker, so he’s fucking everyone.” Don’t ever let anyone dominate you, we Wisconsinites sure aren’t!

99problemas asked: Oh hi. So I felt like an evil genius for figuring out that this was YOU all on my own and then BAM facebook post.
Way to bring me down, man. Anyway, thanks for folllowing.

aw. haha. it’s cool. the first post i wrote was about a date i went on wit someone i was fb friends wit but recently deleted so i could finally post the blog there. i didnt wanna hurt his feelings you know. haha

but kudos my dear. kudos indeed.

and thanks for following me too. my posts may be a bit raunchy from time to time but i think you can handle it. haha.

Is there a good way to get over an ex? Fuck no. No matter how hard you try you will always see their pretty little face every time you open your eyes in the morning until someone new takes over that space in your brain and creates new memories. But everyone goes through this at least once in their life (more like 50 billion times) and has little things that mildly work for them. Here are a few of mine:

1.) Do NOT listen to R. Kelly. Now you all know that I am obsessed with Mr. Kelly but this will be the only time ever in life you will hear me say, “don’t do it” preceded by, “listen to R. Kelly.” If the man knows how to do one thing it’s get you hot and bothered and for what? You’re single now. Unless you have an amazingly rapid turn over rate and can get down to sexy love time music right away, put it away for at least a week. Even your vibrator will make you cry if you listen to R. Kelly while trying to love yourself after a break-up. Until I am aware of a good “fuck that bitch” R. Kelly song, this is an absolute no-no.

2.) If there are photos, letters, Valentines, or any other kind of remnant left lying around your house put them in a box and seal it with shipping tape. Put this box in the very back of your closet or better yet in the moldy basement. Eventually you will want to revisit it when you get to mad-phase to rip up all the things that used to make you smile but initially you are in sad-phase so don’t even go there. Side note, “Sorrow” by The National is a great song to do the clean up my broken relationship house cleaning to. Cuz you don’t really wanna get over them, not yet anyway.

3.) Spend as much time as humanly possible with your friends. Females first (or gay males), even for the guys, cuz if we’re good for anything it’s a soft shoulder to cry on and someone who understands heartbreak in a way a man won’t even admit to himself he does. Then hang out with your male friends. Go play pool and darts and drink a shit ton of beer and imagine the bulls eye as his/her face and make stupid jokes with dumb boys that make you feel so much better cuz you now know that all men (or women) aren’t scum. You got some pretty good ones by your side right now.

4.) Get completely blitzed for a week. Take off work. Buy $500 worth of booze instead of (for the ladies) $500 worth of shoes or clothes, the booze will do you much, much better. Initially it will make you cry, which is good. Get out all the sad feelings so you can enter mad-phase as soon as humanly possible. Do NOT drink alone. Cry with your friends and then break things. Men like to think that women don’t do this too. WRONG.

5.) Eat lots of fruit snacks. They are wonderfully yummy and are also easily chucked at something (with no damage done) when you really start getting mad. One week later make sure you clean your house immaculately to find all of the stray snacks that were thrown in dismay. You don’t want ants or other creepy crawly things to invade your life like the jerk who just left you did do you? They are also generally high in vitamin C and low in calories so you can eat as many as you like without gaining the break up weight. That comes later.

6.) Order deliciously yummy Asian food delivery everyday for a week. You aren’t ready to go into public yet so you can’t get pho, but that’s okay because there are all sorts of excellent curries, fried rices, and sushis to be had without anyone having to see you. Just stand behind the door with only your hand with money in it sticking out. The driver takes the money and places heaven in a sac into your hand in exchange. I don’t really do the God thing, but goddamn God is good sometimes!

7.) Listen to a lot of Tool. Tool is fantastic for embracing any type of anger you may be going through. It can also jump start mad-phase for you in a matter of moments. I recommend the “fuck you buddy” song from Aenema to start off with. This will immediately get you hating everyone, including your last love. Listen to this alone and then go get drunk with your friends.

8.) Go clubbin. Nothing like having sex with clothes on with someone you’ve never met before at a club. This works for both males and females. Whether you are a good dancer, a shitty dancer, love to dance, or hate to dance, the club is the best place to find affirmations of your value from people you don’t know, which is exactly what you need right now.

9.) Go home with a random person. Have crazy wild drunk sex. Talk about all the gory details with your friends, then don’t ever call them. If you see them out again pretend you don’t know them. This was your get-free-no emotions-sex card, also known as the revenge fuck/rebound sex. You can make it one of their friends if you really want but I do not suggest this as it WILL come back to bite you in the ass no matter how awesome or un-awesome (you think) it is.

and last but not least

10.) Forget the piece of shit. This is hardly possible but you will eventually. I hate it when people tell me this as I’m sure you hate it when people tell you this but time heals all. It really does.

Feelin shitty is never fun. Don’t pretend it is or that you don’t. All this will do is send you into a spiral of denial that will take you longer to get out of than if you just admit and deal with it.

(Source: herndonfineart.com)

A friend of mine has recently gotten herself into one of those wretched things us single gals like to call “regular sex without having to shave as often” or a REAL relationship. However, she has surpassed me on the maturity scale by not sleeping with him yet. I ask her why everyday. This is my attempt at trying to figure this riddle out.

1.) It will be better if we wait. Now, I am a big fan of the saying “honey, before you buy the car you take it for a test drive,” so this to me is insane. Not that she’s marrying the dude but come come now. How can one possibly get shitty drunk and not go home and fuck? (I assume that’s how you meet people these days.) I have never been able to control my sex drive enough to say wait. Except once. Obviously that didn’t work.

2.) One does not listen to enough R.Kelly. I may be the biggest fan of R. Kelly out there. I should be his publicist I rep him so often. R.Kelly is the lover of lovers, the pied piper of R&B, the best fuck of all smooth talkin’ fucks (no personal experience here, sigh). When R.Kelly is playing in the room, or in the next room, or down the street, I just can’t say no. I mean how can you not fall spontaneously in sex with someone when the lyrics “girl you look just like my car, i wanna wax it” are uttered?

3.) One works out too much. If you work out too much then you don’t ever really NEED to have sex. I mean, for some people lifting weights or trying to master an elliptical is working out. For me, sex is working out, and I guarantee you it feels way better than that adrenaline rush you get from the elliptical (not to mention the fact that your breathing and heart rate are restored much, much faster). Although it’s true, your muscles may be sore for a couple days if you are an adventurous bed-goer.

4.) One is scared of obtaining too much emotional baggage. Now I do believe the definition of relationship is ” a bond between individuals that involves the loading/unloading of emotional baggage for the duration of an unspecified amount of time.” If this is true you will eventually develop these feelings so why wait?

5.) One does not drink enough. Drinking lets loose all of one’s inhibitions, allowing “yes” to be spoken much easier and smoother (although it may not sound that way with a slur). It also allows one to be a little more exciting (for most of us) and directive/communicative in bed. This seems like a win-win situation to me.

6.) They don’t want to. Leave. Immediately if not sooner.

I simply cannot think of any other possible reasons someone does not sleep with someone rapidly. But I do think most of the reason is the lack of R. Kelly in one’s life. C’mon people, while “Feelin’ On Your Booty” may not be everyone’s love anthem, “Religious Love” damn sure could be.

If you are in one of those nasty little relationships or just wanna get laid more often, get wit R. Kelly cuz if he don’t know what’s up don’t nobody know what’s up.

(Source: cipango.typepad.com)

It is now February the National Month of Love. I luckily have been blessed to know three couples in my general age group who have apparently found and embraced this thing call true love. Most of us on the other hand find true like, true infatuation, or unrequited everything. Most women go about their relationships trying to change themselves, their man, their woman, or their relationship altogether while the other party tends to suck it up and deal with their neurotic partners by saying yes constantly or saying no constantly. Now while my lovely aforementioned friends have found the key to the ultimate relationship ( I imagine it’s vodka), the rest of us are still trying to get past the bullshit. Here are a few things I imagine any bitchy, vodka-loving chick will say, “Yes! That is exactly what I want!” to.

1.) 2 p.m. Sex. As I have mentioned, afternoon delights are a marvelous thing. Mostly what’s good about them is that you get to take a break during your busy day to let out your morning aggression doing something super worthwhile and then you get to walk away without another thought except how much damn better you feel afterward. And for those actually in one of those relationships, you get to spend the rest of your day imagining either what happened, or what’s going to happen when you get home to your love bug.

2.) Chivalry. Yes I am crass, I am a bitch, I love to drink, smoke, and fuck, and I still like to have the car door opened for me (on the way in of course, I can open up my own damn door to get out in a much more efficient manner) or the check picked up every once in a while. Chivalry began as a way to tame somewhat ravenous men, including, but not limited to, teaching murderous bastards how to treat a lady nicely and first and foremost how to give good service, which I am an expert at. This is not to say that a man must pay all the time, open every door, or take off his hat (it’s a DAMN shame that men don’t wear hats anymore) when approaching a woman every time. It is a general guideline that, not only on birthdays, anniversaries, or “Valentine’s Day,” a man should attempt to make their partner feel special for NO GOOD GODDAMNED REASON.

3.) Dance. Now regardless of what they say, every woman loves to dance. It can be in the middle of the dance floor at a club, or it can be safely within the confines of your (or their) home. Dancing has a strange ability to make one feel loved, released, and aroused all at the same time. Do not pass up on this small little move to not only make your partner feel good, but more than likely get a lil nooky too, cuz you know most of the moves involved in dancing are just like sex with clothes on.

4.) Drink on a Tuesday. There is simply nothing like grabbing a bottle of vodka or gin to make martinis all night or a nice bottle of wine (or two) to get a lil frilly in the middle of the week. While you both may regret it in the morning when you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for work or class, the fun that ensues both in and out of the bedroom will more than make up for the headache no amount of showering will make go away.

5.) Some Good Smooth Jams. Now this is tricky since everyone has different musical tastes, but it has been my experience that Maxwell, Sade, Fleet Foxes, or R. Kelly (except not the latest one. That one will only make you both laugh til you cry, believe me, I’ve tried it) will MOST DEFINITELY get you laid. And not only will you get off, your partner will most likely have a fab time as well since you are attempting to do something sweet for her, which is ALWAYS a turn-on.

6.) Make Us Something Stupid. Flowers are so overused for fuck-ups that they just don’t work for sweet anymore. Instead, try something dumb. A good friend of mine made a girl he was into a silly collage that he knew she would appreciate and sent it via snail mail (this is also always a good move since everyone loves getting non-junk/bill mail). However, know your partner’s tastes. If they hate art, a collage is NOT the way to go, but perhaps a mix cd with the theme of “songs that are supposed to be sexy but just make you laugh so hard you snort” (once again the latest R. Kelly is perfect for this). We like to know you’re thinking about us even if you’re not.

7.) Let Us Listen To Terrible Pop Music While We Do the Dishes and DO NOT SAY A WORD. Many bitchy (more to the point hipster) ladies, myself included (not the hipster part), like to think we don’t listen to bad music ever. This is simply not true. I have been known to have a dance party in my kitchen while listening to Katy Perry or Avril Lavigne on more than one occasion. I am sure that whoever you are, at some point you listen to something terribly bad and absolutely love it. Don’t hate.

8.) Wear A Hat in the Style of the 40’s With A Nice Suit. I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, bi, transgendered, foreign, alien from Jupiter, black, white, blue, purple, or green, EVERY MAN LOOKS BETTER IN A SUIT AND HAT along with just about everyone else on the planet and probably others too.

If I could find a person that fit all of these qualifications I am almost dead certain I would never look at another human being ever again (mainly because no one else would be wearing a nice suit with a hat from the 40’s to steal my attention away) and I just can’t possibly believe that I am the only one of my kind out there. So people do us a favor, and this works both ways, try to be sweet to your significant other in whatever way THEY want, not what you THINK they want during this wretched month that mostly makes people hate love.

(Source: layoutsparks.com)

A fellow single dater (male) has informed me that perhaps I need to clarify a bit of my insinuations when describing a good or a bad date. Now granted I will not always be writing simply about dates (who knows? some day I may actually find a partner who can withstand my raving lunatic ass), some kind of standard/s need to be set. Having said that here are a few little things that should be expected from either side of a dating conundrum:

1) When asking someone out, even in this advanced technological world, USE YOUR VOICE. I have been guilty on more than one occasion of violating this and it has been my experience that it NEVER turns out well. If you are too pussy or forgetful to realize you have balls and you should use them (women included) then you can not expect to date someone who will use theirs either, and really, who wants a ball-less date?

2) If this is a preplanned I’m asking you out or you’re asking me out date set for a future time, choose a cool place to go. This does not include a shitty chain restaurant, or a trip to your favorite movie. As a side note, movies make terrible dates. You sit in the dark, not speaking, wanting to grope the other person but not knowing them well enough to utilize the wonderfully dark situation you have just put yourself into. A much better choice is a nicer, ethnic, or cafe-type restaurant, or a trip to a hands-on museum. My favorite date to date was one in which I was taken to a science type of museum where everything was hands-on. We laid on a bed of nails, stood in front of a heat sensor which showed the hottest (and I mean temperature - we’re not quite on to the sex bit yet) parts of both of our bodies, and created different sized waves followed by an okay dinner at a nice restaurant. The entire date was great in spite of the just okay food because conversation was easily had, and both of us had a great time learning and playing. If you don’t know each other well, this type of environment is great for getting to know one another. You both learn about each other, and about some cool shit. Win-win situation people.

3) Do not dominate conversation. If all you want to talk about is you then you should have just gone to dinner with yourself, or have gotten yourself a doll.

4) When the date ends you have to decide whether you want to sleep with this person or not (assuming an evening date, although the afternoon delight is not a bad time at all). A lot of women, and to my great surprise men too, do not want to fuck on the first date (why I will never know). I personally think that while sex complicates things, it also tends to make a very quick decision. If it’s terrible, you can walk away and conveniently lose your phone for a week and forget the whole thing ever happened, and if it’s good you go back for seconds or thirds or however many damn times you can. Try to use your best judgment and get rip-roaring drunk cuz you know you can’t make any more of a fool of yourself in the future if they see it right away. Also, if you wake up in the morning together then they generally see you looking and smelling your worst and if they keep calling you then you know you got a good one.

Always drink. Drinking is the best icebreaker EVER. If you are on a date with someone who doesn’t order at least one alcoholic beverage, leave immediately because it’s just not worth your time. I recommend a pre-food cocktail followed by a bottle of wine followed by a post-food cocktail and then coffee with whiskey or some other yummy liquor that goes well with coffee. That way you’ll be good and ready to either do some awesome leaving or some awesome fucking.

So there was a guy, not my type, but was funny and could dance, I thought, “Great! He’s cute and I just said I was never sleeping with another man who couldn’t dance ever again!” We danced, we made out, we slept, we watched movies, we drank for three days. I ask guy out to dinner, via text message (I know it’s the most pussy move ever, I apologized profusely immediately after I sent the text) for the upcoming Friday evening. I let him choose the restaurant because I want to experiment with new food in my new city. This is EXACTLY where I went wrong.

First, I was unaware of the decor for the evening but was told “casual.” Now, casual to some people (me) means jeans, a nice shirt, and heels. Casual, to others apparently means almost exactly what I wore yesterday of muted colors and stained shoes.

Second, I open my door when he knocks to pick me up, fully ready wearing my faux fur coat that looks like all the best parts of a skunk were wrapped around my body, my favorite heels, and the ass-hugging jeans I just bought an hour earlier. He gives me a look like “holy fuck what did I just get myself into,” I pretend not to see it and smile.

Third, we get in the car and I say,”So where we goin’?” The response is muffled by the swearing and screaming going on in my head but it was something along the lines of a chain restaurant. You know the type, with one of everything on the menu. “Is that okay?” I say,” Um, yeah,” attempting to be non-judgmental. I should have gotten right back out of the car and said I needed to vomit real quick, cuz that’s exactly what I wanted to do. Just for reference, in case you gentlemen do not understand the not so hidden context, never take a girl to a chain restaurant on a first date.

Fourth, I begin drinking because I think, “fuck me sideways, what the hell did I just get myself into?” He starts talking about things I really don’t care about and I keep drinking and listening to very unwitty and loud pop music blaring into my ears cuz not only is it wicked loud but it’s just about better than whatever the hell he’s saying to me currently.

Five, I somehow learn a shit ton of things about this cat that make me want to jump off a bridge. One of these things is that he isn’t interested in sex currently.

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Six, I begin mentally crying and think, “I would find the one male in this town that doesn’t wanna get down.” This has been my sole goal in going out since the beginning of December so you can imagine my disappointment.

Seven, We leave 2 hours later and arrive at my house. I think maybe I’ve got a shot in hell at getting laid tonight so we go to bed. WRONG

Eight, I attempt to fall asleep as fast as possible because I know that I have to work early as shit in the morning.

Nine, He leaves for work in the morning.

Ten, I proceed to shower the stench of the evening off my skin and try not to kill myself before I can have another beer.

Now, I understand that we have all been on bad dates but this has never happened to me before. After the restaurant choice was uttered everything began to go downhill, very fast. So the moral to this story is please, gentlemen, don’t ever talk about how much you like video games and television to a girl who’s wearing shoes that cost more than your entire wardrobe at a terrible “we have everything on the menu cuz we don’t know shit about food” restaurant.