He smiles at me and my panties are wet from the look in his eyes. Damn… I can’t wait.
He’s my favorite bad habit… and it’s the strangest thing because I actually like him, though I’ve learned to compartmentalize my feelings for him. He wants a 21 year old pain in the ass, and I’m a 35 year old woman… go figure.
He looks at me and my girlfriend sits down next to me.
T- Do you want me to drive you home? Wanna get out of this?
J- Nope, I sure don’t.
She laughs and shakes her head and I should probably shake mine along with her, but I’m just pleased I put my knitting down and came down for a drink. I was only having one, but Mr. Man Card is heckling me when he notices the guy that wont leave me alone and a lovely (and rare) bit of chocolate that’s doing his best to convince me.
R- Go getcha some chocolate.
Now I love him for telling me to, because he’s telling me in his discreet way that I’m making an ass of myself with my bad habit. I get it. Time to wash my hands and flip him two fingers, instead of just one.
Some men just aren’t capable. I get that. Some aren’t ready to see the forest for the trees.
Because if one more damn person says “It would be perfect” or “You’d be amazing together” or “Get over your issues, if you’re going to have a boyfriend have the one that is JUST LIKE YOU!!!” I’m gonna snap.
Full metal jacket sort of snap. I’ve had it.
In no time I’m in the tank with him, thigh deep and biting my lip to keep from peeling off layers…
Tipsy fabulous and too bold.
J- Take me to bed…
H- Yes ma’am.
and my hand is in his and he’s pulling me inside, into his bed and into the torture I’ve been craving all night.
Fingertips burning into my skin, teeth buried in my neck and the mouth I’ve been avoiding staring at all night… is on my lips, wrapped around a nipple or even better…
The man that burns his name into my skin with his hands, his mouth and his outrageously fantastic… personality.
I mean it. The man owns the map to the wordy girl.
But when I call him a bad habit, I’m minimizing the severity of the situation. Perhaps it requires antibiotics to get him out of my system?
A mutual friend said it best…
S- It’s too perfect. I don’t get what his problem is but be careful. He’s easy to fall in love with and determined to not like you.
It’s true. He’s too nice. He does little sweet things that most men overlook. He’s thoughtful to the point you notice it.
and I’m kicking this bad habit right now, otherwise I’m gonna fall in love with him and he is absolutely not the guy.
I usually cut and run before he wakes up. I don’t like the messy details of using him for sex. I tried to date him before and ended up hating him intensely. He’s categorically unfaithful. Always. He’s on the path for a woman to cheat on him and destroy his heart… because he’s due the lesson and he needs to know the cost of his actions in order to want more for himself.
Trust me, that Karma Fairy is a bag of cunts… I’ve paid for my indiscretions a million times over.It is not worth it to move through life as a weapon, indiscriminately harming people. Karma’s not a bitch, she’s a cunt.
But last week I was delighted with him… and baked him cupcakes. His favorite, because I pay attention. They were amazing, and I took them to work and they were coined “Pure mouthgasm” and I was delightfully satisfied, no strings attached.
Getting to his house I find the cupcakes in the fridge… after he told me he ate it yesterday.
Yeah no. I’m nothing if not predictable and this is no exception. I’m fuming when he comes in and he slips right into nice guy mode. We laugh for an hour and fall asleep tangled into a pretzel of arms and legs.
Which is when I woke up… and looked at him… and realized I have the strongest douche bag magnet, in history.
Because I adore him, and I like hanging out with him, and I’m asking for pain and suffering, and he’s not even my type. I’m kissing a man with facial hair… (go ahead and gasp).
So I’m taking off my predictable panties… and I’m committing myself to absolutely NO MEN. PERIOD.
I’m kicking my bad habit… because he deserves it… and because maybe it’ll knock some sense into him.
Either way- I’m chuckin’ up the deuces…
Oh my sweet favorite bad habit…
Good luck on your search for the perfect 21 year old girl that wont burn your house down watching you cheat on her. Good luck with that. I’m serious… because I know that’s what you want. I actually mean it. I actually hope you find her… because you my dear Hoarder, are a national treasure.
There’s really only one way to say it. It’s been real. Or thanks? You were a little offended when I high-fived you this morning, but I meant it baby- good job… well done… high five.
You make me laugh like a teenager and you’re intimidated by me and it’s hot.
One thing occurred to me today and set the last nail in your coffin.
I could get hopelessly hooked on you to the point I can’t see another man in the room.
You watch Jeopardy. You cook. You’re a behind the scenes porn star.
You’re bad for my heart, and just like the nasty cig habit I’m quitting, I’m quitting you.
I’ve loved enough douche bags in my time, and there’s no telling how badly you could hurt me.
I can forgive a lot… but you didn’t eat the cupcake.