I haven’t always been so careless about the men I love.
My first serious boyfriend Mike got my name tattooed ala tramp stamp. He spelled my name wrong and was less than thrilled when I told him that Jenny meant female donkey. My Grandpa had passed that bit of logic along in hopes that I’d remain a Jennifer. I simply changed the Y to a I. Mike wasn’t so lucky. I still wonder if he’s married and named his firstborn Jenny, just to save face…Or ass?
My first love… Eddie. Sigh. Some crushes never die, and when his wife sent him out one-night-stand shopping a few years ago, I had the misfortune of being the unwitting target. Bless his beautiful heart, I hope he divorces her and makes a more honest attempt someday. I don’t share my toys… and if I’m going to be really honest- we only share what we don’t want anymore.
My taste in men is my most self-destructive trait. I adore being hunted and thoroughly enjoy the thrill of swimming with a shark. I don’t worry about teeth, biting is kind of my thing. I’m intrigued when I see one I want, get all sorts of wordy when I touch one, and have to change the rating on my blog if I want to unwrap him again. When I’m silent and stuck… it’s because I’m not getting laid and I hate that more than anything. How completely basic could I possibly be.
I was in the midst of my third run of the day, contemplating ankle weights and that god-awful baby shark ab workout that had me feeling like a battered blowfish for three days… when Big Dick Tom reappeared. The unfortunate truth to holding a man’s attention these days, is to blow them off and forget they’re alive. Don’t text him. Don’t answer his calls. He’ll be hounding you in no time. I guarantee. I’ve ghosted this poor penis with legs, three times. I’m never available, don’t return his calls and can’t make an hour to meet him for a beer after he’s driven 45 minutes to “conveniently happen to be in my town for the night”. If I don’t want you? All the dick in the world can’t help you.
And they say romance is dead. Bye Tom.
Bye, boys in general. I am so disappointed in the current state of the manfolk. Did I miss the memo on aiming low? What happened to caring about the quality of person you are? I certainly have my less than stellar moments, but for the most part… I’m trying really hard to be an incredible woman.
I mean what I say. I’m funny. I cook, clean and fuck like good girls aren’t supposed to. I’m a good friend, working hard to have an incredible ass and make a perfect dirty martini. I can grow his dinner, blow his mind and knit the blanket he falls asleep under.
I’m beyond a fuckboy and it takes so much more to interest me than a giant dick. GTFOH Tom and friends.
Mr. Perfection taught me that I still have to be careful when I’m falling in love with my best friends because even the longest friendship wont stand in the way of him breaking your heart. He taught me that some men take their respect for you off, along with their clothes. I learned some incredibly painful lessons that I probably should have learned a long time ago. Ultimately I lost him over some particularly bad sex, and he created a need where my previously dormant sex drive had been.
I’m not dating anymore. It’s just too depressing to have awful conversations with bland, unattractive men. I would honestly rather do anything else. After my week on OKCupid and the bottom feeder that is Big Dick Tom, I’m really quite content to put my fine ass back on the shelf until I have a good reason not to stay there.
Being single doesn’t suck. I’m fun to hang out with, dinner is always amazing and I can have as many orgasms as I’m willing to put the work in for. I like me, I think it’s going to work out. 🙂