Miles To Go

I know the rules and how to play the game and win. It’s not that I’m defective. I choose to be single. I know that I’m worth far more than the standard offer.

PS. The standard offer is a dick pic and an invitation to join his frequent flier club.

Hard pass… also you’re lucky if he can get hard without assistance.

This shit is a struggle, y’all. I am not exaggerating when I say that I’ve done a 180 in the last 24 hours and am drowning in hate where inspiration used to threaten to swallow me, whole.

I feel like someone beat me with a bat, then shit in my hands. I’m not just devastated, I’m broken and my hands are full of shit.

So I did what we all do, and unearthed the boys I’ve sent to Not Yet Island. I gave away the ringtone that used to make me wet from wanting him. I’m hateful on a scary level. I’m probably going to hurt some poor innocent Tinder boy.

Dr. Miles is glad to drive 4 hours for a checkup. Any time of the day, any day of the week… I can order up a penis just as easily as a pizza. I can be picky.

I had the sort of day that calls for calories and orgasms. I had to look at his smug face all day and listen to his stupid phone vibrate. Knowing he’s sitting around getting hot and bothered from exciting text messages does nothing to help me pump my brakes. Not only do I hate him, I’d like to hate fuck him out of my system. Today.

Hello Miles, and all the bad things you’ve expressed a direct interest in doing to me. Today is your day. Today you get to text me exactly when I want you to, because I’ve done everything correctly and you are THIRSTY. I know if I text him, he’ll respond instantly, and he’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake. I was getting in the shower one morning when a text from him came chiming in.

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I don’t respond to him. It does not slow him down. I’m just completely burned out on guys who think their dick is more important than their character.

So I texted my best friend… and we had dinner and bubbles without too many tears.

I really have grown up and I’m not looking for a dozen orgasms because I can get them on my own if I want them badly enough. I don’t, for what it’s worth. I’m so much more than a receptacle and I’d rather die lonely than settle for a man who didn’t burn for me.

He’s just not good enough and that breaks my heart wide open because I thought he was. Just when I think I’m doing the right thing, on the right path or operating with the best of intentions… I find myself here.

Heartbroken.

Disillusioned.

Devastated.

but smarter, wiser and a little bit funnier.

I knew the last time I fucked him that it was the last time. I knew it was temporary because I avoided kissing him after realizing how much I enjoyed doing so. The red flags were all there… I just wanted so badly to love him.

Regardless of desire, life hands you who you are and it turns out that the same goes for the people you want.

All about it.

I’m getting a shiny new set of boobies tomorrow.

I’m scared to death and hoping vanity isn’t my undoing as I walked in to meet my anesthesiologist last night. I’m having surgery in a specialty hospital, and it’s a little odd adjusting to the “business” side of medicine. He opens his office door and smiles warmly.

He’s fucking hot. Like… melt the paint off the walls, hot.¬†Also lecherous as hell. He’s grinning at me like the Cheshire cat and I’m a little unnerved by it. We went through my medical history, any drug related complications and a short chat about worst case scenario, because I’m a single mother and I’m absolutely terrified that vanity is going to land my Dumpling in another state, raised by strangers. Kanye’s mom, y’all.

At any rate, he alleviated my fears and answered a billion questions before stunning me silent.

M- So I don’t usually mix business and pleasure, but you’re beautiful. Would you like to have dinner sometime?

J- Uh… I’m inclined to say no until after I wake up in recovery. Plus you get to see me naked before the first date… which is extremely unorthodox for me.

M- Fair enough. May I have your number?

J- You have it already.

M- I’d like it for personal use.

I don’t even know what to say. It’s been so long since someone actually flirted with me that I’m awkward, silent and blushing. Also? Fucking annoyed. Why, in the name of Christ, is it always the wrong fucking guy?? I’d give a kidney to hear these things from my favorite man and sadly… I don’t think it’s ever going to happen. Sigh…

So I gave him my number and made the long trek home in the dark… to the sound of my phone BLOWING THE FUCK UP.

Doctor M is a passionate overtexter and he is making his interest, known.

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Instant response time. I get a half dozen texts before I can send him one back and I woke up to 3 more. I answered a question he’d asked after I fell asleep, and he was there again… wishing me a happy last day with old implants.

I wait hours for my favorite to respond, if he does at all. I could send him naked pictures and he’d still make me wait. I fucking hate it. Doctor Miles is kicking ass and taking names with his text game.

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He tells me his car has a full tank of gas and he could be at my house in an hour and a half. Not realizing this sort of breaks my heart, because the man I want is only 30 minutes away and immune to my pleas.

I politely decline, which sends the texts through the roof. Men can be so predictable. The harder you are to gather, they more they hunt. Wealthy men are not my favorite, but Dr. M can spell AND perhaps he’d make a good crutch to hobble away from Incredicock, on.

I told him I’d consider dinner after I wake up tomorrow, safe & sound. Seems like the best kind of insurance policy and my beloved Miss Fancy is driving me tomorrow, so I know I have protection from any overly excited advances.

Which is when a dick pic comes rolling in.

Ugh.

It’s not a bad dick, its just not the one I want, and I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable putting my life in the hands of a man who’s taking time away from work to snap some public bathroom porn.

For fuck’s sake.