Where have all the good men gone?

No, seriously. I'd kind of like to know. Because of all the ones I've met here, whether they be local or have moved from some other state or city, at least three- count 'em, THREE have been arrested, put in jail, have felony records, or all three. This isn't counting the females I know with similar criminal histories. Most of them actually are local. Everyone else is either married, gay, or emotionally stunted to the point where their lives revolved around online games. Or a severe fucked up combination of some sort.

My spicy little hookup boy was taken from the store in handcuffs at the beginning of the month. He had sent over 2,000 (thousand) texts to an 11 year old girl he met online, most of which were explicit in nature and contained photos of his genitals. Needless to say, this bothered me just a little bit and culminated in spending that Friday night on Kenny and Johnny's couch, where we bitched and gossiped and Ken & I each put away most of the contents in each of our respective whiskey bottles. I also learned that our charming fucktarded former coworker has bedded at least two other employees, one of whom was a virgin until a month after she got involved with him. He dumped her the day after she gave it up. He's a goddamn sociopath, I can see it now. No feelings, none whatsoever. I've since gotten over it, but that was the worst roller coaster of unsorted churning emotions I think I've ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Disgust, slight shame, a little regret. I fooled around with a pedophile. I finally let myself off the hook, because it's not like I knew, and if I had, I wouldn't have done it.

But what kind of hurts the most, is that it was yet another disappointment. Aaron charmed me. He got my sympathies, the butterflies in my stomach, and my naughty bits all going at once. And now I have to come to terms with the reality that it was all a very well-played act. That shy, awkward boy who was scared to talk to me for so long? Who nervously reached over to hold my hand and trembled when he finally did? He never existed. And that, friend, is what bothers me now. What I thought was someone worth giving a chance finally coming along was a soulless monster who wanted nothing more than to get as deep into my pants and my mind as he could for the soul purpose of fucking everything over. Literally and figuratively. It frightens me that people like this exist and that they're so very good at what they do.

And so now I am paranoid. What if I attract another one and fall for him? I do count myself fortunate that I never really had feelings invested in Aaron - he scared me too much, for one. But he was young and inexperienced and if he isn't imprisoned or killed by the time he's 30, he'll have reached expert level. A close friend of mine was married to someone like this for over six years and had two children with him. She was lucky. She got away, he lost total interest in her and the kids both, and she met someone else and moved here. But still . . .

And then there's the issue of the not-so-available single guys. So and so is carrying a huge torch for me? Oh really? I guess it should have been painfully obvious by the way he never talks to me or almost brushes me off when I say hi. Seriously dude, you're 30. Pull your face out of WoW and MtG and be a man, because I'm sure as hell not chasing you. I made the mistake of chasing once. For two years. It won't happen again. Then there's my long-distance friend. I've known him online for over ten years, probably longer. About six years ago, he admitted to having feelings for me, but for whatever reason, I flaked and we never met. However, we still talk and remain pretty good friends. I'm also certain he still likes me, but will always insist that I come to visit and not the other way round. Actually he more like insinuates I come live, but I don't want either of us uprooting and moving until, um, you know, we know for sure this thing will work? Yeah. He literally lives on the opposite end of the country. Northwest, WAY northwest. He hinted around that I come on a cruise with him this fall (he works for a cruise line), but again, I don't know. I'm terrified now of more potential creepers. Aaron never wanted to come to me. Or with me anyplace. He always wanted me to come to him. My issue being, if this guy is so interested and thinks we're such a good match, he can uproot for a visit and bring his ass to me. Yes, to hot, humid, sticky sweaty fucked up Florida. I doubt if he's another Aaron, but still, is it so bad of me to want to meet him in my territory, so to speak? To let my friends and family figuratively sniff him over to see if their 'weirdo' alerts go off? Especially my one friend, Peachy. She's the first one who started having misgivings about Aaron, even before I did, and told me in no uncertain terms to ditch him and meet the other fish in the sea. How right she was, and even she didn't know exactly how dark he really would turn out to be.

Or why couldn't I . . . you know, just find someone without taking some insane flight/ocean/road trip? Can't there be one decent person in this messed up little hick city? I don't want a hero and I don't need a white knight. Just a companion. Just someone to be with. To hold, to talk to, to make out with. I try not to be angry with God, but it's so hard. When I was younger, I did everything a good little Christian girl should. I prayed, I went to church, I read my Bible. I didn't smoke or drink or swear or date boys who did. I actually had it set in my mind that I would marry one of those sons of a deacon or pastor and have lots of little baptist kids with him, and I was happy with that idea. But I wasn't good enough for them. I didn't wear the right clothes, or put on enough makeup, or have a college education (Why go to college for six years to stay at home and raise babies?!) And so while they went on to higher education and eventually got married, I fell off the wagon and started to enjoy the secular life and discovered a whole new side of myself, the real me. To this day I still maintain my super-sensitive, bleeding heart, I'm just less naive. And still I waited. I asked God to send me a companion, a good man. He sent me Kenny and I fell in love. But Kenny turned out to be in love with Johnny and too insecure and ashamed to admit it to the world. It was almost three years before he finally stopped pretending around me, and it was a relief last time I stayed with them that he actually went to bed in their bedroom instead of sleeping in the living room with me. But I loved them both, so I accepted that I learned something from the whole thing and I gained at least a somewhat loyal friend in that dumb bisexual redneck. So again, I asked God to send me someone.

He sent me a sociopath.

At least with Kenny I learned that I could move on and love other people. And that no matter how much of a dick he is, I will probably always love him even if I can't be with him. All in all it was still a positive experience. But what the hell, God? A sociopath who is sexually attracted to children? What could I possibly learn or gain from this? All it's done thus far is cause me to mistrust people and view every strange man I see or meet or wait on as a possible creep.

And still I wait . . .

Simply smiling because it happened

Alas, dear Leonard, I barely knew ye.

I am sorry things didn't work out, since he was such a perfect, geeky fit. But  . . . gah. Red flags. Mainly, the fact that he wanted to have sex with me, which I was actually ok with, if he 'wrapped it up'. Next thing I know, he'd flopped down beside me and was pouting.

"I don't feel like wrapping it up" he said. "That just sounds like too much work. See, if I stop to do that, I won't stay hard, and it's just so much work, trying to put the condom on and not let it go soft, I lose my concentration."

"I told you before, I DON'T want your babies."

He fed me some story about how pulling out has 'served him well for many years'. HAHAHAHAHAAA . . .

So we made do with what we'd been doing, but I can't pretend there wasn't tension after that, and not the good kind. Either way we didn't fight, but since that night he's been notably less risque in conversation and at some points has gotten downright weird and disturbing. Earlier this week he told me he was an evil person, so I asked why. 

"I have a Nazi flag"

Holy shit. Ok, ever killed anyone?

"No."

Raped anyone?

"Not totally."

What the FUCK?! How do you 'not totally' rape someone. Ultimately I told him there's nothing wrong with having a dark side, since most of us do, as long as you don't let it take over you and go wild with it. The response?

"One day I will."

It's entirely possible I carried on a sexual relationship with a mentally unhinged person. Or maybe he was deliberately trying to scare me. Either way, I think we're done here, sadly. We still talk on occasion, but he doesn't give me anymore booty calls or even hint he'd like to get together for any reason now. I'm sorry he feels the way he does and I hope he gets help someday. I'm also a little uneasy I spent so many hours locked in a room with him with so many knives and swords laying about. Sometimes he seems pretty normal. But this. . .  yeah, it's going nowhere, and I think it's best I distance myself from him at this point. 

Regardless, as Elizabeth Swann would say "I'm not sorry." If nothing else, this was an ego boost. I am desirable, enough for this guy to persist after me for months on end before finally admitting I gave him the tinglies in his nether regions. It helped me massively to get over Kenny and to realize what a selfish dick he's always been. Crazy or not, Leonard made the friendly neighborhood Produce Guy look like an enormous turd. Not to mention, well . . . I've been wanting for a long time now just to grab someone and make out with them like there's no tomorrow. To fitfully peel clothes off and fling them wrecklessly wherever they might go. It was the sexual release I've been craving for several years, but couldn't find. And I picked up a few new skill sets, if you know what I mean *wink wink*  for the person who will ultimately matter.

I can at least say with confidence, I would have regretted not taking the leap.

You're so fine and you're mine/Make me strong, yes you make me bold

I just realized when I first started this blog, it was supposed to be about retail experiences, and it's somehow become a life of Shiny kind of thing. And that's ok. I've learned so much about myself in the past two years, and I've also changed, so so very much as well. I've decided that this guy shall no longer be referred to as Lab Rat or Sith Lord, but nor am I ready to call him by his actual name on here. Not yet. Henceforth, I shall use the same code name as I do amongst my trusted colleagues, Dixie and Strawberry, who have my back and give me advice and are able to keep shooshed about it unless it's the three of us. We call him Leonard.

It's all so shameful, so horrible. Or it should be. I am simply still amazed that I don't feel guilt or shame about what I've done, and it's delicious. Yet again I recall the church mouse that I used to be, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she would never have done these things, would have been uncomfortable beyond belief to be in the same bed as a man she wasn't married to. She definitely would have stopped the hand going down her pants, and not just because mother nature was visiting and she wanted to spare both herself and the guy horrible embarrassment. If that wasn't enough, she sure as hell would have run away, horrified, and driven straight home the minute his pants came unzipped and he put her hand on him.

And she would not have gone back again.

Thursday night, it was late, I was in the checkout line with Dix, she'd finished her Christmas shopping and I grabbed a few things. The line was long, I was bored. So like most brain-dead folks nowadays, out came the smartphone and I started bugging people. Well, one person in particular. And he wanted me to come over because "I need it right now." Just like I had hoped he would. Again, it was late. And I had to be back at work by nine in the morning, and he wouldn't be far behind me. I knew if I went over there, it would be a most ungodly hour before I left,  and then that wonderful moment of realization hit me . . . "Frankly I don't give a shit. My life. I want him and I'm going." Being paranoid, I was worried that I hadn't showered in a few hours, so when I pulled up to the complex, I found myself frantically digging in the console for napkins and wiping my face, shiny after a day of waiting on the masses. Got one half done and turned the other cheek to hear a loud tap and find him standing with his face right in my window with bug eyes and his signature grin. Given this enthusiastic and slightly creepy welcome, along with the horny messages, I had fully expected to be chivied up the stairs and pounced on. Imagine my pleasant surprise and confusion when instead, he just pulled me close against him with his arms around me, our fingers laced together and his head nestled on mine, and said "I wish you were staying all night." And then proceeded to talk about his day. THAT is a first, do you have any idea how hard it is to get this guy to talk about himself? And without being asked? Physical things are nice, but this was really nice. That's not to say the other thing was forgotten. Hardly. And that is where I'm both shocked at and proud of myself. For as much as I've fantasized and pined about clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor, I never actually thought I'd TAKE them off for anyone. Yet I hardly gave it a second thought and off they came, and sadly I was still surprised when he didn't throw me off in disgust and call it a night. But I don't say anything like that to him anymore, because it only kills the mood and frustrates both of us, him moreso, and I've forced myself to accept that I'm not disgusting and that he really does want  . . . this.  Enough to where, well, that thing he's been wanting to do with his tongue for all these months? That. Reciprocating gave me a slight case of stage fright, which he found amusing, and it was a little awkward, but not at all horrible, he didn't squeal in pain, and wanted seconds, so I must have done something right. Although originally he wanted the full shebang instead of 'seconds', but damn .  .  . I'm just terrified of the condom breaking, even if can openly admit I want it all, too. Honestly besides the obvious (pregnancy), the only thing that scares me now is the possibility I'll bleed everywhere.

But this whole dirty little secret, well, while I'd rather it not be a secret, is just what I've been needing and wanting for so long now. Someone to touch, to hold, to do shamelessly filthy things to. And when he actually does open that pretty mouth of his and speak, well, we have a lot in common. We laugh a lot. And the silence is not uncomfortable. Lying there with limbs entangled . . . it just feels like something I've done a million times before, and I always hate to leave. When I do, he walks me out and kisses me goodnight a time or three. I could be setting myself up for more heartbreak and disaster, but I don't care, I want to live, to take chances, because otherwise I'll never know or learn from my mistakes. But I've seen him. I've seen the way he used to walk past the pharmacy, we'd catch each other's eyes and he'd keep on walking, but with a grin for miles. Now we just stare right at each other and the 'teehee' feeling has been replaced with 'I know what you're thinking about me.' The way he just lies there and stares into my eyes forever before leaning over to nuzzle my face or kiss my head.

 . . . this isn't normal behavior for FWB/fuck buddies, right? He's also getting friendlier at work, using coherent, complete sentences and everything, although it's probably not obvious to anyone what we've done to each other behind closed doors. We're both off work Thursday.

I sincerely hope and pray that one or both of us exhibits a little control over ourselves, or that the condom doesn't break . . .

A new bounce in my step . . .

Nothing is committed, nothing is exclusive. Yet. But at long last, someone I've snuck glances and coy smiles at, thinking "Damn, that's a nice looking person, seems nice, too. I really wish I knew them better . . . " feels the same way. Mind, I had to pry it out of him via messaging, but I didn't want another months to years long game of beating around the bush, wondering. While it turns out that Lab Rat the Perverted Sith Lord is randy 24/7, he wants more. I must have gotten to his place around 3 in the afternoon on Sunday.

It was close to midnight before I left.

He's almost painfully awkward, and is just as painfully aware of it, but that stage only lasts for so long. We did talk and watch movies. He's fairly reclusive, and mostly stays inside with his XBox and his movies, the latter of which we share a lot of favorites. Not to mention he also owns every season of House, M.D. and even has a cane. "I can be your Dr. House," he says. A set of Sith Robes hung on the closet door, with lightsabers and swords propped against the walls. I can't believe I was ever squicked about age. Well, yes I can, but I can safely say I'm over it, as the pros definitely outweigh the cons. Pizza rolls and kool aid? Yeah, not so much into that. But he's a total nerd, and I mean that in the BEST possible way. He outgeeks me by a long shot, but he'll never outdrink me, turns out he doesn't even like alcohol or the feeling it causes. This too is a good thing, not only is he unlikely to become a raging alcoholic, but this also means I don't have to get him lit before he'll let me touch him. Yeah, about that . . .  I knew he would at least try to kiss me. What I didn't know is how far I'd let everything go and how oddly natural it felt. Granted, not everything happened, but much more than I had planned on and things happened that probably should not on a first date. All I can say is, I'm glad I'd seen those movies before, because otherwise I'd still be wondering how Bruce Wayne escaped or when Thor got his hammer back. I'm not sure whether it's sweet or creepy that he was incredibly affectionate and snuggly when we were actually paying attention to the television and not shoving, biting, and pulling each other's hair. But the wave of shame has yet to come, and two days later, I am still smiling. Do I want this to eventually become exclusive? Yes. But regardless of what happens or doesn't, I don't regret anything. It's infinitely better, in my opinion, to say "Oh well" than "But what if . . . " or "I wonder .  .  ."

Sometimes I'm afraid I'll wake up and realize it didn't happen.I actually do wake up and wonder if it was real. But then I walk to the bathroom, bleary-eyed, and as I  flick the light on, I wince at the marks on my neck, and I smile.

See you blowin' me a kiss/It doesn't take a scientist/To understand what's goin' on, baby

A few posts back, I mentioned someone whom shall still be referred to as Lab Rat. He continues his flattery, albeit in a somewhat awkward and unmistakably forward manner. He kind of reminds me of the guys from The Big Bang Theory, to be honest, which really isn't necessarily a bad thing. We exchanged messages for most of Thursday and towards the end of the night, I'm positive that I was turning shades of red henceforth unknown to man in reaction to the things he was saying, which were growing increasingly pornographic in nature. He also wanted me to come over after work because he'd bought TDKR and had no one to watch it with, I felt kind of bad for saying no.Yet for all of that, he's incredibly quiet when I see him in person - eye contact will force both of us into awkward, probably stupid looking grins or he'll walk up and poke me, when he speaks it's very low. He's so weird and awkward, and yet as far as geeks go, we have so much in common. Halloween at my place of work is always interesting, I love seeing what everyone puts on, even if it's something small just to be out of dress code for the day and get away with it. I showed up all in black, with fishnets, fangs, and way too much makeup on my eyes. He'd traded in his khakis and blue for the robes and boots of a Sith Lord. Call me crazy, but that's hot. Even then, he chose to stand there stiffly and talk to Karla as if I weren't even there. But he's always sure to pop up online or send me a text and then get all sadface-y when I sign off or say I'm going to bed.

Truth be told, I really wanted to go over when he asked me Thursday night, and not just because I'm dying to see The Dark Knight Rises again. I panicked and just said I couldn't because I had work the next day, too. Main reason being that he's so quick to start with talk of licking and boobs and other activities involving his tongue. Could be he's just a little odd and that's his way of saying he likes me, or that could be ALL he wants, which I'm not quite ready for. I mean it's hugely flattering that he's having these thoughts about me at all, don't get me wrong. I even asked if he sends all his female friends filthy messages and he said no, but I'm still not sure yet. Keeping with the honesty thing, I'm starting to be a little crazy for this skinny little geek and I find myself oddly terrified. He's been burned this year already, so he could just be a horny little freak wanting to sow his oats, or there's the possibility . . . I just don't know. Maybe I'm afraid he'll do what Kenny's done to me the past two years, and frankly I'm very tired of being Kenny's fool. I sent him this sugary, heartfelt little message on the night before Thanksgiving and got NO reply. The next day he sent me a message asking if the pharmacy was open, I said no and asked why, thinking something must be wrong, and all I got was "Ok, thanks." As it turns out, his stupid daughter and her doubly stupid boyfriend were doing something stupid on a motorcycle and wound up in the emergency room. Nothing big except for drama. He could have at least told me what was going on. He also inquired early on in the week if I was working that weekend and then left me with "Dur her, see ya in four days!" He did make a small effort to go out Sunday. At the last minute. Instead of replying I rolled over and went to sleep because we'd reheated Thursday's dinner and I was overfull and ready to give in to another Tryptophan coma. It also got me to thinking .  .  . all we ever do is eat. At that point I'd decided I was ready to just start giving him the cold shoulder. I was so tired of making myself available, offering to be there whenever he needed it, putting SO much effort into even just a friendship and having him blow me off all the time. The only time we ever keep plans together is if they're ones he's made, my suggestions to go to the beach or go away for the weekend never come to be. Also, and this one is huge . . . he doesn't know that I know, but our mutual friend Stevie has a gay dating app on his phone. Guess whose profile he found while browsing the local guys?

I have never flat out asked Ken "Hey, are you sure you're not gay?" But he's volunteered statements of "I'm straight!" and "Men hit on me but I only flirt back to get free drinks" and "I've never been with a man/I don't date men."

I have slept in the same bed with this person.

Sat with my arm around him and listened to him tell me about the time his sister almost disowned him.

Been his designated driver.

Let him know that I love him and am always there if he needs anything.

WHY would he feel the need to lie to me about something as important as this? I understand some people are uncomfortable with their sexuality, but this feels like a huge betrayal after all the other stuff he's trusted me with. I mean, just . . . why? It's not like I haven't suspected he bats for the other team already. He could have come clean about this years ago instead of letting me make a fool of myself trying to win him over or get his pants off. I have lots of gay/bi friends so he knows I don't have an issue with it. I've been willing to overlook a lot with him, but this is just too much. Maybe not on it's own, but with everything else, it's just too big. The final straw was petty, but disgusting enough to put the nail in the coffin. His status on Thanksgiving night (on which he blew off his Black Friday shift, therefore forfeiting his holiday pay, by the way):

"The farts im havin are contractions for the terds Im fixing to have."

Yeah, I think we're done here. Unsubscribe. So he's still there, but I don't have to read this rubbish anymore, I've been very happy. Last Sunday I told him to come to the pharmacy and I'd give him one of the cupcakes I brought. No reply, and he never poked his face in at us, either. Yesterday during work I received another text from him, asking if I was working and when I was going to lunch. I said at four. He replied that I really suck, because he's leaving at one and wanted to have lunch with me, and that he didn't feel right going to Moe's without me, but still that I sucked. I told him if he wanted to go that badly, he could stop being lazy and just come back at four and meet me. Needless to say there was no reply and at four, I found myself just sitting at the smoker's lounge with Dixie and the usual gang of troublemakers. Terry from produce has such a perverted sense of humor and a fast mouth, he slays me. Dirty old bastard. But we all love him. I'm not going to pine over lost opportunities to eat burritos with Ken anymore. If he wanted to see me that badly, he'd drive the lousy five miles back to town to do so, not just when it's convenient for him. I mean hell, even as a friend, he just sucks. I don't even bother inviting him to anything anymore.

And then there's Lab Rat, whom shall be referred to as such until a later time. What's on his feed?

Pictures of him with his robes and lightsabers. Holding swords. Or with a snake around his neck. Yes, a real, live, wriggling snake. Goofing off with friends at work. Star Wars prints that he's found on Deviantart. And my personal favorite thus far, Sesame Street's Count punching Edward Cullen in the face.

On Kenny's feed?

In a hotel room with bloodshot eyes. Taking shots. Drinking beer. Taking more shots. At his sister's house, so knock down drunk that he's got her bra on over his clothes.

 Admittedly, from the time he started working at Voldemart, I've always thought Lab Rat was very attractive. But he was young and incredibly thin and I doubted if he'd want to have anything to do with plump,unremarkable, close to thirty me. To be fair, it wasn't until recently that I finally seized the opportunity to let on I wasn't as young as I figured he thought I was. No, Mr. Sith Lord person, I am not 23. But THANK YOU, haha! It really hasn't stopped him doing what he does. Is the 28/22 thing still a little weird for me? You betcha. But on the other hand, a large part of me really does like the filthy messages. Knowing he's had fantasies about the two of us makes it sorely tempting to just bury my hands in all that messy black hair and lay one on him. And yet his offer to come over Thursday night scared the crap out of me because I was afraid he'd want to get physical. I should really go after this, at worst, he's a creepy little perv with unfortunate good looks. At best . . . I could go to ren-faires with someone like this. Cons. Movie openings. Theme parks. If I could just get him to pull his head out of the gutter and speak, he might be a really great person. I'm not gonna be hard on the socially awkward thing, because I've been there, and I'm still there to some extent, so I know where he's coming from. Talking to people you don't really know can suck, especially if you find them attractive. Last night as I was walking past photo lab to go clock out, there he was. I had to go that way, and due to the large amounts of large layaway items crammed back there for the season and the dozen or so people squeezed into line, I ended up having to squeeze right past him, literally. He never stopped looking at me and then the motherfucker with that evil smile had to go and wink. Blood. Suddenly there was less of it in my head and I felt the need to breathe deeply and go outside for fresh air. Gods, but it's awful how someone can make me come all undone and giddy. There's definitely something there, and damn, but I want him, I want to at least try.

Riding in cars with boys

Ok, so I drive a truck, but same difference. I'm still kind of expecting to wake up and find I've had yet another frustrating dream, but to my lasting surprise and pleasure, Pippy made plans with me over a week ago and KEPT them, for a change. One of the newer hires in his department wanted to have her birthday at the gay bar in Gainesville and told him the more people, the better, so last night I snatched him up along with his brother and our adorable bi friend, Stevie, cake-decorator extraordinaire. Get on the road, ask Pip if he really needs to pee that badly after he keeps complaining about it and get no for an answer. Pull over at an Advance Auto parts store 30 minutes later because he's changed his mind. Put on Lady Gaga to keep everyone awake and then get progressively more nervous as Johnny talks about it being an "Enter at your own risk" night at the club. I vaguely wondered what I've gotten myself into and if this is really a good idea, but keep on rollin', nonetheless.

Birthday girl is waiting for us and has been standing outside waiting for the place to open, she is entirely WAY too excited, meanwhile her husband is on the phone with Tom who has gotten lost despite having been there before. And maybe judge me if you will, but I was gonna be damned to be surrounded by ornery drunks all night and not have a couple of my own. But at least this time I paced myself; no chugging, shooting, or back to back, and it was pretty much worn off by the time we left. This poor girl had warned us time and time again all this past week that she gets a little 'crazy' when drunk and kept apologizing in advance for what she might do, and lawd, she wasn't joking. But no one else seemed to notice or if they did, they didn't care. I'd never seen Stevie drunk before and as it turns out, he's a complete and total lightweight and a whole 'nother aspect of his personality came out last night, it was amazing, he kept grinding with me and was just so different from the sweet, soft-spoken guy I've come to know at work. I've always had a fondness for "Bad Romance", but it will never  be the same again. I'm generally reluctant to dance because I suck at it, but hell, this song I knew so I'd at least get up and sing along badly, because Stevie won't laugh at me. Neither will birthday girl, because she is in fact, batshit at this point. She decided to swap partners with me and the next thing I know Pip's reached over and given me a violent and unexpected slap on the ass, which I return before thinking 'To hell with it!' , and then grabbed his face and licked him. I've been wanting to lick him for so very long and I didn't want to be regretting not doing it yet another time. I'm assuming he didn't mind since we spend the rest of the song facing each other and  . . . rubbing - somewhere in between Stevie and birthday girl turned it into a foursome. I am sure we looked as retarded as possible but I didn't care. Neither did anyone else. Whatever this guy really feels, he's at least not afraid to flirt anymore.Or maybe I'm just no longer afraid to look at him because I've finally accepted that he won't reject me, at least not on a friends level. Friends who are incredibly comfortable with each other at this point.

Honestly, my intentions last night were to genuinely make an effort to get this guy's clothes off before morning. However, seeing as he and Johnny live in a one-bedroom trailer and it was Johnny's turn to fight the dog for bedspace, the two of us ended up in the living room with him in a recliner and me curled up in the loveseat. Not exactly the best conditions for seduction. But the past two weeks have been very unusual with him. Firstly with him being so insistent and excited about last night's trip, and besides that, there was one day when he was trying to meet me for lunch. On his day off. That never happens. Didn't exactly work out, but still, he tried. He's also been responding to and initiating playfully inappropriate little messages via text and Facebook, and I like it. Whether or not it leads anywhere, I like it. I mean shit, I'm single and the only commitments I have are my truck payments and my pets, so why not? Fortunately despite the licking, spanking, and ass-groping, he was still talking to me in the morning. And as I laced up my shoes and we headed out this morning for breakfast (He paid, yay! I mean well, he BETTER have, after I hauled his drunk ass all over town last night!), my ass cheek still stinging and yesterday's eyeliner only just starting to smudge, I was comfortable, and I was happy.

I Feel Sullied and Unusual

And I . . . kind of like it?

As of late, I've continued shedding the Sunday School girl that I once was. I mean, I'm pretty sure she hitched up her skirts and ran shrieking from her new self a long time ago, but I still surprise myself sometimes. Last week, Tardy and her twin sister (also a tech in the pharmacy) had a birthday party. At first I wasn't going to go, then I remembered that I told T I'd bring her the Hypnotiq she wanted and that it'd be sucky to flake. Also, I'm trying my damndest not to be a flake because of how much frustration I know it causes me when people bail out on plans, although I'm not naming any names *cough* Ah, bother. I went with Dix because A., she had no ride there and really wanted to go, and B., T lives out in the middle of BumFuck, Egypt and I had no idea how to get there, she did. But I'd made up my mind to just get there, wish the girls happy birthday, and stay just long enough to not be rude and before everyone started going batcrap nuts.

So of course it made sense that two and a half hours later, after Dix took my phone away from me, I was slumped against T's husband's truck while he handed me a bottle of water and put a cold compress on my neck, assuring me that I had nothing to apologize for, even after I got rather disgustingly ill in the yard to everyone's amusement. I don't really remember how I got into the house and on the couch, although I learned later it was a former Voldemort employee who helped me inside. Honestly all I remember is him telling me not to step in the Jell-O on the kitchen floor. I also woke up in the morning to find that I'd sent Pip a text message that basically said “I wish you were here because I wanna do bad things to you.” I vaguely remember screaming at Dixie “TELL HIM I LOVE HIM. OH MY GOD TELL HIM. YOU'LL TELL HIM, RIGHT??!?!” after she had taken my phone away for the night and said she was going to blame herself for the nasty message I just sent, even though I fessed up to it later. When I looked in the mirror I discovered that someone had used colorstay lipstick to draw a penis on my face, with a heart above it. Definitely not my proudest moments at all, but I think I'll always look back on it fondly – my first, and hopefully last blackout.

And then we come to – he whom I shall call Lab Rat. Not that he lets people do science experiments on him (well, that I know if, anyways), but he works in the photo lab and for some reason reminds me just a teensy bit of a rat, but that's ok, because rats don't really squick me too much. He works in photo lab and has gotten shamelessly flirtatious with me over the past few months, mostly through Facebook. I forget when he started with the random smiley-only messages, but that went on for an insane amount of time and somehow morphed into him asking to see my boobs O_O. That's a hells to the no, so I sent him a very ugly photoshop I found instead, with the face on a girl's stomach and huge eyeballs on the tits. It really is very disturbing and he was appropriately freaked out by my Bazinga. And in all seriousness, no one is ever, ever getting a picture of my tits. One doesn't exist, one never will. But this weirdness continues. He's randomly stopped me to ask for a hug, said “I love you”, and once stopped me on my way out to give me a shoulder massage. This has all got me rather freaked out, to put it un-elegantly. Don't get me wrong, he's pretty. He's soooo pretty. But he just seems a little quirky and insecure, or worse, gun shy like Pip, and the undying 'show me your boobs' thing is a little off-putting. But my main reason for feeling a bit odd is the simple and ridiculous fact that he's 22 and I'm a little over a year from 30. Is that weird of me? Unfair? It's not as if he's been following me around being mushy and disgustingly lovelorn, we simply have agreed that each of us finds the other pleasing to the mortal eye. And while I certainly do enjoy the attention, the whole thing horrifies me and makes me feel just a little dirty and ashamed. I'm fairly confident that it'd be easy to just give in to this kid and make out with him like there's no tomorrow, but then I remind myself that I am a nearly thirty year old virgin with nary an experience with anything beyond a comfortable hug or drunken snuggles. The idea of having a first experience of any kind with someone barely old enough to graduate college makes me feel ashamed an inadequate. I'd always wanted an older man, or at least one closer to my age, to do all that for me, to teach me . . . things. It's no secret here that I'd had my sights set on the friendly neighborhood produce guy for that task, but I think he'd sooner be interested in letting me put lipstick on him. And believe me, I've actually tried to put lipstick on him – he wound up running halfway across a pub parking lot, and this was with him moderately smashed.

Loosely-moraled man-slut, Y U NO LET ME IN UR PANTS? He's either gay or I'm just not trashy enough for him O_o

Gods, this is one of those times when having been so sheltered growing up really sucks. I'm having this fantastic sexual tension thing going on, mutually for once, and I have no idea what to do about it.