Note from the author: I’ve been sitting on this piece for a while and I haven’t had time to write about my last train wreck situation. So here’s something to hold you over while I have time to clank on the keyboard tomorrow. Thanks, marmalade nipples!
Fast forward Margaret Cho clip to 8:31….best way to start off this piece.
So I need to be reminded (a lot), that I’m not the same girl I once was. Like, if I’m shopping – I still go for the big girl stores or the big girl section and after looking around for a few minutes – I figure it out. By the way, I saw a G-string last week and I fit in one leg holes. I knew they made these things when I was humongous and big girls should be able to feel sexy too. But boy shorts look way better, ladies.
Because these habits are hard to break, I need to constantly remind myself that I don’t have to fall back on certain acts to get him interested in me and to get a second date. Keeping that side of me under control has been tough, but the game has changed and I’m not saying I don’t have to be a complete whore to keep a guy interested in me. But I can be a little more selective than I was before.
I think I had sex more back then, than I do now. Christ that’s sad. I know that’s not exactly the visual you needed (a 400 lb. woman, nude and getting plowed) or wanted to have today. But it amuses me that I’ve tainted your poor, little brains.
“So I don’t mean to be rude. But are you a virgin?”
My date asked me that, 15 minutes after we sat down. Mind you, he was 10 minutes late, so asking me if I still had my V Card is yet another way to end up on the shit list. I’m not so much offended that he assumed I was still a virgin, because Lord knows I do when I lay my eyes on some people out there. But I’m more annoyed by him just asking me that question in the first place. I fully admit to sharing too much, but you just don’t ask that 15 minutes into the first date. Maybe asking it mid-way thru the second or third date – but not on the first one.
“My ex use to eat like a pig. You’re only having a salad? I like you!”
My surgically modified stomach is a big selling point for guys out there and he’s not the first guy to say that to me.
So yeah, he got off on the wrong foot and I assume the date was going to end with me excusing myself to the bathroom and heading straight for the door. I’ve done it before and I’m a fan of the sneak away. I did it once to a guy at a Red Sox game. I ended up running into each other two years later…at a Red Sox game. We had a laugh, but he proceeded to email me for a month asking me why I bailed and asking me to tell him what he did wrong. Like I’m going to remember stuff like that, I use to drink a lot. I barely remember half of the guys I’ve slept with – do you honestly think I’m going to remember what caused me to pop on Iron Maiden and ‘Run to the hills…’?
While I was nibbling on my salad, I noticed the people sitting next to us were being obnoxiously adorable and lovey and I thought about throwing gasoline on them and lighting a match. They were doing the horse shit you do when you’re 11teen and you think you’re in love and all you do is kiss and hold hands and make the general public nauseous. We’ve all been there, but it’s something you grow out of and if you’re doing that now, you’re either on a tremendous amount of drugs or you ride the short bus and are developmentally challenged.
While I was going thru a barrage of inappropriate questions from my suitor, the truly, madly, deeply duo hit a snag and that’s when my date started to get better.
I know I shouldn’t take pleasure in other people’s pain. But when you watch something melt down in front of you in an amazing, ‘Dynasty’-like fashion…it’s superb.
Long story short, she wanted to bring him home and spend a week with her parents and according to him, they had been only dating for a few weeks and he didn’t think it was appropriate. He’s right, but then again I’ve never introduced any of the guys I’ve dated to my parents. It would have been awkward to explain that it’s basically just a sex thing and there’s more romance at a sperm bank.
Then again, it could be worse. I could be bringing guys from the ‘Casual Encounters’ section on Craigslist to meet my parents. Hank and Nora would LOVE that.
Back to the train wreck exploding in front of us, I understood his hesitation and I knew my date did too. We(my date and I) started passing notes back and forth to each other about how BS crazy she was and figuring out ways he could make a swift exit and enter into the witness protection program.
It got tense real quick and we tried to figure out how we could hide the knives and get extra napkins for the blood spatter. Their date ended with her storming out in tears, while he got drunk and wandered off. We spotted him walking out of dark alley with his second date for the evening. She was gorgeous and she decided to show the world she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She’s a woman on the go and she couldn’t be bothered with extra clothing restricting her movement…..of her balls.
We(my date and I, not the hooker and I – although, I’d love to know how the lady boy cleans up in a pinch and goes back on her ho’stroll like nothing ever happened) chatted some more during the walk and that’s where the old me revealed herself, like the great and powerful Oz.
Now, as I mentioned before – I have no intentions on going on a second date with him or calling him. It’s a one and done thing. But he did buy me dinner and we did end up having a decent time.
Here’s where old me came out of the wood work – I don’t know how to end things. In my head, I feel like I owe him one. I mean, he asked me out and took me out to a nice meal and even though I’m a cheap date, I feel like I owe him one.
There’s some weird glitch with my brain. I can’t take a compliment, I make a joke out of everything and whenever someone takes me out on a date, I feel like I repay them with head. It’s my version of the consolation prize you’d get after losing on a game show.
I guess there are worse things I could be giving them. I knew a girl in college who gave her dates herpes. “But I’m allergic to condoms!” Bitch please. See! Giving a few extra blow jobs isn’t so bad after all. Besides, it’s my way of giving back to the community.
I’m the Mother Theresa of sexual favors.