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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.
I wish I could say this was a one-time thing, but it’s not the first time I’ve been the other woman. I’m not proud of it & I don’t know why I’m always the lucky girl this happens too. It’s not like I didn’t come from a good home, my parents love each other and never had any major martial problems. I’m sure if Hank(my Dad) did step out on Nora (my Mom), she would stab him in his sleep – plus, they would never bearable to afford two divorce lawyers. No, after 40-something years of marriage, they’re still painfully in love and they still kiss before my Dad leaves for work in the morning. It’s adorable.
I hate them and their happiness.I’ve lost 300 pounds (21 stone) and I’d like to think I don’t have to make the same mistakes I made when I was the size of a manatee. I want to find that one person who accepts me – for the good and the bad and sticks by my neurotic ass no matter what – whether it’s God awful and going down like the Hindenburg or when everything is perfect and we’re tip toeing thru the tulips.
Sorry, I had the weird urge to listen to Tiny Tim and you need to suffer along with me.If only I could be that cold, heartless beast who feels nothing.Life would be so much easier. Not really, but you know what I mean. As much as I don’t see myself as the marrying kind(lies), the idea of dying alone and unloved is scary and the funny thing is – these thoughts never popped in my head or bothered me when I was a cow like creature roaming around beautiful downtown Boston. For whatever reason, since losing the weight – I want more out of life. I don’t want to be the hose bag side dish, who settles – I want it all. *bangs head* It’s embarrassing. I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I could lock up these feelings and throw away the key. But I can’t. I have to own it and deal with it. Can you reprogram an evil (yet adorable) woman overnight, so she forgets all the horseshit stuff from the past and sticks to what she’s good at? Being cold, funny and not caring about being alone?
No? Thanks for nothing. Now, before you start judging me on my selection of men – I didn’t know he was married. The man in question didn’t wear a ring and he sold me a false bill of goods. Found out that ‘his place’ was actually his friend’s place. He’s just watching it while his friend is working in China. He redid everything to make the apartment to look like his! He went so far & swapped out his friend’s pictures for his! Ok, so that is probably something a crazy person does – but he did it and surprisingly enough, I thought he was normal. Needless to say, I’m horrible judge of character. In a weird, sick way, I’m flattered he did all that to get me. But that’s also something a crazy person says.
Once again, horrible judge of character – I’m sure Mary Jo Kopechne’s mom was a lot like me. “You want to go to a party and the Kennedy boy will drive you home? That sounds lovely, tell Teddy I said ‘H!’
So I guess I should share with you how I found out. We had gone out on a few dates and started sleeping with each other as soon as humanly possible. I move quickly – I know, I know. I shouldn’t. Thanks for the lecture, Mom! Listen, I liked him and I knew the feeling was mutual – so why not rush into something and potentially ruin it with sex?
That’s healthy, right? We were at ‘his place’ and we had just finished up. It was late, he was just popped into the bath for a shame shower and his phone started to ring.
“Can you get that?” And that’s when it went downhill. See, he got cocky and thought he was in the clear. It’s a rookie mistake and let’s face it – we’ve all made them. I hadn’t gotten the sentence “He’s in the shower, can I take a message?” out of my mouth, before the women on the other end of the phone started freaking out. “Who the fuck is this? I knew that motherfucker was up to something! Tell that asshole that his WIFE wants him home right now, because he needs to get up early tomorrow and start looking for a good lawyer! “
Me – Yes, ma’am.
“Fuck you, whore!” *dial tone*
Well, that was uncalled for. I fought back the urge to call her back, scream at her and explain my side of the story. But since I didn’t want to be hunted down by a more than likely unstable woman and die a painful death, I decided against it. I mean, she did have a right to be mad. I would be too. But it’s not my fault he’s a fool with amazing taste in side pieces. I sat for a min or two in shock and then he walked out of the bathroom, completely clueless to what just occurred.
“Was that my office?”
“No,” I said and smiled. I got up, gave him a kiss and punched him in the stomach.
I often wonder what causes a person that starts speaking in tongues, but that’s the best way to describe the verbal bashing I gave him. I cursed him out. I cursed out his parents for raising him poorly. I cursed his wife out for giving him a reason to cheat and for cursing me out. I followed that up with another punch to the gut and throwing a lamp at him on my way out. Probably overkill, but I didn’t want to leave any stone (or lamp) unturned.
He’s called a couple times since the proverbial shit hit the fan. I’ve been ignoring his calls, mainly because if I answer the phone – I’ll more than likely have the urge to throw it against a wall and I’m not eligible for an upgrade until the summer. IPhones & Lumias are expensive.
I thought everything was supposed to be easier when you got skinny? Lies, all lies! Listen, I know life wasn’t going to be magical and wonderful when I got to my goal size – but seriously? I have to deal with this nonsense now? I just want my day in the sun and not have to deal with this bullshit constantly. Evidently my weight loss turned me into one of those insufferable Taylor Swift creatures who are awful human beings and impossible to deal with. I missed the whole thing about losing weight turns you into a moron.
The funny thing is, if my life was rainbows and sugar-free lollipops, I’d complain about how bored I was.
I’m a complicated woman. Maybe that’s my problem? Hardly, I’m an asshole who’s asking for too much.
The Brits welcomed me back for a third time and you get to see what I looked like PRE SURGERY.