Here I am, a gal, in her (mid) thirties, still single. I had imagined that by this point in my life, I would have stumbled across my future other half - The yin to my yang, the sprinkles to my doughnut, the cream cheese to my bagel. I don't believe that being in a relationship is the be all and end all of one's purpose of existence on Earth. I just assumed that I'd have a partner in crime by now. And not for reproduction purposes either. I am pleased to announce that the old, biological clock in this old maid still hasn't started incessantly ticking as of yet. I suppose what I'm searching for is a companion. A part time lover and a full time friend. Are there any men out there searching for the same thing? Or, are all of the blokes in my appropriate side-kick age bracket still in relationships with their high school sweetheart / first wife / other generic significant other? Have their previous relationships ended so badly that they too are sworn off the opposite sex, like me? Whatis going on in this crazy, mixed up world?
Most recently I introduced you to the Tattooed Man. A conquest eleven years in the making and this is where I'm headed with today's tale. To refresh your memory, the Tattooed Man and I met way back in 2005. He was married and I had just started dating (I hate that phrase) fucking, I was fucking The Orangutan. Sure we flirted, I mean I was a horny 23 year old and he had a sexy accent and a dick. What wasn't to be drawn to? But nothing ever came of it... Until we fast forward eleven years into the future and we happen to bump into each other through work. We added each other to Facebook and have random chats here and there. We agree to meet up for a few drinks. I went to his place, drank some wine and we fucked like horny teenagers with the house to themselves. I had a great time. He had a great time. I left the next day and we continued to chat over the next few months. We tried syncing rosters so that we could arrange another time for a romp. This proved extremely hard, as we're both shift workers. The flirty banter continued as I patiently waited for my next chance.
Which brings me to an incident that took place about a month or so ago. Our opposing footy teams were due to clash. I proposed that the person whose team lost the match would owe the other a BJ. He accepted the bet, and a few hours later, my team won. I received the following message "I will be licking you on Sat night." I checked my schedule was clear and booked him in. I even offered a consolation BJ to which he responded "If you can get my throbbing cock out of your vag you're more than welcome". Awww yes! Come to Mamma! The evening before the big event he requested a rain check, and because I'm not needy or clingy I told him that was cool. I wasn't cool, I was disappointed, but I had hope that we would reschedule in the coming weeks. I was wrong, oh so very wrong. See screen shots below for maximum WTF value (some details obscured to keep shit anonymous).
Ten days later I did the dumbest thing a cool, casual chick like me could do. I drunk texted him to reschedule his bogus rain check! He read my message and never replied. I was heartbroken. Well maybe not heartbroken, perhaps I was more disappointed in both he and myself. Him, because he has turned out to be just like all of the others preceding him, but more so me. I'm so disappointed with myself for letting my feelings get involved. When will I ever learn. Isn't it human nature to grow and develop our character, to learn from our past mistakes that hurt us so much?
Which now brings me to the finale of this particular chapter of my uneventful sex life. The very next day after my massive faux pas, and every few days since, he has been posting photos and commentary of activities and outings and even an exotic holiday on Facebook, complete with tags of his new female companion. *face palm* It reeks of bad manners and insensitivity. Meanwhile, he had at least two opportunities to let me off the hook when I was throwing drunk self at him. That's not the worst bit. The worst part is even though there's fresh meat on the scene, he still remains active on the dating website we're both on. I wonder if she knows? Perhaps that will be another story down the road. For now, I'm left pondering, should I call the mysterious Mr M? He could very well be the key of turning my uneventful sex life into the rampant dream that I crave. He might even be the chocolate chip to my cookie...
