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Thursday, December 29, 2011

Those who can't do.... Teach! (Yeah I dated my teacher...)

"Talk to me. Tell me. Tell me you're my good girl."

A strange way to begin but we have to start somewhere. It's been said that those who can't do, teach. How exactly that fits into my situation will determine your interpretation. It's true. I dated my teacher. Don't worry he isn't a pedophile. When he was teaching me I was 15 or 16 years old. It wasn't until many years later about 11 or more that I actually dated him. (No that is not his picture, you know I keep everyone safe!)

I remember sitting in his class. Thinking how intelligent and clever he was. He was young black hair tall with blue eyes. At my age I hung on his every word. Everything he said seemed completely important and I thought he would be the man who would and could change the world, definitely, for the better. He was my school age crush. Sure I had boys my age that I had crushes on. But I was in awe of him. I remember in great detail nearly everything he said, taught and the way he would pace back and forth when he would be passionate about whatever it was he was lecturing on.

He seemed perfect. I even think he married his high school sweet heart and together they had children, the house, the dog and the perfect life or so one would think. It wasn't until he came back into my life that I began to actually know who he was.

Now divorced, sexually repressed by a wife who put the Bible in place of her bedroom activity, he was jaded. Not the brilliant man I remembered. His hair now that salt and pepper coloring but still intelligent. Still bright blue eyes but yet he no longer seemed to be able to change the world. It was I who challenged him to at least start changing his students. To at least make a difference in their lives that way he had mine so long ago.  Whatever life had done to him, had took the life out of him somehow.

I enjoyed his intelligence. I was happy having intelligent conversation and could not only debate but share ideas on education and my thoughts for now how I would change the world. Which were eagerly dismissed, I didn't understand teaching, I didn't understand teaching to test. That didn't bother me.  It challenged me.  And though he thought my ideas were radical I still enjoyed the witty banter that occurred. It's sometimes hard to match wits with someone.

Though I welcomed his knowledge and the idea of a brilliant mind being able to converse with me, he looked at me as a young girl who would be able to help with the outlet of his years of sexual oppression.  Though he would deny that wasn't the case, the conversations became less intelligent and more sexual.  Was I interested in him? Absolutely, however I am a good girl and going that route and trying to pressure me into anything was not going to work. I was not the young impressionable high school girl day dreaming any longer.  

Call me crazy. But I am not a "talker". I do not talk about my feelings openly, my problems and I especially do not talk dirty. It's just not my thing. On one particular event I remember him asking me "Did you ever think you would be here kissing me?"  Was this a god like complex or a serious question. No I honestly didn't consider that it would happen but to bring it up now seems a bit inappropriate. If I would have asked him the same question, it would have been perverse seeing how I was a child when he knew me.

I think my rules when fooling around or making out whatever you want to call it, mouths should be used for other things and not for talking. So shut up and get to it. Not in this case. If the rules applied there would be no blog. And so let the make out conversation begin...

*Talk to me.

(long pause... )

me: What do I say?

*Talk dirty to me?

( In thought: Rain makes mud puddles.) Try to avoid it and kiss again. Nope

*Talk to me. Tell me you're a good girl.

me: Um I'm a good girl.

*Tell me you're my good girl.

(In thought: Seriously... so uncomfortable.)

*It gets easier the more you do it. Just talk to me.

Try to avoid it again. Nope

*Tell me. Say it.

(Seriously uncomfortable)

me: I'm just not good at talking it's not my thing.

*Come on. Tell me. Say you're my good girl.

All this talking and we weren't even doing anything but kissing. So every time he stopped to talk I lay there in the dark completely numb. I had no interest. This whole talking wasn't doing anything for me at all. I didn't like it and I felt stupid. And then he said...

*Tell me you're a good girl who will take care of her man. Tell me you're my good girl and you're going to take care of me the way a good girl should.

Oh my god! Am I a child? I feel like I should be in piggy tails with catholic school girl uniform on in some bad porn. I am not YOUR anything. I do not get off on conversation during kissing. I do not want to talk. Either kiss me or shut up and go to sleep something. But stop talking to me.

*Tell me you want to fuck me.

As if my silence was not point enough that I didn't feel like talking. That I didn't find it sexy. That I did not want to do it. That I did not get turned on by listening to him talk. Did it stop of course not! Nothing goes my way. And he continued on and on...

Years ago I hung on his every word. Now all I wanted him to do was stop talking.

 But as he would say he liked me for my mind. He liked me because I was intelligent. He liked me because I was "cute".  When it comes down to it, he liked me because I was everything his wife wasn't and he thought that I would be a ticket to his ultimate fantasies played out over and over.  I was his ticket out of middle aged man and back to his youth that was deprived by his wife and family. I would be his second chance to do all the things he couldn't with his wife. All the things she refused to do. I was his ticket to paradise.

Too bad, he wasn't mine.  I will be anything for the right person. But I will not be used and mislead by the wrong ones with fancy words and false promises.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

What beautiful eyes you have and what um... teeth ewwwww!

While having a conversation with a friend of mine he brought up a very valid point. Maybe it isn't the type of men I date, maybe it's the type of men I set out and attract. At first I found this absurd. After all how could I be sending off signals to date such horrible men?  Men who jack off on my shirt, men who only need their nipples do get off and of course the men who graciously share pictures of their penis' with me? No one wants those men and yet they seem to find me. Or... do I find them?

I, Single girl, happen to be a very good girl. I have morals and values and even standards that some people can't even define. I have a very clear image of what I want and yet I settle for so much less.

 It wasn't until a few months later that I was having a conversation with my therapist that I realized I do set myself up for a damaging plot. However, in my defense they make amazing stories to share and the readers demand a good story!  I will gladly set myself up for failure for your entertainment of course, but how healthy can that be for me? Not that I'm selfish but come on. Is that sane?

Why on earth would anyone set themselves up for failure after failure? Why would I set my radar for expectations that are so low that most rocks and brick walls can live up to them? It all boils down to my own self worth. How I view myself. And believe it or not ladies and gentlemen and the creepy ones who stalk me, I have a very low opinion of myself.

I talk a big game, it's true. For it's much easier to pretend to be completely amazed by yourself and your own awesomeness, than to show everyone how completely vile you feel you are. If you can't love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love anyone else? Or have anyone love you for who you are?

It's completely possible that I have dated a few normal guys. Normal being a standard term used for people not necessarily blog worthy due to their lack of originality. And believe it or not some of them have complained they have not been blogged about. However, being in my blog doesn't make you honorable. In my blogs you should take the walk of shame! Sure there are one's that may have had some weird quirks about them and one day I'm sure I will blog about them as well. But for now it's too soon.

For now, let me leave you with a quickie dating story. That's what we've all come here for anyways a good story. So here goes:

I had found Mr. Perfect. Handsome, tall, charming, sweet, thoughtful, sarcastic and clever enough not to make him a wimp, a beautiful man who bordered rugged man verses model. His pictures had a serious smirk to them, bedroom blue eyes that stared right into you! He had all the things that I thought I wanted in a person. He worked which was a big step up for me. He had two cars, a house, a garage, pets and no children.

He was a few years older than me, well established in his career and loved his mother dearly. They say a man who loves his mother and treats her well with do the same for you.  I find this border line, luckily he was anything but a momma's boy. After weeks of talking to him and his wonderful manly phone voice we set a date for dinner and a movie. Typical slightly, however, I will take typical when Mr. Perfect comes along.

He pulled up in my drive way (yes I actually let him pick me up) and he stepped out of his car and I opened the door to see this handsome man walking towards me and I swear for a moment I forgot to breathe and then it happened.... all was ruined.

He smiled.

My heart sank and I became sick. He barely had teeth! What teeth he did have were nearly filled or grinded down to numbs. They were brown and tainted by lack of hygiene or gum disease possible both. I couldn't look at him, because all I could see, his entire face became his teeth. His mouth moved awkwardly as he spoke and his teeth so small they barely touched top to bottom, making his jaw lay crooked.  

As he spoke, when he laughed, while he ate, I couldn't focus on anything but how poor his teeth were kept. How vile and disgusting they were, what little he had left of them. This is why he never smiled. This was the reason for his serious smirk pictures! Why hadn't I have thought to ask about his teeth?

Is that something you should have to ask someone? Show me your teeth? Let me see your dental records? When was the last time you went to the dentist? How often do you brush and floss? NO! These are things that people should do so why was I having a date with the only person who obviously eats brown sugar coated glass for breakfast lunch and dinner?

Teeth and I can never be. There isn't enough dental work in the world to make me forget the vile smile that faced me that day. Shuddering at the thought....

that is all.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Tame your one eyed snake!

Unless I ask the answer is “No”

Being a single girl, who does happen to like men, I find it fascinating how willing most men are to send pictures of their penis via cell phone. I honestly do not understand this. I wouldn’t consider myself a visual person in that sense. A picture of a stand up one eyed willy does little for my arousal needs. I figure it must be an ego boost for them.  And when I do not reply I always get the ‘so did you get it, what did you think?’ question.
To answer that????
I think it’s a penis. I’m not quite sure because my conversation was not leading to the direction of asking for a picture of your dick. Therefore, I wonder how and why this popped into my inbox on my phone. Just because you have a camera on your phone and a penis does not mean you should use the two together.  If we’re friends and I’m talking to you it’s not because of your penis. As a matter of fact, if you end up sending me a picture like that chances are you will not be talking to me anymore!

Recently, I was chatting with a guy via text who was all cocky and arrogant and I could see his charm was definitely not sincere and his ego was overwhelming. So I asked him “What’s your deal? You’re obviously cute and full of it so what’s behind that?”
He replies “Well… I’ve been hurt.”
My thought and immediate response was “Haven’t we all? So tell me what you’re hiding behind what’s your story?”
“You really want to know? Are you sure you can handle it?” he asks.
“Yes I really want to know what your issue is.” (this talk comes from my own therapy sessions I’m sure. I realize we use masks of humor and egotistical remarks to make sure that our own insecurities are hidden. Feeling very proud of having asked an in depth question and thinking that I would actually get a thoughtful answer I waited on his reply. About five minutes after my question he replied.

I opened the text and there stood his (what I referred too as) his number two pencil sized penis with the extra eraser on its tip. I was not the slightest bit impressed (I’m normally not) and I replied:
“That was not an invitation requesting a picture of your dick!”
He lol-ed and said “you asked what was hiding… there it is unhidden.”

Let’s forget the fact that I didn’t ask. One that’s not even clever and two I’m not impressed. If you’re going to brag at least have something to brag about. If I don’t ask I don’t want to see it. I have no desire to see most men’s penis’. I’d like to see as few of them as possible because they’re not really all that cute.

And guys who are reading this, just know that if you do send pictures of your penis to girls chances are they show their friends even if they say they don’t. And usually we laugh. So be careful with your camera and your “tickle pickle” (the thought is quite disturbing).