Do Only One Thing

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Okay so guys listen up. 

If you read the previous post about the MILF’s then I will tell you that one of them called me just out of the blue the other night and willingly spoke to me for almost an hour. And I was talking about how I just wanted to make her smile and her response was “Why do you think I called?”

We continued our conversation about just how simple it is to make the day into complete and total perfection for a woman that can be easily done by a man. 

Ready for this valuable information???

Do ONE simple thing for her. Just one thing. And it doesn’t even have to be something so expensive or time consuming. Do one simple thing that will let her know that you are thinking about her. 

An e-mail that tells her something. A text message that you are daydreaming about her. A quick voice mail on her busy cell phone that is turned off so that she is not distracted by the ringing during her important part of the day or work.

So I took these things into consideration and tested them out on one of the two MILF’s and a new MILF that crossed my path. (Note: the MILF from Canada takes things too literal and so… she’s out.) 

The original MILF, I sent a text message in the morning… saying that the skies were clear and the sun was bright but not as bright as she is. It wasn’t much but she LOVED IT! So much did she love it that she expressed herself back in reciprocation in ways that I had never heard her speak to me before. 

The new MILF I randomly sent a text message to, saying that I could swim in her blue eyes forever. Which is borderline everything in the book …. but you know what??? It made her pay attention to me for the rest of the afternoon until she had no other choice but to end the conversation. But quickly invited me to contact her later. 

One thing guys. Only do one thing. 

Give her a LOVE BOMB if you feel so inclined. 

The thing about it, is that she’s going to see that she’s been on your mind for at least 30 seconds and she’s going to take that into consideration and feel wanted, desired, and appreciated. 

And oh, the bonus points you’ll end up receiving unknowingly. They will remember and they will reward. 

So remember: Do only one thing to capture her attention. And then go from there. 

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An Ancient Missed Opportunity Lost In Time

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I received a telephone call from a male colleague of mine as he sat there beating himself up for what he called the stupidest things that he did in his entire life. 

He blew his chance to get laid by this woman that he was talking to. He had met her, picked her up, brought her home to his place…. and still he failed. 

It caused me to think back to a time back in the 1990’s where I went to visit central Iowa based on the fact that I called a group of girls who were roommates a bunch of chickens, that they wouldn’t take the drive from Iowa to Kansas where I was living at the time. And before I knew it they were on their way. 

They were known for having chat room parties in their home. They got together with a bunch of people from the state of Iowa frequently and even though I was not from Iowa they accepted me into their group. 

Until I got to talking one-on-one with one of the roommates… believing that she found me dashing and charming and all of that. 

Well when I called these roommates a bunch of chickens, they were gone the next morning and drove straight through. I think it was at least a ten hour drive for them. And THEN they stopped by my place.

I got to hang out with the girl that I thought was getting sweet on me, and I on her. But she nipped that really fast. Long before they even left my home. And I wondered what the hell was going on with her. To be fair, I had been warned about her by her other roommates but I did not listen all that well.

So off I went to be shown off like a prize trophy in a state that I had never been to before. 

As a child I had always wanted to visit all fifty states of the United States of America. Depending on what your opinion is on airports, I may or may not have to do Minnesota and North Carolina over again. But back then it was going to be Iowa. During winter. In February. Geez, what the hell was I thinking or not thinking???

Ten hours back with them and agreeing to stay with them for seven days and then being promised to be returned in one piece. Back then, meeting someone from the Internet wasn’t as scary as it is today. You either trusted the other person or you did not. There was no in between on the situation. If you did, you went for the face-to-face, if you didn’t… then you didn’t speak of it being an option. 

I rolled out during the night and got to their home the following morning just an hour or so after the sun had come up. 

By that Wednesday, another chat room gathering had been announced but everything was in MY HONOR. “COME AND MEET HIM!” they told everyone. And everyone who was an hour and a half or less away came over. 

Here’s where the similiarties come in from my colleague and the part of the story you really are interested in.

There was a woman who came to visit by the name of Joanna. She was known in the chat room as lively, bubbly, flirty, and just a fun time gal. But she was single. And she had a small child. But other than that… she was a trip and a half!!!! 

People started passing out from drinking. They slept where they fell. Joanna had put her child to bed in the other room. But she camped out near the mattress that was laid out on the living room floor. 

When I realized that the one roommate was just playing games, I quickly moved on to talking with Joanna until 3 or 4 in the morning. But drinking all that beer got me in a nice tight spot. Do I make a move on her and then run the risk of pissing all over her because I had to pee or do I go take a leak and kill an opportunity that was before me. 

I remember leaning over and trying to kiss her on the neck, to signal that I was willing and ready for her. But she turned her head and my beer soaked lips slid across the bottom of her ear along her ear lobes to where it felt pretty damn slimy!

I could have gone for other places on the head. Forehead, cheek, nose, mouth even. But I went for the neck and missed. 

The humiliation set in, and the beer was starting to float from my bladder into my skull as my eyes began to float. 

People with disabilities like mine don’t wanna fight the bladder. It never ends up good. So I excused myself but I begged her NOT to go anywhere at all and I made her promise that she wouldn’t move. Over and over again, I made her promise. 

After that I crawled among the sleeping bodies on the floor as I made my way to the bathroom. A bathroom that didn’t have heat and so when I sat down on that toilet seat, I damned near froze my ass to it!!

But I survived. Now the bladder was not such a threat of going vigilante on me and I could proceed with the odd-filled romantic mood with Joanna. 

Joanna however went into the other room and she was out like a light. Less than three minutes of being absent… I found her laying next to her son asleep and snoring like a crazed motherfucker on a mission to cut down the Amazon rain forest single-handedly. 

Joanna was gone. That moment passed. Opportunity missed. And she was going to go back home in the morning. With her child being awake…. nothing was going to happen between her and I. 

And that’s what came to my mind when I heard about my colleague who brought this woman to his house. He excused himself to answer the telephone since it was his work. And when he came back to her, she had left. He claims he was gone ten minutes at the most. But she ran off. 

He went driving to look for her and he found her up the street. So he zoomed off to reach her, but she cut across someone’s yard, jumped over a fence and disappeared. 

I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what was said before all of that. I just know that he found her in public, said the right things for her to let him take her to his place. And then she bailed. 

Poor bastard cannot catch a break. 

Apparently, neither can I. Even after almost fifteen years. 

Okay, Now What?

 

314864_259523324157339_177940878_nFor a colleague: 

You said you found her many years ago. Sprawled across pages and pages of the Internet, looking hotter than anything else you have ever laid your eyes upon.  Now what?

You said you have been following her modeling career online for as long as possible and as much as possible, but you could never get enough of her. Now what?

You said that you found her website and she’s sexy as hell. But she has no posted nudes and you don’t know whether or not she has done any. But you’ve found a ton of photographs and modeling jobs that she’s done in the most recent past. Now what?

You said you’ve joined the website. You’re paying every 90 days for content that is basically still the same. You want more and have made the suggestion for her to do live video chats. And you’ve sent that suggestion via an e-mail. Now what?

You said that things could only get better from here on. And that you had heard a rumor that she’s going to be selling merchandise and its your dream to own everything that there is to be sold. But you do not have a steady job and your spare time is spent on the website gazing for something new and fresh. Now what?

You said that she answered you back via e-mail. And you are thrilled to have what you think is her personal e-mail address (even though the ending part is part of the website she runs). Now what?

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You said that she’s now willing to do one-on-one video chats with people who have membership to her website. And this means you are also being offered that option. She’s offering to talk to you for two full hours for $2,500. Now what?

You said that you do not know how long it is going to take you to save up that kind of money but you are going to go for it. Because you feel that need and burning desire to talk to her personally because she needs to know how you feel. I said red flag and fucking warned you to stop.

You said you didn’t care. You want to be with her so bad that you will do anything that it takes so that she can see your side of things and you are going to hope for the best that she will see that you are true and the rest are fake. Now what?

You woke me up at 4:30 in the morning because you had been online all night long and you realized that you stumbled across her REAL name and not her modeling/stage name and you’ve been searching Google since before midnight. You confirmed that this was her real name somehow. Then I hung up on you. Now what?

You said that you stumbled further into greater things as you now have found out where she lives. The city and state is now revealed to you because you have constantly searched and have not given up. She lives 1,204.43 miles away. But you know exactly where and that information was found for free. Now what?

You said you figured out a lot about her personal life and you don’t agree with it at all. Her politics, morals, values, and issues are all wrong in your eyes because she believes in the total opposite of you. You are upset and angry because she’s not the perfect angel you dreamed her to be… but she’s still hot. Now what?

Dear colleague: 

Everyone on the planet has that certain someone that gives us this hope, this idea, this fantasy that keeps our spirits raised and our feelings happy. They give us the joy that we have seemingly been searching for all of our lives. We believe they are “the ONE” even though we don’t know a damned thing about them.

But now you must answer these questions. Not for me, not for your friends, not for your co-workers, and definitely not for your mother… but for yourself!!! What are you going to do now??

Chances are that this model, although appreciative of your continued support and kindness and undying faithfulness to her career, will not give a shit about you personally. You are nothing to her… truth be told. 

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As much as you may like, even if you bump into her on the streets, she’s not going to simply fall into your arms and love you forever.

Even if you were to find her on the streets- you are but a stranger to her and so why should she just fall into your arms and love you forever? Only because you would love for that to happen! With the amount of effort, time, and money that you have spent on her or on things related… the best you are going to get is probably her to personally say “Thank you!” and that will be the end of it.

There is this word called “obsession” however I am afraid that you have that in the rear view mirror. And you’re on a dangerous path. I fear for her safety as well as yours. Keep yourself at a safe distance from her. Associate and communicate with her as you would your own mother, sister, niece, or aunt. Stop telling her how hot she is — she’s heard it before!! And you won’t be the last person tell her that either. Dial it back…. A LOT! Disaster is on the horizon and its coming in hard and fast. Slow it down to minimize your emotional damage and pain. 

 

The MILF Whisperer

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Depending on your point of view, I either have the worst luck or I have the best of luck and just don’t know what the heck to do with it. 

So now that the author is in, out, and gone in under 24 hours… I found myself in a situation where I was faced by two cougars. I guess I could call it “A Tale Of Two Kitties” but what porn company hasn’t done that one to death already?? The pussy reference is just so overused to begin with.

Two women purportedly in their 50’s in my face with full disclosure and feeling no shame about it. 

Contestant number one is an import from Spain. Landing in Winnipeg, Canada. A married woman of over 30 years, a mother, and seemingly a stay-at-home situation for her. Although I do not fully know her home or house situation. 

A woman of a high income household. Probably based on the fact that her husband is bringing it all home and by the fists and pockets full. It does make me wonder if she’s been a career trophy wife or not???

Being that she is originally from Spain, she speaks Spanish. Being that she does live in Canada, she speaks some French. So I have a one in three shot as far as languages go to get her attention and have her find it charming. Commonly it is Spanglish…. 

But she comes across wicked flirtatious. It is almost to the point where I begin to think that she’s looking for something or someone to fill a void in her life that her husband cannot give to her. Again, I speculate. However that sort of vibe is there. It has been the habit of her to speak in Spanish whenever she speaks in tones of the lovey-dovey. Not so much “muy romantico” but if she’s talking about forms of affection, she switches over to Spanish until she’s made her point and then comes back to English. To me, that is suspicious. 

Her family takes extended long winter vacations. They escape the cold arctic blasts of ice and snow and freezing temperatures and run to the villas of port cities of Mexico. 

I mean clearly, if they are doing that every winter and are staying for months at a time– I mean who can afford a Mexican vacation for two solid months?? SOMEONE has a bit of coin in their pocket!!! But their financial status is honestly none of my concern. 

And yet somehow I feel it still fits the stereotype of man who makes money, nabs trophy wife, has family, lives life of luxury… rinse and repeat. 

If the life of the wife is not ended by the knife, and things are hunky-dory, then why …. WHY OH WHY would there be any need for her to come on to me like that? And of course, there’s always the obligatory comment of having to leave and will talk later and what not. One could only think that its to not to be discovered. 

Now she’s contemplating to move things over to text messaging. 

And if what I think is true– wouldn’t that be something far more dangerous than communicating with someone via the Internet? Its quicker, its more personal, its faster, and a lot easier to be discovered. 

But that is assuming this woman has something to hide.

"Oh yeah. How do you want me, baby?"

“Oh yeah. How do you want me, baby?”

Contestant number two is a little bit different. I would dare to say that by comparison to the first that they are opposites in many ways. But similar in ONE way. Possibly prowling with me in their line of fire. 

From the southwest corner of the United States, making her acquaintance through one of the worst people I have ever met on Facebook. A disgusting little fuck from San Francisco. But she was from the desert southwest. 

She was smart enough to get far away from the California cockbite and away from anyone who just wished to lust after her because she had fairy tale hair at its length. Her age brought it to a snowy-white.  But you would have never had known how old she truly was unless you asked. 

When I first met her, she did proudly proclaim that she was married. Unhappily at that point, but committed to the “til death” part. And for the longest time, I respected her boundaries about that. 

Until last night when I found out that she: 

A- had been separated from her dork of a husband for almost a year and has been living alone and single for the first time in over 35 years of her life. B- She had taken her snowy-long locks and for the first time, dyed them darker and cut off about 18 inches of her total length. All in the name of trying to find a job because she was finding that age discrimination was a very real and true thing. 

At first I tried to be the shoulder for her because surely this separation has not come easy. But that role would not be fulfilled as I would be confronted with terms such as “I do things that would get me into trouble.” and “We are consenting adults.” ….. ‘we’ being her & I. 

I’m not going to lie to you, dear readers. Having that does make me feel good, it makes me feel better about myself. But how much is enough? How much is enough to where I can cover my own ass and not get hurt by either of them? 

I’ve been through the whole “married, but I’ve got you on the side” situation. And I’ve been there far too many times. And no, I didn’t like it when it was happening and after it happened came a lot of guilt and remorse.

On the other hand, you got someone with a new lease on life. Scared to death because they don’t know what to do or how to act for their age. And I probably need to handle with care so I don’t damage her to the point where the damage falls back on me. 

Pimpin’ ain’t my game. Never has been. And I don’t think that I am going to start now. But the situation that I find myself in is unique and un-experienced. 

Shortest Arrangement Ever

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For those of you who have read “From Dashing To Dickhead In Under A Day”, I come before you with an even shorter story than that. By that I mean the situation started and ended quicker than a day.

As I was galloping along the blogosphere of WordPress, I’ve come into contact with some really neat people. People whom I have become interested in talking and others just looking for a good laugh from their words on their own blogs.

But this is a story of the “mutual friend.”

The Queen of Crack-Me-Up was on her throne and someone else commented on Facebook. So I thought that I would get to know this commentator. I mean, it honestly couldn’t kill me to try as long as I kept my head clear in thinking that what I was about to do, was all that it was ever going to be.

So when the connection finally came and I began a healthy conversation of “getting to know you” and what not, things went smoothly. Although I was warned of some pretty serious issues pertaining to personal allergies. This woman was allergic to everything under the sun it had seemed.

A published author and curator of intellect, I figured that talking to her would be easy. But her personal background information was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Eventually I would be able to pull it out of her.

To find that she was four years older than I. Far better than the nearly fifteen years behind from the gal in “Joy-see.” I figured conversations would actually be intelligent and cogent.

Then I asked her about getting an autograph. At this point, the conversation could have gone in any direction.

Come to find out that this author actually and honestly lives in my area!!!

Wow.. what luck! What fortune!! Considering that its been shoveled down my throat so many times to find someone that is local and what not… blah blah blah.

This author IS local!!

So I threw the idea of meeting in a neutral place in public. To my own surprise there was no debate about it nor was the idea shot down.

I gave my compliments and then I moved on. I mentioned that we could at a platonic level and not have to worry about anything. She had previously mentioned she was not looking and enjoyed flying solo. This time…. I decided to actually LISTEN.

Longer story kept short: An arrangement was made for Friday morning that we would meet in public at a store and walk around and talk. I would bring $10 to buy her book and she would autograph it. And if we hit it off… then great, I had a new friend. And she would be LOCAL. And everyone could just shut the fuck up and get off my back about it.

If it moved to dating then so be it. But I honestly didn’t think that it would. I wasn’t much attracted to her from first glance. Keeping an open mind is a dangerous thing sometimes.

We continued to chat and learn more about each other, even to the point where we had the same moral upbringing and same values and standards of living. How often does anyone find that in this day and age??

The chatting continued until it was late and she ended with good night.

I woke up today thinking about it. A little excited to be taken on this brand new adventure. Only to have her contact me with the following message:

I must be a bearer of disappointing news. I’m going to abort our Friday adventure. There are lots of “interesting characters” on the web, and I’ve run afoul of a few (as have some of my other girlie pals), so I’ve decided to err on the side of caution. I apologize for sounding paranoid, but unfortunately, a few weirdos out there make things difficult for decent folk.” 

 

Umm… what?

First off: Yeah that does sound like something an author would say.

Secondly: It is all over. And it died overnight.

I wrote back that it wasn’t the sounding of paranoia… but rather it IS paranoia!! And its a shame. She refuses to write back. And I am hoping that by the time I am done composing this blog post that she will have made the decision to leave on her own because right now there is nothing but confused rage going on. I honestly would not have much to say to her in a positive tone or light.

My mind was pure and clean to making this into a friendship and nothing more. And she is the one that tears it all away because of something that happened to her previously in her past.

But “From Dashing To Dickhead In Under A Day” seems like a long novel compared to this bulletin.

 

Rocket Fueled Disaster

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It was a chance meeting… her and I. Coming together by the one thing that paired us: Music. Our love and passion for it.

Our fates sealed when our opinions were the same as a mutual acquaintance had taken a stand on an issue on Facebook. And the rest would not be history as the story has not come to an end officially. But looking back would be a serious bitch.

A tale so tangled full of woes because I apparently — don’t know how to slow the hell down or let someone else take the lead. Being that strong-willed person of wanting what I want, would work in other aspects of life, but experience has taught me that it does not work in other aspects of love.

The moment I realized that I had her attention, I was careful with her as if I was handling a newborn doe. I even left her alone for a couple of weeks after talking to her over Facebook until I found her again on Facebook right when I was about to leave for a few hours. I asked for her cell phone number, so that we could continue the conversation. She gladly approved my request and gave me her number.

But I did not call her though. Because that would have been deceit in my eyes. I asked for her number to be able to send text messages. Not to be able to talk to her over the telephone.

And then that little thing called “fate” came knocking on my door. Confusing, frustrating, damning fate.

I was off to go out to eat with a few neighbors when I had for some reason brought my cell phone along with me. Later in the evening my cell phone would ring from deep inside of my front pocket, giving my genitals a nice jostling. But it wouldn’t last long as whomever had called had decided to bail on the conversation entirely and hang up.

It was her. Someone I hadn’t talked to in over a week. But someone I had been thinking of FOR a week.

I sent a preemptive text message, asking if the attempt to call me was a mistake. She wrote me back and said it was an accident. I asked if she had “butt-dialed” me, but she was defiant in saying that she did not. She was so adamant to say that she did not “butt-dial” me that she gave me this long, intrusive explanation that made no sense that just admitting that a butt-dial had happened would’ve gone over ever so much easier.

The bastard child of fate though would begin to pour the cement for the rocket launching pad that would be my brain… my thoughts… my ideas… and my desires.

We would begin our journey of communication and conversation from that point forward. No matter if it was five minutes in duration or all day long. It was going to happen faster than well… you know. And what I was finding myself in, was a sort of relationship that had the component of daily

The flurry of communication was fantastic from the beginning as it always is. I asked her though if she was involved with any one and she said no. And I was totally shocked by that. But I had painted my picture to her that I was not interested in that. How that would change and there would be no way for me to stop it or hide it. And ran and it ran freely!

My conversations with her would begin to include a romantic element. But as far as that would go, it would be me asking what it was she preferred to see happen in romance with a man. She would answer honestly and freely.

Who was this woman? And where has she been all this time? A woman who appeared to be totally honest and upfront…. where do they come from?? I’m not saying she was perfect, we all have flaws. Both men and women. But WOW!!!

And it didn’t matter if I said something that was actually inappropriate or if I pushed a boundary or even stepped over and crossed one or two… or twenty-thousand. Those rare moments when I realized I may have said something inappropriate and knowing that it was time to apologize and not say that ever again, would prompt a quick “Its okay.” response out of her.

So now it seems as if I have a woman before me who is open and honest and now: quick to forgive.

Where in the hell does she hide her wings? (But no, I didn’t ask her that. I’m not that stupid!!) Nonetheless, the rose-colors were beginning to descend, the pedestal starting to polish, and a square footage estimation for me to put all of her glorious good deed trophies.

Maybe not that last one, but the others: very much so.

Knowing she was going to quickly forgive, I kept shoving and pushing those boundaries just to see how far they would go before she would object. Blindly I would stretch them until they nearly snapped into smaller pieces.

From the moment I met her in late October of 2013 on Facebook, through the month of November, and into December I honestly decided to take a huge risk to find out if I could get her physical address. And again, there was no dispute. No debate. Nothing. Just freely given information about her personal contact.

We had one conversation which was personal to her, and probably painful for her to talk about. And when that was over, I asked her if she felt a change between us. I took that change as an excuse to move in the wrong direction though in the relationship.

Does she REALLY trust me at this point with all of this information? Or is this something that isn’t what it appears to be?

I sent her a simple greeting card for Christmas. Then I made an error by NOT checking my own mailbox to find that she had sent her own Christmas greeting card. I hadn’t known until January of 2014 that it was there. Among other Christmas greeting cards that were sent. Knowing that I missed hers, was heartbreaking to me.

Her own birthday was in early December. That very evening of her birthday I did have plans and I attempted to call her twice. Once using the house phone and the other time using the cell phone. And I had done so even though I knew that she told me that she hates talking on the phone. I thought those kinds of females were extinct in the 21st Century?

My last minute ditch effort was to send a “Happy Birthday!” text message. And ONLY then did she respond.

Hell…. the week of Christmas I was nervous because Christmas to her was her remaining family. And I was not “blood family” so I thought that I would have to sit on the back burner during the holidays. But she proved that to be wrong as she sat with her family, her cell phone in her hand, and sending messages via Facebook to me to communicate. Even while sitting in the face and presence of visiting family members inside the home in which she and her mother live.

The week of Christmas I even taught her our own code phrases and words so that certain personal and intimate phrases and words would not make her go screaming for the hills. I see now that this was only the beginning of what would be the rose-colors beginning to fall. I said the “L word” to her and taught her how she and I could say it without saying it. To this day, its stuck to both of us. Even up to last night.

After I finally found her Christmas greeting card I brought it home, took photographs of it with the webcam and sent it to her with an apology for not being more vigilant to check my mail. Just weeks away from my own birthday is when I found it. And the fact that I didn’t check it in so long probably caused her to not buy and/or send a birthday card. But that’s just in my head.

I remember early on that during that time she and I were not really talking much to each other, prior to the cell phone incident, I would go to people that were mutual on Facebook and ask them what they thought of her. I wanted to know as much as possible. But nobody could answer. Nobody did answer. The only thing that I got out of them was that she was shy.

To which she answered personally that people think she is shy when she’s really quiet and she just observes everything that she sees.

And now this past week, I found someone willing to discuss it. All I had to do was to admit that I “liked her” and so all the personal opinions and stories about this woman that I have been dreamily for over 100 days were coming out and being aired in the open.

They. Were. Not. Good.

But I was also able to find out “the other person’s side” of things that had happened a few years ago with another woman whom I had adored when I first met her. Sound familiar anyone?

And now the only thing that is the mutual item between the woman that I passed on going for a relationship with romance and the woman that I have been wanting a relationship with romance with… is a man. One woman already has been made his conquest and that was the one that I did adore but let go, the other he is currently after which is the one that I desire now.

My fairy tale story comes crashing down because I jumped into a rocket full of fuel that I honestly could not handle. And when the truth had finally come out about the one that has been the glimmering shine in my eyes and how she truly is…. shatters the universe I live in.

What the hell do I do now?!?!?

 

Fuck You, I’m Not Swayze!

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This shouldn’t even be a post. But its about to be!! 

Don’t be such a fucking pussy around me when it comes to the phrase “I love you” when it is said to you. If you are a person who does not know or is not comfortable with such kinds of expression, then perhaps you should shy away from the word in any sense of using it altogether. 

But don’t fucking cheapen my attempt to show you my affection and appreciation of you who you are by saying “Ditto” when I have just told you that I loved you. 

Fuck you, I am NOT Patrick Swayze!! 

That movie fucked up the English language of romance since it came out. 

Much like in “The Empire Strikes Back” when Princess Leia told Han Solo “I love you” and his response was “I know.” which wasn’t scripted. It was scripted that he was to reciprocate. But Harrison Ford changed it, and it became well known throughout film history.

Then GHOST with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze comes along and his “DITTO!” just fucked up everything. 

Hell… I wasn’t even 100% sure what ditto meant until I saw that film. Now I wished I never have. 

If you can’t handle the fact that I tell those who are close to me that I love them. And somehow you ARE one of those people? Then you just need to speak up and say that you have problems with expression or whatever and I’ll gladly never utter the phrase in your presence again. 

But don’t cheapen my loving sentiment through such a phrase by saying DITTO! or “Back at ya!” Quit being such a pussy and put on your big person’s underwear and release your diapered insecurity. Be an adult. Reciprocate or explain. 

And don’t be asking why I’m all upset and everything. Because there are grown MEN that even tell me “I love you, brother!” and they’ve got NO problems whatsoever and there’s nooooooooo threat or intimidation of them being gay about it. 

If MEN can do it… you can do it. If you feel the care and concern as most humans do,  and I tell you that I love you, be an adult about it. 

Otherwise, I’m done with it— and most likely will be eventually done with YOU! 

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Pull Your Head From Your Ass!

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I introduce the long, long tale of the Rapunzel-type female who came from the small villages of the midwest.

Her life when I first met her was a life of excess. She had it all. A house, a husband who made excellent money, material goods, and even a daughter.

She was unusual in a sense because she was only 4’9″ in height, and hand very long, dark brown hair that touched the floor. However, one could not simply tell her height by looking at photographs.

Men worshiped her. Men who loved extremely long hair that is. They wanted her. They lusted until their balls were dry. Women adored her. Women who wanted her hair. Some of them even talking shit about the Rapunzel behind her royal little back.

She was the new Long Hair Queen of the Internet. And there was second to none to her. She was in fact, Queen of the Long Hair mountain. (That’s if you kept things at a domestic level. Because there were other women in other countries in other continents with even better looking and longer hair than she. But none in her own country.)

And with the unusual fetish came the very usual fetish behavior from people. Requests for her to do certain things with her hair from brushing it on film to doing gross things to it. And even some who had joined her highness just so they could recommend that she go bald, because their fetish was bald women or watching women cut off their hair. (Something personally I do not like nor understand.)

But the Long Hair Queen would cross paths with me. I failed to make any sort of impression other than having her realize that I was not about to make any kind of disgusting request for her to do something with her hair. In fact, I never made any requests at all. I simply talked to the woman inside Rapunzel. And it seemed to have been in my favor for some time.

And then I ended up meeting a different woman that I would enter a relationship with. Besides….. Rapunzel was married. Lived in the Midwest. Had a baby. And I’m no home wrecker.

I simply had to release the Rapunzel based on the insecurities of my last lover. Even though Rapunzel and I were operating on a purely platonic basis.

After the crash and burn of what was to be my last relationship… Rapunzel vanished completely from the spotlight that she once ruled and owned. Not a single strand of her hair was found anywhere. Just her footprints that she left online.

Nobody claimed to know where she was. Nobody could say what happened to her. All that they could say is that she was no longer online and living her life.

It would turn out that the short time that I was “forbidden” to talk with Rapunzel that she had all sorts of marital problems. The marriage collapsed and then she was separated and going through an epic divorce proceedings.

Of course in my male brain, I put 2 and 2 together and attempted to make 54,208 out of it. She was now single, I was now single. We clicked. I didn’t bother her about her hair. We talked like civilized people… so why not? Go find her. And don’t stop looking until you do.

But as stated, nobody claimed to know anything. The truth of the matter was that they knew EVERYTHING and they just refused to tell me about it. Until I found one individual willing to give the short version of Rapunzel’s story over the past few years. A woman who was known to be Rapunzel’s BFF online.

The truth was that Rapunzel’s husband had a job and this job required him to be out of town…. a lot!!!

Rapunzel had been unfaithful and took up another lover in place of her husband while he was gone, attempting to provide the lifestyle he simply gave to her just for being his wife. Everything he single cent he made was either to pay the bills or to go to his wife. His beautiful long haired wife. And she shit on it all, because in order for him to give her the lifestyle that she had, he had to be away from her most of the time.

Before I knew it, she was returning back to where she grew up. And she was basically only one state away from me. She was single, she had her child, and she felt a sense of freedom and she was proud of it. However, the online profile that she had set up for herself was the one thing that she was not proud of and attempted to dismantle her public online image.

Fast forward a few more years:

Rapunzel bounced from state to state. After I found her on Facebook, her “location” kept changing. She would get closer and closer to where I was. But with each and every location change, came the relationship status change.

It really is true what they say, particular for Rapunzel, after changing your relationship status three times, it should remain  as “UNSTABLE”.

And now she’s way up north. And even more difficult to spot or even say hello to.

After finding a sarcastic message about sending money to her on her upcoming birthday, I caught her attention with responding with sarcasm.

When I finally got her into a one-on-one conversation… I realized that chasing this Rapunzel was a worthless cause and I have spent over a decade of my lifetime trying to get her to smile at me, only to find that her own head is so far up her ass that there’s a reason why her eyes and hair are dark brown.

Around Christmas time, I sent her a jolly ole cyber kiss that involved a cyber mistletoe.

She refused to acknowledge any of it. It was actually meant to be funny and not taken seriously. Although with other women that I had sent it to, would kindly respond with *kiss* or “MWAH!” or whatever and then move on with their lives.

Rapunzel dodged the mistletoe like she dodged the questions about whether or not she’s available for communication.

She would NOT stop talking. She would send at least a half a dozen short messages before I even replied back with ONE. And it was about how freaking lucky she’s become that she finally found the right one. On and on droning about her newest love of her life and that he is now the one after so many failures, when all I have done was asked whether or not she’s had a nice Christmas.

A decade spent on someone not even worth my time.

And now I find she’s in a bit of a financial situation where money would best solve her problem fast. And willing to cut off her about thirty-six inches of her hair, for a quick $2100.

I asked what does a person get other than the cut off locks for that price and the answer was “Nothing.”

WTF?

Ladies and gentlemen: Don’t EVER think you know someone, until you know someone.