The Buyer

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Hello dear fiends. Its been too long.

I’ve been doing…. something. But I cannot say what at this time.

But I noticed something really fucked up the other day while jumping back on to all forms of social media for the first time in a long time.

Mutual female friends were being seduced. Many of them, all at once.

One particular male was buying roses for a lot of women that he and I both mutually knew. And not just a few or one dozen. When I say “a lot” I mean A LOT!!!!!!!!!

I will be the first to admit that some of the women who were lavished were ones that I would not mind going after, and I thought to myself that this guy for whatever reason was really on top of things. Even though deep down inside I did not like his idea, he did it and it worked. So I started to let go and accept my defeat and wanted to give him props for what he had done.

Until one of them contacted me privately. I asked how she was enjoying her roses. And she began to break down. She felt used; violated. Not to mention humiliated.

When I asked her why. She said that this guy who had bought the roses wanted something in return. And we all know what that was!!

She gave it to him. And now she’s full of regret.

There wasn’t much that I could say or do. What was done, was done. But she knew better for next time.

I went nuts. I was about to go after him when I saw that his particular numbers in how many people are following him on social media were surprisingly low. This guy appears to be one lonely motherfucker. But a motherfucker with money.

And he has been buying his way into other women’s beds and bodies.

I’m not okay with it. Just because he his lonely, doesn’t give him any fucking right to do what he has done. Lucky for him, SHE proved that she learned her lesson, and asked that I not do anything to him about it.

If I hear that this guy poisons the well again with his antics, I’m definitely coming for him!!!!

Disgusting.

Let’s hope the next time I sign on to here, it will be with better salutations.

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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.

From Dashing To Dickhead In Under A Day

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A few days before this blog about dating, sex, and relationships went live I had searched WordPress for other blogs to get into. Other blog posts, for people like me BY people like me.

Guess what? Here comes the South riding in again!!

Now I am not saying that everyone in the southern part of the United States are bat shit crazy, just the ones that I find!!

This time inside the panhandle of Florida.

It appears that I can do very well at the beginning. I can meet someone and sound intelligent, nice, proper, and whatever else have you. But the lacking seems to come after that first night of sleep from meeting someone.

It was that first night. I think that it had to be a world’s record that I went from reaching out and saying “hello” to having that woman’s cell phone number in hand and actually using it. Talking on the phone past midnight. All in under six hours.

I should have seen the red flag though. She had drama that following morning. I mean drama that would put your grandmother’s aching bones to shame.

So I attempted to reach out. But I was denied. Promised that I would hear from them a little later on in the day. And then I received a surprise phone call.

I had heard that they were receiving backlash type of comments on their blog that were disgusting and of a sexual nature. But to be fair in this telling of the tale, the blog was erotic poetry. Someone’s bound to read some of it, get hot and bothered, and then say something really fucking stupid because all the blood in their brain rushed to their cock.

Instead I agreed that it was unnecessary for anyone to make such comments like that. But had she not realized I had made similar comments to her the day before, only not harassing in nature? Hmm. I guess not. Or she just tolerated it from me. Who can tell?

But again, I was informed that I would speak with her later in the day as she would call me when she had a moment in time.

That moment NEVER came.

Guess what, people? Telling me you are going to do something and then NOT doing it?? Yeah, that doesn’t hold water with me at all. Who the hell do you think you are, the Queen of England?

Then about three hours later, I received an e-mail stating that they were sorry that they did not call me because they were already on the phone with SOMEONE ELSE!!!

What the fuck??

I did verily sit here for three hours by the phone waiting for the phone to ring, hoping to have a conversation and not knowing where it would lead us to. And you chose to talk to someone else?

Ladies and gentlemen, The Stupid rushed over me like the Angel of Death over Egypt during the first Passover.

I snarled at her for choosing whomever over me. I snarled for leaving me high and dry. And I did it in the most rude manner possible, over the worst way of communication on the planet, via e-mail.

Ten minutes later I realized that I screwed up royally. So I kept trying to hit the BACKSPACE button.

DELETE!DELETE!DELETE!DELETE!DELETE!!!

Too late. So I sent a follow up e-mail, apologizing to her.

Damage though was done. I admitted that what I had said to her was mean and stupid and she seconded that. “Yeah it was. I don’t believe you said that to me!”

But I thought about this for a while as I sat there not really knowing what to do or say to help make the situation better after burning her like the levels of Hell.

We had not known each other 24 hours yet. And I didn’t know what was going on with her. I did not know who she spends her time with. I didn’t know who her friends truly were. I knew absolutely NOTHING about her. So why am I getting all huffy and puffy? Moron.

So I attempted to come to her saying “Hey, I really screwed up. I am sorry that I did. Let’s reboot. Besides, were bound to make a few mistakes because we don’t know each other.”

But to the lady in the great state of Florida, I had committed the most committed of all mortal sins ever to have been committed. So she was not even willing to entertain the fact that I was sincere in my apology. And immediately, I was locked up inside of the Friend Zone.

Well….. there went that!!

I left her alone for a full day. I noticed she posted more poetry but then locked up the erotic poetry page as “private” on WordPress. Whatever.

The day after that, I went to see if she would at least say something. But again, without knowing who she truly was …. how was I to know that she doesn’t like getting into confrontations and was quick to forgive. But still kept throwing the word “friend” around like it was supposed to be some collar meant for around my neck. She just wouldn’t stop with it.

That is why I always have said that “Friend is the OTHER ‘F’ word.”

I then tested her waters a little more and asked about talking to her over the phone. I didn’t think she would allow it, but again she pushed it in my face that I did not know her.

Why is it that women do this? Someone’s gotta tell me why.

I get that she was pissed off. I think I would have been too. But constantly rubbing the same turd into the dog’s nose? What good does that do??

Surprisingly enough she said “Call me between this and that hour.” But I was unable to as I had plans during that time period. So I didn’t.

But when I came back I sent a new e-mail explaining why I did not call her during her original time frame and simply asked her when the next good time would be for her.

Guess what? I’m the fucking devil again!!! And this time… I’m PUSHY!

I quit. I absolutely quit. I pulled away from any and all social networking. I deleted anything I may have posted, and I stopped following her on WordPress.

Its ridiculous. I make one big ole mistake. And yeah it was pretty messed up… I admit that. But when you go on saying one thing and doing another, on top of not letting other things go…. its a problem. And its YOUR problem and I’m out the door! So long, Serena!!!!!!!!

And no. Not everyone in Florida is like this. But I sure do know how to find them…. I guess.