"There was a little girl, who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead. When She was good, She was very VERRRRY good. And when She was bad, She was TORRID."
In my last big blog entry, I wrote about my attempt to return my ex's wedding ring found buried in a junk drawer... an attempt that I likened to returning the blasted thing to its evil source and getting rid of the ring-wraiths that have been circling me for 5 years. Now I would like to tell you all, my close-close "friends" (and about 100 other people who lurk here and stalk my entries every week without even a "hello"... I feel so loved) about the wraiths of 2004.
NOTE: If you're reading this and you're one of the wraiths like I know you are, don't worry, I'll be kind and better than that, I won't name names. If you're reading this and you're one of the wraiths from Jan 2000 to Dec 2003, you're in luck... no stories will be shared.
ALSO NOTE: Like the wraiths in LOTR, I believe these were once normal human men until something happened to them... call it lust or greed or, I don't know... my curse, I guess. Anyway, for whatever reason, none of them were normal when I met them... and thus, they make good fodder for the rest of you to read.
I have only myself to blame, really. It's true. Last January, I fell in lust with a boy I'd been occasionally chatting up on Friendster... actually, he would occasionally chat me up, then disappear for a few weeks, then chat me up again... but about a year ago, I believe it might have been Xmas eve, he asked me to give IM a shot with him while he was house-sitting... and by New Years I was in full on lust. Then we added webcams to the mix and, well, it just got too steamy to mention here... but mostly it was just sweet kinda fun stuff.
He was a six-and-a-half foot tall Texan living on a little island off the coast of Maine. He worked in a theater as a projectionist and last winter was brutal, so he'd stay late and talk to me before bundling up like Nanook of the North and heading on his 20 minute walk home. I don't know how he survived those walks, frankly, but the next evening he'd always be there again... my IM boyfriend in a box.
We'd chat about the silliest things ever and have each other rolling on the floor with laughter... we'd affect a fake Swedish accent while typing, list things randomly and all stream of consciousness, use scotch tape to misshape our faces or add mustaches, make up movie plot lines and cast them with quirky B-movie actors and give them soundtracks of the worst 80s music ever, and best of all, he wanted to make love to me while I wore those googly eye glasses you see staring at you here if you're reading this around the time that I've posted it (if you're reading this a week or so later, that pic might be gone... sorry).
This went on nightly for 4 whole months and it was some of the most fun I've had on a keyboard. One day, I bought a ticket to Maine and that is pretty much when the fun ended. He got worried that we were living a fantasy that would go horribly wrong when we met. I talked him back into letting me come there, but he said things were going to be "different." And boy-howdy was he different.
I got there and he was quite happy to see me, but a little shy, yet otherwise very funny and giggly and silly like our IM sessions... and he was HUGE. I mean, I knew he was big, but I hadn't expected Paul Bunyan. Being the horny little sex vixen that I am, I immediately jumped him when we got to his room that night. And to my surprise, he didn't want any part of that... he said he just met me and was too shy and wanted to go slow... I was only there for 5 days, how slow can you go??? But I climbed off the mountain of a man and respected his wishes... until the next night came.
Then we were in a hotel in Portland, staying there for a film event that I was attending the next day... and he'd come along only to take advantage of shopping for used records in a little shop there. Oh yes, indeed, I had my way with him that night... but it was odd. I can't explain how odd, but it was just very odd. It's good that I have enthusiasm enough for 2 people, because I think it was the only thing carrying us through that night. Perhaps it just takes a long time to properly pump blood through such a huge frame, I don't really know. It was odd though.
The rest of my stay on the little island in Maine was very sexless. I'd never known any guy who could have a girl in his bed and yet choose to focus on Play Station or various dvds instead of nookie. The good thing was that I got to watch all of the second season of THE OFFICE while there, which (at least by comparison to the sex I'd had that week) was definitely "better than sex." I left the little island a day early, filled with more anecdotes than I can share here. He seemed relieved to have his little world get back to normal again by my leaving, so I bid him goodbye and gave him a hug... to which he said "oh no, you didn't just pat me, did you?" I said, "yes, I did... take care." I knew that would be the last time I would see him, because he was afraid of flying and because he was uncomfortable being around anyone for more than 24 consecutive hours. "Good luck with that," I told him.
During the few weeks leading up to my Maine trip, another Friendster man had started to chat me up. Technically, I guess I contacted him first. But you know, when you see Tor Johnson has a profile on Friendster, you gotta grab that puppy, am I right? Turns out that Tor's keeper took a shine to me right away and used Tor as an "in" and I spoke to him on the phone a week before my Maine trip, right after Paul Bunyan told me that he was getting cold feet (and not from the sub-zero temps there). While in Maine, I received frequent text messages to my phone from Tor's keeper, who lived in Kentucky. When I left Paul Bunyan behind a day early, I immediately text messaged back to KY that I was staying in a hotel that night and he could call me there. With that, KY guy and I were off and running.
For 2 months straight, we IMed nightly while he ran his coffee house late into the night of a sleepy college town and then we would talk for hours on the phone when he would go home at 2am. I became an insomniac and a phone sex freak, and I dare say that I started taking on the pallid look of Frodo after the ring had started to take it's toll. All in the name of lust though, I continued onward and upward with KY.
By June 1st, KY came to me for our first full weekend. Upon first glance at him, I thought "gay" ... and then I thought maybe it was the car he drove, so I got him inside my house ... still "gay" ... and then I got him in the bedroom ... still "gay" but at least into me, so I ignored the "gay" aspect. I took him to meet a good friend of mine who promptly pulled me aside and said "he's a nice guy and all, but isn't that dude gay?" Followed a couple weeks later by my mother seeing photos of the two of us together, shaking her head and saying "Sherri, are you dating a gay man?" Yet for some reason, I was undaunted. June through August 1st, I traveled to KY or he traveled to me in GA every other weekend. We watched all manner of MST3K movies together and more than that, we drank. A lot. I don't think there was a moment when we weren't getting drunk. And when we weren't together, we were on the phone all night together, occasionally having a whole night of "movie date night" which entailed watching dvds together and getting supremely blitzed out of our gourds. The combined insomnia, phone sex, real sex, and alcoholism were taking it's toll on me even more.
By August 1st, as some of you who've followed my blogs will recall, I broke down and blogged about all the stuff that was bothering me. There had been a lot of lies and things that didn't add up, and other things that I didn't blog about that seemed suspiciously more and more... well, "gay" frankly. So I ended it. Bluntly and probably not very well. I will not dredge up the blogs of that time period, as they've since been deleted. Suffice it to say, it got ugly. He continued to text message me every Saturday night at 3am for a couple of weeks until I told him that I thought he was having a secret affair with his best friend, a guy that he never let me meet. Then the text messages stopped. For a while.*
Within about 3 weeks, I was back on the horse. I decided to give the online personals that I'd abandoned years earlier a try again. Less than 24 hours online there, I had another wraith circling and I went along with it. He was a doctor and I figured that I had NOTHING at all in common with him, so why not go on a coffee date, sure. What could it hurt? Right? I say, right?
Yeah sure, if I weren't such a horny vixen and I hadn't just met my sexual medical match. So when I came home from that date 26 hours later, I was firmly ensconced in a new affair. Little did I know that it had been Viagra fueled on his end, but my end was feeling groovy and after 5 rounds of slap-n-tickle, I wanted more... ahem, so to speak. I affectionately refer to him as "the butt doctor" ... that was not really his line of work, but rather more of a hobby.
This time I had someone local, which all of my friends were relieved to discover... some had chastised me early on with, "Another boyfriend? Is this one at least in this state? Wait, let me guess... Canada... no wait... France." NO, not Canada. Well, not yet. And not France, but hey, I LOVE to travel... and if I can get great sex AND a place to stay AND see the world, why not? I believe that used to be the Army's slogan. My friends don't see it that way... but then, they weren't being influenced by the ring of doom, so how would they know what it's like.
The doc and I continued for about 9 weeks when I finally realized that he was taking other women to meet his doctor friends and felt that I was just too weird for them to ever find out about me. I don't know why I was surprised by this info, afterall, he told me he wanted to "keep dating other people" even though he and I were the best of fuck buddies. I was just an art-tart he was having great sex with in private... he kept the boring, sexless girls for his public persona. I had enough of that and confronted him, asking him to choose... he chose to let me go. My ass got fired from the bed warmer position that I'd become accustomed to. That stung a little. Well, a lot, actually.
I came to the realization of how wild a ride I'd been for the last year and decided to change for the better. But I hadn't returned the ring yet to its source and therefore had one more adventure ahead of me, little did I know.
So a couple weeks later... new online dating site, new people, new start... or so I thought. I started chatting up about 8 different dudes at once. Any of you who know me from that, I'm sorry. It's true. There were 8 of you at once. If there was one thing that I learned from the doctor, it was how to date like a man. While sleeping with him, I went out on dates with 4 or 5 new people... all first dates and all very wholesome, thank you... but admittedly, some of those dates followed immediately on the heels of a "doctor's appointment," which did make me feel a little dirty while sharing pleasant conversation and appetizers with someone new. Still, I never jumped into the sack with any of those boys. I may be easy, but I'm not coordinated enough to juggle more than one set of balls at a time. I can, however, adeptly get to know 8 ball owners at once, apparently.
Of the octet, I only met a trio... one was just a bad match and there were no sparks for me at all; another one was good, clean (well, kinda) wholesome, fully-clothed meetings with a little dirty talk on the side. The last one was all wholesome conversations and seemed really promising but... well, our date was at night. And there was alcohol. And a dark parking lot. And a big back seat. And my damned hormones at full throttle. It was good though, very VERY good... hot and steamy and sticky and passionate and we were well matched. He is also an extremely nice guy and we'd been hitting it off quite well in conversation too. He's probably reading this blog now (Hiya, I do still think you were my best first date ever, really!) and I will not say anything to identify him here... it's none of the rest of you's business.
Anyway, I thought we were very well matched in so many ways... until 2 days after our date, that is. In an effort to offer full-disclosure, he decided to come clean about the fact that he had a criminal record. I was still okay with that, because being the good Liberal that I am, I believe everyone deserves a second chance. But what I wasn't prepared for was that his record involved being a registered sex offender. And not just that, but the conviction was for attempted sexual assault on a minor.
I cannot begin to explain to you all how my stomach sank with that news. It's like some big cosmic joke being played on me... I feel half of my life is spent waiting for Alan Funt to come tell me there's a Candid Camera hidden in the plant over there. You see, I'm a parent and I have actively spent time busting people on the web for pedophilia. Suddenly there comes a man who says that his conviction was part of a sting, someone that pushed all my buttons, someone that... well, there's no point in going on. It had to end and 24 hours after he told me the news, I matter-of-factly ended it without any big to-do.
At that point, freaked to the point of being immobile, I deleted all of my connections that I'd made in that time period. All of them. I could not figure out what in the hell I was doing, but I certainly couldn't trust my judgment anymore. I had all of my friends shaking their heads in disbelief over me and I was lower than low at that point. A few days later Thanksgiving hit and you all know what happened that day... and if you don't know, then scroll down a couple of entries here to find out.
And of course, in a strange twist of ring wraithing, the other 3 came circling back for more last month. First on the scene was KY man during the election returns. He texted me again at 3am telling me that he was depressed. I responded back "I'm not, I'm in denial. Whee!" He said he felt sick, I replied with "I feel pretty. Oh so pretty." He started to get turned on by my responses, I said "Look at the unicorns and leprechauns... oooh, yes, I'd love some cotton candy." He got so turned on that he called my cell, which I didn't answer, and he texted back "What the hell?" I responded with "Sherri cannot answer her phone right now, for she's off visiting that river in Egypt." He said "Please." And I said something to the effect of "Sherri is too different for you. She enjoys Japanese rope bondage, anal sex, and pie. Lots and lots of pie." He said he liked all those things too and called again. I couldn't shake him, my zaniness had backfired and only fueled his lust for me. I didn't answer the second call either. By morning, he texted again "I will delete your number from my list and not bother you again." Actually, I thought the fact that I told him he was most likely gay back in August would have done that. Apparently not.
Then about 2 weeks later, I received an email from Paul Bunyan. He wanted to know where I had disappeared to after 7 months and if I would be willing to chat on IM again. So I signed on and our conversation lasted all of 20 minutes. I asked him if he'd had any adventures and he began to talk about aliens and robots and an attempt to have 45,843 successive orgasms and stopping at just 2 and eating an orange and that he was drunk. I knew he wasn't drunk, though, because he really didn't drink at all. I said "Off your meds, maybe. Drunk, no." His last words to me were "Oh" and "My" and "Lord" and with that he got off the IM never to return. Ah well, never a dull moment when you live with a serious case of foot-in-mouth disease, as I do. (I only just now remembered that he actually is on meds.)
An hour later, my cell phone beeped a text message at me. It was a different Texan... the doctor. He wanted to know where I'd disappeared to. I told him that I'd met a great guy and that it was best if I didn't talk to him anymore because he was only asking if I wanted to have sex with him again and I wanted a relationship and I wished him the all the best and good luck. His last words were "U too." Then just a couple of hours later, I was hearing about my latest paramour's arrest and conviction story and within 24 hours I was letting him go. He too came back, just a couple of days later at the end of the week, perhaps having read my blog that stated he was the best first date ever, and wanted to know if we could still go see movies together or talk on the phone. I had to tell him no again.
In lamenting this all to another ex of mine who is one of my best friends in the world (Hiya! You really are!), he told me that I've just got some "addictive stuff" (sexually)* and they all come back for more, including a time period when he did too. I guess. But is it too much to ask that I'd like someone who could appreciate my "addictive stuff" and have some staying power without being some freaky bad match for me? It was the ring, wasn't it? I believe my ex probably used that the way a gypsy woman would use a voodoo doll, cursing me with bad juju, all while he happily remarried a lawyer and has never spent a moment single in these 5 years.
But I'm free of the curse now, people! I can feel it... ever since Thanksgiving night. It's like there's a heavy weight that has been lifted and I'm ready to start over again... this time with a new tactic: no sex on the first (or second, or for that matter third) meeting. It's a brand, spanking new me. (Ooh, I said spanking.) Yeah, I'm still the same over-sexed, horny vixen that I was... just smarter about it. That's all. Here's to 2005. Maybe the list of X's will be much, much shorter.
It can and did happen! Tell-all blog about dating ... well, tell-most ... tell-some ... regardless, it's TMI.
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