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Originally Posted: 2004-06-10 00:45 (no longer live)

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Who I do NOT want....

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My last few dates….

January 2, 2004 - KEY WEST - His name was Michael and we were both living in the area for the time being. He was pursued me relentlessly until I broke down and agreed to date him. For our date, we snuck into a local hotel’s pool and hot tub. I guess, in hindsight, that having to wait ten minutes for him to get out of the hot tub because he had a boner should have told me he might be horny. Especially since he was in there alone. I ignored it. We swam all day, and then he went to work. Then we went to a local bar and he asked me to buy him a drink because he was broke and he SWORE he would pay me back the next day when he got paid. I bought a few rounds. We walked to a local landmark, and since I had had a few, I kissed him. He immediately dropped trou and chased me down the beach saying, “Look at it, please. Come on. Just touch it. Just touch it. Please. Look, look how big it is…he wants to play with you….”


February 8,2004 - MADISON, WI - His name was Chris and we were supposed to go sledding. He told me at the beginning of the date that he had to leave by 9 to go to Milwaukee. He arrived at 6, and insisted on eating. He took me to a fucking Noodles, and after they rang up my 6 dollar bowl of macaroni, he looked at me and asked, “Am I supposed to pay for you?”
The cashier sniggered. I looked right back. “Am I supposed to put out?”
He stared blankly. “Huh?”
“Nevermind, skippy, I will pay for it myself.”
Then we had to wait ten excruciating moments for the food to arrive, during which he just stared around the room and would not speak. Pasta arrives. He ate his without chewing, and then most of mine. Without asking.
Then, at 7, we walk back to my place so I can change for sledding. After a few wrestling moves (apparently, “let me change into boots” means “I wanna fuck you now, big bastard”) I convinced him I really DID want to sled. We drove his fathers (he was 32 and living at home) 1984 Dodge Aries with POWER NOTHING (I am not materialistic, but it is important that you picture the car) to the top of the sledding hill. ON my third run, I shattered my tailbone. I am covered in snow, unable to walk, and I almost crawl back to the top of the hill. I am crying from the pain, and so he very kindly shoves me back down the hill, cackling about it. I finally, through the use of expletives, convince him I am hurt and need to go to the hospital. I walk to his car, where he informs me that he doesn’t want to give me a ride because I will get the inside of the car wet (see above description of vehicle). I inform him that he will give me a ride to my place posthaste so I can change into dry clothes, or I will have him whacked. He seems to take me seriously. We return to my place. It is 9:05. I tell him goodbye, and turn to root through my dresser for clean clothes so I can change and go to the hospital for painkillers, at the very least.
Behind me, he clears his throat. I turn around. He has dropped his pants and is looking at me expectantly. I tell him I am going to the hospital because I have a broken tailbone. He says he can take me over there after we have sex.

May 8, 2004 - MADISON, WI - His name is Bill and we have been hanging out, off and on, for months. We go barhopping, and then he invites himself over. I tell him I am not in the mood, and he can sleep on the bed, but he will not be getting any. He agrees. All night long, he does the time-tested maneuver of softly dry-humping my back and leg, trying to get me in the mood. I demur, repeatedly, until he passes out. I am sleeping in a bad position, and get a kink in my neck. I try to twist into a better position, waking him by accident. He resumes aforementioned humping. I reach back and try to rub the knot out of my neck. He takes over and starts rubbing the spot.
“mmmm. Harder.” I say.
He humps my leg harder.

May 16, 2004 - SAN FRANCISCO - His name is Greg and he is an investment something. We meet over seals at the pier, and I agree to dinner. We get sushi. Over sushi, he begins a story about how his dog once shit so hard his sphincter fell out and his dad had to stick it back in with his finger. He makes four more comments over dinner that have to do with the rectum in general and things going in it that do not belong there. After dinner, he tries to convince me we should “fuck.” This is apparently a great honor, because, after all, I am just a girl, and he is an investment something. Besides, He paid for dinner, which implicitly means I have to have sex with him.

What is the point of all these stories? I would like to meet a tall man, aged 26-32, who is NOT one of the aforementioned men. I would like to go on a date or two. Be forewarned, though, that if you suck, you may show up in future CL postings.

You can be in any profession not related to porn or poop, and can be any religion, as long as you have one. Smokers? Fine. Do it outside. Drinkers? Sure. Crack Addicts? Not so much.
Lastly, if you are married, I will bust your ass wide open to your wife.

Cheers!


post id: 33370538

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