Now that I'm home with a cold brew and a fresh pack of smokes, I shall continue my thoughts from the previous post. Let me preface by offering the following disclaimer. I am not a man hater. Sure, there are plenty and plenty of dirtbags out there, worthy of stereotyping and swift kicks to the groin. But, I happen to know a couple of genuinely great guys who are not necessarily the scum that their gender typifies. With that said...
I've had it up to here with "the dating game". Tired of shallow "hook-ups". Sick of trolling at bars. Fed up with giving out my phone number to no avail. For the time being, I quit. It's dildos and porn from here on out.
For starters, the whole thing with Van was basically out of pity and desperation. He wasn't what I would normally think of as "hot". The primary reasons that I gave him play in the first place was that, A: I was flattered that someone showed interest. B: He was recommended by my crush. He was fun to hang out with, and semi-decent in bed. (Although his porn collection would have put Mother Teresa to sleep.) When it became apparent that he had a "side project", I realized that I never had much interest anyway. I thought the man had nowhere else to go.
I've always been the kind of girl to go after something once I've decided that I want it. I just close my eyes and barrell through. I've also always been the kind of girl to shun the demure behaviour that women traditionally are taught to ascribe to. (Is that even a word?) I have no problem at all with making the first move on a man and maybe that's my problem.
The day before I left on vacation, I met a guy working at the book store. He and I had flirted once before and by the second visit, I was sure I had a good candidate. So, I asked him out to dinner. He was working late that night and unable to accept. On top of that, by the time I arrived home, he had moved to England. While in New Orleans, I got a call from him, advising me that my order had come in. When I asked him if that was the sole reason for his call, he flattered me with compliments and I swooned. We've been corresponding via email, but I'm not getting anywhere.
Nothing makes you feel like hot shit more than a trip to New Orleans. Everyone's on vacation, everyone's drunk and everyone's lookin' to score. I had a movie producer and a rock star in the same night. All hail the lust goddess Neko! Did I mention I had a great time? Upon returning to my home town, I thought I could stretch my luck. Ha ha.
Last Saturday night drove home, more than anything, what a sick game the bar scene is. The whole scenario was pathetic and depressing. The four of us arrive in a group and huddle together while casting glances around the room. I'm turned down flat by one mildly attractive jerk, hit on by a fellow who was so wasted, he couldn't remember me five paces later and end up with a guy that, of course, never called me the next day. And it wasn't that this guy was the man of my dreams. He was just what was settled for that night. It's just not right.
Another example of my over-eager drive to succeed. There's a really, really hot guy that works at the porn store. Perhaps I've mentioned him before. He acted like he might have been genuinely interested. He looks like my favorite male porn star - Rob Rotten. So, the last time I was in, I pronounced, "I'd really like to go out with you some time. Here's my new cell." No call. Did I read the signals wrong? Did I jump the gun? Does he have a girlfriend? Was I too direct? What in the Hell is up? He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to be scared off.
Well, that's it. Any guy who wants my digits is going to have to have the balls to man up and ask. I'm tired of waiting by the phone. I was talking to my cousin last night, whom I love in every sense of the word (Have you ever seen The Royal Tanabaums?) and he said, "We're just props, dear." My brother thinks it's funny - me hovering by the phone and wondering why it doesn't ring.
The problem is, I'm not the most social person in the world. How will I ever find some entertainment? Sure, a dildo will give you an orgasm and porn will bring the urge, but a fake dick won't kiss you, spank you, pull your hair, or give off the male phermones that I love so much. So what's next? Social clubs? Personal ads?
Maybe I'll just go into porn. I've been looking for a new career...
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