Must you PEE on everything?

July 10, 2011

Oh, apparently you must.  Now, at first glance you might assume I’m talking to my little dogs, one of which enjoys nothing more than peeing on a post, chair, or other item found outdoors.  And I mean he relishes it!   Although, to be honest, his life is not perfect either.  He is smitten with my other little dog, who alternatively lets him hump her (they are both fixed, don’t worry), or snaps at him for it.  Not that he is even nearby, he usually humps her arm, or leg, or side.  But they do have a little romance.  I think she secretly likes him, but just puts out a cold front sometimes.  I always catch them cuddling and him licking her ears and eyes–which in dog world, must be like foreplay.

So, who was really peeing you ask?  Well, I guess I wasn’t totally forthcoming in my first blog about what prompted my online dating attempt.  Sure it was that I was sick of who I was meeting (or not meeting) at bars, and being in school a lot, I rarely go elsewhere, so where was I going to meet some hombres?  Well there were also two other things that caused this disaster of an idea to occur.

Brace yourself.

1.  So, being newly divorced, (yet emotionally been there for quite some time), I wasn’t sure I was ready to date, but was ready to try some fun on for size.  Hey, it had been a while, and I’m a grown woman, and if I want to go around banging the town, dammit I will.  Ok, so it wasn’t the town.  But I found a guy I became close friends with.  We’re so compatible.  Similar careers, close in age, we just get each other so well.  I see him so well, and he sees me too.  You know what I mean.  The deep, really seeing me thing.  I can be sappy too.

What, you thought I was just bitchy?  damm.

Anyway, we get along great, and the sex is hot.  The thing is, we came into this as fuckfriends, boomboom buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it.  And we are actually friends on top of the good lovin.’  Normally I am excellent at separating sex and love.  I don’t start generating feelings if I’m in a benefits only relationship.  I can compartmentalize well, and it is never really an issue for me.  I know most of my friends have trouble with this, and it is true, it can be hard to not start having feelings for someone you are intimate with, even if you try not to.  But me?  Never.  It just isn’t an issue.

Until now.

I guess because we are so close otherwise, which usually isn’t the case with a friend who is just around for some friendship (which isn’t usually the heavy kind), and some benefitos.  But there it is.  When I get a text from him, I smile.  When I see him, I just want him and get butterflies in my heart.  And there is no way in hell I’d EVER tell him. Ever.  We came into this as friends with benefits, and I, my dear, am certainly not going to be the one to change things, or ruin what we have (that I really enjoy) by professing feelings.  Oh.  Hell.  No.  He would have to say something first.  Granted, lately he is more cuddly at night, and the last two times felt more like making love than some hot boomboom, but I could also be just impressing my feelings on my interpretation of how it was.  Honestly, he has always been a little cuddly, but he is single, and maybe on a human level, he misses that kind of soft touch too.  So maybe he has zero feelings for me besides caring and friendship.  We may never know.  What I do know, is that I’m starting to really like him too much–too much to keep it hidden and be happy with what we have, if that is all there is.  Which means I need to be distracted otherwise, and have my heart and head on other things.  Namely, other penises.  Uhh, I mean, men.  6 of one….

2.  So, here’s what happened.  There was a cute waiter.  He was tall, kind of big in that throw you around, exuding manliness, beat down a waterbuffalo kind of way.  He was funny and attentive, and definitely flirty.  After a few times of flirting, he asked me for my number.  Claiming he came down to where I lived “all the time” (lie #1), and that he would love to take me out (lie #2).  He said he would call, and shockingly, after making me wait on nails for a while, he did.  We talked, joked, and generally had some fun conversation.  I was sympathetic to his needs, his issues, and listened as he talked about how the reason he broke it off with his long term ex was that she wasn’t sympathetic enough. (lie #3)  Now, at the time, that seemed like a reasonable complaint.  He wanted kids someday, and so someone who wasn’t nurturing and sympathetic might not be idea mommy material.  Got it.  Anyway, we talked for over a month, and this being one of my first freedom romps, I was open for anything.  I went up to visit.  I had told him that nothing would happen, and then it snowed.  I had to stay over, and well, after midnight, we count that as date number 2 right?  And that isn’t nearly as unrespectable as banging him on date number 1, right?  Right.  Rationalized and hot and heavy, I jumped in.  He was pretty good in bed.  However, then he wanted to perform oral sex on me.  Now, who am I to turn that down, and considering I’d already pre-returned the favor, hell yeah.  So, he heads south.  About 3 minutes later I’m starting to worry he got lost (made a wrong turn at my navel, perhaps?) and never made it to his target.  I was wrong.  Oh, no, he was there alright.  But just so gentle I couldn’t feel a thing!  Now, maybe he was new at it, or never had a girlfriend who liked it before, or maybe his last gf was made of tissue paper an felt every last flick of the tongue.  Nope, no way.  It was that bad.  It was like he had NEVER done it before, or had at the least, never been corrected.  He could have been blowing on my lady parts through a coffee stirrer straw and I would have felt more.  Seriously, get a book, or go online, or anything. I tried to direct him, which resulted in him being mad and insulted, and finally I was like, yeah, enough.  He asked if I didn’t like it, at which point my humanity kicked in, and I felt bad crushing him by saying that that was hands down the worst oral ever, so instead I smiled and said it was fine, I just wanted him instead at that moment.  Feigning being overcome with rapture isn’t easy.  I give those porn stars some credit.  Anyway, long story short, I thought hey, good guy, fun in bed, needs some work, but I’m up for the challenge.  Can’t win em all you know.  3 out of 4 wasn’t bad.

And then he opened his mouth.

Turns out, he wasn’t such a great guy.  College drop out, past 6 year drug problem, estranged family members, no drive or motivation careerwise, and he gets calls at weird hours to go bail his buddies out of jail.  Hmmm, keeper?  Then I learn that he has major dad guilt, and anxiety, for which he pops pills like they’re candy, and sees a therapist (who he keeps on speed dial) for appointments he can’t afford.  In fact, when I dumped him the first time, he got so upset, he had to hang up and while sobbing called for an emergency therapy appointment.

Emergency.  Therapy.  Appointment.

Did I mention he can’t afford these appointments.  Probably because he is spending all his money on snickers bars and prescription drugs, which Lord knows what they are.  All I know is that the way he pops them they aren’t what he says they are.  You don’t take zoloft 8 times a night yo.  not even a little.  Anyway, so I saw him a second time.  Again, I drove to his place, and we hung out.  Watched a little tv, hooked up, it was fun.  He got me some roses, and it was sweet.  So in spite of the ever growing list of why-you-should-not-date-this-man, I was giving him a chance.  He was fun to talk to, and newly divorced, I’ll admit the attention felt nice.  So he asks me to be exclusive, and thinking that we were both adults and he could understand, I said I didn’t think I was ready to get so serious, but that I was interested.  He promised he wouldn’t back off and understood.  Which translates to bye, bye, bye.   He called less, and I knew something was up.  Either he had someone else, he was super busy with work (big dinner rush?), or he wasn’t into me anymore.   2 out of the 3 were reasonable, and I’m a big girl, I get it.  Sometimes, he just isn’t that into you.  I asked him and he assured me he was into me, he was just busy at work (lie #4).  I knew it was bullshit.  But what can you do.  So, I was surprised when a few days later he accepted my friend request on facebook.  I figured, if he was doing shit, he wouldn’t want me to see.  That noble thought was immediately dispersed when I realized he must have NO idea that he friended me, b/c he just changed his status to “in a relationship” and the girlfriend, wasn’t me.  Nice.  So, please add two timing jerk to the list.  Turns out he has a string of ladies, he’s quite the ladies man.  Anyway, I called and confronted him, to which he said he had no idea what I was talking about (all the while I could totally hear him typing–most likely logging in furiously to facebook to figure out how I could see and delete the damage).  So, that was that.

But then, I reconsidered.  Remember how I can separate sex and love?  Well I knew that this wasn’t going anywhere romantically, but the sex was fun.  It was new, if felt nice, oh hell, I just wanted to.  I don’t need to rationalize it.  So I asked him if he wanted to just be friends with benefits, shockingly, and in spite of the women he was no doubt romancing, he said yes.  However, we didn’t see each other for a while.  Long story short, he calls and after lots of last minute cancelling, he decides to come visit.  So, he is supposed to come on a tuesday, but calls on monday to ask if he can come early.  I picked him up at the train, and we headed to my place.

Fast forward to some boomboom, and it’s 3 hours in and I wanted to duct tape his mouth shut and drop him back off at the train.

He talked about himself constantly.  How he’s wonderful.  How everyone says so.  How his boss loves him.  How everything wishes they could be him.  I get it.  You’re great.  DEEEEElusional.  I thought he was going to come by, and leave the next day or so, like I did.  He told me he was staying until thursday.  THURSDAY.  It was only MONDAY.  See the problem?  However, the real trouble began when we only had sex the first night.  He said his anxiety was acting up too much–all day every day–to have any more sex.  I’m going to point out that someone taking pills all day and night like crazy should have his anxiety under enough control to have some sex.

(Maybe he didnt get the memo, you know, the one that explained that boomboom was the reason he was here.)

He then proceeded to drink all my alcohol, eat all my food, asked me bring him more food, made a mess, and slept all day long.  It was like a preview to dating a huge loser.  My friends were telling me to pack him a sandwich and tell him to get the F out.  I felt kinda bad, why I don’t know.  About the only time I find myself not standing up for myself is with men.  But I’m working on it.  Anyway, finally he got up one morning, said he was going to shower and check his voicemail after.  Kind of a weird announcement, especially since his phone never rang, but maybe he was expecting a call or psychic.  Either way, he showered, put the same clothes he was wearing all week back on, and got an emergency voicemail!  He had to leave immediately!  There was an emergency at home!  Let me tell you, I have never lept out of bed so fast.  He asked me if we could make the train, Hell yeah I said!  I didn’t even get dressed, I ran out the door in flip flops, pjs, not even looking at my hair on the way out.  I even paid the higher toll to get him there faster.  He rewarded me by leaving his garbage in my car.  Awesome.

But that isn’t the best part.  One night, he drank almost a whole bottle of kettle one (mine), and the next morning I woke up about 5:30am, probably because I felt something wet.  I checked, I was dry, but the bed behind me (and in front of him) was soaked.  Like 4 cups of water soaked.  My pjs were dry.  The dogs were behind the baby gate in the kitchen.  That’s right.  This 36 year old man, PEED in my BED while I was IN it.  Yep.  I’m guessing he wet the bed in his sleep.  However, he PEEEEEEEED in my BED.  He woke up a few minutes later, and not realizing I was awake, he touched the wet bed, and then ROLLED OVER and went back to sleep.  Unfreakingbelievable.  It was like walking up in a twilight zone movie.  I laid there in complete shock.

The irony is that my dog had been having accidents on the bed lately, and so they were sleeping in the kitchen.  Had I known, my lover boy could have joined them.  (or I would have kept a newspaper rolled up nearby handy to bop him on the nose with.  Bad dater, baaadd.)

I thought that was the end.  However, this man who peed in my bed, (and yes there was a stain and an outline on the lovely 600 count sheets), had the gall to call me a few days later.  I explained we were looking for different things.  I wanted a relationship with a housebroken guy.  Clearly, he wasn’t a match.

and that is why I had to find a new place to meet (housebroken) men.

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5 Responses to “Must you PEE on everything?”

  1. I’m trying to pick my favorite line from this post. There are many to choose from. All peeing aside I’m going with,
    “I wanted to duct tape his mouth shut and drop him back off at the train.”
    When you make your TV series deal please consider Kathy Griffin to play your part.

    • FoxyBlur said

      And it was SO true. As he droned on and on, I was going through a mental checklist of my drawers and then of local stores that would be open that might carry duct tape. It was terrible, but oh so true.

  2. Great story, well done.

  3. That definitely tops any bad date I’ve had!

give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh....

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