Archive for Married Man

Day 26: “5 Worst Dates EVER and News”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on May 19, 2011 by Veronica Graham

Today was a good day in news: Osama has “officially”  been “unofficially” replaced, Arnold’s mistress was revealed, a 13 year old facebook user with blue hair was interrogated by the secret service for posting a concern about suicide bombers, a woman was told by Southwest airlines she was too fat to fly unless she and her mother sat together with another overweight woman (makes so much sense!), and DC 101 Chili Cook Off is this Saturday- the same day the world is supposed to end according to Harold Camping followers.

Today, another piece of big news happened for me: On Today, Day 26, is the first day I’ve been asked out on a date since my vow!  It was a vague invitation- and yes, something more than just booty calls that I ignore.  Now, how to rewire my thoughts from sex to date… yes, they are two different things I’m learning.  Decent men DO exist– I’ve heard this someplace.  Not all girls are sluts!– I’ve actually seen some of this from time to time…  It’s amazing that nearly a month has gone by before I’ve gotten a lunch invitation!  Usually I’m the aggressor and now, taking a back seat from.. er, aggressing, I got a unconfirmed invite to lunch by a total hottie with a great personality!  So hot in fact, I’m gonna have to learn how to sit on my hands without seeming weird- probably wear a skirt to blame the “AC” on my “hands being cold.”

Being prone to nervous awkwardness, bad dates come by every now again, but having a history of sleeping around- thankfully, I haven’t gone on too many dates, so I’m able to talk about nearly all of them:

1. LOS TIOS, Del Ray:  The cursed Restaurant.  I’ve gotten trashed here with every LUNCH date I’ve ever been on.  This is usually because I’m too nervous to listen to the staff and their thick accents and they always say, “Margarita?”  I don’t know what I THINK they say, but I always say “Yes.”  A fish bowl of Margarita sits in front of me, where I look at my date, embarrassed and say, “I don’t usually drink this early… but I don’t want to be rude.”  I get trashed. TRASHED.  Strongest Margaritas in the world, they should have a warning sign… seriously.

2. The Animal Lover:  This guy had no pets, but in the middle of making out after a great evening together- all of a sudden he starts head butting me like a cat does… I’ll pause, not really knowing what to do except to continue making out, but then he would pause, look at me- and headbutt me… Totally killed my mood.  So maybe I SHOULDN’T have said, “Are you headbutting me like a fucking cat?… It’s making me sick… literally sick… like I’m gonna need a bucket if you do that one more time.”

3. The Face Planter:  After a few drinks at my favorite local bar, I met this guy.  Got along great!  Of course, we went back to his place where I noticed a framed picture of a girl on his dresser.  “Is that your girlfriend?” I asked.  He walks over to the picture and plants it face down, ready to get going.  I flip out, wake up his roommates, screaming, “YOU’RE A SCUMBAG!!!”  I saw this guy again another night hand in hand with his girlfriend.  I said Hi to him and asked how his girlfriend was as I face planted a standing drink menu… let’s just say, he shooed her out of there and they left me alone at MY bar.

4. The Coward:  A night out with Iago and his friends, I called Kimmie and her roommates, Trevor and Ian to join us.  The brothers were two very good looking and charismatic guys that drew a lot of attention: by females.  Iago’s males friends felt threatened, used their poor dress habits to pretend like they were thugs to pick a fight with the brothers.  Kimmie, Trevor, and Ian instantly turned to leave the bar when Iago’s stellar friends followed the three of them out.  I looked to Iago to help my friends, but when he stood there stunned and frightened- I was suddenly embarrassed to be with him and his poor company.  Thankfully and expectedly, the guys were no match for Kimmie’s cutting tongue and they ran away with their tails between their legs.

5. The Other Coward:  A night out with Rich-Married-Man, he noticed me eyeing a group of beautiful black men at the end of the bar.  RMM feeling insecure with the size of his penis and a few too many drinks started talking shit to these four large black men that looked like they played defense for the Redskins.  I said, “Sorry, sorry, sorry” for RMM’s sake.  We left the bar and a large Escalade rolled up next to us and one of the beautiful black guys stuck his head out and say, “Hey Boy…”  RMM tackled me into a bush to hide- pressing my face down into a bed of poison ivy… Yeah, buddy, that was three weeks of swelling and medication for me.

I’m not anticipating a bad date with this hottie, but I do think I should probably stay away from Margaritas.  I’ll let HIM pick the place- far far away from Del Ray.

Here’s to 340 Days, Veronica Graham, this damn world better not end on Saturday… seriously-

Day 15: “Booty Calls and Married Men”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on May 8, 2011 by Veronica Graham

Last night after I posted my entry about being home alone, my phone was buzzing off the hook with blasts from the past… maybe it wasn’t so wise to advertise that I was home alone and ready to crack open a bottle of Captain Morgan and hornier than a bloodhound.  One phone call was from, Rich-Married-Man- a wealthy engineer that I happened to be in a four month relationship with while he was (and still is!) married.

I know what you’re thinking:  home wrecker, cheater, adulterer, skank…. and that may be true. However, I was under the impression that he was “separated” and filing for a “divorce.”  When Rich-Married-Man called, I immediately turned my phone off and began drinking heavily, cooking lots of fried food, and watching an episode of MTV’s True Life: My Boobs are too Big.  I imagined the electronic waves entering my phone even though it was off and the voicemails that would be left while it was silenced.  I’ve never been so afraid of a piece of technology in my life.

Rich-Married-Man (RMM), more so than the others, was a tom cat in the sack.  He was married- oh wait, IS married, to a bible thumping Catholic, who seems as frigid as Jackie O.  Pretty on the outside, cold “down-there.”  I was RMM’s Marilyn Monroe.  The saucy sex feign that TRULY believed the promises that Jackie O was on her way out the door.  Yes, I’m an idiot.  But he was so convincing, especially when our clothes were off.  I never met his wife, but had been over to his house on many occasions, this made me believe his stories that she lived in an apartment elsewhere and the divorce was on its way to be finalized were true.  After a few months, the weekend gettaways and hotel rendezvous began to be a little suspicious.  Why on earth was this almost-divorced guy constantly taking his girlfriend out of town and into hotel rooms?  OH WAIT- Cause it was all a LIE!  Note the comment above:  Yes, I’m an idiot.

The sex with RMM was so good, I didn’t want our sexlationship to end.  It was fullfilling, made me feel like a woman, and worst of all- made me ignore the red flags that would inevitably come to the surface and smack me right in the face.  The thing about RMM was that he couldn’t stand me.  This is to add to the already noted problem that he was married.  He was the type of guy that my family wanted me to be with:  Good looking, educated, rich, and an all around guy’s guy that probably knew how to play golf and how to act in a country club.  All these things would be used against me:  “My family will never accept you if you don’t have a bachelor’s degree,” “Don’t get fat on me,” “You can’t support yourself, you’re poor.”

It’s true:  I don’t have a bachelor’s degree, but I do have pretty extensive training in make up artistry and an associate’s degree.  Good enough for me, not good enough for the guy of my family’s dreams.  I ended up quitting a job I had in the arts in order to go to a four year college to get a degree in IT (I can barely check my email!!!!) but somehow, RMM convinced me this was the right move and the only way he’d marry me.  (Obviously, I didn’t end up going to the college, instead, I went to get my make up certifications.)

So why not have just one booty call?  Why 365 days?  Why does it have to be for one year?  Because my relationship with men has proven to effect EVERY aspect of my life.  Sex for me leads to a relationship- nearly every time-typically with men that are no good for me and I would know this if I kept my legs shut and actually listened that we have very little in common.  I can’t necessarily call sex an addiction, but I am addicted to the concept of “The One.”  So this is how it works for me:

*  I begin to feel insecure about being alone.

*  I find someone and have sex- convincing myself it’s just a one night stand or “having fun.”

*  I become attached to that someone, and try to make MYSELF “The One” for them, throwing out anything about me that doesn’t mesh well with them.

This is the cycle I’ve been in since I was 15 years old.  I have a strong sense of self when I’m alone, but eventually, being an adult woman, someone to have sex with comes along and I derail.  I have to stay on track for at least one year- to prove to those around me and more importantly, myself, that I can be alone and be just fine.  Those who know me, are skeptical if I can actually pull this off, they don’t and I don’t know if I can, but I do know that I HAVE to- yes, HAVE to, or else I’ll always be that same girl that lost her virginity at a house party at 15 hoping to be accepted.

Here’s to 351 Days, Veronica Graham, I’m not going to call you back, so stop trying, asshole