Scared Bunny

I haven’t been blogging much lately. I know there are about 5 people that annoys, but I am just too fucking busy, and really not interested in doing any more “work” than I have to.

But tonight is different. This is one of those nights where I just have to write. It’s not that there is a story or anything. Hell, to be honest, nothing really happened. But suddenly I had this huge mood swing. I really think it’s something that has been building in me.

For the past few weeks I have been having a ton of dreams where I was married to my ex. It’s been very strange because I can’t really say that I miss my ex wife. Our marriage was a bad match. I had the far more serious problems, but we weren’t meant to be. In fact, the only good thing about our match is that our genes somehow combined to create an incredible kid. I am not even sure how it worked, but he got the best of both of us.

I can tell, though, that this whole dream thing means something needs to be dealt with, and I am not really sure what. I am not even sure it really has to do with my ex-wife exactly. It seems like it does, but heaven knows that dreams can be pretty fucked up. I do know what I am getting out of the dreams, and it bugs me to think about being married to her.

But those types of things have faded away. Whatever I was dreaming about when I woke up tends to be on my mind and then kind of fades away. I remember it but don’t dwell on it. And then tonight I had something that hit me harder than the dreams. This time it did depress me, and I do have something on my mind.

I was bored and really just waiting to be sure my son was really asleep. (He sometimes has bad dreams early in the night, so I like to make sure those have passed before I hit the sack myself.) To while away the time I turned on Ladder 49. I really don’t like firefighter movies much, but it has a good rep and I never bothered to see it before. Firemen dying didn’t bug me. Burns didn’t bug me. But the wedding scene, that bugged me.

When I saw that I thought about my wedding, and thought of a couple of minor regrets about the ceremony. That’s not a big deal, but seeing these 2 people young and so obviously in love, that tore me up. Now I am depressed, and it is all related to a sappy fucking scene in an overrated movie.

I am going to have to figure this shit out. I am not going to just let it sit inside me working its way out and affecting how I act. I also don’t want to have something that can trash my mood so quickly and easily. I am way too busy right now for this shit. And, what sucks, is that it seems like this kind of mood swing hits me about this time every year. That means I need to figure out what event is the root of it all.

Honestly I am just tired of dealing with shit. I just want it to be over. I have dealt with an awful lot in the last few years, and am really ready to be done dealing and to start living. The past is just that, the past. Not like I can change any of it. I may be able to understand it better now, but is understanding really worth anything? It still wouldn’t change anything.

So now I have something from the past fucking with my present and keeping me from getting on with my future.

I just don’t know.


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depression, anxiety, marriage, divorce, past, psychology, weddings, depression, anxiety, marriage, divorce, past, psychology, weddings

Angie (not her real name) had stood me up. Truth be told she had gotten drunk and had probably ended up hooking up with another guy. But this was very early in our brief relationship, so, while I had doubts, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She did understand that I was upset so she offered to make it up to me. Of course we had already slept together, so the most obvious reward was out. In fact, as I mentioned before, we had already had anal sex (yes, she didn’t want any lube and wanted it pretty fucking hard) so that wasn’t going to be a reward either. I had an idea. Angie was really cute, and I knew that she would look incredible in a schoolgirl skirt.

Of course there was another long delay before we could see each other. She had her kid, and I had mine, and we had to wait until neither of us would be with the kids. It was a short wait this time, only a week. So we agreed to spend the day together. I had a bunch of errands to run in Dallas, so she was going to come over for lunch and then we’d run to the big city.

She came over and she wasn’t in the skirt. I will admit I was a little disappointed. I really kind of wanted to play as we ate and drove. But she was having none of that. In fact she insisted I had never decided what I wanted her to do, so she hadn’t even planned on the skirt that day. I knew that was bullshit, but maybe there was some sort of confusion. So we just went to lunch.

Now, I have a certain Mexican food place I like. It’s not my favorite, but it’s close, the service and food are pretty good and they have great margaritas. In fact the damn things are huge. Of course we both had one. Given that she is about half my weight, if we were going drink for drink she would not be able to keep up. So, naturally, I avoided that kind of situation.

We ran the errands and I have to say that she was kind of acting shy. I was trying to play a little, but she wasn’t having any of it. It became a game. I think she moved my hand about 20 times during the errands. But finally we got the errands run and headed home. I was pretty sure the fun was about to commence. But I was again wrong.

First she wanted to stop and get some wine. She really likes wine. So we went to the store and I was looking at the better wines. I am not a wine snob by any stretch, but I would prefer a good wine. She, however, was also not worried about that. First, she wanted a white wine. Of course the absolute best wines aren’t kept in the cooler, so that knocked us down a couple of notches. But even among the wines that were cooled she was a lot less concerned with quality than quantity. She wanted something that came in a BIG bottle. Now I was able to make sure at very least we didn’t go as far as wine in a jug, but lets just say we got a wine that I wouldn’t normally buy.

When we got home she was ready to start. Start drinking that is. Now she had told me that one of the problems in her marriage had been that her husband didn’t like to drink with her. I personally think that is a misstatement. Based on what I saw, and on how upset she was about his not drinking with her, I’d say the conversations were more along the line of ‘I think you have a drinking problem.” I base this on the fact I am pretty fucking sure she has a drinking problem.

Now I did have a couple of glasses out of that huge bottle, but she had no problem drinking the rest. Normally in a situation like that I would assume she was going to get so drunk that sex was out and passing out would be the order of the night. That was not, however what looked to be happening. The girl clearly had a pretty good tolerance built up because, while she was clearly getting drunk, she was not at all close to passing out. She was actually getting a little hyper.

Having finished that bottle off I again expected it was playtime. Nope. She went to see what I had that she could drink. All I had was a couple of bottles of a decent red, and she didn’t like that. She preferred sweeter wines, and wines that were chilled. Of course that didn’t stop her from opening one up and pouring a glass. She dropped in a couple of ice cubes and I was pretty sure she’d end up putting in some sugar to sweeten it up. But she at least refrained from that. And again I had one glass and the rest of the bottle went down her pretty neck. And, no, she was still nowhere near trashed.

Then she told me to go sit down on the couch and stay there. She was going to the bedroom to get changed. She was gone a while and I almost thought she’d be passed out if I went in there. But I seriously overestimated how drunk she was, because after a long wait she came out, and had the full schoolgirl outfit in effect. And, believe it or not, things had not yet begun to get shocking.

So, what do you think so far? Tell me in the forums.


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dating, relationships, drinking, sex, wine, crazy, women

I have always been real honest here. So it’s time for mentioning something way personal.

I take a fucking pill every day to try to keep from going nuts. I have for some time. I actually used to take more of them than I do now. But right now they have me pissed off. I kind of think I am in a bit of a dilemma when it comes to the shit I take, and I am not even sure what can be done.

What they actually treat me for is depression. I think most psychiatrists watched too many after school specials. They hear depression and they immediately remember seeing some show where a teenager kills herself because everyone ignored the warning signs. But depression isn’t really an issue. Hell, I am not really depressed right now. And I don’t think that’s because of the pills. I think it is because I came to terms with a lot of things, and also because a lot of really hard shit is behind me.

But what fucks with me is anxiety. In fact, anxiety has always been a much bigger deal to me. I could always handle depression much more than anxiety. But there are 2 problems. First, they really prefer to treat depression. Second, most of the good anti-anxiety medications are technically depressants. So if you have had depression, they kind of worry about treating you with a depressant. I am not really sure why. I have been sedated and depressed and they really don’t feel the same.

For me there is a second problem though. See, what they have me on now is kind of designed to handle both anxiety and depression. More accurately it handles the physical symptoms of depression, many of which are remarkably close to the symptoms of anxiety. That’s why they chose this particular drug. Of course, it also has side effects, like all drugs. And, in this case one of those side effects is drowsiness.

As I have said many times, I am always fucking tired. Sleep apnea can do that. So, what I am doing now is not sleeping for shit, which makes me drowsy. And I take a pill that, well, makes me drowsy. In short, I am always drowsy. So, to fight that I drink lots of coffee. Coffee and anxiety don’t mix well. But it does stave off sleep long enough for me to get some work done. And eventually the adrenaline kicks in so I can stay awake. But the adrenaline stays in my system way too long and I have trouble falling asleep. And, since I have sleep apnea I can’t take anything like Ambien, which might help me fall asleep.

Now, here’s the deal. When my prescription was up I needed more. I say that because, while not having any was no problem from a depression standpoint, I was really fucking hit by the anxiety. I had called for a refill but the doc wouldn’t do it without an appointment. So, realizing I needed to see him because I needed something, I called to get the appointment. Naturally the doc couldn’t see me for a month, and the receptionist seemed to be confused about the importance of not just cutting off someone’s medication. They did get that fixed finally, and I am back on the pills, but I really think they are the wrong pills.

So I am basically stuck waiting for 3 more weeks for an appointment to go see a doctor to get the right pills. And, naturally, they didn’t refill the one I have for enough time to get me all the way to that appointment. Plus, somehow knowing you are on the wrong pills is somehow stressful. It was a little relief when I first figured it out, but knowing how long I have to wait sucks. Plus, as work picks up it gets even more stressful that’s just the nature of the business.

And I also know that doctors really don’t like anti-anxiety medications because they tend to be addictive. They actually did have me on one that worked, but they don’t like you to take it every day and, frankly, I have anxiety every day. You really shouldn’t take a medication that is addictive if you have to take it every day.

In short, I am stressed because I am worried about not being stressed. And it sucks.

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I am used to having dreams that are based on TV shows and movies I have seen, but now I am having them based on movies I have never seen (even though I want to).

Last night I had a dream where I was basically like the kid in the movie ‘The Greatest Game Ever Played”. Now, I do have that DVD on my Netflix queue, but I have never seen it and only know what I have seen in the commercials and what I read online. The basic story is about a bluecollar kid, who had been a caddie, who learned how to play golf and managed to win the US Open at a time when wealthy players dominated the sport.

But to have that dream would be too easy. See, it started out like that. I was playing the tournament and doing real well. There were the corny created drama moments, like one part where I had to play 2 holes very quickly or I would get disqualified. There were all these 1920’s style people acting like you would expect in a movie. Of course they had the kinds of quirks they always put in these stories. Hell, one of them was a practicing open lesbian (which I am not sure was really common in the 20’s, but seems to happen in movies).

Then it got weird. The back nine on the course was across a freeway. When I finally found it so I could rush through 2 holes to avoid getting disqualified, the course turned in to a Putt Putt course from hell. The first hole even went through the players’ locker room, so it was a total mess and I had to putt around dirty socks and shit like that. The rest of the holes were arranged like they were in a huge 3-story shopping mall. I am supposed to be in the US Open, and I am inside this mall with people eating at a food court. And in the dream my player cheated. Now, to be fair, he only did it because the holes were fucking impossible, so he was just doing what he had to do to finish them. But it really sucks that he was cheating because that would have ruined the damn story.

I didn’t get to finish the dream though because roofers showed up and started beating the hell out of my roof with their hammers. While I am glad they did the work before I had leaks, which is not a pleasant way to be woken up. This is particularly true because last night we got hit by a massive thunderstorm that kept me from sleeping. I like thunderstorms for the most part, but the 40 MPH winds and hailstones banging on the windows tend to hinder sleep. Not that I sleep great anyway, but this is even worse. And even though my dog weighs about 60 pounds, he is a chicken, so it scared the hell out of him, and I hate that. He’s a pretty dog, but damn he needs some balls.

Well, neuticles, since they removed his real balls. And, no, that isn’t why he’s a chicken. He was a chicken before that.

On a note about later dreams, what the hell does it mean when you are fishing in a dream and doing really well? I mean, shit, I caught a HUGE fish. I had to tackle the damn thing to hold him down so someone could help me make sure he didn’t get away. It wasn’t the only fish I caught, but it was the biggest. Hell, they were all good-sized fish, but this fucker was about as long as my son is tall, and he was not happy about being caught (the fish, not my son). I’d like to think the dream was related to work, which is going well, but that is too easy. Dreams always end up being some really fucked up thing according to the “experts”.

Hell, I had a teacher who had studied a lot of psychology. She used to help students with dreams. One student, who had recently started smoking, kept having a nightmare where he was walking next to a giant wall. But in his dream his perspective would change and it wasn’t a wall, but a giant word: cancer. Now, as I am not an expert, it seemed to me his concern over his smoking, and how it could cause cancer. But I was told I was totally wrong, and that the dream was about change in his life and fear over that change. See, I am just clearly dumb when it comes to dreams.

Of course, this same teacher also believed she had learned meditation techniques which allowed her to see the future. Of course it was all small things, like knowing in advance what would be in her mail when she got to the box. I always just thought it was because certain bills always seem to come on the same day every month. But what the hell do I know.

I guess I need a psychic.

Oh, and this post took like 5 days to write.


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I don’t expect to have much to say, just some random thoughts.

I didn’t even have a spare second to start on that story. It was like having a second Monday today. I am busy as hell, which is great financially, but all that work also means no free time. Plus, I have one of those jobs that doesn’t mean physical work, but it can be really emotionally and mentally tiring. Not only does the work require me to think a lot of things through, it can be like a roller coaster. You can get good and bad news repeatedly during the day, and each one of those pieces of news can impact my wallet. So when I get news about some business that can mean a big payday, I can be really up, but when you lose a deal, or someone does something that is making a deal difficult, you can crash down.

That is why I just cannot focus on any of this stuff. I can’t keep focused long enough after work is done for a real entry. I am sure part of it is the fact I don’t sleep for shit, so I start the day pretty worn out. But the sudden increase in the workload has had an impact too. Now, I will admit I love being so much busier, but it is taking a little getting used to. I used to have some days where all the “work” was done in a couple of hours. Now I am still at very least checking email until I go to bed. I am getting calls until after 7. And with a home office, I am basically ALWAYS at work. Hell, I have my cell with me when I’m not at home, and everyone work related has that number too.

Oh, and I had family here last week. When it’s my son, it’s great. But the other family members…well, they make me want to drink. Heavily.

I also have to say that the use of Myspace to try to get more readers is a pain in the ass. See, as I have mentioned, there are those that think being a “friend” means you have to actually become friends. Yeah, I have 263 friends, of whom I have met I think 4. But that isn’t the worst part. That would be those damn bulletins. See, that is where you can notify people of things like blog updates. But they mostly get used for something else.

Imagine if you will, a blog where everything posted is some kind of meme or inane online quiz. None of the content is original, and none of it means anything to you because it’s not like you know these people. Now imagine people posting that kind of thing 3 or 4 times a day. Chances are pretty good you’d stop reading it before too long even if you ever bothered to read in the first place. Now imagine someone posting links to those blog entries on your blog every fucking day. It gets worse. Imagine if there were only 5 outgoing links allowed on your blog, and some dumb twit kept filling four of them with this crap.

But, it gets worse. See, some of these fucking things aren’t even those annoying memes and quizzes. Instead, Myspace seems to have accumulated all of the people who believe in and spread chain letters and email. So these people will use your 5 links to get you to repost it and then fill other people’s 5 links with the same fucking thing, because it’s not enough to annoy you, they want you to annoy your other 261 friends.

According to these fucking bulletins, my entire family should be dead by now, I should have had 12 car accidents, my body should be racked with disease and all of my financial resources should have vanished. Hell, I was just told I should be dead by the weekend. The fucked up thing is that, even though I delete every “friend” that posts the shit, it never stops.

So when you get upset that I took that break, or that I haven’t finished the story, just be glad I didn’t fill it with that crap.

Oh, and if you don’t post a link to this blog on your own blog, and email it to 10 friends, your sexual organs will fall off and your dog will eat them.

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Yeah, it’s been a while since I wrote. Basically I have to say that writing every day has started to seem like work. While I could get through that for a while when work really picked up, it wasn’t that easy. I am really not in the mood to write lately. Any deep thoughts I have are going in to try to make a shitload of money this year. That is what happens when 1) you go from a 4 person team to a 1 person “team” and 2) you discover that the other 3 people were letting a lot of potential deals die on the vine.

The thing is that I really didn’t have the energy to just make up bullshit. It’s easy when something happens or I have some kind of inspiration, but I really didn’t have either. The closest thing I have had is a woman who is one of our vendors that seems to be flirting. Of course she lives in the wrong town, so even if she were, it really wouldn’t matter. She does have family here, and visits regularly, but I wouldn’t expect a thing out of it. Besides, she probably isn’t anywhere near as cute as she sounds. God I hate it when that happens.

Honestly, the only “events” have all been in dreams. With the kinds of dreams I have they can seem very real, but they aren’t. I did have a dream where an ex asked me to unblock her on Yahoo Messenger so we could talk. That was very realistic except she isn’t blocked. It would be wrong to block her since she likes to kind of pop in and out while pretending she has made changes in her life. Hell, that is always fun, and I am all about the fun. Normally my dreams would get something like that right.

Then, there was the porn clip link sent by a friend where the girl doing 2 guys looked exactly like said ex except with darker hair. The similarity was so strong I honestly wondered until I heard her speak. She definitely wasn’t an American, and my ex certainly was not capable of speaking any foreign languages. Remind me to slap that friend the next time I see him.

So, you are asking yourself, why didn’t I just finish the fucking story?

I have to tell you, this is not an easy story to write. It’s not an emotional issue. The fact is the emotional stuff is easy to write. But this one has a lot of detail. The first half is nothing compared to what came next, and I have to really focus to make sure I get it right. It would be awful to leave something out, and I really only get one shot at this. It just isn’t the same to come back later and say something like “Hey, remember that story I told you? Well, I forgot the part where she asked me to dress like the dude on the Ask Jeeves web site and to call her Marcia Brady.”

So I am going to work on part 2 as I feel like it, and put it out there when it’s ready. I actually think it may go 2 more parts because it would still be a long fucking post. I know people only like to read so much, and to get the whole thing in may mean I have to go 2 more parts. The fucked up thing is that almost the entire remaining story took place in one day. When you hear it, you will be stunned. Not only was this all in one day, it was only our second “date”. I have been with women months and not have as much in the way of wild sexual stories as this girl managed in just 2 dates and just over a week.

So just know I will have it as soon as I can. If I could get a day or two off and a lot of sleep it would be a lot easier.

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OK, I have to get this story started.

This is a tale of a girl I have mentioned, but this is what I left out. Now, for personal reasons I am not going to tell you which of the girls I mentioned this is. I am not even sure if calling her an ex is the right word. We were only together for a couple of weeks, and we actually never decided we were exclusive. On the other hand, we both said we didn’t sleep with multiple partners, so in a way, that would make us exclusive. She was one of those girls that get nervous when you start to put a label on the relationship, so I didn’t go there. Wasn’t really a point.

First, let me say that I still don’t think I have any game. But I guess my track record kind of contradicts that. I must have some kind of game because I am not alone except when I choose to be. And I seem to have a knack for getting women out of their shells very quickly. This was no exception.

We spent a lot of time on the phone and chatting online. And, according to her, I was able to get her thinking about sex much more quickly than she was used to. I am not sure how true that is, but I will say it was one of those situations where it was pretty clear what was up for the first date. Unfortunately, since we both have kids, arranging that first date was a bit of a pain in the ass. Neither of us will involve the kids, so it had to be a night where she had a sitter and I didn’t have my son. Those nights were not lining up at all.

So, we agreed to meet during the day. Since I work at home and kind of set my own hours that was easy enough for me. And since she wasn’t working at all, it was pretty easy for her as long as someone was with her son. In this case, her son stayed with her mom and we agreed to go to lunch. To make it easier we agreed to meet here and then go to lunch.

Well, we didn’t exactly make it to lunch. See, we started talking, and she had a couple of glasses of wine…

This is one of the first things that I always find amusing in these situations. These women have had some really open and frank sexual discussions with me, but the first time we meet they kind of try to be shy. So, to make her comfortable, I sat on the other couch and we just talked. It is amazing what happens when you do that and let them decide when it is time to progress.

In short order she came over, climbed on my lap and we went at it. Let me just say she was not at all inhibited. And the time we spent just talking was more than enough foreplay for her, because she just wanted to fuck right then and there. But I had a better idea. I really thought we would be more comfortable if we went back to the bedroom, which was absolutely true.

So we end up back there and as soon as we get started, she wants to go for anal. Yes, we are within an hour of our first meeting and she wants anal. And she doesn’t want to take the time to get any lube out, so we have our second no lube anal girl on a first “date”. Let me say that she didn’t just want anal, she wanted hard anal. Not quite as hard as a certain other girl, but this girl knew what she wanted and wanted to make sure I gave it to her.

I was starting to have flashbacks, but the difference this time was that, unlike the other girl, I actually liked this one. I didn’t just sleep with her because I felt like I had to. So we kept going, and going, and going… and then I saw the clock. This was a day I was picking up my son, so I had to cut things short. Neither of us wanted to stop, but at least we had our first encounter out of the way.

But things were only beginning to get weird.

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OK, I was going to start that story today, but I am starting far too late. It may end up a 2-parter as it is, and I have to sleep soon. I am fucking exhausted every morning lately. And that is hard enough when I am not swamped, and I am absolutely swamped at work.

I had an email from someone today that read the blog and talked about people who end up in treatment for chemical imbalances. What is kind of funny is that one thing so many exes that came back made it a point to tell me was that they were in therapy. One of them that had a problem with honesty went as far as to tell me she had also stopped lying. No comment there. Hell, even Heather tried to tell me she was in therapy. Of course that didn’t seem to be going well since she once again wanted money and had those flashes of the insane jealousy despite the fact we weren’t even dating, and hadn’t been for over a year.

The thing is, even if you assume that someone did go to therapy, that doesn’t mean I am going to give them another chance. Their changing how they act doesn’t change what they did. Personally I just don’t see how you could go back to someone like that. The memories will always be there and, while my short-term memory is shit, my long-term memory is better than I’d ever want it to be. And I sure as hell don’t want constant reminders of the past.

I’d also have to think that any serious therapy would include the idea that getting back together with me was a bad idea. See, the attraction to me would have to be part of the problem, or at least a symptom of it. When you actually make changes, you have to get rid of certain things and even people from your past. If there is something about me that either encourages or facilitates the really fucked up shit some of these women did. I know that when I went to therapy one of the first things the doctor told me was to stay away from the women I had dated. Granted that was because one of them kept hitting me, but still. He also suggested I stop dating for a while, which is advice I started taking a little bit too late.

On a related note, you know what sucks? When you are watching a TV show and there is someone on it that looks exactly like someone you dated. Now, in this case, I am not talking about the ex that looks like Molly Ringwald but with a better body. No, this was a documentary where one of the people they were interviewing looked like the chick that I had considered getting back together with but seemed to have trouble realizing that she doesn’t get to treat me like shit.

What is really fucked is that not only did they look exactly alike, with the story they were telling it could have been her. This was one of those true crime shows and it involved a certain type of redneck that her family would really fit in with. In fact, that was always kind of an issue between us because I really wouldn’t have fit in with them, even though her mom loved me until we broke up the first time. (Sorry, but under the circumstances it really was the right thing to do.) And to make it even more interesting, the story took place in Nebraska, which is where the guy that got her pregnant when she was in high school has been hiding for years.

I still watched it though, because it was an interesting show.

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Yup. I took some days off. I didn’t have anything interesting on my mind, and I had other things to do. So instead there was no update to either of the blogs. I can tell everyone was heartbroken.

It’s kind of funny to me when I read comments. You can tell who just came across the blog on a surfing service or by clicking next blog by what they say. They kind of assume this blog is like the blogs by my fellow dumb ass men who talk about dating. Of course, sometimes it is. But when it comes to my paranoia and lack of interest in commitment, I am pretty sure I earned it honestly. Those are the stories in the archives. Hell, one of them has it’s own link on the sidebar.

If you haven’t read before, or haven’t read for long, you really need to go back and read the old stories. First off, they are a shitload more entertaining than the recent stuff. But you also need to know about them to know how we got to this point. Trust me when I say this is not a matter of not settling down with a woman out of fear something better will come along. Hell, I stayed with Heather over 6 months, including a few nights where her actions caused the police to take notice. If I can stay with her and not be looking for greener pastures, I can commit. I am not afraid of committing. I am afraid of committing to another crazy chick.

The reason I am not trying very hard to find someone right now is very simple: I have the feeling anyone I find will be crazy. Now, they are not all the same kind of crazy, but they have all been crazy. Think of my dating life as a swimming pool. I jumped in feet first after I got divorced, and the water was really fucking cold. But I toughed it out. Unfortunately I also got hypothermia. Now I periodically go put my toe in the pool, and see if it’s warmed up. If I think it has I start slowly climbing the pool steps. But just about the time my nuts hit the water I realize it is still really fucking cold, and I get back out.

Now, the whole problem is that I can’t figure out for sure if any of the switches I have thrown turn up the fucking heat. Plus, I don’t know how long it will take the water to warm up even when the heater is turned on. Every now and then I do go try a different switch, and then I’ll go check the water. So far, it is still really fucking cold.

I actually thought it was getting warmer though, until the last woman I dated. That is a story I plan on trotting out this week. It may cause a major uproar, but what the hell. My insurance is paid up. When I tell this story you will see that there is definitely not a change in the crazy level. It’s not as bad a crazy as Heather, because it didn’t really involve fucking with me. But it is a kind of crazy I have only heard about before. It may well become one of the truly legendary stories, right up there with crazy first date no lube hard ass anal girl.

BTW, I think my exes/dates have more interesting names than yours do NML. Sorry.

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