Tag Archives: Douches

Reason #358 Why I Keep This Blog Anonymous

26 Jan

Despite all of the legal issues I have going on, a lot of other things have been happening in my life as well.  I have debated writing about this for quite some time, because it greatly shows my weakness.  But, there is a reason I don’t tell people about this blog…I want to be able to share all of my experiences, triumphs, and downfalls.

This is both a downfall, and a triumph.

I know that Carmen is out there rolling her eyes, saying What the hell did you do, Esme??

Save the eye-rolling, honey…you will need it later.

My truck has been having some major issues.  MAJOR.  It needs several thousand dollars of work, and I can’t afford it.  M has been doing it for the cost of parts.  Despite the relationship M and I may have had, we are still able to maintain an adult friendship.  He works on my car, I take him out for a drink, and nothing happens.  I go home to Loverboy, and he goes home to his fiancée.  It has been working well.  (For me at least)

Until the last time I saw him.

After he did some work on my car, in the freezing cold, he invited me inside so we could discuss cost and warm up.  This was not an unusual request, so I had no problem following him inside.  I bent over in the entryway to take my shoes off, and when I righted myself M was standing directly in front of me.  You should take your coat off, Esme.  As he said this, his hands found the top of my zipper, and he unzipped my coat.  M, what are you doing? Stop.  M backed off, and conversation turned back to my truck.  Not too long later, he put his hand on my cheek.  I’m ashamed to admit that it sent an electrical shock straight to my nether region.  E, I can’t stop thinking about you.  I literally can’t get you out of my fucking head.  One more night.  Just give me one more night.

I was speechless.  He took my lack of a response as approval, and he kissed me.  A kiss so filled of passion I got wrapped up in it.  Visions of our nights together, naked bodies glistening is sweat, the feel of his hands on me, the pleasure that derived from those nights.  It all came crashing back, the memories I fought so hard to bury.  I leaned in and gave myself the moment.  But only for a moment.  I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away.  He moved, but not much.  He kept his left hand on the back of my neck, his right arm around my waist.  He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear.  Tell me you want me to stop.  Tell me you don’t want me.  He kissed my neck, my ear, his hands roamed.  Christ, he was seducing me.  Literally fucking seducing me.  And I had to muster up every ounce of my internal fortitude to say I want you to stop.

M let me go and stepped out of arms reach.  He cocked his head to the side as his beautiful green eyes searched mine.  You are really turning me down?  You have never said ‘no’ to me.  Do you really have feelings for this guy?

I explained that I did.  Strong feelings.  And I was in no way ready, or willing, to fuck it up.

You love him.

What?  No!  OK, maybe.  Maybe almost.  But that’s not the point, M.  You had your chance.  TWICE.  And you let me go both times.  You fucked up, now you live with the consequences.  All you will have is memories.  No more, no less.

M nodded, his mouth set in a grim line, and returned to business.

We finished talking about my truck, no further mention of what transpired between us.  We made plans for me to bring my truck back after my surgery, since I won’t need to drive much until then.  Before I left I made sure that we were OK.  I like M as a person.  I am not sure about his thought process sometimes, but I enjoy the convos we have together.  I enjoy spending platonic time with him.  And I like the fact he works on my truck for free.  (Out of guilt?  Out of misguided affection?  Who knows, who cares, but he has saved me so much money.  I don’t want that to stop!)  M assured me that we were fine, he just didn’t expect me to say no.  I was pretty miffed by that statement, and told him to explain himself.

Esme, for as long as I have known you, you haven’t been like other women.  You were always about personal pleasure and satisfaction.  If either of us were dating, we still would get together for some mind-blowing sex.  It was without fail.  One would call, the other would come.  You have been able to separate sex from emotion like no other woman, or man, I have known.  I misunderstood, or underestimated, your feelings for this guy.  I truly did.  And that is my fault.  I didn’t expect it.  I KNOW you want to have sex with me.  I could feel it in you.  But I now know you won’t.  The last thing I would ever do is hurt you.

I took in what he said, and let it marinate for a minute.  If it validates you at all, I said, I did want you.  I DO want you.  But there is no way that I am going to give up the happiness I have with Loverboy for a few hours of carnal pleasure with you.  I really like this guy, and I think it has lasting power.  He treats me so incredibly well, and I will not abuse his trust, or his feelings, in me.  Especially not for you.  I can’t, and I won’t.  And you either need to accept it, or you need to leave me alone.

M said he accepts it, and reiterates that he will do nothing to hurt me.  I don’t feel it necessary to tell him he already has, because I don’t think he needs to know.  He brought up memories I no longer want.  And I spent several days thinking about us, when I have spent almost no time on it for months.

And I am fully ashamed to admit that for a split second, or four, I actually considered giving into my libido.  But I didn’t.  And I am oh so very happy I didn’t.  It’s not something I could have ever taken back.

And part of me can’t help but thinking SELFISH PRICK!!  Well, most of me is thinking that 🙂  The nerve.

Love, Esme

Another Tick In The Douchero Column

12 Nov

So after the stood up fiasco (and by the way…I never heard from that guy again), I got asked out the next night.

I have been communicating with this Douche (D3) for a couple of weeks.  I met him online, he is kinda sorta in the same profession as me, and he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.  So when he asked me out last-minute, I said OK.  Free drink, possibly good company, so why not.  I figured the worst that could happen was I would be stood up again.

I got dressed in jeans and a sweater.  I put on make-up, which takes forever with one arm.  I wound up putting on way too much eyeliner, but I liked it, so I left it as is.  (Tangent-do you find you wear more make-up when you are trying to hide or when you feel more guarded?  Because I do.  I’m not quite sure why.)  I dug some heels out of the closet, and I was off to my second date in two days.

D3 and I arrived at the same time.  Bonus point for him.  He dressed nice, another point for D3.  But it wasn’t a great date.  Conversation was difficult and strained, I wasn’t comfortable.  There was NO WAY this was going to go anywhere, but I figured we may be able to make a friendship out of it.

D3 ate a burger, and I had a beer.  A BEER,  Not two beers, not Dom Perignon, ONE BEER.  3.75.  That’s it.

When I finished my drink, D3 asked me if I wanted another.  I declined, and said I needed to go home to take some pain meds.  Who knew the shoulder would come in handy?  Our bill arrived, he looked at it, and said:

Your part is 4 dollars.

Uuummmm…excuse me??

Did he not ask me out?  Did he not eat a huge, expensive dinner?  And he has the nerve to ask me to pay four fucking dollars?

I had no cash, so I pulled out my debit card, and told the waitress to put my drink on my bill.  When she came back, I said I needed to go and left.  He took my abruptness as pain, and texted me later saying he hoped I was feeling better.

OK-What the fuck??  I don’t know how many times I have had to pay for myself since I have been dating.  Many MANY times would be the most accurate answer.  It’s not like we are 18…far from it.  These guys run the gamut from 28 to 38.  Were they not taught basic dating rules?

The lack of chivalry has left me completely speechless.  I can’t even type the words to make this post sound more eloquent.  It’s just fucking ridiculous.

I have one more guy who wants to go out with me.  And I just can’t afford it!  I think I am going to have to tell this guy that since I am on such a strict budget, we have to go to McDonald’s.  Or I will have to say I just can’t afford to go out on a date right now.  Christ…I never thought this would be an issue.  How fucking embarrassing.

Love, Esme

I Hate Dating Take 5000…

10 Nov

So with everything going on the last week and a half, I decided I needed to get out and focus on something else.  I can feel myself falling into a bit of a depression, and I need to crawl out of it.

There is this guy that has been trying to get me to go out with him for the last three months.  He is a persistent little fucker.  I finally gave in.  I figure it would get me out, and it was a free meal.  My cooking abilities have been greatly diminished with my bad shoulder.

I got to the restaurant and the agreed upon time, and got a table.  I never wait for someone to show…I feel like an idiot standing at the door.  I chose a table that faced the door.  I was able to see the entire room.  There was one door in, and one door out.  If anyone was going to enter, I would see them.  I feel like I am beating a dead horse, but there was no way anyone could get by me.  Now that has been settled, let’s continue.

5 minutes in…no Douche.  10 minutes in…no Douche.  I ordered myself  bowl of delicious Loaded Baked Potato Soup…still no Douche.  I eat my soup, paid, and left.  I was there for 35 minutes total.

As I was getting into my car, I got a text.  What time were you thinking?

Oh.  Hell.  No.

E: I was there at the agreed upon time of noon.  I have now left.
D: I was there.
E: No you weren’t.
D: I was.
E: I dislike liars.  I was there, I ate, I could see the whole room.  Not one guy walked in alone while I was there.  Not one.  Nice try.

I never heard back.

All I wanted was one hour of not focusing on all the shit that happened last week.  I wanted to talk, laugh, have a drink, and think about something else.  Apparently, not meant to be.

Now, this is the fourth time I have been stood up.  1-2-3-4.  FOUR.  I DO NOT understand the standing up thing.  And I sure as hell don’t understand lying about it.  And normally I don’t take this shit personally.  But I have had such a SHITTY week, that I couldn’t help but to take it personally.  Just.  Couldn’t.  Help.  It.  I actually cried.  To be honest, I don’t think getting stood up is what I was really crying over…I think it was my dad.  But getting stood up pushed me over the edge.

I have to admit that I had a few moments of self-doubt.  Maybe my ex was right, and I really am unlovable.  There must be something about me that men just don’t like.  I’m the common denominator here…what is wrong?

Then I snapped out of it.  These guys don’t know me, so how can they judge my character?  I think I just truly attract doucheros, and that is the only problem.  And as for being unlovable, I think I haven’t found anyone worth letting love me completely.  If I had, I would not have content for this blog.  So I am not worried.  Yet.

To try to bump up this day a little bit, I put in a call to Medic.  Unfortunately, he is working until pretty late.  If he isn’t too tired, he will hop on by.  I hope he does…I want to jump his ass as soon as he walks in my door.  I told him as much, too 🙂

Love, Esme

#3

31 Oct

Yep, call number three just happened. I may have to call the police tonight…

Love, E

You Have GOT To be Kidding Me

31 Oct

So I’m in bed, at 1:06 this am, and my phone lights up.  I don’t recognize the number, so I send it to voice mail.  Guess who it is.  That’s right, Douche Dumpster.

He did wind up sending a text to me earlier today, apologizing for his actions.  I’m a bad drunk, my friend died, I understand you don’t want to talk to me anymore.

I never answered.  Damn right I’m not talking to him anymore.

So back to 1:06am.  Phone sings P!nk.  I ditch it.  Message left.

‘This is Staff Seargent Douche.  (which I believe is an enlisted position, but whatevs).  You should want to sleep with me.  So my friend dies, and I apologize, and you still won’t talk to me.  That makes you kind of a bitch.  How much do I have to apologize?  My friend DIED.  He’s dead.  And you won’t talk to me.’  Blah blah blah.

And wouldn’t you know it…while I typed that above paragraph, he called and left another message.  This one said that he will not be talking to me anymore, and he will talk to me later.  I’m guessing he is drunk…again…

Don’t get me wrong…it sucks his friend died.  But that does not give anyone a right to harass me.  His actions the last two nights are fucking ridiculous.

Guess who is going to the police department tomorrow morning.

Love, Esme

 

Definition of Douche Dumpster

30 Oct

n.-A man-boy who is unaware of how to act in any given situation.  A douche that needs a bigger container to contain all of his huge douchiness.  Example-This guy is the biggest douche dumpster for his actions last night.

See where this is going?

So I haven’t been on a date in a couple of weeks.  Had a few things on my plate.  However, I have maintained the internet dating profile on the off-chance I meet someone worth giving a shot.  This douche dumpster sounded good-in theory.  But he quickly slid down a steep slope.

Douche (I’m starting to feel like an episode of South Park) and I wrote back and forth for a few days before he asked me for my number.  I am always so hesitant to give out that information, but what the hell.  He seemed really nice.  Now keep in mind, this was only two days ago.

Last night around midnight, Douche started texting me.  I told him I am going to bed.  Here is what follows…text verbatim.

D: So how long are we going to be text buddies without talking?
E: Good question 🙂 tomorrow evening works well for me.
D: You have a timeline?  Is this the movie Swingers?
E: No timeline.  I’m going to bed, and I am busy most of the day tomorrow.
D: I meant talking on the phone.  Like tonight.  Weirdo.
E: Got it.  I’m going to bed, and I am busy tomorrow day.
D: (12:08am) There should be a team called excuses so you could wear their jersey.
D: (2:48am) I gotta tell you Alpha Douche is pretty pissed.  I might have gone to war but I was still in ROTC for my first year of college.  I’ve been an officer since 02.
D: (2:49am) 327th Battalion.  Airborne Ranger, and I’m a fucking officer.
D: (2:49am) You have something to hide.
D: (2:50am) Why would I think an M4 was an MP5? (He is referring to the picture I have where I am shooting the rifle).
D: (2:51am) An MP5 uses a handgun .45 acp.
D: (2:51am) You were firing .223.
3:33am-phone call.
3:57am-phone call, with a 1.5 minute message, where he accuses me of being a guy instead of a girl.
5:08am-phone call.
5:34am-phone call.

After the text messages, I turned my phone on silent, so I was not aware of the phone calls until I woke up this morning.  Stalker much?!?  I was going to ignore the texts, but I decided to send a response this morning.  For your reading pleasure…

E: 1. ‘Alpha Douche’ is a dick.  Glad I got to meet him.  2. I most definitely am not a guy.  3. I was firing an M4A1 with a 10 inch barrel instead of the standard 14.5.  Since you are an officer, I am sure you know what special force that gun is made for.  4. I was firing 5.56mm NATO rounds, not .223.  5. I could give a shit that you are an officer if you don’t act like one.  Lose my number.  If I get any further contact from you, I will consider it harassment and file a police report immediately.  Your move.

So far, no response.  If he knows what is good for him, he won’t.  I have every intention of following through with my threat.

But I would like to thank Douche for reaffirming why I love being single.  I am going to stick with awesome sex with Medic for the time being  😉

Much love, Esme

I feel like this applies to my dating life as well…