Tag Archives: Sexy

Where Are They Now?

22 Jan

My hellish work-week is finally coming to a close.  I had every intention of going out and getting my groove on tonight, but I am just fucking exhausted. And I don’t want to spend the energy it would take to do it. So I am spending the night with you hookers instead.  You’re welcome.

Carmen brought up doing a Where Are They Now post, which I think is such a great idea.  Now that I am much more removed from the craziness of some of these guys, even I am interested in seeing where this goes.  So let’s just dive in to the shallow end, shall we??

Ambulance Guy-We both were going through a divorce when we connected.  Never did I think it would be anything but sex, and it never was.  He has since reconciled with his wife (for the sake of the kids) and is still miserable.  Stupid shit…

Perfect-This was a whole sordid story…One which you can read about by clicking on his tag.  In short…we met, we dated.  We broke up because he went back to his ex-wife.  He left his ex-wife, and I was stupid enough to take him back.  We dated/fucked…and one day he called me a lying whore.  OVER.  I have no idea what he is doing now, and I just plain don’t give a fuck.

Mr. Hottie-I’ve written about him A LOT.  We had such a great relationship.  But not really a relationship, because I was not ready for a label.  I fucked that up…or so I thought.  He is since engaged, and has not been faithful to his fiancée.  Did we work for so long because we didn’t have a label?  Maybe…no stress…no worries.  Was I the one that got away?  Also maybe.  But he has a reputation for being a playboy, and I wasn’t willing to take that chance with my heart.  Plus…I run when feelings are mentioned…probably thanks to Perfect.  Ass-hat.  Every once in a while I get a text asking me for ‘a drink’, which was our ‘let’s fuck’ code.  And no hookers…I have not done it…goddamnit.

The Doctor-I was really liking this guy.  Truly.  But he got so fucking clingy.  When I was sick with meningitis, he got angry that I wasn’t calling him everyday.  Seriously???  DONE.  I don’t even communicate with him anymore.  I feel sorry for his next girlfriend.

Firefighter not worth mentioning-married with a kid.  Good for him.

New Guy-I don’t keep in touch with him.  Right after he dumped me for being a firefighter, he started dating his best girl friend.  He was a pussy…who doesn’t like a girl in uniform??  Especially one that can carry a dude up the stairs to the bedroom???

Sexy-He tried keeping in contact with me, but I just couldn’t.  It hurt too much.  Left for an ex-wife again.

Irish-man-I haven’t heard from him since I asked him if he was married.  So that tells me yes, indeed he was.  Dick.

Nice Guy-I would consider him my best guy friend.  I heart him.  I would do anything for him.  He hurts, I hurt.  He’s happy, I’m happy.  I am so glad he is in my life!

Ex-BF-Has issues with feelings, as do I.  Bad mix.  He freaked.  His loss.  He will always have problems with this.  I haven’t seen him since I wrote about him last.  Too bad people just can’t have sex…

The last guy I never gave a name to-Never heard from him again.  Both our losses…the sex was GREAT.  Why do men do that??

God, no fucking wonder I have committment issues!  Left for ex-wives, left because I am a firefighter…I really find some pussy-ass men…I just don’t want to get hurt anymore!  I bet I run away from the best guy ever…just watch…

Love, Esme


Right Back At Ya, Simmarah!

7 Jan

So that sassy dame, Simmarah, and I, decided to blog about the guys we have slept with.  Why?  Who the fuck knows…and cares.  All we know is it could be really interesting.  So here it is…the lucky guys on my list.  Oh, and apparently we rated!  Take that, fuckers.  Drumroll please!!!

1.  My ex-husband…the one who never gave me an orgasm. 0/10

2.  Ambulance Guy…Ahh, what memories.  Looking back, not all that great, but exactly what I needed to awaken the desires.  4/10

3.  Perfect…looking back, what a stupid fucking nickname for him.  But, at the time I thought he was fucking phenomenal.  Ummm…no.  Only good thing was he could go for hours. 5/10

4.  Mr. Hottie…to this DAY I still look back on Mr. Hottie and think he may be the best damn lay I have ever had.  Not because of mechanics or know-how, but because he was so damn into my body. And it just shined through.  10/10

5.  The Doctor…looking back, meh.  Just not much to say about it.  5/10

6.  Another firefighter not worth mentioning.  2/10

7.  New Guy…it was so vanilla, I almost forgot about it.  3/10

8.  Sexy…Awesome.  It was awesome.  Too bad his personality wasn’t.  9/10

9.  Irish-man…it was good, but I still maintain I think he is married.  Too bad…fucker.  7/10

10.  Nice Guy…so we finally did it, and it was well worth the wait.  Didn’t rate quite as high as one other, but damn it sure was close!  The man knows his way around a woman.  9.5/10

11.  Ex-BF…also excellent.  He was also a great fucking time.  Too bad he had to go and be a dick.  *sigh* Men and their drama.  9/10.

As a disclaimer…I wish my list were longer.  WHAT?!?! You heard me right.  I wish I was a bigger skank.  I was the good girl who didn’t sleep with anyone else until she met her husband.  I was even in a sorority in college!  I had every fucking opportunity!!  I wish I were a whore in college!!!!! But I was all for maintaining my good girl image.  Fuck that shit.  Once I was free to start seeing people again, I did.  With a vengeance.  And without much prejudice, apparently.  However, I am making up for lost time.  AND, I am still working on it, thankyouverymuch.

Anyone else want to join in on this?  Reminiscing can be such fun…I dare you…

Much love, Esme


This Just Won’t End Well…

13 Dec

OK, I have resisted writing about this, because I was sure this would be over already.  I figured I would be able to write the beginning, middle, and the end for all of you hookers out there.  But no such luck.  And I am not sure how I feel about it.  And that also concerns me…

OK…let’s just start somewhat at the beginning.  I am back living in the state where I lived when I was in high school.  And since I am back where I lived when I was in high school, I have ran into some people I knew in high school.  Some fuck-heads, some great people.  Just happens that way, I suppose.  Anyways, one of these people happened to be an ex-boyfriend.  Did I just hear a collective groan?  I thought so…

I dated Ex-BF for only 3 months, at the end of my junior year.  I broke up with him a month into the summer for reasons I can’t even remember.  I truly don’t remember.  I claim girl prerogative, and the fact we are allowed to change our minds every 15 seconds or whenever the winds change.  What I do remember is this guy was into me.  He really was.  He was probably into me more than I was into him at that point in time.  A sad fact, but I would wager a true statement.  However, he was such a great fucking guy. One of those honest-to-goodness nice guys.  He treated me like I was a princess.  He never raised his voice to me.  He did everything right.  He took me places, wasn’t afraid to be seen in public with me, wasn’t afraid to show affection, etc. etc. etc…basically everything I run from.  Did I paint a good enough picture?  Moving on…

So I have run into Ex-BF a few times because we have a mutual friend.  Rumor had it he had been wanting to see me.  When I did finally see him, he would make comments that would make me a little…on edge, maybe?  Like all he wanted to do was finally close the deal after…oh…15 years?  A little stalkerish, maybe?  As in he would find out where me and my friend were going and show up there later?  So I was never quite sure how to take him.  Looks-wise he looks…well…great. He really does.  He is taller than me, which all you girls know is as important as shit to me, he is fit, and he has blue eyes.  KRYPTONITE.  Yep…go by his looks and I am totally fucked.

Anyways!  Ex-BF had been hounding me to meet him for drinks.  We should go out, Esme, really.  We should totally go out.  You and me.  Drinks.  Someday, you and me.  Esme!  Drinks!  Me, you, Friday, Drinks?  Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!  DAMN DUDE!!  FINE!!!  But I will meet you at the bar, you will not drive me, and it will only be for a drink or two.  That’s it!!  (Why the hell did I just agree to this?)

The night of, we met at a restaurant/bar.  We. of course, went to the bar area.  I didn’t go all out on my looks, just a little bit.  No eye-popping cleavage, but I definitely rocked the bitch boots!  I didn’t know what to expect.  I didn’t know if this was a good idea.  I didn’t tell anyone about this ‘date’, because I wasn’t yet sure if it was a farce or not.  If I was a betting woman, I would have wagered this date would SUCK.

Lo and behold, it didn’t.  Not even remotely.  There were times it was uncomfortable, and at one point it was highly uncomfortable, and this was solely because he has a memory like a damn elephant.  He brought up shit that happened back in high school.  Asked me why I broke up with him.  Wasn’t really happy with the ‘I don’t remember’ answer, even though it’s the goddamned truth.  But here is what did surprise me.  After the uncomfortableness, if that is indeed a word, we had a really good time. Conversation flowed.  We laughed.  He complimented me.  He made me blush…awww.  I called an end to the date after an hour and a half.  That’s right bitches…I followed my rules.  Impressed?  You should be.  He walked me to my car (after he paid…what a guy) and thanked me for finally agreeing to meet him.  He then swiped my bangs to the side of my face and moved his hand around to the back of my neck.  I inhaled sharply, knowing what was coming-excited and nervous-wanting it but not sure if it was a good idea.

And it was a very good idea…a great kiss…the kind that left me with the promise of more to come…

Due to scheduling conflicts, and my inability to think anyone actually wants to take me out a second time, and the fact all I can think about is the Friends episode where Chandler’s ex-girlfriend went out with him again later in life just to humiliate him (remember the one with Julia Roberts?) we didn’t go out again for two or three weeks.  And when we did, I felt like I was living in a parallel universe.

When we finally met up again we went out to an actual dinner.  As in food, drinks, the whole 9 yards.  Here is where the parallel universe kicks in…because I just wrote about this shit with Sexy. He asked me what I was doing the rest of the night, because he had a party to go to.  WHAT??  A party?  No way…

He explained that it’s a holiday party, and I will have fun, and blah blah blah.  Since I had no plans for the rest of the night, I decided what the hell.  I went, and I had a really good time.  He was attentive.  He saw that my needs were met.  He introduced me to people.  We had a great time together.  We left the party pretty late, and instead of me driving home we decided that I would stay over.  Aaaaannnnnnddddddd no hookers…we did not ‘seal the deal’.  We had some fun, but we (I) did stop.  I truly felt like I was paralleling Sexy, and it was really freaking me out.  I’m not sure where this was headed, if it was even headed anywhere, but the last thing I wanted to hear was ‘I still have feelings for someone’.

The next morning I left while Ex-BF was getting ready to shower.  No good-bye really necessary that way…he was busy.  And it avoided any awkwardness that may have been there.  Well, I tried to do that at least.  He caught me as I was walking out the front door and pulled me back in, giving me a hug and a kiss.  He thanked me for staying over.  Not too awkward.  Sigh…

Due to more scheduling conflicts, I haven’t seen him since.  The next time we will be able to get together will be after Christmas.  We have text messaged a few times.  I think about him more than occasionally.  This in itself bothers me.  I am not down with a guy being in my thoughts…especially when I have no idea what his thought process is!

All I keep thinking about is the Friends revenge episode.  SERIOUSLY.  Do guys do this??  Why am I thinking about this?  Our schedules also BLOW…we just aren’t able to see each other that much.  So in reality, this is pretty freaking pointless.  And it is an ex-boyfriend.  Something is just not quite right here.  I’m thinking…this just can’t end well…

Much love, Esme

My Sexy Time Comes To An End

6 Dec

Little did I know that the last time we were together, was indeed the last time we would be together.  Here is the rest of the story…

After our last night together I was flying high.  We had a great date.  He introduced me to friends.  I felt needed and wanted.  All of the stolen kisses, the sideways glances, the small smiles…this is what it is supposed to be like, right?  The butterflies in the stomach?  The flutters in the chest?  The smile that lights up my face whenever I think or talk about him?  I loved this feeling.  I haven’t felt this in a long while.  I haven’t allowed myself to feel this in a long while.  And I was enjoying every second of it.

Sexy invited me over to his place not too long after that night for drinks and a movie.  I went dressed comfortable, in yoga pants and a tank top.  I had made sure we weren’t going out prior to dressing for the evening!  When I arrived, he gave me a long kiss, and lead me to his living room.  He asked me what I wanted to drink, and I told him a glass of white wine.  We snuggled up under some blankets on the couch, and settled in for the movie.

As things tend to happen when we are together, we began to get physical.  His hands found his way under my tank and I straddled him on the couch.  He put one hand gently on my face and just said “I can’t do this”.

I went still, and I looked into his eyes.  “What?  What did you just say?”

Him: I said I can’t do this anymore.  I still have really strong feelings for my ex-wife, and I am realizing I am projecting them onto you.  And it isn’t fair, to me or you.  So this just can’t happen anymore.

My world felt like it was deflating.  Just when I was finally letting myself care again.  When I was telling myself it was OK to have feelings again.  To give into what was happening, to let go, to not fight.  This happens.  It was shades of Perfect all over again.  I couldn’t handle this, not right now.  Not after that amazing night.  Not after I met friends, not after I was made to feel wanted, appreciated and beautiful.  No.

Me: So none of that was real?  None?  Do I look like your ex-wife?  Is that why you projected?

Sexy had no response to my questions.  I got up off his lap and stood in front of him.  He looked down at the floor.

Me: At least give me the courtesy of looking at me you FUCK while you are telling me I didn’t matter.

Sexy raised his eyes up to meet mine, then promptly lowered them back down.


He looked at me again.

I took a deep breath before I continued.  I said: I was all for a fuck-buddy relationship.  I was all for the fun, physical aspect of all of this.  You changed the rules.  You took me out.  You introduced me to people.  You, you, you.

Him: I’m sorry.  I am.  But I realize I can’t continue like this when I still have feelings for someone else.

Me: You’re sorry?  You are sorry?  So it was all a lie?  All of the touches and kisses?  All of it?  I misread everything that much?

No response from you.  Tears started to run down my cheeks, and there was no fucking way I was going to let you see me cry.  Although I am sure you saw the first few drops.

I went to the foyer and grabbed my coat, shoes, and purse.  I walked out without bothering to slip my shoes on.  Esme!  I could hear as I ran to my car.  Come back, let’s talk!  Please!  Oh now you want to talk?  Fuck off dickwad.

I slammed my car into drive and peeled into the street.  I drove a few miles before I pulled over to the side of the road and let the tears fall freely.  I cried my poor heart out.  I cursed myself out for letting myself feel.  For letting myself get involved.  For letting myself believe he might be different then the other douchebags out there.  I was angry with Sexy, yes, but I was angrier with myself.

Over the course of several days Sexy tried to contact me.  Why this sudden interest in talking?  He left several voice messages and text messages asking me to call him.  I never returned the calls.  I wasn’t interested in reasons.  I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

It was a lesson learned for me.  No more feelings.  Sex is fine.  It’s better than fine, it’s phenomenal.  But when feelings become involved…it’s time to walk away.  I am done with this shit.

Love, Esme

Oh So Sexy…

5 Dec

So after much soul-searching, calls to girlfriends, and nights out drinking with other girlfriends, I decided to keep ‘seeing’ Sexy.  After all, what’s in a name, right?  It’s not his fault his mom gave him the same name as my ass-hat of an ex-fuck-tard.  I just know I can never call out his name during sex, because that would just be way to fucking weird.

It had been three weeks since I have seen Sexy.  I had such mixed emotions running through me.  I was antsy, because sex with him was like fucking heroin…and I was in full-blown detox.  I was nervous because I had basically ignored him the last few weeks because of my own insecurities, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to that (even though I was honest with him when it became an issue with me).  I was excited because I was finally getting to see him again after three weeks.  And I was confused…what are these weird stirrings I am feeling in my chest whenever I think about him?  Or receive a text message from him?  Eh…I can always explore that later.

So our schedules finally coincided.  We finally were able to meet (THANK ALL THAT IS FUCKING HOLY)  I tried to get all sexified for him-not that I am not already, but I really wanted to go all out.  But the fates were not having it…during the day one thing after another kept happening.  Before I knew it, I only had a half hour until meeting time.  I looked in the mirror and sighed.  Damn!  Damn damn damn. I really wanted to impress him.  I really wanted to make him go WOW.  I really wanted to render him speechless.  But my reflection staring back at me told me that just wasn’t going to happen.  I wanted to cry.  I threw my hair into a ponytail, put on some lip gloss, and prayed I looked well enough.

I got to Sexy’s house and rang the doorbell.  I was facing away from the door when he opened it.  When I turned around to say ‘hi’, my breath caught in my throat-like it always does.  Damn he is just so damn attractive!

Esme!  Have you eaten yet?  Have you had dinner?  I’m hungry.  We should go eat.  Do you want to go eat?

Umm…No?  Yes?  I responded.  I was really taken back by this, as usually these nights are just me coming over, us having sex and falling asleep.  There is nothing even resembling a date attached to either end of these nights.

Good, he said.  He then gathered me into his arms and drew me in for a kiss.  A very soft, sensual kiss.  The kind of kiss you just get lost in.  The kiss became more passionate, as they have a way of becoming.  Sexy pulled out my ponytail and entwined his fingers in my hair.  I untucked his shirt so I could feel his muscles ripple under the touch of my fingers.  He drew my body against the full length of his so I was able to feel just how much he wanted me.  Dinner was just going to have to wait, we were going to have some appetizers first…

We were fighting against our clothes and against basic animalistic needs as we were working our way to the bedroom.  We finally made it down the hallway, with minimal bruising and only a small concussion on my part.  I got thrown on the bed and manhandled in the most unbelievable way.  This is a guy…and all of you ladies be ready to be fuh-king jeh-lous…who completely and totally makes it ALL ABOUT ME.  That’s right…apparently they do exist.  They are real.  And I found one.  And he is oh so into me and my body.  How do I know this?  He showed me.  With his hands, his mouth, his tongue, and other parts of his anatomy as well.  With whispered words, stolen kisses, secret smiles and tender touches.

After our fun time, Sexy tells me to get up and get dressed, it’s time to go eat.  Again, this gave me pause.  He was really taking me out to eat?  I told him I couldn’t really afford to go out, just to see what would happen.  Would it change anything?  Sexy looked at me funny and said ‘Esme, I am taking YOU to dinner.  This means I am paying.  Why is this a foreign concept?’

Why indeed?

I was so not dressed for this.  He was able to put on a nice shirt, get all spiffed up.  He looked really nice.  I was wearing a plain long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and generic Uggs.  Hair was back in a ponytail, and I was wearing no makeup.  I definitely did not match Sexy!  We went to a pretty nice restaurant, and we had a very nice meal.  Very easy-going conversation.  He held my hand at various times, smiled and laughed.  He was really enjoying himself.  And I was in awe.  I was actually having a decent date.  Ho-ly Shit.

We drove back to his house and as we pulled up he asked me if I was going to head home.  I told him I have no plans but a good book and some late night TV.  Sexy then said something else that amazed me: I have a party to go to tonight.  It’s a thing I do every year with a bunch of guys I went to college with.  They bring their girlfriends and wives.  There will be beer.  We just sit around, drink, talk, and have a good time.  Do you want to go?

Do you want me to go?

I’m just asking you if you want to, Esme.  I think you will get along with them, and I think we will have fun.

This time of year?  Odd time…

No other reason to get together, so we make a reason.

Well, a party does sound like fun.  But I am just not dressed for it.  I really don’t want you to be embarrassed of me.  (I honestly have no idea why I was feeling so insecure.  9.99 times out of 10 I could give a flying fuck what anyone thinks.)

I am 100% confident that behind your back they will be giving me high fives.  You always look amazing.

So I went to the party.  And I did have a great time!  Sexy introduced me to everyone right away.  He made sure I was happy, that I always had what I needed or wanted.  He kept his hand on my waist, back, or arm.  It was very apparent, to everyone at this party, that we were an ‘item’.  And honestly, it felt amazing.  It has been a long time since someone has been that attentive to me.

We left the party and went back to his place.  I had too much to drink (because that’s how I roll) to drive home, so I stayed.  I didn’t pack a bag that night since I had no intention of staying, so I borrowed a t-shirt to sleep in.  I was lounging on the bed in the t-shirt and panties while he was doing some work around his house.  He came back into the bedroom, took one look at me on the bed, and it was game on.  This was definitely not my intention, but it makes me oh so happy to know that I can turn a man (my man?) on like that.

Morning eventually came, like it always does, and I got up to leave.  Sexy walked me to the door and gave me a long hug and a very long kiss.  He held onto me and said into my ear-I am so glad you came over yesterday.  I am even more glad you decided to stay.

I smiled into his neck.  I’m sorry you are going to have to answer all of those questions on who I am by your friends, I said.

I felt him shrug.  Easy questions to answer.  I’m not worried.

Feelings!!  Feelings, feelings, feelings feelings…all bad…

Much love, Esme

Welcome To My Sexy Party…

27 Nov

I think of this every time I think of Sexy…no shit.  This vision runs through my head.  At least it is a great vision…

So Sexy…where does one begin?  Oh yeah…by yelling at MYSELF for breaking every goddamned rule I have when it comes to fuck buddies.  Every single one.  They are easy rules to follow.  Let’s go over them, shall we?

1.  Never-EVER-spend the night.  Broke that rule night one.

2.  Never-EVER-make first contact.  Let them chase you.  Broke that one first night as well.

3.  Never-EVER-be available all of the time.  Story in itself, but I broke it.

4.  Never-EVER-go out on a date with your fuck buddy.  Or even entertain the idea.  Since we are talking about how I broke the rules, I know you are shaking your head right about now.

5.  Never-EVER-let feelings get involved.  Well…just FUCK.

Sexy and I met up after I basically fucking demanded it.  And, as it has been going, the sex is absolutely phenomenal.  I mean toe-curling, eye-rolling, close to blacking out sex.  Not moaning sex, but primal screaming sex.  To the point where I wasn’t even putting two coherent words together sex.  I think you understand…

Afterwards, when I should be getting up, getting dressed, telling him how I hate to eat and run, and fucking getting the hell out of Dodge, we sat and talked for a couple of hours.  I.  Am.  Such.  A.  Dumb.  Hooker!  Then he got me…he fucking got me…

Esme, you like sports.  I have tickets to (the local sporting team here in town), and can use them anytime I want them.  Would you like to go sometime?

I froze.  I just fucking froze.  Yes, I would love to go.  No, I shouldn’t go because it goes against everything I believe in when it comes to a great sexual relationship.  And for whatever reason, I don’t believe the two can co-exist.  And I am not sure I want a committed relationship.

I must have been silent for a very long time, because Sexy began to back-pedal.  Apologizing for asking me.  Changing the subject all together.  And I let him do it.  I chose not to answer the question, or even acknowledge the fact he just asked me out on a date.  I just don’t think I can do this.  And there is one HUGE reason why…

He has the same first name as my ex-husband…

The Holidays Brings Out The Douchebags

26 Nov

Since I am drunk, I am co-writing this post with my sorority sister Dagny, dear skanks.  We do practice the art of lingerie pillow fights on a regular basis.   Just ask her highly hot husband-who we allow to watch on occasison-when he is good.  However, I digress…

The holidays seem the bring out the douche-baggery on all men this time of year.  INDEED.  Case in point…

Mr. Hottie.  Remember him?  I know you do dear fuckers.  He was the best sex I HAVE EVER HAD.   HOWEVER…this does not mean I will not give up my morals.  Mr. Hottie found out I am in Old State this weekend.  I received a text message from him asking about getting together earlier next week.  Silly me…I responded lunch on Monday is good   The response?  “Lunch?  That is how you gonna do me?  After all we been thru?  Lunch?  I may have to work!!!!”  Ummmmmm…….I responded back “You are engaged, and I thought that meant you were going straight.   Lunch is all I will do.”  His response “I will have to see”.  DOUCHEBAG NUMBER 1.

And sad enough, dear hookers, that is not all…for this skank seems to attract a whole bunch of fuckers.  Yes, you read that right.  Fish…you remember Fish?  I thought we were done with him.  Apparently he can’t take a God-damned hint.  On Thanksgiving: “I am so thankful to have you in my life.  I want to be the one to make you smile.”  My response?  “Thx.”  Get a fucking grip dude.  I have already told you, when you asked me if I saw us dating, I said NO.  STOP TEXTING ME!!!  Douchebag number 2.

And the Doctor.  Ahhh…the Doctor…where does one begin when one talks about the FUCKING DOCTOR???  Leave me the fuck alone.  I have told him repeatedly to stop contacting me.  The day before Thanksgiving he asked once more if we were meeting on Sunday.  Hell-to-the-mutha-fucken-NO!  Once again I threatened police involvement if he contacted me anymore…we will see if it works.  Douchebag number 3.

Safety is the last stalker on my fucking list.   Jealous?  Don’t be.  I’m having a problem keeping them apart.  All of the sudden I heard from him them other day, After the whole “I got nothing” fiasco.  The text message (I FUCKING HATE TEXT MESSAGES) said “Send me a pic”.  I didn’t respond.  A while later another said “Please”.  Still no response from me.  A while after that I received a sad face.  About three hours later I sent a text that said “I’m sorry, but I do not send pictures of myself via text message.  Especially to guys that can not get off their ass to meet me in person.. Have a great night.”  I have not heard from him since, and  hope not to.  Douchebag number 4.

So, there is my douchebag list of 2010.  I really hope I do not add to it before the end of the year.  I realize that the holidays are a lonely fucking time, but if I manage to get myself through it without leaning against some fucking ass-hat I dated in high school or college or met off the internet.  Don’t lean on me.  Go douchebag on someone else!

And for all who care, I promise  Sexy post is coming soon… and it is FUCKING GREAT

Amore, Esme