Note to self: no drinking on weeknights! Bad!  

lokifin 41F
12 posts
1/10/2006 1:11 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Note to self: no drinking on weeknights! Bad!


I have this neighbor guy, a couple years younger than I am. Nice enough looking, not the sharpest kid or the funniest, but...well. Convenience is a big plus, no? We had hooked up during the power outages of Wilma, and continued to see each other for sex, pretty much just for sex. A week and a half into the whole thing, I approached him about being more clear as to what each of us thought was going on. I told him I was happy with a casual thing, and he agreed that he wasn't in the market for a relationship right now. We talked a bit more, then I told him that I felt it was only fair to let him know that he was not the only guy I'd been with recently.

That's when things started getting annoying. He got all weirded out, said he felt like I had cheated on him, even though he had said he felt like it was a casual relationship. Then he goes on to define that me cuddling with other guys is what bothers him, rather than the sex. Which I...guess I can understand. But the whole thing was just so...possessive without any call to be. And I was upset because I was being treated as if I'd done something wrong, when I knew perfectly well I hadn't. In the next few weeks, the whole arrangement became less and less enticing. He complained that I smoke, though I rarely did around him, and only in my own apartment. He said it seemed like I "couldn't stop" going around sleeping with other men (read: you're some kind of nympho rather than a mature, sexually aware woman taking advantage of the freedom her single status offers her). He frequently came knocking after midnight looking for sex, and was moody when I went looking for him. He wouldn't "start" anything if there wasn't time for us to have full on sex, so if I wanted to make out for a few minutes while he was on a study break, no dice. But the final straw came one night when I was just fed up with this wham bam attitude.

We're in bed, I ask him to touch me, several times. No response. I take his hand, tell him I want to get off, please touch me. Uh, nothing. I drag his hand down. He fiddles for a few seconds with me, doing precisely nothing to help the situation, then goes and jacks his own damned equipment! I try again, same thing. Finally, in a pique, I stare at the ceiling and try to keep my temper under control. This guy has never gone down on me, never done more than poke his fingers inside me. It's as if (and I now suspect that this is more true than I would have imagined)he had no idea what a clitoris was.

So he realizes I'm just lying there, asks me what's wrong, and I give him the Look (y'all know what the Look is, right? The one that says You Are On My Last Nerve, Boy) and say, "Am I not being clear, here?"

Long story short, he rolls out of bed, gets dressed, I have to explain exactly what I was going for as if he's five, and he's still too upset to go back and try again, saying the "mood" was gone for him. And he leaves. A couple days later, we have a talk about it where I say how frustrated that made me, and how it seemed like he wasn't really that big on having, you know, a partner, and he finally said that all he seemed able to do was piss me off, so we shouldn't be together in any way.

Good riddance, right?

Hah. Round about midnight, who comes knocking on my door a month later? Mr. Too Good To Touch The HooHoo himself, saying he wanted to wish me a happy new year and how's it going? I, being on my third screwdriver, decide to be magnanimous and ask him if he wanted to know why I was so mad before for future luck with the ladies. He's eager to hear it, and I spend the next 30 minutes giving him a step by step introduction to the female orgasm and clitoral stimulation.

Which naturally led to a practice session, which I tired of quickly, as his ability to apply the techniques was...mediocre at best and not about to get me anywhere fun. Finished up with sex, sent him out the door with a charlie horse (!), and went to bed completely unsatisfied. More so than if I had never invited him in. Plus, it interrupted an interesting chat I was having. Bah.

So. Note to self: no more drinking on weeknights. You'll just lower the probability of doing something stupid.

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