tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74738315705842494952024-02-06T22:30:46.426-08:00How much does love weigh?This is the sad but true date in the life experiences of a not size zero woman who has yet to find her mate...blog.Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-5612263093534570152017-08-06T20:43:00.001-07:002017-08-06T20:43:31.101-07:00D N R<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know I know... It's been a long ass time since I have shared the nonsense that goes on in my little world and for that, I am sorry. Once you date someone who gets his willy sucked off by men and uses you for your money, connections and can't keep his dick up because he prefers penis, you tend to take a break from the self inflicted torture of dating. Well, at least I did. Although I have been enjoying the time to myself, I have gotten a wee bit lonely. I have amazing friends, a great career, lots of wine (that I am currently drinking) wonderful dogs and a few awesome family members but I can only take care of myself so much before it gets old. Not to mention, showing up to events solo after a certain age is not charming and batteries are freakin' expensive! It is fucking pathetic. So what do I do about it? I go back out into the big scary abyss of dating. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Jeez! One glass down and refilling as we speak. That wine goes down faster than Pamela on Tommy Lee!</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One thing I should mention is that in the time I took off from dating, I learned a lot about myself. I also learned how to love who I am and not who I think I should be. What a difference that makes! My entire attitude has changed which will make finding the "one" better but more difficult. I won't put up with the bullshit that I used to because I felt like I had to tolerate it all because I didn't deserve better. What a load of crap! No, I deserve the total package. Let's face it, I was engaged to a douche bag who I knew was still in love with his ex wife. I put up with it because I didn't think enough of myself to do better. I am so grateful that I left that arrogant bastard. He probably would've called me her name during the vows. </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I need to gulp down more "juice". Talking about that sorry excuse for a man gets me all riled up. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Okay... I am all better now and moving on...</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The girls I work with all tell me that dating is a numbers game and if one tanks, then move on to the next. I was also advised not to use a free dating web site but rather join one where you have to pay because I would find a better crop of boys. Needless to day, once I signed up and entered my credit card number, I was off and running. I had my fair share of Nigerian princes who claim to have millions and if I send them money, I would then be rewarded with wealth and their sand bags ;)</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then a message from a guy popped up who actually lives here. Cute (check), Tall (check), Job(check), divorced(check), owns a vehicle(check) and wants a relationship(check). We messaged then moved on to text and then planned to meet up a few days later. That evening came and we met at a cool little restaurant downtown. He was even better looking in person and smelled great. Not going to lie, a nice smelling man is a huge turn on! A little cologne goes a long way. Just saying...</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We had really nice conversation and he talked all about his daughters. During the course of the night, I found out that I know his ex wife. She just happens to own the salon I have been going to for 8 years. That didn't really seem to bother either one of us but just reminded me that Vegas is a small town. After dinner, he walked me to my car and asked if he could see me again. I said yes and then we hugged and kissed goodbye. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The following day I got off work and he called me. He sounded a bit strange and when I asked if he was okay, he proceeded to mention symptoms he was having throughout the day and asked my opinion. Truth be told, I thought that he was having a possible heart attack. In that moment, he just happened to be near a hospital so I told him to go into the ER and get checked out. That took no convincing. He went in and an hour later, he text and said that he was getting checked out because his EKG was "bad". I asked if he told anyone he was there and he said that he didn't want to worry anyone. I ended up going to see him because I thought it was shitty to be in that situation and by yourself. I walked in and he was surprised but happy to see me. The Cardiologist came in and told him that he was on the brink of a stroke and was going to be admitted. I stayed for a few hours and when he was close to falling asleep, I said goodbye. He thanked me several times for being there for him. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The following week, he was out of the hospital and wanted to take me out on a second date to "thank me" for what I had done for him. We met up on a Saturday night for dinner. It went really well. We laughed and talked more openly about things. I'm guessing near death can make you less worried about being polite and far easier to just let it all hang out. Afterwards, we said our goodbyes and sealed it with a kiss. A few days later I was at the salon getting my monthly color touch up done and he text asking what I was doing. When I told him, he immediately told me not to tell anyone there that we were seeing each other. Not that I was planing on it but asked him why. He got very defensive and said that he didn't want anyone knowing his business. Ummmmmm okay?!?!? I told him that I wouldn't but of course I told my stylist who just happens to be one of my closest friends. She didn't think too highly of him but was supportive of my seemingly happy feeling of adoration for him. I didn't hear from him after that. I didn't hear from him for several days which was odd because he was the one who text me good morning every day and throughout the day. I started to wonder if the poor guy had a stroke or worse so I sent him a text. That moron has the feature turned on in his phone that shows when the message was read. So I knew in fact that he read it! No reply. I sent one later asking if he was okay and again, he read it but nothing in return. I waited a bit then text that I can see that he is reading my messages but no response so it's good to know he's alive. That sarcastic humor didn't translate well. He snapped back with this little gem...</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I am sorry that I don't give you the attention you want. Obviously you want more out of me than I want to give you. Good luck Christy". </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What in the actual fuck was that??!??!?!?!?!?! I had no words. </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That was like a texting drive by!</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All I could say was, "Good luck with your heart".</span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I sit here chugging yet another glass of red wine goodness, I am still finding myself confused as to what actually happened there. I have no answer or resolution about it so I will just put him on the shelf along with the others. File him away in the ex files and move on. Okay....I did move on right away but that's another story for another night with a different bottle of wine. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cheers and goodnight!</span><br />
<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-87495651487114826252016-11-25T21:44:00.001-08:002016-11-25T21:44:13.244-08:00Tickety Tock Tock<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I sit here sipping a light Cabernet, I am unable to get this idea out of my mind regarding my relationships. I woke up this morning wondering if I will always be single. This thought has not only consumed me all day but has also forced me to take a long hard look at my life. <em> Let's be honest, the only way to truly dissect the facts is to drink wine, so naturally I am fully locked and loaded. </em><br />
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As I sift through ex files, I see a lot of men who ultimately were commitment phobic, cheaters, nut jobs and narcissists. I have dated some truly crazy mother fuckers but that doesn't mean I don't take any responsibility for things not going well. One relationship in particular, ended with me getting beat up by him while he was in a drunken rage. He doesn't "recall" it and blames the amount of alcohol he had in him but my coworkers and friends remember it clearly as they saw the after math on me. Why do I bring this up you ask? I can look back on each situation and pin point something I could have done differently even in the case of getting tossed around by a man who I was incredibly happy with until that moment. That particular evening, I was the designated driver to him and our friends during a night out on the town. After dropping off our company, we went back to my house. He was so intoxicated that he became very argumentative and determined to drive himself home. I did not want him leaving because not only could he have hurt himself but also an innocent bystander. He did not want me driving him home. He was hell bent on driving himself. I blocked him from leaving and he started yelling at me to move then my dog started barking. I saw him make a fist while looking down at my dog and my instinct was to protect my dog. In doing so, I then got pushed through a door (breaking it in half) and then experienced more of his rage before he eventually passed out. What could I have done to avoid that? I could have just dropped him off at his house before I went home. I didn't have to bring us both back to my house. He could have come back to my house the next day and picked up his car. A friend of mine at the time said that I should've just let him leave and not block him. Again, he could've hurt or killed someone and that is something I just couldn't live with. Wounds, bruises and bones heal but you can't replace a life. <br />
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<em>Woah, that was deep! Already time to refill my glass... if you also need to fill up then go ahead, I will wait!</em><br />
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The reason I woke up thinking about this eternal single life dilemma is simply due to a dear friend of mine who text me last night after reading my latest blog entry and suggested that I may have to succumb to a permanent single life. In short, she said that I am going to end up alone with 20 dogs. I am not going to lie, that idea doesn't bother me as much as it should merely because I love dogs so much. <i> </i>Another good friend recently said that I have made a career out of being single. Not true and certainly not my intention but still struck a nerve with me.<br />
<em>Sidebar: If you abuse animals, then you are nothing more than a worthless piece of worm infested shit and deserve any karmic retribution that comes your way.</em> <i>Just saying.</i><br />
Nobody, including myself, can say that I haven't put myself out there and given dating and relationships the old college try. I have given it the college try, grad school, med school and every sort of "try" in between. On the flip side of the dating coin, I have managed to know some men who I think I could really settle down with. So why haven't I? These men are not only rare but they are also unattainable. There are a majority of them who are already in a committed relationship but just looking for an affair. I am no home wrecker and not interested in adding that to my resume in this lifetime. The rest of them aren't wearing "single and ready to commit" signs, they don't live here or in the general vicinity (or in the same country) . Or is it possible that there is another reason? Maybe one little word that goes by the name "timing"? Yes, timing! That's it!<br />
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<i>Speaking of time... it's time to sip sip sip my way into more inebriated wisdom. </i><br />
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What does timing have to do with relationships (or love as Tina Turner once asked)? Naturally one could deduce that I have met some actual assholes, liars and all out creepers but what about the good ones? There have been a few but there was a reason that they didn't stick. While in my 20's, I was in a relationship with a guy who wasn't really my cup of tea but we got along beautifully. We were not only compatible sexually but we also got along like best friends. As time went on, I found myself attracted to the guy who wasn't originally my type. This went on for some time then he suggested we move in together. So being in my early 20's (and not knowing better) I agreed to it. While at home packing one afternoon, boyfriend who we will call Sam, called and said his truck was in the shop and asked for a ride to a friends house on my way to work. No problem boyfriend! While at work that night, a young(er) girl asked to see me. She introduced herself then proceeded to tell me that we had Sam in common. In fact, I dropped him off to her house that day. Wait, it gets better. She also proudly announced that she was pregnant, they were in love and since he hadn't told me she felt it was her duty. <i>Well shit! </i>On my way home that night, I stopped by Sam's apartment and calmly asked him about the girl. He sat and very matter of fact said that it was true, he did love her but didn't know how to tell me because he loved us both. He happened to be sitting in a chair near the sliding glass door and next to me was a case of wine we had purchased while on a trip to a winery the weekend prior. Naturally, I grabbed a few bottles and slung them at him. I missed (sadly) and instead managed to break the sliding glass door. <i>Whoopsie! </i>In retrospect, that was a huge waste of amazing wine and a waste of a perfectly fine door. I really liked Sam and our time together but clearly the timing was wrong. I was young, he was not ready to commit to just one person and I foolishly wasted wine (something I would never do in my older and wiser age).<br />
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One of my best relationships ended due to poor timing. 100%, timing. He and I met due to the strangest of circumstances. My boyfriend was sleeping with his wife. Yep, you heard me! This man found out about his wife and then found out who the man was which lead him to me. I will never forget the day when I got the call. This deep southern voice on the other end introduced himself and then dropped the bomb. The man I was with and cared deeply for was the same one diddling this guys wife. Of course he and I split but there was this married (soon to be divorced) man who was devastated and needed a friend. He needed that person who wasn't directly involved in his family and life but equally understood what he was going through to talk to during this shit storm. So out of this mess we found a friendship. His name was Kelly and he was such a warm and sweet person. We found ourselves talking every single day. Eventually our conversations were no longer about those who we split from but rather about just everyday things and life. One night while talking, he told me that it may sound crazy but he had feelings for me and I couldn't lie, I felt the same. He then asked if we could spend some time together once his divorce was final. It was a really quick divorce as she was already planning her future with my ex so it took no time at all to complete. We literally came face to face the day after his divorce was final. We both dove in feet first and had such a good time together. It was that rare moment that I felt I had finally met my "soul mate". We both dropped the L bombs and couldn't get enough of each other. We even talked marriage. Then things changed. He became a bit distant. He wasn't so happy sounding anymore. Then I got the call. He said that it all happened too fast and he never took the time to deal with what happened with his wife, their daughter now living between two homes, his parents, the house and cars they had just bought when he found out about the affair etc.. He went on to say that he avoided all of the heartache and reality by jumping into a relationship. It was all now hitting him and he needed to deal with it. I couldn't argue with him. I loved him, I truly did but we did just dive into "us" when we were both cheated on. We didn't argue nor was it a bad conversation. It was just sad and honest. I told him I understood and loved him very much but I knew that he needed that. Then we hung up. I was heart broken. I missed him as soon as we said goodbye. Throughout the years, we have exchanged texts saying "Merry Christmas", "Happy Birthday" and so on but that's it. It was that relationship that made me understand the importance of timing. I believe that if he and I merely just kept it light and stayed in touch after it happened, that eventually once the smoke cleared that we would've been very happy together for the long haul. He was such a genuine and wonderful man and I am better for experiencing that time of my life with him. <br />
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Where does that leave me? <i>Quite frankly it leaves me thirsty with an empty glass but that is an easy fix!</i><br />
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Since Kelly, I have had relationships and dates come and go from my life. I've even found myself in a situation where I was seeing someone who I liked right out of the gate and things were going well then he told me that it was moving too fast and he cut the cord. Some time later, he got back in touch with me and told me that he feels like he "fucked up" and blew it. Now to him I was the one that got away. So this round it was about <b>his</b> timing. To this day, we are friends and still chat about his dates gone wrong and so on. He's a good guy and I hope he finds that woman who has her shit together and his timing is on point.</div>
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Again I ask, where does that leave me? Sure, all of it has left me with lessons learned, a few scars, a chipped heart, good memories, tears and a deep adoration for the almighty vino but what else? I will tell you. All of it has given me wisdom. As my little internal clocks ticks away and I am reminded that I am now 40, never married, no children (but awesome dogs) and single, that I am still open to love. I am not so wounded that I think love is bullshit and relationships don't work. No. I am now being more cautious and treading lightly because timing is everything. I want genuine love despite what certain friends think. This man has to be single. He has to be looking for more than just wham bam hand me a tissue ma'am. He and I need to be friends just as much as much as we are lovers. Then of course the obvious things like trust, honesty, humor, attraction, a job, loves dogs etc... Sure we all have baggage but I want a man who has his bags tucked away and more importantly, a fresh battery in his watch so his timing is right.</div>
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Christmas is around the corner so happy holidays and if you come across Santa, ask him to throw a nice guy in my stocking will ya!</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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<em></em><br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-38613984541673354442016-10-30T21:18:00.001-07:002016-10-30T21:41:19.125-07:00Earth and Uranus <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What is that noise you hear? That is the sound of the precious cork leaving the perfectly crafted bottle filled with an endless array of grapes squeezed into what can only be described as the juice of the heavens. I have poured my 32oz glass and ready to dive into this blank page and fill heads with my words of possible wisdom and inebriated thoughts. <br />
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So what is on my mind tonight? Failed relationships, psychotic first dates, men who believe that they are real vampires? No. I have actually been giving a lot of thought to the idea of men being from Mars and women being from Venus. Excellent theory and not to mention, sold a shit ton of books. It basically pointed out the differences in men and women and although I did agree with a lot of it, I think there needs to be a basic and more up to date version. One that is written by a female who not only has dated A LOT but also writes from a (wine filled) experienced female perspective and not from a man with a PH.D. Red wine trumps PH.D. Sorry John Gray. Let's face it, times are changing but the ongoing battle of male vs. female is not. Our country has gone bat crap crazy. We see and hear that "Black lives matter" at every blink of the eye, people killing cops instead of obeying the law, creating new terms daily for transgender (or is it gender non-comforming), an NFL player (asshole) refusing to respect our flag and Pledge of Allegiance because he feels like this country disrespects his race, there's an orange dick wad reality star running for president who thinks women are nothing more than a piece of ass and we have blown the idea of being politically correct right out of the water and replaced it by everyone being offended by EVERYTHING! You can't fart in your own home without someone being appalled or having an opinion about it. Look, it is actually possible to say something and not hear a running diatribe of how you offended someone or disrespected something. Just stay away from social media if you do express your thoughts and enjoy a nice bottle of wine instead. <br />
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**Sidebar** while I take in a few extra sips... that NFL moron should think twice about his patriotic protest. This country that supposedly disrespects you and your race is the same country that is paying you millions of dollars for chasing a ball around on grass and patting your buddies asses during the game once a week. You're welcome douche bag. So sorry you feel you need to sit instead of stand during the song of this great USA but I like will keep standing with my hand placed over my heart loudly singing the words of our allegiance all the while this white girl works her ass off for a tiny percentage of what you make. You call the white people privileged, I say that your ethnic ass is a spoiled moronic dick**<br />
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Woooh! Those rants feel good to get out. Like I said, if you don't like it (or what I have to say, then get off social media) Ahhhhhh....okay, moving on...<br />
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Are Mars and Venus really that different? Are they just planets and that's where the commonality ends? Is this really true of men and women? I believe that we are quite different in ways yet we are both still bipeds (although I would argue some men I've met being anything more than a penis and a set of balls). The fact that men and women are both bodies on two legs can't be the only thing we share. There has to be more but how do we connect the dots and the stars between the planets? I think it is simple. Communication!<br />
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Let me deconstruct... and refill my glass...<br />
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One BIG difference between us is sex. SEX SEX SEX! There are several ways to actually do the almighty deed, granted, but there are some big misconceptions in this department. Let's break it down (if you were a kid growing up in the 80's and 90's like me, then that has a different meaning). When us women know we are going to have sex, we get into the shower, wash our gardens, trim or remove the hedges, shampoo/condition our hair, exfoliate our skin and continue to shave everything south of our necks. Then it's on to the oral hygiene. We make sure we floss and brush our teeth then dry our hair knowing it is about to get smashed to our scalps and flailing in every direction once coitus is over and top it all off to make sure we either took our "pill", put in the diaphragm or put condoms in the drawer in case he didn't come packing. Now the men. What do they do? They merely have to take off their clothes. Next is the sex itself. Men must've been brought up being told (or watched too much porn) that us women love our boobs being man handled to the point of pain. Believe it or not, it isn't sexy or enjoyable when you treat them like air hockey strikers (those round things you use to hit the puck around the air hockey table). Kissing them, maybe a bit of nibbling is good but don't scar them for life. We already have to get the twins squished down to pancakes once a year for a mammogram and it is no trip to IHOP I tell you. By the way (another side bar) boobs are really just fat. That's right you heard me, FAT. There is some irony to be had here. What I've found in the dating world is that men want a thin woman with big boobs. They are turned off by fat yet the main feature (boobs) they are looking for are nothing but fat (and in some cases, silicone). Random thought I know, but one to sip wine on and ponder nonetheless. Okay where were we? Oh right, drinking and discussing sex. So after the breast squishing, men usually think they've accomplished four play and dive into the holiest of holes. Now, missionary is the more common position and in fact, my favorite because there is something so sexy about the weight of the man you're attracted to being on top of you and being face to face breathing each other in while enjoying the pure ecstasy. Men argue that it's a lazy position for the woman but what they don't realize is that it isn't all that lazy. We have to spread our legs according to the size of the guy. Our hips spread to abnormal widths and at times, we have to bring our feet up to our heads. Believe it or not, we don't do that in normal every day life unless it's for the Cirque De Solei shows. Guys ask us to get on top of them and straddle them like horses then ride them into the sunset. Again, not the easiest thing and a bit of work. We are basically on our knees, using the quads we never knew we had to help us slide up and down on your man pole. There is no perfect place for our hands so we have to balance our bodies with our core. Then you men take the opportunity to grab our boobs and squeeze the life out of them all the while we are working out as if at the gym to please you. Lastly, one of the other main and popular positions is the one and only doggy style position. Oh I can't tell you what a turn on it is to be screwed the same way our beloved furry pets are. We are on our hands and knees, staring at a headboard while we get pounded, hoping we don't knock our foreheads into a wall so hard we get a concussion. There's also the occasional whoopsie when you boys "accidentally" pull out then go to shove it back in but miss and try diving in to the poop shoot. <br />
"Sorry babe I slipped." <br />
<i>"You slipped??? Your slip has now given me not only pain in my ass but the oh so joyful feeling that I have to crap."</i><br />
Ladies, I would also be aware that you might have a urinary tract infection because Mr. Whoopsie just put his wiener in your butt then back into your vagina. Not sexy boys. It's disgusting, wrong and expensive after the trip to the doctor and prescription for antibiotics along with infrequent urination, cramping and burning. So if you insist of fucking us like Fido, then keep it in the designated hole.<br />
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The other component to the topic of sex is communication. There are a few branches to this tree so keep up.<br />
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What I find so fascinating about sexual communication is that it seems easier to fuck one another rather than discuss it. God forbid we actually tell each other what we like or dislike. Imagine (women) that you have a horrible gag reflex to the point that you have to watch TV while you brush your teeth just to keep your mind off the toothbrush in your mouth so you don't vomit? Now you meet Mr. Right (now) and you are turned on, hop into the sack and the first thing he does is pull his boner out and grab the back of your head directing you to suck on it? <i> "He's so good looking and his last name sounds so good with my first name so we could get married so I need to just do it and power through".</i> So you suck it up (so to speak) and take it in. Oh no, here it comes, the gagging!! So you move your mouth towards the tip (yes we girls can play that game too) and then use one of your hands to work the shaft while you do as little as possible with your mouth otherwise you will puke all over his genitals and no more future wedding. Hopefully this is just four play and not the entire act because if he erupts and doesn't even give you the oh so seductive tap on the head as your warning, you are getting a mouthful and no matter how many sweets he eats or pineapple juice he has ingested (that's a myth) it tastes like bleach and salt. If anyone says they like the taste, they are lying. So if the shlong hitting your tonsils didn't make you throw up, the unexpected burst of semen will. There is a flip side to this as well. Say you like pleasuring a man with your mouth but you don't want him to play out the grand finale down your throat, then what do you do? Oh no, you might have to communicate this!! What do you say? It's pretty easy. Whether you initiate it to be playful or he just grabs your head and thrusts, you really need to speak up. It doesn't have to be a serious sit down dinner but it can be easy. <i>"Babe, I enjoy getting you excited by sucking on you a little but once you are really hard, put it in me".</i> That's right, take charge! If he insists that he wants to make his O face at your expense, simply tell him that you'd rather not but it's far more sexy to take that bone and put it in you. Now, if he acts like a child and gets mad over it, show baby boy the door because ladies, you have just met a grown child and his tantrums won't only be in the bedroom. Then pat yourself on the back, treat yourself to a glass of wine and relish in the fact that you just dodged a bullet. This advice goes for the men as well. If you are a man who doesn't really get off on the almighty BJ perhaps due to a bad experience with teeth biting down or it's simply not your thing, then tell us. Trust me, we won't be upset by it. <br />
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With all that said, the next misstep in sexual communication is the sex itself. There are so many positions to be had when it comes to penetration but that doesn't mean you try to do them all the first night we sleep with you. Don't get on us then try to flip us over, then on our sides, then against the wall and onto the floor for rug burns just because you watch this done in porn. Sure, we all enjoy quickies, strong forceful sex randomly, long passionate love making or trying to get away with it in the pool surrounded by others hoping they don't notice but there is no deadline. Not all of it has to be accomplished the first time. We have to find our groove with you. Once you are hitting that spot, the last thing we want is for you to pull out, wrangle us over and try from a new angle. Boom! We have now lost our female boner and have to start over. Hang out in the area, let us enjoy the moment and more than that, let us woman have the almighty orgasm. Very hard to accomplish when we are running from one position to the next. Trust me. If we have a good time and you do us right, we will be back for more. However, if you are trying to win a triathlon in bed, we probably won't sign up for the next race. Just talk to each other! There is no sexier four play than actually talking about what you want or what you'd like to do to one another. Isn't it funny how we can sit across from each other sharing stories of our fucked up childhood, divulge our history of law breaking yet we can't look in the eyes of that same person and say, <i>"I love it when you wake me in the night and get on top of me and go for it."</i> Trust me, this is hot. Imagine the man you think about all the time tells you how sexy you are when kiss him between his thighs to get him going and spontaneously straddle his lap while he's on the couch? It isn't a critique, it is a compliment. Plus, you are getting what you want without offending the other person or getting his dick shoved down your esophagus. Boom! <br />
That deserves a drink. <br />
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Here is when the Earth vs. Uranus comes into play. Women find it sexy to be told by their man that they love when the woman does this, that and the other to them. Men get told that we would rather do this or that then suddenly we have killed their erections and offended their manhood. Granted, the female race has been accused of talking too much but wouldn't it make more sense to be open and honest about the big bang (that magical thing that we actually have in common)? Don't just stick it in her anus (see what I did there), tell her that it's something you like or want to try. Either she is open to it or she has good reason not to do it. So now there is the option to opt out of the ride down the anal highway or call Uber and hop on in. Please, please, please do not just be going at it from behind then think that this would be a good time to pop it in. Trust me, that never ends well for either of you. <br />
If you are someone who gets wet at the simple act of kissing, then tell the one you are with. Show me a partner who wouldn't be excited by this piece of knowledge. So what's the point of saying this or anything? Because then you get more of it. See! Communicating what you like can actually get you it. <br />
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Hell, all this wisdom makes me thirsty. Hold please...<br />
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Okay so I have given some strong examples of why communication is so important but why do I think that men are from Uranus and Women are from earth? I believe that men are afraid to express their feelings because they are raised that way. Be tough, suck it up, don't cry bla bla bla. Girls are brought up crying, playing out acts with their dolls, hormones with periods that make us ride an emotional roller coaster every month etc... So here we are as adults still acting the same way. Instead of dolls, us women still play with things in our heads and over analyze, we have a season pass to the monthly period ride and cry at commercials. Men are still roughing each other up, sucking up their emotions and would rather get hit in the head with a bat than have anyone see him cry. This leads to men doing the shit they have built up in their minds despite the consequences and women are either talking about it until they are blue in the face or over think it then too afraid to speak up in fear that they will lose their man. But what do these planets have in common? They share the same atmosphere. We all share the same space. <br />
Above all, we are all human. We have feelings, wants, needs, pleasures and fears. Guess what? It's okay to talk about likes and dislikes without arguing. It is possible to share with each other and have it turn out just fine or even better. So do it. Be different, step outside of your own box of constant worry and let's talk. It's okay that the sexes are different just don't forget that we are also still the same in this crazy atmosphere of space.<br />
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Cheers my friends!<br />
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-82734607543837261932016-05-15T00:36:00.001-07:002016-05-15T01:14:27.065-07:00Table for 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Do you ever just sit back and wonder (while drinking wine), what is the point? I find myself doing this a lot lately. Not just the wine drinking, but pondering the meaning of my life. More specifically, I think about the amount of dates, relationships and natural disasters I have encountered as an adult. Let's be honest, anything before the legal drinking age just doesn't count. I like to think that I am wiser and more aware of the bullshit after each failure but somehow one seems to slip right by me. Then after a series of emotions, dates, energy and sex, I remember why I should've stayed single. The best foot forward mysteriously goes back to its original starting position and I learn that Mr. Wonderful is just Mr. Wolf in sheep's clothing. So naturally I tell myself to stay single because the players change but the game does not. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>While on this trajectory of self discovery, I think I've finally realized why I go through this over and over again. (I'm entering the deep end of the pool so strap on some water wings and fill that glass.) At the end of the day, we all want to matter. We want to be loved. We want to feel supported. Bottom line is that we just want to feel like our lives mean something. It isn't just the wine talking, I am going somewhere with this. Trust me. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>My last relationship was probably one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made in my adult dating life. I can't stand when people say that there are no regrets, no mistakes but only lessons. I call bullshit. My last one was nothing but a big fat heifer of a mistake. This lad, Mike, was younger than me and knew exactly the way into my life. He used a hefty dose of flattery, showed a need for me, told me everything I wanted to hear and most of all, he made me laugh. His story was that he was leaving his current girlfriend who he lived with bla bla bla so I was merely just his friend at first. Then after he left her, we started seeing each other. I felt like I had met a best friend and boyfriend all in one. Not to mention he was also in the entertainment business. So what could be wrong with this scenario? Two words: RED FLAGS!</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Sweet mother, I need to grab the bottle before I go any deeper into this! I suggest you do the same because as they say, shit is about to get real.</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Mike rented a room from a family member since leaving his ex and while I was there one night in his living room waiting to go out to dinner, he handed me his phone to show me a photo. A text popped up from a girl saying "Hey hey sweetheart." Immediately I asked who she was and he said that it was one of the girls he used to hook up with online and then said he will reply letting her know he has a girlfriend now and wouldn't be appropriate to hookup/chat anymore. She replied with a brief response that was sort of like a "Fuck you". In my mind I thought he squashed it, no big deal. So we moved on from it. As things progressed, we took a trip out of town together to enjoy some snow and catch a play. That evening in the hotel room, we had taken in too much wine and after a romp in the sack, we laid there talking. It was more like a question and answer session. He asked a deep question about myself then I would reciprocate. Somehow, the conversation turned into him telling me that he had once received a blow job from another man. (That flag is a waving) A gay friend who is married in fact. Needless to say, my reaction was not savory. I was shocked and immediately asked if he was gay, bi or going to do it again. He got very angry at my reaction and stomped around the room like a child having a tantrum. He then got into the other bed and said that he shouldn't have said anything and expected me to be more kind and supportive about it. Oh and the kicker is that he did this in his ex girlfriends living room while she was at work. Needless to say, the ride home the following day was awkward. I asked him why he did it. He said he was hanging with "said friend" and the friend said he could see that Mike was "big" through his shorts and wanted to see for himself. So naturally Mike showed him (why wouldn't you show off your penis to a gay friend) and then one thing lead to another and wouldn't you know it, his friend just started giving him head. While telling me this, I could tell he was very embarrassed and I just somehow told myself that maybe it's like when you experiment in college. He didn't go to college, so maybe that was his "moment". Okay, conversation over and time to move on. No no no, not so fast. The next week he didn't call, text or have much to say if I initiated conversation. Finally he said that he was mad that I was judgemental and acted shocked. Somehow we moved passed it and all was well.</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>As time went on, things were going great. We did everything together. We shared great nights out with our friends, attended events and did acting gigs together. I helped get him booked as well as introduced him to a lot of my contacts in the business which in turn, got him a lot more work in film. He was going on a trip to spend a week with friends in Chicago and decided the night before he left, he wanted me to meet his mother. BOOM! Big moment right? His mom was his world and he took me to meet her. It went great. During the evening, she was on her laptop showing me old pics of Mikey and with her Facebook open, she received a friend request from a girl who knew Mike. His mom pipes up asking why she keeps hounding her and who is she?? Our little boy looked like a deer caught in headlights. Bright eyed and stunted, he explained that she was an old friend and was always bothering him and to ignore her. That wonderful female instinct kicked in telling me that there was something more to the story. So I took a mental picture of her name and later in the evening while on the couch watching TV, I looked her up online. I found her public page on Instagram and there were all these posts depicting love for someone and then the one posted that night was something about how loving someone who ignores you is painful or some crap like that. That clever girl used a hashtag with his name in it. Oh but wait, looking back at all these love quotes, his name is always used in them. Well shit! I felt myself turning a brilliant shade of red (sort of like Merlot) and getting so upset that I could barely breathe. While cheater is blissfully watching some crap show about food (the usual viewing in his home) he must've caught wind of my onset of anxiety and anger as I was typing a comment on this girls latest post about "being ignored." I simply wrote, "I'm sorry he is ignoring you but we were busy fucking." Then I looked up from my phone and yelled out, "WHO THE HELL IS THIS???" Remember that deer in headlights look I mentioned from earlier in the evening? Well this time it was the deer in headlights then struck by a very large vehicle expression. He started asking questions about how did I know her and what did I know etc... He kept demanding to give him my phone. I said I knew that they were sleeping together and he was disgusting and I was out. I stormed out of his house in a rage and somewhere between the front door and my car, I threw my big full bottle of water at him. He followed me trying to explain that she was someone he also saw while he and I first dated and she was still attached. I knew there was a lot of garbage to that explanation and I continued to scream at him demanding he tell me the truth. He finally admitted that they had slept together while we were together. So I left and told him to go to hell. While he was in Chicago, I took off to California and spent a few days at the beach. Sand, wine and tears filled with anger. I came home and a few days later, I received a text in the middle of the night. Mike had written me a long apology and poem via text while he was still away. We spoke the next day and I agreed to hear him out when he returned. There it was, my moment of weakness. Truth was, I missed my friend. I missed the one who I spent nearly everyday with and enjoyed my life with so I thought it wouldn't hurt to sit and talk. WRONG! He suckered me right back in. We agreed to a fresh start and to put it behind us. Yep, I was an idiot. I own that. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Sorry, that bottle went fast! Must pop open another... hold please.</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Needless to say, that new start proved to be the way to go. We got closer and seemed to be happier than ever. Even I was sickened by how "cute" we were. He ended up losing his full time job and couldn't stay at his uncles house anymore so I took him in. I realized while spending our lives together under the same roof that he was always on his phone. I mean ALWAYS. So I did what any good spy, I mean girlfriend, would do. I pretended to act interested in what he was constantly doing. He showed me his Instagram and then I took the phone and looked at what sort of people he followed. They were all bodybuilders, gym buffs and men in general. Red Flag! I asked if he knew these people and he said no but it was motivation to get really fit. Wait, what is that? Oh it's that familiar smell of feces from a bull. This only made my suspicions to grow and so while he would shower and leave his phone unattended, I would dig into his life. I found many texts from his blow job buddy Alan, wanting to meet and connect. I found emails where he was responding to ads online for male escorts for a men for men only service. I found photos of women with penises. I also discovered his Skype account where he talks to men. He would jerk off with them online then agree to meet up with them in person. RED FLAG! No wait, that was more like me holding the red cape while facing a bull in an arena. I basically discovered a life that I didn't know existed that belonged to a guy I was sharing my life with. I stayed quiet for the day (due to shock) and then that evening on our way to dinner, I asked to stop by the park and let's sit and talk. We did just that. I wanted to flip out. I wanted to blurt out my discoveries. I wanted to kick him in the dick. Instead, I calmly asked him if there were things going on in his life that I should know. He said no. I asked if he still spoke to or saw Alan. He said that they were friends but that's it. Okay, this was going nowhere. We left and I was suddenly faced with shock, sadness and the dilemma of what to do and how to do it. I couldn't keep this up anymore. The next morning I got up early for work, got dressed and when I went to leave, he woke up and insisted on kissing me goodbye. What he didn't know was that I was crying the entire morning. During that afternoon I called him and he was at my home on the internet. I asked if he was online looking for work and he said not yet. I snapped. Him being on the internet must've been Skype sexing, jerking off to chicks with dicks or searching for a way to make money by looking at naked men. I told him to pack up and I was on my way home. I arrived and we went at it. I called him every name in the book and said that he was a homo and needed to get the hell out of my life. That didn't go well. He got physical and thought it was a good idea to punish me for the way I was now treating him. There was smacking, yelling, bending me over and trying to take charge of a situation that he had lost all control of. He left. He took his things and walked out. Needless to say, I was struck by that bull after all. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>After many nights that ended in Xanax and wine, I picked myself up and moved on. While away for work one week, my phone kept ringing and it was his mother. I finally picked up only to hear her yelling at me to put her son on the phone. I laughed and asked what she was talking about. She swore up and down that he was with me and I assured her that I was nowhere near him nor would I be. She said he had gone missing. She begged me to help her find him as she was worried. So I made a few calls and thought to call the hospital closest to his house. Sure enough, they said he had just been discharged and because of the sensitive nature, that's all they could say. Turns out, the idiot tried to kill himself (on my birthday) and didn't succeed. A small part of me was sad but the bigger part of me was pissed off. I called his mother back and told her. She flipped her lid and wanted to know if I was lying and what happened. All she knew is I kicked him out and left him with nothing. Of course that's what he told her! So now I am a very unhappy camper and decide to spill it. I told her everything. She cried and kept screaming that her only child couldn't be gay and how she wants to be a Grandmother one day. I had enough and wanted out of this mess so I said I was hanging up and would send her copies of texts between him and I where he admits to the abuse, the homosexual behavior and why it ended. D O N E. His dirt was off of my hands. I told her to go help her son and please leave me out of it. That was it. Happy Birthday to me. I went back to my hotel, got boozed up and sat in the hot tub. I met a lovely young guy while baking in the giant tub who was a gay male prostitute and serviced his Orange County clients at that hotel. Okay, party over and back to room I went.</em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Post birthday debacle, I spent many days and nights wondering how I could've been so stupid. How could I be so blind and let this happen under my nose? How could I be so happy and it turned out to be a lie? Was he just using me to help with money, career and at the end, a place to live? Was he that desperate to take advantage of my heart? Was I that desperate to feel loved and happy? One day I was sitting in the park near my house with my beloved dog who was happily chasing her Frisbee and it hit me (a revelation not the Frisbee). I could literally feel the weight of the answer cover me like a blanket. It wasn't any of those things. It was me. I liked the feeling of being needed. I liked the joy I got out of spending my time with my best friend and lover. I adored the simple affection like a kiss on the forehead or squeezing my hand in the car. I loved that someone listened to me and showed interest in my life. Overall, I was happy with feeling that I mattered. Somehow I equated the relationship with being validated. Truth be told, I was always laboring under the idea that he was being dishonest. Since I found out about his exploratory tryst the year before, I was always suspicious but talked myself out of it in exchange for comfort I had and the smile I kept finding on my face. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So what the fuck is my point? What am I going on about exactly? It is so simple. We get into relationships and fight for them when we know they are headed straight off a cliff. We strap ourselves into the car and ride along watching the dead end sign approach us but we don't get out. We do it because in that car, we aren't alone. We matter. We feel like we found our other half, our missing piece. It's that thing that makes us feel whole. Now that this happened, I have sorted out that I was never needing my other half because I am not a half. All this time spent alone has made me realize that I am whole and it isn't an unhealthy relationship that validates my life. I have to make my own life matter. So I go on and love those who love me, albeit the list is quite short, but the most important thing I do is learn how to continue to love myself (and wine). I am a work in progress, hell we all are, but now that I know that a relationship won't validate my life, I am happy. Sure it gets lonely at times and no dates to accompany me to a wedding or a movie, but I am investing in myself. When the time is right, I will meet someone who looking for and can appreciate the woman who loves herself, confident and honest with who she is and what she deserves. If I want flowers right now, I will buy them. If I want to see a film at the theater, I just go. I am simply not a half because I go alone. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Okay so you might say that I have contradicted myself in saying that mistakes aren't lessons, but the truth is, Mike was a Titanic sized mistake. I am learning more about myself, people, relationships, friends, family and what matters. I won't attribute that to his sorry confused lying ass, no. I take the credit for realizing that my life is merely validated by my own heart and what I give. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So order the dessert, dance like a fool regardless of who is watching, explore, laugh, be honest, love and most importantly, never drink stale wine. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Oh and if you thought Mr. Charming pants couldn't get worse...wrong! Turns out he knocked up Ms. Lonely Heart of Instagram while we were together. </em></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #351c75;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> CHEERS loser</span></em>!</span> </span></span></span></div>
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-57875615490221720242014-09-22T19:37:00.002-07:002014-09-22T19:37:41.723-07:00(N)ot (F)or (L)ong<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wasn't it Ferris Bueller who said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once and awhile, you could miss it."? Well Ferris, you're not wrong! It seems like someone has flipped a switch on my life over the last two years. As soon as I quit my safe comfortable career and took a chance and dedicated my life to reality TV (UGH), things have been moving in fast forward. I went from a very predictable life complete with bi weekly paychecks, beer drinking at the local pub at night, sleeping in on Sundays to then 6-8 hours a day of workouts, eating less calories than you can fathom and cameras in your face wanting you to share with the world those deep dark secrets that you've worked so hard to hide. Once the cameras and crew leave, it's not over. No no, then you sit and wait to see what kind of joke they've turned your life into and then air it for the world to see. After you chug a Big Gulp of Merlot and realize that what you signed up to do, worked your ass off for and poured your heart into has now been blended up and shown as a big pile of dramatic crap designed for ratings. Hmmm... that's about as settling as fermented wine. It's not over yet because suddenly people want to know you and depending on how the story aired, you can get loads of haters, creepers and all sorts of arrogant fucks who feel that they now know you and can say anything they want. Thank you social media. <br />
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<em>Woah! All that ranting can get a gal thirsty. Before I take a swig (or two) of my grapey goodness, please share in a toast with me:</em><br />
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Dear Haters, until you've climbed 112 flights of stairs to the top of the Stratosphere weighing 385lbs in an hour and a half, lunged across the Hoover Dam Bridge in the middle of August in 115 degree heat weighing 298lbs for 3 hours, dropped in the desert in the middle of summer and told to find your way home (and did), or stood in your bra and underwear sweating like a pig and fat as hell all the while with cameras in your face, then keep your ridiculous comments to yourself and just do me a favor and shut up.<br />
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<em>...clinging glasses...CHEERS!</em><br />
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Now that I've gotten that out of the way, let me get back to my point(and story). In the middle of all of the new chaos, I also managed to do some dating. Not much, but some. I have also been able to participate in a few films, commercials and TV shows (not reality). While on set of a movie, I met a former NFL player who immediately charmed the pants right off me. It's not what you are thinking. He didn't say "Hi, my name is Jackson...now drop and give me 20!". He actually complimented me, called me beautiful and did those kind gestures like pull out my chair that just really melt my butter. After all of the name calling, on camera arguments and overall degrading of my soul I had just gone through with the reality show, it was a breath of fresh air to be treated so kindly. I ate it up! At first glance, I was attracted to him. Tall, Italian, tattoos, nice build but I had no idea he was a former pro baller (not balla). We ended up working together for a few weeks and since we were on set for 12 hours plus a night, it allowed for plenty of time to talk and get to know each other. One night we were walking to get something to eat and someone approached him asking about his football career. Once they finished their conversation, I learned that he used to play professionally for many years as a tight end and as luck would have it, he actually had a very tight end. <em>Touchdown for Christy!</em> During dinner, I decided to share with him the experience I had recently gone through with the show. It was interesting exchanging our adventures as neither one of us had any idea what it was like for the other. I mean, I had never befriended or dated an NFL'er and he had never known a weight loss reality participant so it was actually interesting and there was a lot to learn about the other. We couldn't stop talking! We both seemed intrigued by what the other had to say. Things were going so well that nothing could've interrupted my current state of bliss... <em><strong>eeeeeeer screeeetch crash boom!</strong></em><br />
That's right, pump the brakes. <br />
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<em>Before I continue, I must refill my jug, umm I mean glass, and add this disclaimer:</em><br />
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- I like kids, babies, toddlers, pre teens and a few select teenagers. <br />
- I don't begrudge anyone for having kids although I cannot believe that some of the morons in this world do procreate. Some people can't find their way out of an box but yet they manage to have kids. Oh how I wish natural selection occurred in humans or we at least could enforce sterilization in the hopelessly stupid.<br />
- At this stage of the game, I am well aware that most men have kids. The only way I will find a man without them is to attend freshmen orientation at the local university and even that is no longer a guarantee thanks to shows like Teen Mom.<br />
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The locker room shenanigans, on the field drama, player scandals and all of the behind the scenes secrets that he shared were fascinating to me. I just love hearing about those things that I know nothing about! In the midst of throwing the football, he also managed to get married. <em>Okay, now my ears are perfectly perked! </em>He continued on about their relationship and how once they had kids it all went downhill. So what do you do when your marriage fails because you had children? You get married to wife number two and have a few more. Turns out, he was so good at getting married and having kids that he did it a third time and ended up with 8 kids total. I had to hand it to him, he managed to get married then divorce 3 times, fertilize a bunch of eggs and father 8 kids while sustaining a long pro football career. Bravo buddy! Someone hand this guy the Heisman trophy. By the time he finished sharing his autobiography with me, I was exhausted. That was a lot to digest and I hadn't even touched my meal. <br />
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After we wrapped that morning, I said goodbye to him and got in my car to go home and catch a bit of sleep before returning to set that night. I got to bed feeling exhausted but couldn't turn my mind off. I meet this guy and we hit it off but how in the world could we date? It gets challenging enough trying to fit into a single father's life when he has one ex wife and a child or two but Jackson has 3 ex wives and 8 children. I was once heavily involved with a man who had his son full time and we never had alone time and our relationship revolved around his son. That was a lot of work! I grew to love his son and if our relationship was going to work, I would have to so thankfully I did. Eventually we parted ways because he was giving it to his ex whore wife while I was at home with his little boy doing homework.<em> Another story, another time. </em>Now that I know just how much commitment and time goes into children, rather dating men with them, I just can't fathom how it could possibly work with 8 kids. Granted, we were spending lots of time together on set but he had to hire babysitters and get the ex wives to help watch them all. This was all planned out because it was in fact a job but I just can't believe that he could organize all of that for him and I to grab a movie or a meal. Could you imagine him asking wives 1-3 if they could keep all 8 kids one night so we could get busy in the sack? Nope, me neither.<br />
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I got to set that night and we had a few hours in holding so we got to chat. He managed to bring up his birthday that was just around the corner and suggested we go out and celebrate. As nice as I could, I asked him if that was possible with all of his clan at home? He assured me that since it was his birthday he could wrangle enough childcare for the night. That led to me asking him if we should see each other after our work was done and he said "Of course! This isn't just a fling for me. I want to get to know you better and see what can happen." In my realistic mind, I thought it was a nice thing to say but just didn't know how in the world we would ever have time together. I had to give the lad credit for his optimism though. <br />
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Our parts had finally wrapped and now it was time to test drive dating in the real world. We text mostly with the occasional phone call late at night and he set up his birthday festivities with me for the following week. He said he had childcare in place and nothing was going to get in the way of having fun. The following week rolled around and I sent a text asking how his day was blah blah blah with no response. Let's jus say that I did not get a response for two weeks. Nothing. At first I was worried but then I just told myself that he is a guy and probably just blew me off. I was a bit pissed off about it but hey, life goes on. <br />
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Three weeks after the last time I had heard from him, I decided to shoot him a text. I wrote "If you are blowing me off then have the balls to tell me. If not and something is wrong, let me know. Either way, man up and say something." Ding ding ding! I got a response! He said "I am sorry. I had to travel out of state for an emergency with my ex wife and I am on my way back. It has been hectic so I haven't had time to text you." I sat on that for a few minutes then text this, "I am sorry that there was an emergency and I hope all is well. For future reference, texting someone takes less than a minute and despite how busy you are, you can at least have the decency to send one even if you have to do it while taking a crap on the toilet." He said he was sorry and I never replied. That was really all I needed to solidify what I had been thinking all along. This guy, regardless of how great I thought he was, had too much going on in his life with exes and kids. Do I think less of him for having that many? No. It just doesn't work for me. Besides, I think that seeing as how I have never been married and unable to have kids automatically disqualifies me to be with him.<br />
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Despite that bump in the road, my life is still continuing to go in fast forward. Regardless of the speed it's going in, I always make time for my dogs, wine and the occasional 80's movie.<br />
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Cheers<br />
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<em></em><br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-46928138946774196732014-06-15T00:27:00.001-07:002014-06-15T00:40:07.514-07:00Just Do It....Or Not<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I never have trouble starting a tale of despair and disaster in the world of blogging but tonight I find myself at a loss. I am trying to figure out what the problem is and all I can come up with is that I am getting tired of dating. It is literally exhausting both physically and emotionally. Not even a glass (or jug) of Merlot can pep me up and snap me out of this dating funk. <i>Okay, it may not cure what is ailing me but it sure does dress up my wounds in a beautiful burgundy colored bandage.</i> I suppose what I am getting at is that this particular story may not have much whit, lessons or sex but as always I guarantee that it will possess the sad and pathetic truth (and a name change to protect the guilty). <br />
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I can't really say what it was that got into me this particular lonely evening but I decided to scroll through the endless rolodex of available Vegas bachelors online. After the first 50, they all start to morph into the same looking guy. Let me paint the picture for you. The Vegas bachelor is shirtless and standing in front of his bathroom mirror flexing and showing off whatever muscles are toned on his upper body. He is holding his phone while displaying his biceps snapping that one photo that will make the women swoon. All the while he has forgotten to tidy up the counter in front of him or wipe off the toothpaste/spit combo speckled on his mirror. Their profiles suggest that not only are they physically fit but that they are also serious about finding their partner. Sure they spend their free time riding quads, eating healthy, watching sports, shooting targets in the desert, taking care of homeless children, feeding the hungry and working out in the gym but they still have plenty of time for that one special woman. After looking at the last profile before calling it quits, I got a message. DING! The message was from this tall, dark, handsome and seemingly successful man who was in his early 40's named Devon. He didn't say much but mentioned that he liked blondes and if I would like to get to know each other to please reply. After scanning his bio online, I decided to reply. He seemed different and interesting. He owned an athletic shoe company and was partnered up with a famous NBA player. No no, I wasn't immediately drawn to dollar signs or free shoes (okay maybe one pair) but I was more excited at the thought of someone having a job and ambition. So we exchanged messages throughout the evening and the next day spoke on the phone. After a lot of chit chat, he asked me out on a date.<br />
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<i>Let's refill before we go on.... Logistics can really make a gal thirsty!</i><br />
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Three days after first talking to Devon, we met. He had asked me to meet him at The Venetian at a nice little Italian restaurant where we could sit by the canal that runs through the casino and afterward take a ride on the Gondola. What? Wait a minute! We aren't meeting at a dive bar or a frozen yogurt eatery where I can sit and listen to you tell me how fat women are submissive or leave me at the table while you go to the bathroom and I never see you again?? I was so ill prepared for such a date! No jeans and sexy top, no no, this required a dress, heels and lots of hairspray. After all, he said he was 6'8" tall and seeing as how I am merely 5'10", I had some height to make up for. Platform shoes and at least 4" of teased blonde locks and I was armed and ready to go. I arrived right on time and as I approached the restaurant, I spotted Devon sitting at a table for two. At first glance I immediately knew it was him because he was decked out in his own athletic gear from head to toe. I then noticed how much older he looked than his photos but still very good looking. I approached him and he stood up and hugged me. He said he spotted me a mile away because of my bright blonde hair. <i> Why do people always point this out to me? Clearly I am not the only one with platinum hair and an amazing hair stylist! </i>So we sat down and he handed me my menu while pointing out that while he was waiting for me, he already decided on what to eat. <i>Woah! Slow down bro, I wasn't late. Let me catch up! </i>While he was utilizing the art of small talk and I surveyed the selections, I noticed that my menu seemed a bit limited for such a nice restaurant. There were only two choices for everything including entrees. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't there for the meal but it just seemed a bit strange. If I was one of those girls who merely went on first dates for a free meal then I wouldn't go through so much trouble of beautification and callus causing shoes. The server came to our table and proceeded to take our orders. Although Devon only chose water to drink, I of course opted for my own preference in liquid refreshment (one tall glass of red, thank you). <br />
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Our conversation was off to a running start! All I had to do was ask about his shoe company and how it got started. BOOM! He had so much to say that I didn't have to say a word. My job was merely going to entail just sitting there, nodding my head and look pretty. I found myself a bit intrigued by his story of how he got started and how shoes are made and then we were interrupted. To my right, just outside of the eating area, there were people standing and staring at us. One started taking photos. Then another couple slows down and starts whispering. I asked "Do you know them? Do they know you? What's going on?" He sort of laughed and said that they must think we are "somebody famous" because he is a tall black guy wearing athletic gear and I am the big breasted blonde seated with him. No sooner did he say those words that we hear one lady say out loud, "That's Coco but that isn't Ice T." Our sudden fame continued on throughout our meal but eventually we ignored it all and he continued to talk while I was sure to sit up right and smile pretty (Lord knows where those pictures could surface someday). Despite the tourist paparazzi and his endless supply of conversation (about himself) I really enjoyed my meal and then the server reappeared offering us a choice of two desserts. I declined but opted for another glass of wine. After all, being a new celebrity is exhausting. <br />
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After dessert and wine, he asked if I would care to take a ride on the Gondola. Hmmm... with all of that talk, photos and wine, I somehow forgot to see if I was even attracted to this guy. Well after careful thought, I came to the conclusion that I really had no idea other than I loved his passion for what he does. So I told him that I would like to join him. <br />
<i> Grab your glass and make sure it is at least half full for what I am about to tell you...</i><br />
The server then arrived and said to Devon "Sir, your prepaid 2 for 1 coupon does not cover the wine." <i>GULP! </i>Without even batting an eyelash, Devon pointed at me and said, "Give her the bill for the wine then." <i>GULP! </i>Not that I am opposed to paying for my own meal or wine (hell I do that daily) but this guy used a coupon and if you are keeping score, he owns an athletic show company and let's just say, I do not! After I realized he wasn't kidding, I pulled out my wallet and paid my part of the bill and as I closed my wallet he pipes up and asks, "Will you take care of the tip too?" I opened my wallet back up and pulled out the tip money and placed it on the table and jokingly quipped, "Do you need any cab fare before I put it away?" <br />
Devon laughed and then motioned for us to get up and go. We walked out towards the Gondola and he pulls out this ticket from his pocket and started to read it. He then informed me that his free tickets have expired and apologized. If things weren't interesting enough already, wouldn't you know it, a young girl walks up to us and asks if she could have his autograph. He told her in a simple yet sarcastic sort of way, "No, I am not who you think I am.". <br />
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<i>Wait for it... wait for it...</i><br />
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After quick assessment I concluded that this night was just an entire pile of bizarre and it was time to go. I didn't feel any spark (unless you count the flash from the strangers taking photos), he was cheap, self absorbed and now rude to young girls. At that moment I told him that we should call it a night and I was going to go home. He leaned over, hugged me and asked if I would give him a ride back to his place. <i>Yeah, I thought he was joking too, but no such luck. </i>He then went on to explain that back in California he was involved in a hit and run and didn't take responsibility for it so his license is suspended because he refuses to pay the $16,000 worth of fines he has now accumulated. Luckily my scrunched up facial expression answered that question for him because he then chuckled and said not to worry about it, he will take a taxi. <i> I suppose I am lucky he didn't take me up on that offer for cab fare after all! </i>I turned and walked away (would've ran but platforms don't allow for that) saying goodnight. <br />
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The next morning while I was enjoying a lovely glass of orange juice (and vodka) and still shaking my head over the events that took place the night before, my phone alerted me to a text. Guess who? Devon text to say that he loved our date and hoped to do it again very soon. I really didn't know what to say so all I did was reply with "It was nice meeting you too." I didn't want to suggest doing it again but I did want to say that if he had anymore interesting prepaid coupons for a show like Celine Dion, then sure, I am game. But no, I left it at that, finished my morning beverage and went about my life... All by myself...<br />
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<i>Okay, if you didn't pick up on that Celine Dion reference then you need to drink more...</i><br />
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<i>Cheers!</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-74262086506700673142014-01-24T19:58:00.001-08:002014-06-03T13:23:34.203-07:00Can't Buy Me Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am the kind of gal who doesn't drink just one type of vino. I am an equal opportunist in the field of red wine. In fact, I have yet to meet a glass of red grapes that I didn't like. However, if you were to ask why I don't drink white wine the answer would be simple. White wine makes the end of my nose itch. We aren't talking about just a mere tickle but rather full blown bugs under the skin, rip my nose off and overdose on Benedryl type of itch. I don't look at it like it is a bad thing but rather a sign from the grape Gods that I was meant to be a red wine connoisseur. Who am I to question a higher power? With that said, I have my glass poured and enjoying each sip as I share another tale from the crypt.</div>
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I look at men and dating the way I look at wine. I love all types but unfortunately I have a bad reaction to a large amount of them. Every now and then I test the waters and try a good Gewürztraminer and find that my reaction hasn't changed. Throughout my dating career, <i>er um I mean life</i>, I have found that extremely wealthy men and I don't mix either. They make my skin not only itch, but crawl. Being the optimist that I am, I like to go and revisit my allergies and convictions and give a rich man a try. </div>
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I had received a message on the old trusty dating site from a man who seemed normal. <i>They all appear normal at first until proven guilty (which never takes long as we know)</i>. At first glance, nothing about him screamed millionaire. He posted a few photos and wasn't bad looking, very clean cut complete with polo shirts. His profile said that he had two kids, in his 40's,over 6 feet tall with a full head of hair, business owner, no pets (should've been a red flag) and was looking for a long term relationship. His message to me was simple. He said "Hi, I am Matt and would like to cut to the chase and take you to dinner." I wrote back and offered my phone number and suggested we talk for a bit before meeting. He called the next day and I found him to be charming, witty and direct. <i>Not too shabby for our first conversation</i>. At the end of the call he asked if I would meet him for lunch the following day to which I happily agreed. Right as we were about to say goodbye, he offered up his full name so I would know he was legit. WOW! I didn't have to ask for it or do my own private investigation (also known as Google). Now there had to be a catch! It was all just too smooth and too easy. The first thing I did was look up the restaurant we were meeting at the next day. I had never heard of it when he suggested it but of course I acted like I had been there plenty of times. Turns out that the restaurant is located on the most prestigious golf course in Las Vegas. From there, I went on to look up Matt and see what I could find out on him. I quickly learned that he was no ordinary lad. No no, he was in fact a multi millionaire who came from a long line of other well known wealthy men. His grandfather was responsible for some really well known creatures in the film industry and his father was also extremely well known for creating some of the most beautiful buildings in this country. Then there is Matt who took the family money and prestige and developed restaurants and buildings around the country. Normally when finding out such details I wouldn't even agree to go out with a man like that but this one just seemed so nice. Maybe Matt would be the one to prove me wrong? He could be that one particular white wine that didn't cause an allergic reaction that affected my nose. </div>
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The next morning I quickly jumped out of bed and went straight into the closet pulling out every cute clothing option I own. I held up one thing after another while staring in the mirror and nothing seemed good enough. It could've been my ratty bed head sticking straight up or the countless jagged lines across my face from where my face was smashed against the pillow all night, but nothing looked good enough for this lunch date. I thought perhaps if I showered and put my makeup on then maybe my clothes might look differently. While shaking all of my bits in the shower to the perky lyrics of my favorite Lady Ga Ga song, it dawned on me that it doesn't matter what I wear. I just had to look nice and not try so hard. He is a human just like me and I am sure he isn't at home fretting over what he is going to wear. Besides, if all it took was a hot outfit to land a mate then I wouldn't be single all these years. I may not be a size zero but I know how to pull off nice attire. Even the most simple clothes can be spruced up with the right shoes and accessories. So I put aside all of my silly wardrobe concerns and threw an outfit together and completed it with a black wool peacoat. Besides the abnormal frigid Vegas temperature, the coat also hides a lot of imperfections. </div>
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I arrived at the valet of the country club and after seeing the brand new Mercedes, BMW's and countless Bentley cars, I made a swift detour into the self parking lot. Don't get me wrong, I love my modest Honda but it didn't stand a chance next to those higher end vehicles. The only flaw in that decision was that I was wearing 3" heels that were for show and not for comfort. I hiked up to the restaurant, wiped the sweat off of my forehead and entered. I told the host who I was there to meet and I was immediately escorted to the table where Matt was already seated. He stood up from his chair, shook my hand and gestured to the seat that I was to sit in. My first impression was that he looked much older than his photos and he licked his lips non stop. There was an obvious discomfort in the air and our small talk was really forced. I looked over the menu and as I browsed the lunch selections, he kept insisting I get a salad. The waiter approached (calling my date by name) and asked if he would like his usual and what I would like to order. Matt proceeded to order a Scotch for himself, a sandwich with a bowl of soup and for me the infamous salad with a glass of water. <i>Wait! He gets Scotch and I get water??</i> To say I was a bit shocked and pissed off would be an understatement. It was at this moment I decided to just suck it up, eat my salad and sip my water (yuck) and get the hell out of there. Who does that? He didn't know me and then orders my meal! Obviously this guy is used to being the boss in life and on dates. Granted, I like a little take charge in a man but this was a bit much after only knowing each other for five minutes. I gave the waiter my menu and started asking Mr. bossy pants some personal questions. I wasn't too thrilled with him but why not dig in and learn a thing or two. </div>
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Within 10 minutes I learned that he owned several homes between Las Vegas and Southern California. He likes to travel around Europe at least twice a year. He doesn't like dogs because in his words "all they do is shit and shed" and divorced his wife for lack of blow jobs. </div>
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<i>That's right, you heard me. Now take a deep breath and a large sip of your beverage then we will continue.</i></div>
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He ripped through all sorts of little details until he touched on his ex wife. Now the can was wide open and worms were everywhere! Still incessantly licking his lips and blinking one eye, he sipped his Scotch and proceeded to go on and on about his ex wife. Sure she had slept with his good friend and sure she liked to gamble away thousands of dollars a week but it was the lack of oral gratification that ultimately was the cause of their demise. He went on to say that he told her upon marriage that she would never have to lift a finger in their home, have a nanny if they had kids and maids to clean the home just as long as she greeted him on her knees each night when he returned home from work. He then asked me, "If you and I were married and you were spoiled rotten, wouldn't you greet me by giving me head every night?" I was so blown away (<i>yeah I said blown)</i> by this that my only response was "no but it's only because I have arthritis in my knees." He gave off an unamused chuckle and then gulped down the rest of his drink. Once our meal arrived, we both dove in and used the food as a reason not to speak to each other. He ate his lunch quite quickly and I was only half through my delicious (<i>he was right</i>) salad. Who knew that a garden in a bowl could be so scrumptious? As he took his last bite, he summoned the server and asked for the check. He didn't ask if I was finished, needed a refill of water or if I wanted anything else. Nothing! He pulled out his American Express black card and was sure to show it to me before handing it with the bill to the waiter. <i>Yes hot shot, I know you are rich so calm down! </i>In my best military imitation, I scarfed down as much salad as I could. As he finished signing for our lunch, he pulled out his wad of hundred dollar bills and asked our server for change. Once he got the money back, he stood up and said "well thanks, better get back to work". I quickly grabbed my things and followed him out towards the exit. </div>
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In an effort to end this date on a decent note I made mention of how beautiful the Christmas tree was in the lobby. Matt's response was just "UGH, Christmas!" He reached out his hand to shake mine and said that he was going to "hit the head" before he leaves and then offered me money for valet. I sarcastically said that I had it covered. Okay so I didn't use the valet service but he didn't need to know that. I happily left through the door and made my way back to my humble little Honda and got the hell out of there. As I drove home, my phone rang. Guess who? That's right, it was Mr. Bossy Pants. I hesitantly answered and he said hello in an annoyed type of tone. He thanked me for meeting him but was disheartened that I deceived him. I asked what in the hell was he referring to and he went on to say that I never mentioned the tattoo under my right wrist. He was so disgusted by my visible ink stain that you would've thought I had been his ex wife who didn't give him blow jobs. Before I could say anything in return he told me that he had another call and had to go. <i>Click! </i>If our lunch date wasn't bad enough, he had to top it off with some verbal shit dessert.</div>
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Once I arrived home, I kicked off my blister causing (but cute) shoes and poured a glass of Merlot. As I savored each sip I replayed the entire lunch in my head and came to the conclusion that clearly I am still unable to date rich men. So next time the urge strikes, I will drink some Pinot Grigio, scratch my nose and remind myself that white wine and rich men don't mix!</div>
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<i>Cheers!</i></div>
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-82663945102688629542013-12-27T01:02:00.001-08:002013-12-27T01:02:27.192-08:00No Time Like The "Present"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As this year's Christmas draws to a close, I thought that perhaps I should reflect on the lessons I have learned from it. As with any holiday or day of the week, I have learned that you should always be relaxed when divulging your inner most thoughts or rants. So the quickest way to the inner peace is by drinking delicious, mind numbing yet good for the heart, red wine. While drinking, if you feel the need to do a little downward dog or any variation of your favorite yoga pose, just be sure to set the glass down first. No need for any unnecessary fatalities. By fatality of course I mean, spilled wine. This tip can also be useful in other wine consuming situations such as sex, walking the dog, vacuuming or basically any activity where you are drinking and not just sitting down. </span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh that reminds me, all this typing and drinking makes for a quickly emptied glass. Bare with me while I fill 'er up!</span></i><br />
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I apologize for getting a bit off track there for just a moment but we all know that the topic of Merlot safety is one that should never be taken lightly. That said, let's continue shall we? As I began to say, I would like to share the lesson I have quickly learned this Christmas. When I paid Santa that last visit recently to discuss my new dating strategy, I had no idea that he would act on it so vehemently! No sooner did I swallow the last piece of miniature candy cane given to me by one of his elves, did I go out on a first date with a not so good looking chap. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This particular experiment's name was <i>Corey (</i>not really, but it's not worth getting sued over<i>). </i>He is 6'3", caucasian, 47 years old, full head of short brown hair, nicely built (not too big, not too small), and a full set of teeth. Are you wondering why I called him "not so good looking" yet? I will get to it. <i>Just be patient and take another sip or gulp, you choose. </i> Corey has a great job that takes him up north to another state for two weeks at a time then home for two weeks off that seems to pay very well. He has never been married and has no children. He owns his current home and has a car. You might think that having a car shouldn't get you dating points but trust me, it does! Do you really want to be picked up for a date on Schwinn 10 speed and riding on the handle bars or sitting piggy back on a 30 mph moped? When you total these details up you would think that he was a suitable candidate even though he carried a cell phone that was not only a flip version but might have just been the original flip phone. Still, an ancient mobile device wasn't enough to detour me from my quest to find a mate. We met at a low lit public place that was a log cabin type of tavern. He had arrived 30 minutes early and I was there right on time. I greeted him and sat down across the table from Corey and saw that there were 4 empty beer glasses as well as one half empty (or half full, depends on how you look at it) properly lined up in front of him. <i>Not to worry, I am not about to prove that I am a hypocrite</i>. For one who possesses a strong desire for red wine, I did not look down on him for the amount of beer he clearly chugged down prior to my arrival. He was wearing a pair of dark sweat pants, sneakers, a light colored sweatshirt and a wind breaker jacket which bared the logo of a local casino. Okay so it was a clear cut case of a wardrobe malfunction but I still refused to take him out of the running because if things were actually to progress between us, I could always help (change) his wardrobe. </span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let's pause for the cause. My mouth is dry and there is nothing thirst quenching about an empty glass.</span></i><br />
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If you have been keeping track you'll know that this 47 year old is good on paper, likes to drink beer and either picks out his clothes in the dark or hasn't been taught proper wardrobe etiquette in this century. The conversation was off to a running start. He not only went into further detail of his job but also included his upbringing in a small town and how his parents are also second cousins. <i>No, I am not kidding. </i>I would have spit up my wine at that moment but we all know how I feel about being wasteful. The conversation quickly shifted into religion. <i>Stop laughing, I am not the one who brought it up! </i>Seeing as how my family houses Catholics, Jews, Mormons and a few back slidden Christians, there wasn't much he could say that I haven't already heard. I grew up in a potpourri of religion in my home and nowadays I only pray to the grape infused Gods. Next topic was about his job, again. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After the third round of "This is my job and this is what I do", I decided it was time to go. I am sure you have noticed that I never mentioned his face and there is a good reason for that. I am sure that plenty of women would find him attractive but I was not one of them. There is not enough alcohol for me to be able to describe it. Needless to say, I was looking around a lot during that date. I did give it a good effort and really tried to imagine that if over time, I could be attracted to him. Bottom line is there was no spark. Not even a flicker. Nothing. (<i>Nada, for the Latin audience). </i>Before he could indulge me into another round of my job is cool and this is how cool I am when I do it, I suggested that it was time to go. He paid the bill and we walked out to the parking lot and to my car. He gave me a hug and asked if he could take me out again this week before leaving for work out of town this weekend. I gave it a thought and told him yes I would. The only reason I agreed to this was I really wanted to give this no spark dating an old fashioned college try. The next day I sent a text saying hello and bla bla bla and still days later, no response. Am I disappointed, irritated and pissed off? The answer would be a hearty "HELL NO!" In a different situation I might be offended by the lack of response but in this case, I feel as though he did me a favor. I didn't want to go out again but I was open to the idea of getting involved with a man with whom I couldn't look at sober or inebriated. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So as my final glass of liquid joy empties and another one date wonder draws to a close, let's reflect on what I have learned:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Santa Clause took me too literally this year.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. No amount of alcohol can make someone attractive.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Good on paper does not make your face more appealing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. A spark is very important (<i>but only you can prevent forest fires</i>)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. Chances are that when your parents are related, you and I won't be having a second date.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thank you dear jolly fat man in the big red suit for not only giving me a Christmas present so soon but also giving me the gift of a lesson. The lesson being that when dating, it is okay to want certain things out of a man including attraction. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We have a new year approaching which means more reason to eat, drink, be merry and drink a bit more! Happy 2014 and Cheers!</span><br />
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<i><br /></i>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-4082287803541946312013-12-22T00:35:00.002-08:002013-12-22T00:35:21.670-08:00Lesser Expectations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do you hear that? Listen closely because if you do you'll recognize that it is the sound of the soothing pour of a freshly opened bottle (okay box) of the finest Merlot that $10 can buy. I finally bought that particular glass that holds an entire bottle of wine. As much as I love it, it does carry with it a certain amount of guilt. On the bright side, I save time by not having to refill my glass repeatedly or suffer from uneven biceps by constantly using my right arm to life the bottle. However, by the time I finish the glass I feel my bubble burst when I realize that there is no more to pour. I suppose I could be bothered to open a new bottle or I could just buy a box. Ding Ding Ding! It is a win win situation. You see, not only do I fill a bottle size glass but when it's time for a refill, I actually have wine to drain from that cute little plastic spout. Now go ahead and fill your glass (despite the size) and join me for story time...</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tastes pretty good doesn't it?</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Besides discovering all of the incredible benefits of cardboard vs. glass, I have also managed to be brave and revisit the world of dating. I know I know, you'd think I would have learned my lesson by now given all of the mishaps and train wrecks I have been involved in but no, I hang on to that little drug called hope (and sometimes Xanax). One might also assume that after all this time and my lengthy silence that I may have found "the one" but you'd be wrong again. I did manage to stumble across several liars, men hung up on other women and one millionaire. In fact, I could rewrite the 12 Days of Christmas song with the bone heads I have met over the last twelve months but I'm just not sure that "3 unemployed, 2 alcoholics and 1 millionaire" is as festive. With so many to choose from, which one do I feel like divulging the dirty details about? To be honest, it is quite difficult to pick just one wiener, sorry winner, from the loser olympics. So how about instead of choosing just one to share, I let you in on a little experiment that I am currently partaking in?</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Time to tip the spout! You see, with a box there are still refills available...</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have always made sure that when I agree to meet a new man, that there is a certain amount of attraction. Let's not forget about the list I gave to Santa in the past regarding features such as height, hair or the lack of, muscles etc... and although that big fat jolly man provided such men throughout the year, all of them missed the mark. So four weeks ago I decided to go and pay a visit to Mr. Clause and discuss my ranking on this years naughty and nice list. After we went through the list and I found that I had landed smack dab in the middle of it, I went ahead and started the negotiation process for the type of man I am looking for in the year ahead. After my new and improved list of demands, er um I mean qualities I would like, he began to laugh. Okay it wasn't just laughter, it was more like a loud roar that made his belly jiggle like a bowl full of jelly (or a bottle of wine after dropping it... more reason for a box). I was suddenly embarrassed as I realized his hysterics had drawn a crowd, or maybe it was just a line of kids waiting their turn, but still I had to leave and rethink my requests. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After licking my wounds of humiliation, I thought long and hard about what matters most to me when choosing a mate. Let's not be silly, of course I would still like a taller man with a career, a home, vehicle and no outstanding warrants but in the column of physical attributes, I had to make some minor adjustments:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1. Does not have to have a shaved head. Hair is okay but it can't be long. The 80's are over, sadly. Don't get me wrong, I love the big hair bands who gave us "you give love a bad name" or "she's my cherry pie" but when it comes to hair, above the ears not down your back. Thank you and rock on!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2. The tattoos are now optional but not required. Sigh....</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3. Muscles are wonderful but it isn't a deal (or brick) breaker.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4. The one thing I won't budge on is height. Be as tall as me or taller. When a man's face just barely reaches my cleavage well.... hmmmm, maybe I will have to get back to this one later.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5. Full set of teeth whether real or fake just have some pearly whites visible when smiling.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After compiling my new list of desired male traits, I realized that I am willing to date a man that isn't that attractive or necessarily has to be cute. You see, nowhere in that list did I mention good looking or sexy. Just be taller than Danny Devito and have some chops to chew food with. Armed with my revisions, I headed back to the North Pole located at the local mall and had a chat with Santa. I sat next to his lap (didn't want to hurt the old goat) and told him that I was ready to renegotiate my Christmas wish. The conversation went very well and instead of laughing, he actually told me that he was proud of me opening my mind to the possibility of falling in love with an unattractive man. I was so happy to hear this from him not only because I felt that I did good by lowering my standards but also I could smell alcohol on his breath so clearly we were on the same page. I gave him a hearty high five and he gave me a "ho ho ho" (or did he call me that) as I walked away from his winter wonderland. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I arrived home just in time to have some liquid dinner and give further thought to my new plan. If I find or meet a man who is not attractive, I will be open minded to going out with him. So what if I can't look at him sober or require dim lighting at all times? As long as he is kind, honest, funny, single, not a felon and makes an honest living then he is a candidate. This experiment will commence once the last of the egg nog and Brandy has been poured, the Christmas trees has been put back in their boxes and the dogs holiday sweaters go back in the closet, I will then begin my quest. Until then, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Cheers!</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...and be sure to recycle those boxes ;)</span></i></div>
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-89886416732948577372013-03-17T23:18:00.002-07:002013-03-17T23:18:39.376-07:00Times a wastin...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After several of workouts, 40 hours at work, a much needed mani/pedi and another failed relationship, I figured it was time to pour myself a large glass of Merlot and share yet another dating debacle. My toes are a lovely shade of pale pink while my fingernails are a bright fluorescent nod to the 80's. My hair is fabulously large and makeup flawless, I am wearing turquoise pajama shorts, black tank top and furry zebra print robe and ready to share my sorrows. I mean, what else would I do looking this way? While others choose to wear this particular attire to shop at the local Walmart, I choose to sit home with my laptop and glass(bottle) of wine to divulge my pathetic attempts at happily ever after. You're welcome, you can thank me later!<br />
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Remember the good old days when you would be suffering from a breakup and your friends would be there for you with comforting words of wisdom, a meal out, cocktails at the local bar or a shopping trip to support your anguish? Looks like those days are long gone for me. Now when I inform my friends that I found myself single again, they respond by saying that it is an opportunity for another blog. You've got to be kidding me! No cocktails, no high priced shopping, no 4000 calorie meal followed by a bucket of ice cream. No! Sympathetic words of wisdom have been replaced by "please write down your misery and entertain us!" Ok fine, I can play along. Here you go my caring friends, enjoy and you can't say that I've never given you anything. <br />
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<i>Go ahead and grab a glass of your favorite grape and let's dive in....</i><br />
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On a Friday night while others were out enjoying the Vegas night life, I was at home surfing the Internet for a possible date. Page after page, I scrolled through countless single men who claim that they are looking for "the one". On this particular site, you have the option to state whether you are looking for a long term relationship, marriage, dating or just a casual encounter(aka wham bam hand me a tissue ma'am). I kept it to the ones looking for a relationship because in all honesty, if I was looking for just sex, I could just pick up the phone and get it. That is not me tooting my own horn, no no, that is just the truth. Even if I didn't have a little black book, I could go down to the bar and pick a guy up and get it on the parking lot. I am a fan of the booty call, I really am, but these days I would like to find the sex with a side of relationship. <i>Call me crazy!</i> So I had stumbled across a few decent looking and semi normal sounding prospects but none of them were jumping off the page and then I found Brady. His profile said that he was a single part time father, business owner, local high school coach, 6'4" tall, tattooed and liked dogs. His one photo was just from the shoulders up and from what I could tell, he was broad with a shaved head and goatee. <i> Ding Ding Ding! </i>I sent him a message that was short and sweet that read "Hello. My name is Christy and I enjoyed your profile. If you'd like to chat after seeing mine, that would be great." The way I see it, why go on and on if he takes one look at me and isn't interested? Within two minutes he had responded with his name. We went back and forth through messages then moved on to exchanging phone number and texts. Before long, he asked to meet me the next night for dinner. I agreed and the next day we met up at a casual restaurant. I didn't feel the need to get all dolled up this time. The hair and makeup were good but I was wearing the most casual clothes. It was just a step up from what I have on now. Once we got out of our cars and saw each other, the clouds parted and the angels starting singing. That spark that I've always read about actually happened to me. We hugged and just clicked right from the start. <br />
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After 4 hours of non stop conversation and barely touching our food, we left the restaurant. He asked if he could hug me goodbye and while hugging I asked if I could kiss him goodbye. I know, the little slut in me wanted to test the merchandise. Let's just say he passed with flying colors. Brady asked if he could see me again the next day and of course I said yes. He was so good looking in person and beyond charming. He had told me I was beautiful and couldn't understand why I was single. The next day we met for a movie then dinner. During dinner we shared stories and found that we had a lot in common. A few glasses of wine into the meal, I was an open book. Normally that could frighten a man away but in this case, he seemed to really like what I had to say. Once the night came to an end, we said goodbye at my car and then kissed for several minutes. I could not get enough of his mouth! My inner slut was becoming a bonafide whore and was trying to convince me to go home with him. I won the fight and reluctantly got into my car and went home. That week we saw each other nearly every day. He would text and/or call me throughout the day saying the nicest things like he was already hooked or he really liked me. <br />
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<i>Refilling...</i><br />
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After 6 weeks of bliss, what went wrong? That is a great question and I don't really have a solid answer only the facts. After our (excuse the expression) beating around the bush phase ended and we consummated our relationship, things were amazing. Not only did we laugh, have fun, talk and do nice things for each other but we were also having fantastic sex. My only complaint would be that he always preferred me to be on top. It felt great, don't get me wrong but now and then I prefer to enjoy more and work less. Just sayin...<br />
I would like to say that we got into a big fight, caught me faking an orgasm or even worse, I caught him with another woman but no. None of the above. It just went from being head over heels everyday to he was busier at work and busier with his kids every night. Our nights filled with dinner then great sex for dessert turned into cancelled plans with apology phone calls. Text messages replaced phone calls then silence replaced the texts. The constant disappointment turned me into a full blown bitch. Sweet and polite me ran into the phone booth, spun around and came out psycho woman. I became a cliche. In no way was I concerned that he had met someone else. I was just frustrated and confused as to why we went from happy and seeing each other to a few texts throughout the day and cancelled plans. I felt blown off without much of an explanation other than his work was getting busier, he was coaching at school daily and had sports with his boys at night. Okay fine, that makes sense but what didn't quite work for me was on his no kids, no coaching, no work weekends, he still didn't have time for us. I finally asked him if he just wanted to end things and part ways since he was "so busy". He told me that he was sorry and didn't want it to be over and would work on fitting me into his life. I was happy to hear this and believed it would change. <i>Wrong again Christy! </i>One week later and nothing had changed other than my frustration meter which went up several degrees. Then another week went by and we had a long talk on the phone where I said that it's clear he is too busy for this relationship and in turn he convinced me that things were going to get back to normal and the last thing he wants is us to split then concluded by apologies and promises. You guessed it, one week later and still nothing changed!<br />
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<i>Gulp!</i><br />
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After a few weeks of not seeing each other passed, he promised to spend Saturday with me. <i>Yay, finally!</i> Saturday morning rolled around and he called saying he had to go on a job and was sorry but he would make it up to me on Sunday. Against my better judgement, I agreed to it and then didn't hear from him until late that night when he text to say goodnight. On Sunday morning, I woke up like a kid on Christmas. I was really excited to see him and vowed not to give him any crap about his recent absence in my life. I was just going to enjoy our time together. Well friends, that day of enjoyment did not happen. Brady called and was engaging in small talk then shared that he couldn't sleep the night before because he was torn about "us". He went on to say that he doesn't have time in his life for me anymore and that I deserve someone who makes me a priority and has time to care about me. <i>Ouch! </i>I stayed silent as he proceeded to tell me that he would've called it quits sooner but struggled with the idea that if he let me go, then someone else would scoop me up and that was an unsettling thought for him. <i>Poor guy. </i>He asked me to say something and I told him that there was no point in saying anything, what's done is done. So all I could say was goodbye. <br />
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If you are reading this thinking that there must be something missing from this story and surely two people don't go from bliss to suddenly too busy to breakup in the blink of an eye without a good reason, then that makes two of us. Is it possible that one's life gets that hectic that they don't have time for the other? Was there another woman? Did he simply just lose interest? I have no idea. All I know is that I may never know. <br />
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Like Queen once said, another one bites the dust. Instead of a night out with girlfriends, cocktails and rich food I have chosen to indulge my dear friends with another bite of my pathetic life. Feel free to thank me as I finish off my bottle, er uh I mean glass of wine. <br />
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<i>You are welcome!</i><br />
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-53730028581467598562013-01-16T00:54:00.000-08:002013-01-16T01:39:50.168-08:00Love on a hanger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Before you ask, yes, my glass is full of red liquid goodness. Question is, why isn't yours?</i></div>
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Before I continue sharing about my big journey that I am on of weight loss and discovery, I feel the need to share a dating story. This particular situation occurred literally the month before I started my quest to get fit. The reason I point that out is purely because most days before I started to change my life, I clearly felt that it was more important to love someone else rather than myself. In fact, you can probably see that pattern in most of these disaster stories. If I had loved myself, I wouldn't have put up with such bullshit for as long as I have. Not to worry, just because I am shedding the pounds doesn't mean I won't be dating or sharing stories. I have so many left in my arsenal that I have yet to put out there. Believe me, I look forward to writing about the guy who had to have the show "South Park" on while we had sex or the guy who left me alone in the dark on a mountain one night because I wouldn't give him head. <i>Don't judge me, it was only the first date and we went dutch on dinner. </i> However, tonight's little treat is about a man who needs to be evicted from the closet he is clearly residing in.</div>
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<i>I expect that you are now sharing an adult beverage with me. I am on round two so catch up!</i></div>
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So, this an unconfirmed case of closet homosexually but I hope that you share your conclusion after you finish reading. I have carefully selected a faux name for this guy because we don't need to add lawsuit on top of the humiliation he already caused me. So everyone please welcome to the page, "Nick". If you are familiar with me at all or let's be honest, have met me, you will know that I have been internet dating over the last few years. I don't attend church (anymore), I never meet my soul mates in line at Starbucks (nor do I go there) or pick up dudes while also picking up cucumbers in the produce department. So yes, I am an online dater. If I can shop for discount designer shoes on the internet, why not men? So I stumbled across this 6'6" hunky piece of meat on the site and after reading his profile, I was intrigued. Let me break it down for you. Nick was 40 years old and divorced. He has two kids that he has every other weekend. He has light brown hair and at that time, full facial hair. He is a computer tech guy for a big company here in Las Vegas. I never understood what he did, I just know that he had 3 side by side computer screens on his desk in his office and talked about internal errors, megabytes and other crap that just doesn't interest me. All I care about it is that my computer turns on/off and let's me surf porn while buying things I don't need. He was also into martial arts and in fact, he was a black belt and taught classes a few nights a week. Here's the thing, once I read the part about the karate, I was sort of hooked. This sick attraction stems way back to my childhood and the huge crush I had on Ralph Macchio. <i>Wax on... wax off! </i>Towards the end of his profile, he said that he was looking for a long term relationship and not into games. In fairness, who actually says in their bio that they love playing games and full of drama? So I contacted Nick and told him that if he wanted to get to know me then write back. Boom! Within a few minutes, I had a response.</div>
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<i>I may sound a bit feisty but I started drinking much earlier tonight while at a jewelry store event I was invited to. I figured, why stop there? So I kept the wine party going when I got home. Cheers!</i></div>
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Nick responded with a simple message. He wrote "Nice to meet you Christy. I am Nick and would love to talk on the phone. Here is my number...". Normally that would've irritated me right off the bat because anyone who says that it is nice to meet me without actually meeting me, is a bit of an idiot. I didn't play the game of waiting for awhile to call because I am not getting any younger and I didn't put in my profile that I play games. I called and he answered after the first ring. I introduced myself and he seemed very surprised that I called so soon. I must say that the lad had quite the deep and very sexy voice. That is such a turn on because I immediately imagine the sexy things he could say to me in bed. We agreed to meet the very next night after a really long talk on the phone. He seemed straight forward (like me) and very down to earth. No muss no fuss. The next night we met at a bar. We sat out on the patio where it was more quiet complete with a fireplace. After four hours of conversation and witty banter, we walked out to say goodnight. In the PG version, I got in my car in left. In reality, I kissed him for a long time in his car while 80's music played on the stereo. As I drove home that night, I thought about everything I learned about him and decided that I may just like him. The next day, he had text me several times including once to ask if I would go out to dinner with him for sushi with him that evening. I agreed and that night, we went out to dinner. It was one of those great dinner dates where he ordered all different types of sushi and after so many bites, he would lean over and kiss me. I was really digging this guy. He took control and ordered my dinner and showed me public affection. Let's not forget the sexy voice. Of course we acted like teenagers and made out in the car after we finished. We continued to go out on several dinner dates, went shopping for a new TV together for his new house, had a picnic, went to the movies and just had fun together. Things were going swimmingly. </div>
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<i>So what could go wrong? Pour yourself a glass and I will tell you.</i></div>
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After all of the time we had been spending together, he asked me to come over to his house for dinner and a movie on a Friday night. He suggested that I bring my toothbrush and stay the night. Yep, you guessed it! It was time to take our make out sessions one step further and have sex. Naturally I paid a visit to my favorite waxer that afternoon and then proceeded with a long shower. I packed a few items into my bag and arrived promptly at his house. He had been cooking and had the table set complete with candles and red wine (good boy). After dinner, we watched movie that was supposed to be a comedy about a guy with cancer but of course, there is nothing funny about cancer. He turned out the lights, took me by the hand and led me upstairs. Here we go! We got right down to business. I was so turned on and excited and before you know it, we were having sex. Let me be more specific, as soon as he got hard, he then got soft. That's right, the actual penetration lasted less than a minute. He couldn't keep it hard. He laid down next to me, apologized then turned over and wouldn't say a word. Eventually he fell asleep but I just couldn't. I was mortified. Why did he go limp? Was it me? Was he not a fan of the brazilian wax job? I was stumped. The next morning, I got my things and told him I had to get home for a hair appointment. <i> I know, I know, there is no such thing as getting your roots done at 6am but he didn't need to know that.</i> We had an awkward goodbye and I drove home still wondering what went wrong. A few hours later, he text me saying he was spending the weekend with gay buddy from work who just went through a breakup and would call me Monday. <i>Seriously?!? </i>48 hours ago you couldn't get enough of me and now you'll talk to me Monday? Monday rolled around and as promised, Nick called and after small talk, he apologized for the failed attempt at sex. He explained that he must've just been nervous and would like a chance to make it right. We agreed to meet up on Thursday and go out to dinner then have dessert at his place. As planned, we had a nice meal together then went straight to his house. We had both communicated just how eager we were to try again so we wasted no time once we got to his home. Clothes were thrown all over the room and there we were back to bed. To my surprise, this time he didn't last a minute. Nope, he lasted 30 seconds before going soft. UGH! Once again, he rolled over and said that he was sorry. I got dressed and said I was going home. </div>
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<i>How does such a fairy tale end? </i></div>
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Nick did not call or text for several days after that night. I was okay with that because I was really embarrassed and confused. Finally he text and said that he didn't know what the problem was and he was so sorry about it. We exchanged a lot of communication that week and stupidly, I agreed to see him on Friday night. I went to his house for dinner and afterwards we sat on the couch watching "Will and Grace". Before the episode could end, he suggested we go upstairs. Reluctantly I went up and once we got to his bed, said that he was going to try something different. He then turned out all the lights (not different Nick), and told me to get on all fours. No sooner did I do as he said, we were having full blown sex. 30 seconds went by then a minute (already a record best) then many minutes and before you know it, he stayed hard and managed to complete the transaction. Once finished, he dropped down to the bed and caught his breath. After his breathing normalized, he told me that doing it from behind was going to be the only way he could have sex with me and that the room had to be dark. Oh, one important bit I left out was that he told me to be quiet and try not to make any noise while we were doing it. Let's deconstruct this situation. He couldn't keep it up while missionary. He liked the room dark. The sex had to be from behind. I wasn't allowed to make noise and he was ready to go after watching a TV show about gay guys and straight girls. Sadly, this isn't my first rodeo with a homosexual guy so with that in mind, I got dressed and got the hell out of his house. No goodbye and no bullshit excuse, just left. The very next day I got a text message that said "Christy, you are a really nice girl and we have so much fun but I feel that you are too clingy and that's not for me. Good luck and take care". I'm sorry, I am too clingy? Not only is Nick gay but he is also an asshole! <i>Oh the irony</i>. After I was able to pick my jaw up off of the floor, I replied to his text in the best way I saw fit. "Oh Nick, the only thing I was clinging to was the idea that you were straight." I never heard from him again. </div>
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<i>My bottle is empty which means I need to end this sad story...</i></div>
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As the pounds continue to come off of my body, I am discovering that the Christy that has been buried under all that weight will no longer kid herself into thinking that giving men like Nick that many chances is acceptable. After that first night of failed sex, I should've talked to him about it. I should've figured out by simple conversation whether or not to give him one more chance. I didn't need to keep belittling myself in his bedroom. I really believed somehow that his lack of wood was directly related to the size of my body. Wrong! It wasn't me at all but yet I believed it was. So my friends, no matter how much you weigh, if a man is gay, it doesn't matter how you look. Until you produce a penis, there isn't a chance in hell. Just ask Nick.</div>
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<i>Goodnight and sweet dreams</i></div>
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-66745706457004157602013-01-08T18:28:00.001-08:002013-01-08T20:24:09.625-08:00Raise your glass!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy New Year! What a difference a year makes! I know what you are thinking... where in the hell have I been? You might've thought that I was fulfilling my life long dream of laying on my back in a winery in France and letting the juice of the Gods flow. Perhaps Steve Martin finally came to his senses and gave in to my numerous requests to live happily ever after together? Better yet, I won the lottery and spend my days drunk and blowing money on bags and shoes? Well, the answer is D, none of the above. However, if you guessed that I was busy losing over 100lbs and participating in a reality show, then you'd be correct. Not to worry, just because my current idea of a meal is lettuce and a grain of brown rice doesn't mean that I have given up on my best friend Merlot and his trusty sidekick Cabernet Sauvignon. On a 1500 calorie a day intake, surely there is room for a glass (or 2) of wine. You can have the chocolate but you will never take away my red headed love. Besides, grapes are good for you and count as a serving of fruit.<br />
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<i>Go ahead and grab your glass of "grapes".</i><br />
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Although I would prefer writing about my earth shattering dates with Steve Martin, they haven't happened. That doesn't mean that they won't it just means that he hasn't come to his senses yet. So I have decided to touch on a topic that everyone can relate to in one form or another, weight loss. Whether you are already skinny but struggle with that pesky 5lbs or you are near 400lbs and just can't get off that last 250lbs, it is something that seems to effect a great deal of us. Recently I was on a flight and this guy sat next me who was dressed decently and have a few extra pounds on him but not enough to be considered a fatty. During the flight he was chatting me up about his home in the Hollywood Hills and the cities he travels to around the world for work. This conversation not only had me ordering several in flight adult beverages but also made me think that he is just a typical douche bag flaunting a lifestyle that he doesn't actually have. Once he stopped sharing the details of his life, he asked me what I did for a living. In an effort to get him to lose interest in me, I told him that I was spending this year losing weight. Let's face it, one of the biggest turn offs to a man is the mere suggestion of fat. I don't care how large his erection gets, talk about obesity and that thing goes more limp than a gay man at a girly strip club. This was the one exception to that rule. Suddenly my talkative stranger seemed interested in what I had to say. Not quite the reaction I expected. I went on to tell him about the amount of weight I had lost so far and that led to a series of questions regarding my diet and exercise regime. He then shared that he had about 20 extra pounds that he was struggling with and how he has hired trainers and nutritionists but just couldn't get that weight off. Before we knew it, the flight was over and we parted ways. He gave me his business card and asked me to stay in touch and maybe I could help him shed a pound or two. That weekend I was in my hotel room and decided to look this guy up online. Thanks to Google, I discovered that this man was a very successful billionaire. Not millions but billions. I spent the next hour reading about his list of accomplishments and how he could own just about anything in this world. What is the point of this might you ask? Maybe he should've paid for my bottles of wine on the flight? Okay well besides that, I learned two important lessons by this experience. First one is that you never know who you might meet on a plane. As much as they may be full of shit, they also might just be legit. The most important lesson I took away from this was that it doesn't matter who you are or what you have, weight is something that we have in common. Let's be honest, the only thing I had in common with this guy was that we both like money (and wine). Since that flight, we now exchange emails and talk about food and workouts. He wasn't such a douche bag after all.<br />
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<i>Man, this wine glass isn't big enough. This constant refilling is annoying. Must look into buying one of those glasses that holds an entire bottle in it.</i><br />
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Since my Donald Trump encounter, I have found myself in the middle of many conversations with all different types of people about weight. What is interesting is that people seem more open to discuss sex with total strangers rather than fat. "Hi, my name is Eric and I like anal sex". The crowd nods and looks sympathetic and supportive.<br />
"Hi, my name is Christy and I am 200lbs overweight". The room gasps and no one makes eye contact with me. <br />
Why is this? Seriously, how likely are we to walk into a room with 100 random people and discover that we all enjoy a little back door action in bed? Okay so I might be one of "those" people but I guarantee that the other 99 strangers don't all feel the same way (don't knock it until you try it). However, I believe that in that same room of people, each and every person could say that there is or was a time that they were carrying extra weight and/or uncomfortable with their bodies. This theory has led me to realize that I should be more open about it and share my life long experience with fat and the loss of it. I clearly have no problem with being an open book about my dating disasters and the total idiots I have wasted my time on so why not speak candidly about obesity as well?<br />
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<i>Refill time...</i><br />
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I turned 37 back in September(gasp, gulp) and it was the first birthday I have had where my wish wasn't to lose weight while blowing out my candles. This time I was actually down almost 100lbs since May and counting. Now I am aware that saying my wish out loud won't make it come true but I am willing to take that chance for the sake of my blog. My wish was to be happy. This isn't the wine talking, I really did wish to be genuinely happy. Don't get me wrong, I haven't been outwardly miserable my entire life but in all fairness, I may always wear a big smile and laugh instead of cry but inside, I was sad and often times a lonely mess. Looking back on photos of my life, there were two things you'd see. I was always big and always smiling. When I was really young, I somehow learned that if I laughed instead of cried, then no one would catch on that I hated being so big. The more comfortable I acted about my body, then those around me would follow suit. Damn I was a smart kid! I have 3 older brothers and look like none of them. Growing up, they were all fit and good looking. Then there was me. Back in 1975, there had to be quite a few of those hospital mix ups right? Regardless, I grew up in a family where I couldn't relate to them in more ways than just physical. So I had developed and mastered the art of "faking it". This would be a skill that got me through bullying, job interviews, awkward moments and many bad sexual encounters. After all these years, I am now peeling back the layers of fat and discovering just who I am. Let me tell you this, losing weight is far more than just unwanted pounds. Shedding the weight is actually proving to be easier than the emotional uncovering that goes along with it. So why am I telling you all of this? My thought is that if we are all more open about such a taboo topic of obesity, then maybe it will become easier. Maybe we all won't so be scared of something that is so common. Better yet, we might be more supportive of one another rather than so judgmental. Okay, that was deep I know and I will be careful not to that it happen too often. So, if you happen to log on and read my blog, just know that it will now contain my journey of self discovery. This transformation will also include dating, sex, plenty of red wine and the sad truth.<br />
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Before I go on with stories and humiliation, I must go buy some more Merlot. Let's be honest, this glass isn't going to fill itself. Not to mention, I need to fulfill my daily serving of fruit. Like I said, grapes count!<br />
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Cheers to 2013!<br />
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<br />Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-28506766963468152982011-12-16T23:56:00.002-08:002012-04-22T20:47:01.943-07:00Stand Back, I'm A Pro!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNF593pRGhGIqQxxcUMZVNo89XoTAukiQik64DCGzOGxzsjPkDOUCRUzmqS-NVf9FQCLvnRMFI4hb20RmVrT5xwe20qwgFrZgt9-RMDDDDT1NZz97mJlr4skDeYjd4YooJ-RwSrn-5Lek/s1600/black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNF593pRGhGIqQxxcUMZVNo89XoTAukiQik64DCGzOGxzsjPkDOUCRUzmqS-NVf9FQCLvnRMFI4hb20RmVrT5xwe20qwgFrZgt9-RMDDDDT1NZz97mJlr4skDeYjd4YooJ-RwSrn-5Lek/s320/black.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Tonight started out like any other night. I have a very tall glass (and bottle) of red wine to my left and my laptop front and center. I have on black stretchy pants with a pink tank top that reads "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Love". Just to spice things up, I have on 5 different pearl bracelets and my hair is very large with curls. The Christmas tree is twinkling with white lights and there are apple cinnamon scented candles burning all around the room. The stage has been set for me to sit down and share a past romance disaster with the world. I started this particular blog with the intention of sharing the story of when I was dating a man who was sleeping with his mother. You may laugh or think I am full of crap, but sadly this is true. As I was jotting down a few notes on the specifics of that disgusting situation, my gorgeous niece was texting me to see how things are going. She is 21 and has taken an interest in my dating life. She unfortunately had to learn a hard lesson in love this past year. The situation that she found herself a victim of is that of a Hollywood movie. If I ever come in contact with that the little bastard that screwed her over, I will cut off his testicles. On the bright side, he is now in jail and hopefully dropping the soap in the shower while being called a sweetheart by a very large inmate. Karma is a bitch little man! Okay, I apologize for the outburst but let the record show that I am very protective of my nieces and care about them as if they were my own daughters. Anyways, during our correspondence she had asked me what was new in my world of dating. I had shared that I went out on a date recently but it was in fact a one date wonder and didn't work out. She pointed out that not only was it an opportunity for a new blog (which it will be) but also that I have become a professional dater. I must admit, hearing that I have gone pro did not thrill me. I interpreted that to mean that I was no more than a slut who would ultimately end up giving blow jobs to old men in a retirement home well into my 80's. I quite literally downed half a bottle of Merlot before I could respond to her text. While I took a moment to digest my adult juice and the idea of me gumming it with the old guys, it suddenly hit me that being a "pro" wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Instead of thinking that I am the most unfortunate woman in the romance department, I could in fact be a professional dater. Thank you my little angel for shedding new light on my very dark and often times pathetic, single life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now that I am in the process of changing my business cards to include "Professional Dater", I should probably back up my new title with a few words of wisdom. I have been out of high school now for a solid 18 years which means that I have had quite some time to experience dates from all walks of life. I have been with men from each end of the spectrum including a closet gay man, the hot guy banging his mother, a physically abusive drunk, commitment phobics and every pretty boy in between. I can honestly tell you that each experience has been unique in one way or another but one thing remains the same, the awkward first date. It doesn't matter what religion you practice, the country that your family comes from, your height or weight, if you prefer Macy's to Target or you are just looking for sex, you always have to at least have a first date. The truth is, no matter what your intentions are, the first date is always the most dreaded piece of the dating puzzle. Although you may have studied the profile of your potential mate on a dating web site or exchanged witty conversations prior to meeting, you still have to play your cards right for the first meet and greet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is possible that you are thinking that I couldn't possibly be a professional on the topic of first dates or any date for that matter because I am still single, however, the fact that I am not tied down in a relationship or marriage makes me the right woman for the job. Let's be honest, I am constantly on the hunt for a long term and committed relationship (complete with lots of sex) which equals more first dates that I can keep count. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the most important chunks of wisdom that I can share about a first date is by no means agree to see a movie as your initial encounter. This type of date is best reserved for a third date. Let me set the stage for you. You meet in front of the theater, pay a large amount of money for tickets, buy popcorn which makes your breath smell like an ass, you can't dare get a hot dog because then he'll be watching how you eat it while imagining if that's how you look giving head, and there's no way you can get candy because then your date thinks you're a fat pig who holds no regard for your weight. Now you find seats together and chit chat about the various trivia questions on the screen but this conversation holds no substance. You can't find out if he has a criminal past or plans to marry a few sister wives while trying to guess the winner for best drama in 1992. <i>Hang on, there's more. </i>Okay, now the movie has started and throughout the film your knees keep touching each other and you aren't sure if it is a physical gesture or merely a lack of room. This question will then keep you wondering whether or not he or she is interested. Then there is a chance that there might be an emotional scene in the film that brings you to tears. Again, this is not a good idea. A crying woman, especially on a first date can mean either you are too sensitive or you have PMS. Either way, this is not sexy to a man. Just the letters PMS make his penis shrink. If by chance the man happens to shed a tear, then he is either a total pussy or he is in touch with his sensitive side. There is a 50/50 shot here but probably not worth the risk. So then the movie ends and you are left saying goodbye with no idea whether or not you want to see this person again because you didn't learn anything about them unless you count that they have a small bladder from their many trips to the bathroom. So you give each other a hug then go home and wonder what the movie was even about because you didn't pay attention to it the entire 2 hours you were there. An aquarium or local art exhibit can offer up entertainment and still allow room for conversation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The next chunky bit of advice is do not agree on or take your date to a Mexican restaurant. I don't care if you are part Hispanic or love guacamole, this is not the place to go for your "first time". If this isn't an obvious tip for you then let me break it down. Spicy food, beans and salsa can all cause smelly gas. They can also cause you to have stomach upset which can lead to diarrhea. Now tell me, is any of that sexy and appealing? If you answered yes, then stop reading my blog because you are a total freak and chances are I might've dated you so move along. Another reason not to go for Mexican food would be the noise in the restaurant. Some places have mariachi musicians who always camp out at dining tables making the situation just that more awkward. If it isn't live entertainment, then it is very loud satellite radio blaring from the speakers. Any loud music makes me people talk louder and with all of that combined noise, you won't be able to have any decent getting to know you conversation because one of you will constantly be saying "what, huh" which can be very annoying. Being annoyed is not the best emotion to evoke while trying to land a mate (that comes later). After an evening of carbs and margaritas, you say goodnight and neither one of you have decent breath so the thought of a kiss is non existent. On that note, be sure to cross off your list Thai food or the international palace of curry. No bueno!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">First dates that involve physical activity can be a great idea. For example, going bowling can be an excellent opportunity to make the date fun and if you are interested in the guy, you can play the helpless idiot bowler who needs lessons on how to keep the ball out of the gutter. Any man would be thrilled to show off his athletic ability and teach you how to handle that big bad heavy ball. There is usually alcohol served at bowling alleys so if you need a bit of liquid courage then it is at your disposal. I always keep a flask of Rum in my handbag at all times. <i>It goes great with Diet Coke and no unnecessary carbs! </i>Also, there is no time limit or rush while bowling. You can chat in between frames and even make friendly wagers. If things are going well, you can always suggest a second or third game. If things are going wrong, you can end it after the first game and use the excuse that your feet itch from the rental shoes. Another great activity is playing miniature golf. It is slightly competitive but still involves balls which we all can appreciate. I would not recommend playing tennis when just getting to know someone. This will cause a lot of sweating on both parts which isn't sexy unless you are dancing the horizontal mambo. If by chance either one or the both of you are athletic, do not suggest a Zumba or boxing class at the gym. You'll find yourself trying to look cute in a room filled with sweaty men and women while your jiggly parts are being viewed in the mirror by the entire place. The only time it is acceptable for you and your partner to be sweaty with your jiggly bits on display is on a bed with the mirror over head on the ceiling. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the absolute worst first date destinations are night clubs. DON'T DO IT! After a certain age, it is just ridiculous to go clubbing unless you are at a bachelorette party. If the man suggests a club, then he is either a completely immature douche or a pedophile who likes checking out the 21 year old bra stuffing girls on the dance floor. Besides, have you ever met or heard anyone say that they met their soul mate while fist pumping to LMFAO music? This isn't the Jersey shore kids....just sayin'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the greatest and maybe less obvious first date destinations is simply a pub that is also a restaurant. It is low key but still offers up alcohol and food in a casual setting. Now ladies, just because it is a pub doesn't mean you don't have to make an effort to look great! Put on your best butt enhancing jeans, cute cleavage revealing shirt, high heels and make sure that your hair and make up are done. Men, it almost doesn't matter what you wear but please give yourself a few squirts of cologne. A nice smelling man can help us girls overlook any poor wardrobe decisions. This may not seem like a quality place to go or sort of low budget but it really is an ideal spot. You can sit at the table for hours and not feel rushed to leave. You can choose just a drink if the date is a bust or take it further and share some appetizers because things are going well. Another benefit to this particular environment is it offers great people watching. If your conversation has hit a quiet patch or needs a change of topic, you can always point out the wasted guy falling off his chair or the slutty chick who is telling everyone about her ex bastard boyfriend who cheated on her and left her with a litter of children at home. There are almost always TVs playing some sport or sports highlights which allows for conversations revolving around one of two favorite topic of men (the other being sex of course). If you the female show an interest and also act a bit naive, the man will be over joyed to share with you all of his infinite wisdom. This alone is a guaranteed erection. Now the date is over, you have both had a few drinks and so making a move for a kiss goodnight should be easier. Plus, a place like that won't break the bank which allows for a nicer second date and you don't look like a gold digger. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My final thought on the topic of first date geography is this.... by no means whatsoever do you go to the other persons house. If you do, you are either just looking to get laid and clearly not serious about a relationship or you are just dumber than a box of hair. Come on girls, you've watched Lifetime movies, you know how that scenario ends (your face on a missing persons poster). If your first date leaves you horny, go home and take care of business yourself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">First dates are such a broad topic of discussion which I will revisit again but for now, remember that it isn't about how much money is spent but rather a place of comfort and plenty of booze. You should trust me on this, after all, I am a pro!</span>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-6433699802680215482011-12-05T14:48:00.000-08:002011-12-05T14:49:15.414-08:00The Perfect Woman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLemxWFMBSKJCHOwHtQ-81DBlq6RxGzOfx8FnjxZyaNz_gbdm7HH-QARNfMWEUj7GrY27vOuVPT5zipwdfsvlHRwQWDphtmlqkMSad0vL4zHryfBmHNDQ-bxsrExu1JLtcv31lgE7oFlU/s1600/weird-science.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLemxWFMBSKJCHOwHtQ-81DBlq6RxGzOfx8FnjxZyaNz_gbdm7HH-QARNfMWEUj7GrY27vOuVPT5zipwdfsvlHRwQWDphtmlqkMSad0vL4zHryfBmHNDQ-bxsrExu1JLtcv31lgE7oFlU/s1600/weird-science.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now that I am 36 years old, I seemed to have gained a lot of dating clarity. Nobody warned me that this would happen nor was I prepared for such an awe inspiring moment. I was in a horrific car accident as a teenager and the impact I felt back then does not even compare to the mental bitch slap that I have received. The reason that I am still single is because men are looking for the perfect woman! That's it! All along I just figured that men only want a size zero woman, but no, they want more than that. </span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is a discussion best explored with a box of wine... red of course!</span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As we are all aware, I had been dating Mr. Nice Guy with muscular arms and tattoos then realized that I was not good enough for him. He was always looking for someone better yet all the while telling me how wonderful I was. I then met a new guy named <i>Jacob</i>. When Jacob and I had first started talking, I thought that he was just too hot and would never want to be with a girl who looked like me. Let's be honest, I have learned the hard way that the Lord just doesn't like me <i><b>that</b></i> much. Jacob and I had the best chats and both of us would laugh so hard and never at a loss for words. I put on my best attitude of "take me as I am or leave it", and agreed to meet him. We met for a quick date (one drink maximum) on a week night. I walked into the restaurant and when I saw him, I got a boner! This man was even hotter in person! He greeted me with the largest smile and tightest hug. I was pleasantly surprised by his greeting and also concerned that this guy must be hallucinating or blind. How in the world was he was so happy to see me? Regardless, we sat down and had a great conversation. Once we left (remember it was a quickie date), he hugged me, kissed me and said that I was beautiful! <i>Okay that's it, now I know this guy was clearly taking some illegal substance. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just touching him gave me butterflies (and a bit of gas but that wasn't his fault) and I was sad to see our date end so fast. Before I made it home after our "quickie", he called to say that he would like to see me again. I was so happy to hear from him and agreed to go on another date. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The evening arrived for our second date (really our first, the quickie doesn't count as one). I wanted everything to be perfect. The one thing I can't do is drop a lot of weight all at once so I did take care of the things are more in my control. I had shaved every hair that I could, painted my toe nails, applied the best make up and had big sexy curly hair. As I drove out to our date, I wasn't as nervous as I usually am. I was very calm, not under the influence, and not at all nervous. Right before I arrived at the restaurant, I stopped my car and made sure everything was in place. After the touch ups, I proceeded to the date. Again, Jacob greeted me with the largest smile and tight squeeze. We spent several hours at the dinner table because we had so much to say and we got along so well. He was scoring points in the positive column all night long and there was never a moment where I caught myself counting the US states in my head. I didn't want the date to end. Then before I could come up with a reason to invite myself to his place, he invited me to his house to have a glass of wine and to continue getting to know each other. <i>HELLO! He offered me wine and more time with him...it was freakin' Christmas! Thank you Santa!</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know what you are thinking. Why would I go to his house when I don't even know him? If you haven't figured out the answer, go back and re read what I have written so far and don't forget the wine.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So we drove to his place which was really nice. Once we got settled with our drinks, we continued our talk. We didn't sit far from one another and during the course of the conversation, he would lean in and kiss me. I am not talking just a peck on the cheek but rather a long trip to France. More points added to the positive Jacob column, ding ding ding! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After a few hours of talking and kissing, we moved our discussion to the couch where we got very cozy. I had made it clear early in the evening that I had no intentions of sleeping with him that night. I even took it one step further by explaining that I am looking for a relationship and not just sex. With our clothes on, we had a very saucy make out session complete with groping. This guy was so hot! He did everything right and it took me a lot of restraint not to violate him in 101 ways. This naughty yet sexy behavior lasted for a long time and then we both pumped the brakes and stopped it before it went too far. I excused myself to the restroom to regain my composure and fix my tangled hair before returning to the couch (also known as the scene of the crime). We found ourselves talking about relationships and why we are both single. Between the back and forth chat, he would compliment me and tell me how charming I was. <i>This was the best date ever!</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">During our exchange of dating nightmares, he slipped in the one question that would ultimately turn our journey on the yellow brick road into a dead end road. Jacob asked me when the last time was that I had sex. I told him the truth and then stupidly turned it around and asked him the same question.</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Note to self: never ask a question that you don't want to know the answer to!</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He told me that he had it the morning before our date. I choked a bit on his answer, took a gulp of wine and then to make matters worse, I asked him how many women he was currently "dating". He said that he had a lot of female friends, most of which he had dated in the past. He said that the problem was that he would meet the woman, feel the spark, start dating and then the female would have too much drama so he would end it. I then went on to ask what kind of drama women had. <i>I never learn! </i> He said that it was mostly drama with their ex boyfriends/husbands, kids or lack of money. Well...I leave my boyfriends in the past, I have never been married, I don't and can't have kids, and I am not looking for a sugar daddy. <i>That's right, now we are adding points to Christy's Positive Column.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wish that I could say that all of those points added up to the possibility of a future with Jacob but I don't have the that kind of luck. The more he spoke about the women he is dating and the ones of his past, I came to the conclusion that no woman will ever be good enough for him. I had started to believe that there was a chance that we might have a chance at a relationship, but by the end of the date I realized it just wasn't in the cards.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Let's examine the facts shall we?</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1) He thought I was beautiful, charming and had a great sense of humor (despite being overweight).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2) I don't have kids and can't have kids</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3) I don't have ex boyfriend drama. They are in the past where they belong (except for when I blog about them). There are only a select few that I still consider friends. One of which I would love to explore a relationship with if he lived closer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4) I have never been married (I dodged that bullet).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5) We both had great chemistry.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6) I am self sufficient and I have a good head on my shoulders.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The evening was coming to an end as we both were falling asleep so I decided to go home. I could have stayed the night but really, what was the point? I appreciated his honesty but it was very disappointing to learn that there wasn't a chance with him. He is on the search for something that he hasn't found or may not even exist. I am not perfect nor do I claim to be but the qualities that he claims to want in a woman, I just happen to posses. There I was right in front of him, ready, willing and able and he looked me right in the eyes and said that he was still looking. He walked me out to the car and kissed me goodnight then watched me drive away. Part of me wanted to turn around, go back and have farewell sex but then I realized that was just the wine talking so I continued home. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What is the point of this story might you ask? It is simple! All this time I thought that the problem was always me. The reason that I keep finding myself single and always making dinner for one isn't all my fault. I keep meeting men that are looking for the perfect female speciman. She has to be tall but shorter than the man. She has to have a sense of humor but not tell better jokes than him. The boobs must be large and perfectly upright on their own. Her body must be slim but curvy, like a Kardashian (preferably Kim). She is not allowed to have any ex boyfriends except for maybe the one who taught her how to please a man in bed. The woman must always be ready for sex and must have in her wardrobe at least 5 different role playing costumes. <i>Ooh, who's running a fever and is in need of a naughty nurse to take his rectal temperature?</i> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She must be fashionable but not high maintenance and above all, she must be beautiful. </span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Notice how I didn't mention her brains and/or intelligence? </span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All men ask is that the woman doesn't act smarter than their man. It doesn't matter if we graduated from Harvard with a degree in nuclear fission, just don't make him look like an idiot. If I have learned anything from all of my dates and relationships it's that under no circumstance appear needy. This doesn't mean that the woman is necessarily needy but if we dare text one too many times or want to spend time with the man more just one night a week, then we are crazy. </span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Got all that?</span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now I sit here as a <b>single</b> woman (still) writing about relationships, dates and the constant need for cocktails. All the while, I am sure Jacob is sitting in front of his computer with a bra on his head, entering photos into the scanner in hopes that the perfect female specimen will appear in his doorway wearing only her underwear.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Oh and if you are a man reading this and disagree, then ask yourself this question:</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Are you single? If so, why? </i></span><br />
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<b>CHEERS!</b>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-18593405751730976392011-11-19T02:06:00.000-08:002011-11-19T02:10:27.486-08:00Ho Ho Ho<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uukP1mxdSfEcRnI438L5tGdypLT3-yvT1JYe8s_ClPxXc1cbfmHRe5jHj2r9HmemXWU4nStpvuIRwkaJT0iPP6ltMEbsjWoxW8v9kXBhtYT3MDBi5eU5fgPFB7t1Fh4FSVVQlOX_5HI/s1600/81a-00002627-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9uukP1mxdSfEcRnI438L5tGdypLT3-yvT1JYe8s_ClPxXc1cbfmHRe5jHj2r9HmemXWU4nStpvuIRwkaJT0iPP6ltMEbsjWoxW8v9kXBhtYT3MDBi5eU5fgPFB7t1Fh4FSVVQlOX_5HI/s1600/81a-00002627-001.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The smell of the holidays are in the air. Everywhere I turn, I see twinkle lights and decorated trees. It just wouldn't be Christmas without holiday songs and people in front of stores ringing a bell with a red donation bucket. Christmas is by far my favorite holiday not because of the crappy gifts I seem to always receive but rather the joy of the season. There is just something about the holidays that makes me ridiculously happy. There are only two things that could literally make Christmas time perfect for me... snow and a boyfriend. Both are very rare here in Las Vegas. The only white powder this city sees comes in the form of an illegal substance and as far as a decent man goes, well I will get back to you on that one. To be fair, I have met a few good men but they are either already married, gay or only date skinny women. This year I plan to give my relationship wish list to Santa instead of making a New Year's resolution to find my soul mate. That resolution usually works about as good as dieting does. Maybe if I leave out a bottle of red wine (to match his suit) and a plate of something other than cookies, he might just move me from the naughty to the nice list. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>That red wine was such a good idea, that I went ahead and poured myself a glass.</i> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I don't think that Mr. Clause should be the only one to have a list. Since I am a Virgo, I am very familiar with the concept of lists. I come home from work everyday with my pockets filled with notes that I have written lists on. I write down presents that I may have to get or grocery items that I do and do not need to buy. <i>Wine, yes...cookies, no.</i> I also keep an ongoing list of men that I have dated. If I've slept with any of them, there is a check mark by their name. I am that organized! <i>Don't ask, I am not telling you my "number." </i>Perhaps I should make a list of what exactly I am looking for in a mate. This way, Santa will know exactly who to bring me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>Cookies would go really good with this wine... I should change my grocery list.</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Okay my big bellied gift giver, here are my needs and desires in no particular order:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">1) I really want a tall man. When I say tall, I mean over six feet. I am 5'10" and would love to be able to wear high heels and not have my boyfriend look like a Hobbit next to me. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">2) Please make sure that he has a job/career. In no way am I a gold digger but let's be serious, there will come a time when getting an IOU will stop being cute, just ask my mother. My dad gave my mom an IOU for every birthday and gift giving occasion which is probably why they got divorced. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">3) My future partner has to possess a sense of humor. I am girl who finds laughter in everything. I tell stupid jokes (that only I laugh at), giggle at disgusting noises (like farts), and very rarely cry. Let's be clear, this doesn't mean I need a stand up comedian or a clown, but a man who is happy and knows how to enjoy life. Sorry Robin Williams, no offense buddy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">4) Must love dogs and have a heart for animals in general. I treat my dog(s) like they are my own children. This has nothing to do with the fact that I cannot have a baby. I have always loved dogs and will continue to do so. My partner has to share a similar compassion and never ever hurt my four legged kids. You hurt my dog, you lose your penis. You got me?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">5) Religion is not my deal breaker. I believe in God and I pray but I no longer have a religious title. I am open to new ideas and beliefs but will have to put my foot down if he prays to a God that tells him to be a terrorist in order to get to heaven. I have one brother who married a Jew, one brother who married a Mormon and the other brother is married to a variety of addictions and has yet to find Jesus. I suppose 2 out of 3 isn't bad. All I ask is that he has a belief in God (and Santa of course). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">6) I am a lady who enjoys sex so please bring me a man who has at least six inches below the belt and enjoys a variety of sexual pleasures. My stockings are always well hung so why shouldn't my man be? I am trying to keep this clean for you Santa but if I meet one more man who is addicted to porn, has a tiny package, can't kiss worth a damn or is selfish in bed, I am going to start playing for the other team. That means that next year I will be asking for a woman for Christmas. That's right, you heard me! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">7) Trust, honesty and fidelity seem to be a rarity these days but my hope is to find these important qualities in my man. No one is perfect, which is fine, but there has to be a guy out there who isn't afraid to tell the truth and doesn't feel the need to spread his seed in greener pastures. I fantasize about a future without the fear of my boyfriend/husband cheating on me. This fantasy also carries with it the desire to have him not afraid of commitment. In fact, I'll take it one giant leap further and say that it would be wonderful to find that one that actually wants to get married. Come on, you and Mrs. Clause have been married for years so I know that it is possible.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I don't want to sound greedy, so I will end my list of demands. Of course there are little things that I would like such as a nice smile, good oral hygiene, snappy dresser, tattoos, doesn't sleep with his socks on and likes to cook but the above 7 will do just fine. If I need to donate more money in the red buckets or sing Christmas carols door to door, I will. I am ready to do whatever it takes to find a decent guy and to be in a long healthy relationship. The chestnuts are roasting, the egg nog is poured (with Brandy) and I am eagerly awaiting my present wrapped in a big red bow (that I can take off with my teeth)! Now I must go brush up on my carol singing and work my way onto that "Nice List".</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Merry Christmas!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-47210585573166760212011-11-11T23:56:00.000-08:002011-11-11T23:57:13.002-08:00Do Nice Girls Finish Last?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJREfat2ser9O0II0oRnyzqYQADJ9aX0IVe_B0deIu6R4FcVAueo0ZbqBIedPRyugnrRfBHC_-EzAMahBdJcEMBSqO6huk1pYUClFjsmRx_kdzPUn51m6pEkcAanvquGtCIzJiA_nxBGI/s1600/love-your-self.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJREfat2ser9O0II0oRnyzqYQADJ9aX0IVe_B0deIu6R4FcVAueo0ZbqBIedPRyugnrRfBHC_-EzAMahBdJcEMBSqO6huk1pYUClFjsmRx_kdzPUn51m6pEkcAanvquGtCIzJiA_nxBGI/s320/love-your-self.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
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As far as my lack of love life is concerned, I am an open book (literally). If the man is a pervert, criminal, drug addict or as old as Hugh Hefner, I write about it. If the Kardashian Klan can put their lives out there for the world to see and judge, why shouldn't I? In fact, Kim's recent failed marriage lasted 72 days and my most recent relationship lasted 30. I should consider changing my name to Kristy instead of Christy.</div><br />
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Over the last month, I had been dating the tall Mr. Nice Guy with tattooed and very muscular arms. After he had swept me off of my feet with the gesture he made while I was at the hospital with my mom and the most seductive cheek kiss on our first date, I was diggin' him. I talked myself into the idea that I needed to give the nice guy a chance no matter how good to be true he seemed. We ended up going out quite often and he would initiate text messages and/or phone calls throughout the day everyday. Each time we went out to a restaurant or pub, we had great conversations. He was never shy about his feelings toward me which included how much he liked me or some sort of adventure he hoped to take me on with him in the future. Mr. Nice Guy was quickly turning into Mr. Too Good To Be True! He was nice, good looking no wait, HOT, wasn't shy about his feelings and was making future plans for us. Where is that ball and when is it going to drop? No wait, I forgot about the chivalry. This same man would also open doors for me, always insist on paying for the date, pull my chair out for me at the table and would even call me at the end of the date to make sure I made it home safely. <i>Okay, if you need a break to poor cold water on your face because you are in shock, go ahead. I'll wait because I know how hard this is to believe! </i><br />
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Let's back the love truck up and remember how me and hunky boy met. We met each other online on a popular dating site. During our first few dates, he had said that he was still "searching" and still dating other women. He also said that he is traditional and likes to court the woman he is dating and believes in asking the woman to be his girlfriend. He didn't want or like it to be assumed. He also said that he was looking for a reason to delete his online dating profile. All of these bits of information were well received by me because I prefer to know how a guy rolls when dating. As far as I am concerned, I am not a fan of dating multiple men at the same time because quite frankly, it gets confusing. This guy drives a motorcycle and this other guy has kids and that guy only likes large dogs. It's too much just to remember all of the idiosyncrasies of just one man let alone several men. While I am searching, I do tend to communicate with several different men at once because more than likely, most of them will get weeded out in the first few emails or text messages. All it takes is for the genius to mention the word "threesome" or to ask "how many dates it takes before I have sex", then I cut off all communication. However, if I meet the guy, we hit it off and begin dating, I stop searching or corresponding with other potential suitors so I can give the current guy a chance. Despite popular opinion, I don't just date for sex or blog material. I am genuinely looking for a life partner. I want a "plus one" for the myriad of weddings I attend so I don't keep getting the pity looks from the other guests. I also want that kiss at midnight on New Years. Kate Winslet said it best in the film "The Holiday", that you should be the leading lady of your own life, not just the best friend. I have always been the best friend. I am the third wheel at every gathering. I am always surrounded by couples and I manage to keep a pasted smile on my face as though it doesn't bother me to be there alone. Truth be told, it does bother me. I am no longer in my early twenties with a group of girlfriends who are single and on the prowl. At any given occasion, I would have at least three other friends with me who weren't in a relationship. Now I am in my mid thirties, <i>cough cough, </i>and there is no longer that guarantee of other singles to accompany me. So now I take dating very seriously and I am in it to win it. <br />
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<i>Here lies the beginning of the end so grab the bottle of Merlot. </i><br />
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As the weeks went on, we grew more fond of one another. The conversations went deeper, this kissing was more passionate and the attraction grew stronger. <i>Damn! This is starting to sound like a romance novel. Where's Fabio?</i><br />
It got to the point where we tried to find more ways to spend time together throughout the week while balancing schedules. This seemed very promising. Right before he left for a work trip, we sat down and planned a 3 day weekend cruise to Mexico. He liked to travel and proposed the idea of an adventure at the end of November during Thanksgiving. We planned out the trip online and he said that he would double check his work schedule for time off. He told me that when he returned from his 4 day work trip out of town, he would confirm our mini vacation. The day he left for his trip, he sent me funny pictures of him at the airport and text later that evening to say that he had arrived safe. I didn't initiate conversation while he was away because I was respectful of what he was there to do. He would text me here and there to talk about the seminars and to say that he couldn't wait to see me when he returned back to Vegas. <br />
<i>Go ahead and pour another glass...</i><br />
We went out to dinner the night after he got home. I was greeted with a huge kiss and a tight hug and he went on about he realized how much he missed me while he was away. During dinner, he said that he likes me so much that he could see himself falling in love with me. <i>The clouds parted, the angels started singing...</i><br />
Wow, I was one lucky girl! This was what I wanted and I thought that maybe the days of dating disasters were finally over. I found a man who was not only the total physical package, but open with his feelings and cared about me! Well, he didn't formally ask me to be his girlfriend nor did he delete his online dating profile but surely that would be next right? Wrong! Beginning the next day, the texts and phone calls almost stopped all together. He cancelled our date for the following night because he was tired from traveling. After a few days of this, I text and asked if things had changed for him. He responded with "No, I am working a lot and don't have time for personal calls and texts. I really like you and have moved you up to Plan A". <i>Excuse me, I'm sorry...what?</i><br />
He went on to say that yes he is still looking but out of all the women in his life, I was at the top of the priority list.<br />
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This guy had far bigger balls than I thought! Let's recap shall we? <br />
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1) He liked me so much that he saw himself falling in love with me.<br />
2) He missed me while he was away.<br />
3) He was planning a cruise to Mexico, just the two of us.<br />
4) He was still searching for women online.<br />
5) I was now Plan A on his priority list.<br />
6) He was too busy with work to be on his phone but yet was online on the dating site all day long.<br />
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Instead of just throwing out my first reaction, I chose to sleep on it and sort out my thoughts. If I had responded to him right then I would have said something to the effect of him being a sorry piece of shit who does not deserve to find love. So I thought it out and I decided the next day to let him know how I felt and what I wanted. I said that I was a catch and deserved to be with someone who didn't keep me on the back burner while he looked for someone better. I also told him that I was not a back up plan and that after 4-5 weeks, he should be backing up his words with his actions which he was not. He responded by saying he was sorry I felt that way and that he didn't want drama nor want to hurt my feelings. That sort of rubbed me wrong and I went on to say that if he was lucky enough to find a woman who didn't mind this behavior, then she was an idiot who didn't love herself. He apologized one more time and that was it. That's how it ended. I used to be the doormat girl who would just sit and wait for him to decide if I was the one or not. I would also sweep all of my discord under the rug and not mind being faithful to a man who was still dating other women. I can't pin point the exact moment that I put my big girl panties on and decided that I deserved better than that and I would no longer put up with it but I did. It has happened and if I am going to be serious in my quest to find my mate then I will no longer stand for disrespect. I deserve better!<br />
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So here I am, back online shopping for Mr. Right. There are a few prospects I'm talking to that have not yet asked me sexual questions or the size of my breasts. They seem like decent men and I do have a date with one of them tomorrow night. One man did offer me a large sum of money to spend the weekend with him to make his ex jealous. Needless to say, I did not take him up on his oh so flattering offer.<br />
I will be sure to let the world know how my new dating adventures are going. Wish me luck! I will also be in touch with Kris Jenner, the ultimate Mom-a-ger, while changing my name to Kristy Kardashian.<br />
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</i>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-47128104661943070852011-11-04T00:34:00.000-07:002011-11-04T00:34:30.326-07:00Who's your daddy?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A bit over a month ago, I went on a date with a man I met online. I say that I went on "a date" because it was just one. In fact, it was more like a job interview. Aren't dates really just interviews anyways? This particular encounter was no exception. Before our meeting, he had initiated conversation online and we had exchanged information via email. I knew that he was in his 40's, had a successful career, divorced and was the same height as me. We moved onto phone calls and texting. He could carry on a conversation and had a sexy voice. Wait correction, VERY sexy voice! He could easily have a strong career as a 1-900 phone sex operator. I am not the biggest fan of talking on the phone but with this lad, I made an exception. I also liked what I saw in his photos and let's not forget how important attraction is. So far, he was a strong candidate for my soul mate election. One important detail I didn't manage to find out in the process was his name. How could I not learn that right off the bat? In fact, he was listed in my phone as "sexy voice guy". During our last phone conversation, we agreed on a date that upcoming Sunday in Boulder City for brunch. Before ending the call, I asked him in a joking manner what his name is and how he replied was a bit shocking. His first name was the same as my deceased father's name. We are not talking about something common like John, Mike or Joe. No no, it was a name that whenever I hear it, makes me think of my dad. I then asked if it was short for something or perhaps he went by a nickname. To my dismay, his response was "No". Suddenly the hot sexy voice was overturned by his name. This guys poll ratings were declining quickly! After I hung up, I sought out the advice of a friend on this pressing issue. How could I date or let alone be intimate with a man who shares the same name as my dad? That is just beyond disgusting and down right wrong! My friend in all her infinite wisdom asked me if I called my father by his actual name or did I just call him dad. Of course I called him Dad and had enough respect not to call him by his first name. One of my brothers calls my mom by her first name to her face which always bothers me and just isn't right in my opinion. My friends enlightenment made me realize that I could date a man who shared my father's name and worst case scenario, when in an intimate situation, I could always yell God's name. Okay, problem solved!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sunday afternoon rolled around and I had spent quite some time picking out an appropriate first date brunch outfit. I didn't want to overdress but still needed to make a good first impression. I put on dark blue jeans with hot pink heels accompanied by a simple flannel shirt. I made sure to curl my hair and have adequate but not too much makeup on. As I drove out to Boulder City, I got a text from him saying that he hoped I didn't dress too nice because he was only wearing shorts, t shirt and man flops. What???!!!! Were we going on a first date brunch or a football cookout?? Not to mention he decides to share this with me 20 minutes before I get there. I might need a new candidate prior to the election. I kept on driving and now even more nervous than I usually am for a first date. I arrived in Boulder City on time to find that the town was having a big arts festival and the downtown streets were shut down. The brunch spot that he chose just happened to be right downtown so I had to park very far from the location and make the hike in heels to the restaurant. Once I arrived, I had to wipe many beads of sweat off of my forehead and catch my breath before I went in. I walked in and saw him seated at a table for two sipping water. He stood up and greeted me with a long hug. My first impression of him was he had a great smile, shorter than he stated in his profile by about 2 inches, had a hair cut from the 80's and clearly posted photos that were not recent. Suddenly his negative column had more marks than his positive but I was still willing to give this little guy a chance. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I happen to be a girl who gets turned on by a man saying my name in conversation. "How was your day Christy?" or "Look at these earrings I bought for you Christy". Not that I am that vain where I am in love with the sound of my name, that is not it. It is just hearing the man that I am with acknowledge me by name really melts my butter. Now that I am saying this out loud, I am thinking that a call to my therapist might be in order. Hang on...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Okay, emergency session with the therapist tomorrow at 2 o'clock to address my issue of my name being a form of foreplay.</i> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not only do I enjoy hearing my name but I also like to use my partner or dates name as well. I think that it shows respect and interest. During this brunch date I found myself in a bit of a pickle because I just couldn't say his name. Every time I thought to say it, I would automatically think of my dad and that was too strange to be thinking of him while trying to sort out whether or not I wanted to play tongue twister with this little man. Half way during my Cobb salad I decided that carrying the conversation was too much work and I stopped talking and gave him the floor. I hate the almighty uncomfortable silence on dates so I tend to talk a lot. Since this date was mentally stressing me out, I just stopped gabbing and eagerly waited to hear what my father's namesake had to say. Get out the sharpie and let's add a few more marks in the negative column because this guy had nothing to say. He literally sat there smiling while he ate his bacon and egg scramble. Perhaps I missed the part of his dating profile that suggested he was a mute? Since everything else was working against him, I could at least enjoy his hot sexy voice right? Wrong again Christy! He had nothing to say and just smiled at me. I then decided to finish up the salad and start counting all 50 states in my head until the check arrived and I could leave. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was well aware of my long hike back to my car as well as long drive home so I made a trip to the bathroom before I left the restaurant. I left silent Bob at the table to pay the bill and made my way into the ladies room. It was the smallest old room with a toilet much like an airplane bathroom. The space was so narrow that I had to straddle the seat with one leg on each side of it instead of both legs in front of me. I finished what I went in there to do and without thinking of the lack of space, I leaned forward as I got up and hit my head on the wall. The impact was so hard that I fell back to the toilet and had to sit for a second until the stars left my vision. Once I got my composure, I washed up and had a bit of a giggle at the giant red mark left by my unfortunate encounter with the wall. Upon exiting the ladies room, I found Mr. Smiley standing there waiting to escort me out. He asked me where I parked and once I told him I thought for sure he would just say goodbye right there. Oh no, wrong again. He insisted on escorting me to my car and once we got to it, he hugged me and said goodbye. During my drive home, he called my cell phone. I was really curious what he had to say considering he had absolutely nothing to say during our date. To my surprise, he thanked me and told me how beautiful I was and he was hoping to go out again. <i>Um I'm sorry, who is this and how did you get my number?</i> Where was this enthusiasm 15 minutes ago? I was polite and said that we would have to see how the next week or two looks before making any plans. Then he went on to say that the one thing he meant to ask me was what my 5 year plan is and did I want to have children. It is official! This guy was running for office because not only was he crazy but he was suddenly needing to know my future plans. The next question was probably going to be in reference to how I planned to save the earth and bring peace to the middle east. At this point, I had nothing to lose so I was honest and said that I had hoped to be in a committed relationship and as far as kids go, I was not able to have children. That did it... end of election! His voice dropped an octave as he told me that he felt deceived and me not being able to have children was something that I should have put in my profile online. He then said that I was wasting his time and by not disclosing my lack of uterus online, I was in fact a liar. He said that he wanted to be married again and wanted more children. He finished by saying that at his age he just didn't have time to waste on women like me and need to focus on those he can have a future with. I must have hit my head harder than I thought because there was no way that this conversation was actually happening. Once I apologized for misleading him and said goodbye, I hung up the phone in complete shock. I arrived back at home and was sure to block this nut job from my profile online. I believe that I dodged a bullet with this whack job and wish I could have dodged the bathroom wall as well. He may have left the picture but my headache stuck around for quite some time. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the bright side, my head contusion was good reason to open a bottle of wine and break out the pain pills. Cheers!</span>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-16765328901072534512011-10-28T16:15:00.000-07:002011-10-28T16:15:48.376-07:00There is a right way and a WRONG way...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sf78ooSe3UBRPnaTs_7pf-9z8Z2lF9DiMwrHKF5ffsdFGzyeOQJRJp_d3bFJEbKIbl4qqUq-g-UrE2KpH-SIXeWI9zv7VI4LV9xhE7px-RfnhaQWQohopasqaYHy7tf1vHAWcZv1CG0/s1600/marry+me.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sf78ooSe3UBRPnaTs_7pf-9z8Z2lF9DiMwrHKF5ffsdFGzyeOQJRJp_d3bFJEbKIbl4qqUq-g-UrE2KpH-SIXeWI9zv7VI4LV9xhE7px-RfnhaQWQohopasqaYHy7tf1vHAWcZv1CG0/s1600/marry+me.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For most women, the day your true love (or true love at the time) proposes marriage to you, it is supposed to be one of the greatest moments of your life. This is true for many people but for this unfortunate blonde, it was one of the worst experiences I have ever had. From start to finish, this "happy moment" marked a period of my life I wish I could erase. Since I am not that powerful and I don't have the ability to change the past, I have to do the only thing I can with this mess...blog about it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had been in a long relationship with <i>Harry</i> and we had talked about marriage on and off for awhile before he proposed. Before I go on, I should say that Harry is not his name but he was so hairy that I found it fitting that I give him this particular name. The more appropriate name should be Sasquatch because when he was naked, he was still a furry beast. Moving on... It was Christmas time and I had been out of town for work and the night I flew home, Harry had planned on popping the question. My flight was due to arrive around 6pm on December 23rd where he would pick me up and take me to dinner. His family was coming to town the next day for Christmas and he thought it would be nice to have some quiet time together before the madness. FYI, this was not his normal thoughtful behavior. His idea of a quiet time together was going to the nearest bookstore. I wish I was joking, but I am not. The smell of books, especially in the library, was as big a turn on to him as would be an adult store complete with private rooms and glory holes to a pervert. On that evening, my flight was severely delayed due to a snow storm and my plane had to circle for hours before it could land. By the time I got off the plane, it was midnight and the restaurant we were going to was already closed. I was tired and he was irritated so we just agreed to grab some fast food and eat it at home. We ate our cold burgers and exchanged small talk before going to bed. I had been gone on my trip long enough that I was wanting to have sex with him before I fell asleep. So we had sex... if you can call it that?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before I go on about the engagement, I should offer up some back story on who he was, the sad sex between us and the unfortunate size of his penis. Harry is older than me by a good 10 years but acted even older than my deceased grandfather. He had been married prior to my arrival in his life and was left by his ex wife <i>Helen </i>for other men. Excuse me, I said "other men" which was true but eventually she settled down with one of them and even married the guy. So poor Harry was left broken hearted for years before I entered the picture. I always told myself that he was over her but the truth was, he was never over her. I believe that he loved her even more as his life went on (with me in it). Helen remained a part of his life to a point because there was a child involved but she never really had much of an interest in Harry until he and I moved in together. It was like magic! Poof! There she was every single day calling, coming over unannounced and needing favors from him. This relationship was not just Christy and Harry, it was a threesome and not the good kind that happens one drunken night in Vegas (story for another time). During our intimate moments together, I couldn't help but think that he wished it was her in bed, not me. The sex was that bad! The only reason I could come up with for the pathetic romps was that he was thinking of her. I would think of creative ways to spice things up but he would never go for them. One night it hit me, it wasn't me and it wasn't really bad sex, it was the very tiny penis he was cursed with. This is not me taking a shot at him, trust me. When that little thing was soft, it was just a head with no shaft. When it was hard, there was about an inch maybe two, of a shaft. No, scratch that, two inches is too generous. This sorry thing was lacking in every department. I had made several attempts at different positions, toys and flavored lubricants but it was always bad sex. Anything but missionary was impossible due to the fact that his minuscule wiener couldn't reach. Why would I want to be with a man who was lacking in the bedroom and still loved another woman? To this day, the only reason I can come up with was insanity followed by the need to feel wanted and loved. Pathetic isn't it, I know!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The evening of December 23rd, Harry and I went to bed around 2 am and had sex. Something was definitely different this time. Not only was I faking the pleasure I was vocalizing but he seemed to be either half asleep or something was on his mind (besides Helen). Half way through it, I had to ask him if there was something wrong. He told me that he was just tired and suggested that we just call it a night. I agreed and went to the bathroom to freshen up before I went to sleep. When I got back to our room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with a very strange look on his face. He told me to have a seat next to him because we had "to talk". Oh no, here it goes. We are breaking up right before Christmas and I have to figure out where to move on Christmas Eve. OH SHIT! He was soft spoken and proceeded to tell me how he cares about me and he has enjoyed being with me and all the while I was mentally packing my bags. Then he pulled out a ring and asked me to marry him. What???!!! I was in such shock that I shook my head yes and he handed me the box then he laid down and went to sleep before I actually said the word "yes". I opened the box to find a small diamond eternity band and put it on. This was not the proposal fantasy that I had always envisioned. In fact, it was a far cry. Where were the rose petals, sky writing from a jet, a crowd of fans at a hockey game cheering for us as he proposed on bended knee or just pure romance? I had trouble falling asleep at that point because I just kept playing the evening over in my head in disbelief. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On Christmas Eve morning, we both awoke as if nothing had changed and went about our day. I tried to get excited our engagement and so I started calling my family to share the news. I thought that maybe their enthusiasm would rub off on me. The first call was to my mother. She answered the phone and was very happy to hear from me. "Mom, I have some news" and she paused then said "If you are calling to tell me you are engaged to THAT man, then know that I don't support it". That's right, you heard me! She was not a fan of his but it wasn't until this moment that I realized just how deep her disdain ran. I told her that yes he had proposed and we were going to get married. She told me that she would not support it and Merry Christmas then hung up. After the shock of call number one, I then called my oldest brother. Our father had passed away and I had always held my brother in very high regard. I felt that my brother and I were a lot alike and I often times respected him far more than our own dad. His blessing and support would mean more to me than anyone else in my family and so I was very nervous to hear his reaction. To my surprise, he was very happy for me and I asked him if he would give me away at my wedding. He agreed to take the place of my father and seemed very touched by the gesture. Once we ended the phone call, I was in better spirits and decided to make the most out of the engagement and to enjoy the planning of our wedding. I called my other brothers and they seemed happy for me as well. Okay, truth is that one of them was too high to really show enthusiasm or grasp what I was saying and the other brother seemed happy but I wasn't sold on his blessing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Christmas Day arrived and after all of the gifts were opened by him and his family, I sat and waited for my gift from Harry. I was still sitting and waiting while everyone got up and started breakfast. He walked over and said that he was sorry that he didn't buy me anything to open but planned to take me to the jewelry store the next week to pick out the engagement ring that I would want. He continued to explain that he only picked out the one I had because he didn't want to propose empty handed. He had also wanted to propose at the restaurant we had planned on going to but my flight was delayed and he didn't want to lose his nerve. That night, he announced to his family that we were going to get married and the response was very mixed. His father was emotional and gave a nice toast over dinner and his siblings were "so so" about their joy for us. I reminded myself to continue to make the most out of it because it wasn't to be about anyone else but us. A few days later, we drove to a jewelry store and looked over the ring selection. I didn't want anything too bulky because in my profession, I wash my hands all day and always putting on and taking off latex gloves. My goal was to find a ring that fit with the band I was already given. After a few minutes of browsing, we were approached by a salesman. He introduced himself as Brian and my sweetheart said "Hi, I'm Harry and this is my fiance Helen". Yes, that's right he called me his fiance Helen. Once Brian turned to me and said "Hello Helen", my face turned white and jaw dropped to the floor. Harry then realized what he said and asked me if I still wanted to marry him. I excused myself and walked outside hyperventilating. He followed me out the door and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. He apologized and said that he just wasn't used to saying "my fiance Christy". He promised that it was just a slip of the tongue and he loved me. I was so angry that I decided to hit him where it hurt, his wallet. I forced a fake smile and agreed to go back into the store. When we got back into the shop, he corrected who I was to the salesman and asked to see wedding rings. I started scouting out the biggest one I could find and once I found it, I told Brian my ring size and wanted to know when it would be ready. I thought Harry was going to have a stroke (too bad he didn't) when we found out the price. Again, I didn't want something big and extravagant but I was bitter and hurt and knew that this would hurt him too. The ring was very beautiful and looked amazing on my finger but to be honest, every time I looked at it I wasn't enthused. I was always a little sad when I wore it. It represented the moment that I realized that he did really wish it was Helen he was proposing to and I would never be good enough. This would be the beginning of the end and yes, it did end and not happily ever after. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was and always have been a believer in signs whether they were placed in front of me by God or just a coincidental billboard that happened to appear at the right time. After this horrific proposal and life changing event, I am even more a believer in signs. They are everywhere and if you don't take them seriously, you might just have to learn the lessons the hard way. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-35195405774318099662011-10-23T23:55:00.000-07:002011-10-23T23:55:15.781-07:00Open Wide!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSTULUb2GCmATFR41VX__c5vbLFzExSwGTR386-CpTwwoV5s9S4tUQpBsXxyKK7-8GGTZYIrLy-BhxPlz870P4GawabUEXC1CiKILW5YU1rZgPIVP48rn-9DiSJiYSJrur6qjlUOBuI0/s1600/imageStream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSTULUb2GCmATFR41VX__c5vbLFzExSwGTR386-CpTwwoV5s9S4tUQpBsXxyKK7-8GGTZYIrLy-BhxPlz870P4GawabUEXC1CiKILW5YU1rZgPIVP48rn-9DiSJiYSJrur6qjlUOBuI0/s320/imageStream.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><br />
Okay my littler perverts, this is not a story of a naughty gynecologist fantasy (although I've had those) but rather a true account of my date with a dentist. No, I was not flat on my back in the dental chair with my mouth open when we met. He found me on the almighty dating website for the lonely and desperate folks. At first glance, he wasn't what you would call attractive but his profile was very witty and seemed very straight forward. He wasn't "looking for a one night stand but someone to have fun with" and this caught my attention. Finally, a man who wasn't wanting the wham bam hand me a tissue ma'am!! His initial email to me had "Open Wide" in the subject line and once I realized he was a dentist, I found it funny. We exchanged several messages and went straight to phone conversation, not texts. We seemed to hit it off so fast that I agreed to meet him right away. <br />
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We met on a Friday night at the MGM casino in a lounge. The location of this date is an important detail (and should always be) because I was not aware that any lounge or bar in the MGM is situated as far away from the parking garage as possible. Seeing as how this was a first date, I made sure to put on high heels that were very uncomfortable but sexy. Sexy shoes are imperative for the first meeting because it puts the image in your dates head of you naked wearing only the heels. Since we are all ladies here, of course we won't be sleeping with the man right away but the image will still be embedded their mind. The first date checklist for ladies should include the hot shoes, a little bit of cleavage, nice perfume (not too strong) and subtle earrings. What we tend to notice of the men are how he smells, his clothing, hair and any visible scars. On this evening, my 3 inch platform heels had met the criteria however, caused many foot blisters due to my marathon through the MGM. Perhaps I should have added sweat bands and socks to my first date attire? <br />
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I arrived to the lounge (limping) and he was seated on a couch near the entrance. I caught my breath and approached him. He stood up and greeted me with a big tight hug and offered me a cocktail. He was very good looking in person and I had to wonder if his photos online were of his not so fortunate brother instead of him. Normally I would be very irritated by meeting a man who didn't look like his photos but was willing to make an exception in his case. I sat down, ordered a glass of red wine (not white, I'm allergic) and started my full body scan. He dressed very well, smelled of a nice cologne, no visible scars and naturally had a very white smile. We started with chit chat and after my first glass of wine, I called him out on his photos. He laughed and told me that he liked to play down his appearance in hopes that his potential date would want to meet him for deeper reasons. No offense doc, but a lot of women will date a doctor/dentist because of his bank account, not his looks. Either way, I gave him credit for thinking it made a difference in his case. For the record, I am not very picky or excited over a man's profession and I wouldn't date a man merely because he had the letters Dr. before his name. I have worked with many doctors and if anything, it makes me not like them and certainly not want to sleep with them. The God complex is very real and it comes with a very large ego and small penis. The ego does not stay at work, it enters the front door at night too. There was something more to this dentist during our communication prior to the date that intrigued me to meet him. Maybe he was absent the day that the God complexes were handed out or by some miracle, he broke the mold. <br />
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Two hours into our date, I had started to believe that this guy was a true find. He made me laugh quite a bit and was very forthcoming about who he was and in turn, wanted to know about me. He had been engaged but called off his wedding when he realized he wasn't the only man in his relationship. I could certainly relate to that story and he wasn't sure if he wanted kids. I know, could he be more perfect? He excused himself to the restroom and once he came back to our seats, he seemed a little different. He had this nervous energy to him that he hadn't shown before. Did he accidentally soil his pants? Did he happen to meet someone through a glory hole? I couldn't figure out why he was acting different but he didn't suggest leaving so it couldn't be that bad. As soon as I finished my drink, he paid the bill and wanted to move on to a different bar within the casino. Oh Lord no, more walking and my feet still hadn't cooled off from my first sprint. <br />
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We arrived at the next bar which was less crowded and full of women. There must have been a special drink offer that I was not aware of "Buy one drink, get one lady free". Once we were seated at the table, his attitude was different again. This guy wasn't just a dentist, he was also a man with multiple personality disorder. He wasn't just nervous, but almost excited like a virgin at a brothel. I set the paranoia aside and started up the conversation by asking about his hobbies. He cut me off half way through and said in a very serious tone (another personality if you are keeping score) "Look Christy, you are with a man who parties". Umm okay, what?!??! I quickly stopped talking and allowed him to continue. He told me that although he isn't dating for one night stands, he does like to have sex with 3 women at a time while high on cocaine. I was still silent not so much due to shock but I was waiting for him to say he was joking. He must have taken my silence to mean I was interested and so he continued to tell me of his plans for the evening. <i>Are you ready for this? </i>He said that he had arranged for two women to join us at the bar where we currently were and that he came packing with a hefty amount of Coke and Ecstasy in his pocket. <i>Nope, I am not kidding and there is one more detail...wait for it. </i>The two women were at the bar seated behind us and he had a suite upstairs ready for our party. The only thing I thought to say at the moment was "Cocaine is really bad for your teeth". That's right, this freaky dentist just planned out a night of drugs and sex with other women and all I thought to do was tell him, the dental professional, that drugs were bad for his teeth. I suppose shock can make you say stupid things and in this case, I certainly did. <br />
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Before I left the date, I was sure to ask Dr. Kinky why he thought I would be a candidate for the situation. <i>Brace yourself, here comes another personality! </i>He acted very irritated and explained that he felt that I would be very grateful to be with a successful, handsome man and furthermore, appreciate that a man of his stature would even consider taking me out, let alone inviting me to an evening of drug induced passion. This man had quite the cavity of honesty and continued to tell me that I should consider joining him and his ladies for the night because opportunities like this will not knock down my door often. It was also pointed out that I did say in my profile that I like to have fun. <i>Okay, I need to delete that ASAP because clearly it means I like to party like I am 21 year old in Vegas for the weekend.</i> I was really intrigued by his thought process and instead of getting up to leave, I asked him to tell me what it was about me that should be so grateful. Granted, I was well aware of how I felt about him now but was strangely curious as to how he viewed me prior to our nightmare date. <i>One more personality before I go...</i> He let out a bit of a giggle and proceeded to say that although I had a "pretty face", I was in no position to be picky about men and should know that if I lost weight, I could then afford to be more selective. He also threw me a bit of a bone and said that I had a "great personality". I stood up to leave and wouldn't you know it, he stood up and gave me a hug. <i>Seriously! </i>I started my journey out to the parking garage and took off my shoes. That's right, I braved the casino floor barefooted because after that disaster, I did not deserve nor desire one more blister. <br />
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What else could I possibly say after that date? Truth is, that evening spoke for itself. Thanks for the date and the blisters dirty dentist. From now on, I just say no the dentist and "maybe" to the hot gynecologist. I know he may have the God complex but at least he knows how the vagina works.Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-9791547553391452062011-10-19T12:40:00.000-07:002011-10-19T12:40:11.700-07:00Welcome Aboard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSiijkiMx3LVgv9BjXp5OoResVfmpvjeSUOV2mKsypLg758hYpjAc3DYS6V61N0AuMmOL7cO6BmqhvnvDS8CKNtuVl38JkhU8h8LgVq9qcCaAvoPQrIDlDSU1ZuxVyEmA5-5d52B9DMOw/s1600/extrago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSiijkiMx3LVgv9BjXp5OoResVfmpvjeSUOV2mKsypLg758hYpjAc3DYS6V61N0AuMmOL7cO6BmqhvnvDS8CKNtuVl38JkhU8h8LgVq9qcCaAvoPQrIDlDSU1ZuxVyEmA5-5d52B9DMOw/s320/extrago.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyone that has ever been on a airplane or even plans to be for the first time, is well aware of the almighty bag restrictions. If your bag is </span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> size, weighs </span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> much or doesn't fit into a small space, it has to be checked on and better yet, will end up costing you more money. I personally take full advantage of the rule that allows you to bring on board one small personal item as well as a carry on piece of baggage. I find the largest purse that I have and pack it completely full of my toiletries, accessories, magazines and hair tools. The carry on luggage then gets packed full of my undergarments and nighties. After all of that, I still need to check on 2 large (under 50lb) bags that house the clothing and shoes. I can't help but envy the men that I see carrying on a laptop bag (personal item) and then a small carry on that literally holds everything they need. It completely fascinates me! I guarantee if you ever observe the baggage claim carousels in the airport, most of the luggage being claimed is by women. If you happen to see men at them, they are merely there to accompany the women and to carry their bags. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, what does this have to do with dating you might ask? Well, the older I get (mid 30's) and the more men I meet, the more I realize that we all have baggage. I believe that as soon as we graduate high school, we have officially purchased our first set of matching luggage. First job, first kiss, first love, first heart break and for some, losing our virginity. These days you may even find that a lot of students graduating from junior high school have these accomplishments under their belts....Lord help us all! Fast forward 20 years and not only have we added to our lists of great loves, heartbreak and careers but now we have to added children, mortgage, debt, disaster, divorce and greater skepticism into the mix. It's no wonder why pharmaceutical companies are producing such a wide variety of anti depressants and anti anxiety medications. I'm confident that rehab centers would have a greater occupancy if people could actually afford to go. Sadly, it is cheaper to get drunk and forget your worries than to recover from addiction. Why do I bring all of this up and bring all of us down? It is all a part of our baggage. Forget the toiletries, shoes and clothing and make room for all of the emotional crap.</span><br />
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<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hang on, all that talk made me so depressed that I need to go wash down a few Valium with a Rum and diet coke (no </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">carbs</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> ladies). </span></em><br />
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<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that I am under the influence and feeling better, let's continue...</span></em><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you ever find yourself on the dating websites or even on blind dates (good ol' friend of a friend connection), you'll either read or hear the words uttered "please, no baggage". What you will also find is that it is men making this request of women. It seems as though men believe that it is we, the almighty female, that carry the most emotional baggage. Why is this? Is it assumed because women carry very large expensive handbags or merely because women are known for being over emotional and highly irrational? Is that really the reason we have more luggage on flights? We are no longer packing 20 pair of shoes, instead we are squeezing every bit of our emotional past into a confined space sealed by a zipper. That is why zippers are so unstable and tend to break. Our emotional drama is literally busting out the seams!</span><br />
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<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Buckle up boys and girls...here is where it gets bumpy! Not to worry, the bitchy flight attendants will be by shortly to serve you a beverage and tiny bag of nuts(be sure to ask for two).</span></em><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I do agree that women tend to be more open with their emotions, I do not agree that we carry more baggage. </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yep, we just hit turbulence!</span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Amongst the many lessons I have learned from failed dates and relationships is that men actually do carry very large expensive bags with them especially on the first date. Ladies, it is true! I have heard men complain and some even cry about how women have screwed them over and made them unable to trust again, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">bla</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">bla</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">bla</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.. and all of this over the first drink on our initial date. I have to admit that there is nothing sexier and more attractive than a man whining about the evil women of his past while making the pathetic attempt to get me to go home with him. </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check please! </span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Men, if you are lucky enough to get us to a second date or even a committed relationship, please do not continue to compare us to the train wrecks of your past. For example, if you were dating or married to a jealous woman who had to know what you were doing every second of the day, then that doesn't mean we (your current partner) are repeating their behavior merely because we text or call to say hello. We make those particular gestures because we are thinking about you! When women are happy with a man, we let them know by doing the little things. We call, text, email or greet you with a big hug and a kiss when we see you. Also, if we happen to ask what you are doing or where you are, we are either striking up conversation or might need you to pick something up (tampons) for us on your way home. Women aren't accusing you of skirting around...really. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now might be a good time to mention that if you men have found yourselves in the middle of a war with your ex because of the her physical insecurities, it does not mean that the next in line will battle over it too. If your female partner in crime doesn't like you looking at other women in public, it doesn't mean we are insecure. </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Put on your oxygen mask and catch your breath, this is not a joke</span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">! When we get to spend time with the man with whom we adore and then catch them eyeballing another woman, it just pisses us off! Call me crazy but if we are with you, then appreciate it and keep your eyes on the prize. Go ahead and stare, drool and fantasize all you want but not when we are sitting across from you. What you don't seem to realize is how much effort we put into our appearance. There is a reason it takes us so long to get ready before we go out. We don't do it to admire ourselves in a mirror all night, it is for you...the man. We want to be appealing to you and further more, we would love nothing more than for you to notice it and appreciate it. If we put on something pretty or spend an hour making sure every single hair is in place, that means we have confidence. The smallest thing that means the most would be a compliment for our efforts. Nice dress honey, you look beautiful, your boobs look hot...anything! Just don't make a mockery of our hard work by giving that silent compliment to a complete stranger walking past our table. Again, we are looking hot for you, not for ourselves. Okay, so put that bag in the garbage where it belongs and stop carrying it over your shoulder.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One final important note would be the oh so touchy subject of 24 karat gold encrusted bags also known as gold digging. Now I grant you that there are many women out there searching for the winning lottery ticket with a penis attached to it, but that doesn't mean that all women are greedy whores. If the ex wife or girlfriend took you to the cleaners and walked away with half of your good fortune, then don't take that out on your new relationship. Here is the perfect example! Valentines Day, we are all familiar with it. I hear a lot of men and women say that it is just a day to pour money into the flower and jewelry economy, but it is also a day to remind yourselves and partners just how much you love them. Okay, it is also a day where single people tend to get drunk and jump off the nearest bridge. I give you that. However, when that day in February arrives, us girls do anticipate how our men are going to show us their love. Every time a fresh batch of flowers gets delivered to our work, we hold our breath and wait to hear whose name is on that card. If by the end of the day we did not get any flowers, then we are hoping that there is something good in store for us when we get home. Let me repeat myself, this does not mean we are gold digging. This means that we would love a little gift on this day to show you care. Here is the biggest secret for you boys that you may not know, if you give us anything, a card, chocolates, jewelry or flowers then you in return, will get a blow job and penetration. Hell, we might even really take one for the team and swallow. You heard me! However, that might require a significant piece of jewelry. </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just sayin'. </span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This Valentines Day gift giving also applies to birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas. For all of you married folks that have been together for years and think that gifts aren't important for either the husband or wife, WRONG! Think about it. It's been years since your partner gave a gift, made a loving gesture or gave you multiple orgasms so why not now? After 10 years together, if your wife wants something nice on Valentines Day, that does not imply that she intends to take half of your net worth. Put that baggage away and appreciate that if you give her a little you will get "it" in return.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have so much more to say about baggage and of course women carry their share too, but I am continuously amazed at men and how far they are willing to carry it. For now, let's put our tray tables and seats back in their full upright position and prepare for landing. Be sure not to forget to check the overhead compartment for your bags and be aware that they may have shifted during flight.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-65010701360519063162011-10-15T00:45:00.000-07:002011-10-17T15:10:14.384-07:00Mr. Right Guy or Mr. Nice Guy?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOCiK0_Wvz8wvSS_aHHYR5JjwL26tAJotEeaOc1OSluz-f9w0w644d3dlN3yhjnkulnHdX1Pxzl8cFIrCOk85UjTVTWKhWKhyIHoe00mZcP2cfGYXVbwC4aU6rS5rsww2sK1GThuF8vw/s1600/The-facts-of-life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOCiK0_Wvz8wvSS_aHHYR5JjwL26tAJotEeaOc1OSluz-f9w0w644d3dlN3yhjnkulnHdX1Pxzl8cFIrCOk85UjTVTWKhWKhyIHoe00mZcP2cfGYXVbwC4aU6rS5rsww2sK1GThuF8vw/s320/The-facts-of-life.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there have the facts of life. Instead of taking the good and the bad, what do you do when you take the good, the nice and you add in some handsome? Honestly, I have no idea! Where is Mrs. Garrett when I need her? Any dilemma I have, she could solve in 30 minutes and still have time to bake me cookies. Oh, if it were only that simple? This happens to be the one thing boggling my little blond mind these says So in the spirit of sharing my feelings (also known as my form of therapy), I thought that I would be able to sort it all out in written word. I should preface this blog entry by saying that it is really more geared towards the female audience just as the wonderful 80's television show "The Facts of Life" was. Although, I am a firm believer that whatever is good for the goose is always good for the gander. <br />
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Due to a recent date that I went on, I have been in a quandary about nice guys and why they finish last? I am beginning to believe that nice guys are so rare that when we meet one, we are scared and run in the other direction. The idea is so hard to grasp that we don't know how to react once faced with such a mythical creature. We've read about them in books, heard stories from our Grandmothers and have even seen them in movies (Forrest Gump) but in our world, they are right up there with the loch ness monster. I myself had heard of them and actually have met a few in the last 36 years but due to my lack of experience, I tend to find the nearest emergency exit and leave the scene of the nice guy crime. <br />
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So, I had met <em>Todd</em> through a friend of a friend and we went on a blind date. We each had been given the other's number and had sent texts and photos (only clean ones) prior to our meet and greet. This went on for about 5 days and then he asked me out for a few casual drinks and a bite to eat. Once that day arrived, my mother had gotten very sick and I had to take her to the hospital. I sent him a text to postpone our "meeting" because I wasn't sure what was wrong and how long I would be there with her. He seemed very understanding and a few hours later, he offered to pick up the food of my choice and bring it down there to the hospital. He thought I was probably hungry and hospital food is a far cry from 5 star cuisine so he wanted to get me something that I would enjoy. I respectively declined his offer and told him that as much as I appreciated it, I just didn't want our first date to be in that particular situation. Let's be honest, I looked worse than a DUI mugshot and didn't want that image ingrained in his memory. He let me know that the offer still stood if I changed my mind and if I needed anything, to just let him know. Here he was, a guy who had never met me, knew very little about me but yet wanted to make sure I had something decent to eat during my mama drama.<br />
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Days later, once my mother was on the mend, I felt that I could brave the first date with Todd. We met on a Monday night at a local pub/restaurant. I arrived a little early and found a table that faced the front door. Roughly ten minutes later, he walked in. We saw each other and as soon as he got close to my table, he turned and kept walking past me. <em>It's okay, breathe!</em> He was only being funny. He came back and asked if he could sit in the chair to my right instead of across from me. I wasn't totally thrilled with his suggestion but I went with it. I had to rationalize his choice of seats by telling myself that he just wanted to be close to me. It is a quirky thing with me that I don't like first dates to sit to my side and I am just more comfortable with being across from one another. As he settled into his seat, I did a full body scan of him. <em>I may not be Van Gogh, but let me paint you a picture</em>. He is 6'4" tall, shaved head, nice eyes, full lips, large muscular arms, 40 years old, several tattoos up and down his large arms, dark goatee and if I forgot to mention, large arms. He was very pleasing to look at and had already scored points by his thoughtful food offer prior to our actual date. He put his hand out to shake mine and then formally introduced himself. I shook his hand and then we placed our drink orders with our waitress. The conversation opened with his apology for being a few minutes late which I didn't mind at all. First of all, he actually showed up. Secondly, he hadn't walked out on me. Finally, he did not offer me ice cream then explain how he only dated fatties because we are eternally grateful to the almighty hot guy for loving "us". This guy was scoring points left and right and didn't even break a sweat in doing so. <br />
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After the typical small talk exchange, he went on to tell me about his life. <em>Let's keep in mind that I never once had to ask a personal question or walked on eggshells while asking about his past baggage.</em> I didn't have to ask anything, he just offered it up freely. He told me that he didn't want to waste any ones time and just layed it out there for me. What did this mean? Was he a wanted felon for identity theft, deadbeat dad who skipped out on child support or a paid male escort who works weekends on Fremont Street? Nope, wrong and none of the above. He grew up in California from mixed race parents and he not only graduated from college but also served in the military. He shared his stories of living overseas, under the sea as well as life on dry land. I learned all about him and what made him tick. Amongst all of the Todd education I was getting, we managed to order food and a few refills of our drinks. I think he had more to drink than I did because his mouth was very dry from all of the talking. So, I ate my dinner and listened on as he spoke of his teenage son, divorce and his dating experiences since his break up. He didn't even finish his meal because it had gone cold while he was talking. My food was really scrumptious and I was able to finish it because I didn't have to do any of the conversing. This date was fantastic because not only did I not have to think up a list of topics and questions to keep it interesting, but he spoke openly and I just had listen and eat. To top it off, I never found myself bored enough to begin the great state countdown. Oh and get this...wait for it....wait for it.... he had a sense of humor too! If you are keeping track, he was polite, good looking, straight forward, open and funny! Someone smack my ass and wake me up because surely this was all a dream or a really bad acid trip.<br />
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Once the 3 hour tour came to a close, wait, I mean 3 hour date, he paid the bill (more points scored) and we walked out together. He escorted me to my car and locked us in for a second date. He told me that he was sorry for monopolizing the evening and wanted to take me out again so I could have my turn at show and tell. Of course I told him "YES" and then he held out his arms to give me a hug. I went in for the hug and he gave my right cheek a very sensual kiss and I melted. This was no ordinary peck, no no, this was a full mouth kiss without the tongue. I promise you that if I had a penis, it would have been pointing due north. Once he finished and started to pull back, I pulled him back in and went for the full monty. This guy had no choice but to get it. That's right, I violated his mouth and I make no apologies for doing it. Kissing his mouth was even hotter than what he did to my cheek! He quickly pulled away because I believe he was also experiencing the North Pole effect. That evening once I got home and settled into my bed, I received a text from Todd thanking me for a wonderful time and that he could not wait to see me again. Nice guy alert!! Ding, ding, ding...points flying everywhere!<br />
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We have a plan for a second date complete with dinner, live music and definitely more kissing but I spend my time wondering if I can handle such a nice guy (go grab Freud, it's time for therapy). Here we have Todd who is nice and funny, good looking with manners and on top of it all, wants to see me again! I keep finding myself stuck in the question of whether or not I can be with such a nice person. Where is my typical jerky guy who treats me like crap and I still stay with until he leaves me behind in his heart breaking wake? Better yet, I tell myself that I don't deserve such a man because I've made so many bad decisions in my life that my only karma is to get the heartless assholes. I go to the great lengths to replay this date over in my head and try to pick out the bits of him that are bad and prove that he isn't one of the good ones. Just as in love, I am unsuccessful in this mission. I have to face facts that so far he is not a bad catch and it is possible that I may have cashed in my lucky penny and deserve a little piece of happiness. I am not counting on this to end happily ever after but I do remain hopeful. Then again, there is always the option that he is a complete lunatic that wants nothing more than to bury me in the desert.<br />
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I could just be jaded from my past relationships or very skeptical of people because of my profession, but I do know that at the end of the day I do deserve a small chunk of joy. So I will continue my mission (impossible) and see what happens. Although, I still think if I had that hot little red headed number Mrs. Garrett or roller skating Tootie to help me solve the nice guy puzzle, this would all be a lot easier.Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-58276663782485656222011-10-13T01:15:00.000-07:002011-12-05T01:34:42.395-08:00Always have an exit strategy!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ti29oEh67XtRXCzsLHIyfZSHpBC2dy7e6ZuMJ7E0999SRO-NDaDPFYQk_gSl5ugu8oOssWyM3arMk_UXRMX0UlUGkuqw3hJA-LI96T_DJA_a4htmuaHAm0_7Y4qdvULOzrc232lfuKU/s1600/one-night-stand-pillowcase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ti29oEh67XtRXCzsLHIyfZSHpBC2dy7e6ZuMJ7E0999SRO-NDaDPFYQk_gSl5ugu8oOssWyM3arMk_UXRMX0UlUGkuqw3hJA-LI96T_DJA_a4htmuaHAm0_7Y4qdvULOzrc232lfuKU/s320/one-night-stand-pillowcase.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Hello everyone! Let's all put on our most sophisticated attire and step into my time machine. Be sure to take advantage of the fully stocked bar to the rear of the aircraft, buckle up and enjoy the ride! On today's journey we will be visiting a period of time where I had found myself single after my longest relationship to date. My engagement to the most boring man in the world had ended (thankfully) and I was on the prowl and feeling quite frisky. <br />
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After several failed attempts to find a steady beau from the internet, I had decided to just have a one night stand. This may sound crazy but I was tired of the horrible dates I had been experiencing. Although they made for great stories over cocktails with friends, they certainly weren't getting me any closer to a relationship or intimacy. These natural disasters were only pushing me closer to a life of therapy and/or rehab due to the amount of alcohol I was emotionally forced to consume. So I made the decision to find a guy, ignore his idiosyncrasies and take him to bed then send him home. Guys do this all of the time right so why hadn't I thought of it before? This idea would allow me to meet the guy, have sex and not care about his weird habits, boring stories, several divorces or criminal record. Perfect plan!<br />
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Now that I had this brilliant idea, I just needed the guy. I referred back to the internet data base of single gents and scrolled through many profiles until I found the one. There he was, the perfect sexual specimen. His name was <em>Jeremy, </em>26 years old (younger than me), tall, good looking and he had stated that he wasn't looking for anything "long term". Hello! Match made in internet scandal heaven! I sent him an email, introduced myself and said that we had a shared interest of just a "good time" and would love to meet. He didn't waste a minute in responding and after a bit of communication, we made a date to meet at a local sports grill that Friday. Wait a second, back up....what did I just do?? Was I that desperate or just stuck on stupid? Okay, maybe the answer is both but either way, I now either had to put up or shut up. Or would that be put out and shut up? <br />
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The night before my date, which let's be honest, was really just a strange form of foreplay, I got nervous. I called up my close friend London who was almost my sister in law as she was married to my ex fiance's brother at the time. However, she did up leaving him shortly after my breakup with his brother because he was also a giant loser and dumber than a box of hair. She ended up living with me and my very large dog in a one bedroom apartment or as we called it "halfway housing" because we were suddenly free from our life sentences. Got all that?? Sorry for the detour, just wanted to share that bit because I will come back to it again in the future. So I called her up and told her about my genius plan. She insisted that her and the idiot join us on the date (not the sex) to check him out before I take him home. What a great friend and obviously the only one thinking clearly! So I had called Jeremy and let him know that it would now be somewhat of a double date and he was fine with the revision. <br />
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On Friday night, my friends and I arrived at the grill a bit early and got our table on the back patio. Of course I treated myself to several shots and a beer before Jeremy showed up. I was no longer nervous by the time he arrived. He was just as his pictures portrayed and looked harmless. We all got along very well together and you would have thought we had all been great friends for years. As the evening progressed, Jeremy and London's idiot husband were getting along like BFF's and before you knew it, us girls didn't even exist. The boys were talking about comic books (snooze), ninja movies (bigger snooze) and the oh so sexy Japanese anime (code blue). London and I enjoyed more cocktails or as I viewed them, courage in a cup and discussed my impending fling. <br />
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We finally ended our double date and I asked Jeremy if he would like to join me for a cup of coffee at my place. He agreed and all I could hope was that he didn't really want coffee because I didn't have a coffee maker. Whoops! As luck would have it, he didn't mention the nonexistent coffee but he did excuse himself to the restroom. I waited near my bedroom door and when he came out he walked up to me and the smooching began. He whispered in my ear that he wanted to sleep with me so....game on! My plan worked! No muss no fuss just sex. We did a bit more making out and then got into bed. I must admit that I was not turned on by his kissing because he was doing the Tasmanian devil tongue swirl that was far from sexy. I kept reminding myself that I was just in it for the sex, not the commitment so I let the marathon tongue go and focused on the penetration. Let's just say that the bad kissing proved to be better than the sex. How do I say this? Umm... okay here it goes. Instead of a penis, he had a pencil. It was long and very very skinny. No, it wasn't skinny, it was anorexic. This poor thing clearly hadn't eaten since the 80's. Not only were we working with a lead writing tool but we also had a boy who could last longer than a man on Viagra. He just kept going and going and I finally started my go to boredom game in my head (Maine, Vermont, Texas...) just to make time go by. This was not the fantasy I had built up in my head. I figured that in order to get this guy to finish and go home, I would have to really fake the "Big O" and hoped that he would follow suit. My mouth was so dry from all of the Lamaze breathing, not to mention still drunk and now tired but still managed to pull of my finest performance. In my best low budget porno effort, I faked my orgasm and wouldn't you know, that was all it took! He went off and off and off some more then collapsed onto the other side of the bed. Phew, all done...or was it?<br />
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I got up and went into my bathroom to get ready for bed and thought he would get the hint. No such luck Christy! I came out and there he was snuggled under the covers. This was not something I was prepared for nor did I know what to do to get him to leave. Go figure that a woman who plans everything didn't plan for her one night stand to turn into a slumber party. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Don't you have the sex and then leave? Guys are famous for this so what did I do wrong? I sat on my bed and said how great it was to meet him but I needed to get to sleep. Jeremy then started to pull the covers back not in an attempt to go but rather to join him under them. So I got back into bed and told him that I needed to get some rest because I had to leave town in the morning and it was going to be a long drive. I figured if this guy wasn't going to leave then I had to at least make a point to let him know that I planned on sleeping, not more bad sex. I set my alarm for 8am and as soon as it went off in the morning, I jumped up and got ready to leave for my imaginary road trip. I walked into the bedroom after I was finished and there he was still under the covers and petting my dog! Now I was getting very irritated and bluntly had to tell him that it was time to go. Nope, still not that easy. He said that he would stay and hang out with my dog and whenever I got back from my trip, he would be there. It was official, the Lord was punishing me for my foolish and very slutty behavior. As nice as I had been, I now had to get tough if I wanted him out of my bed and out of my life. I forcefully insisted that he go and I was sorry but I wasn't comfortable leaving him there and he was making me late by procrastinating. It worked!! He got up, gathered his things and walked out the door with me. I hugged him goodbye and said that we would talk soon. Okay so I lied to him...or so I thought.<br />
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I ended up spending my day at a friend's house and told her of my sexcapade. She was a bit judgemental but still insisted on every hideous detail. Once the day was over and I felt the coast was clear, I went home. Guess who was there in my driveway? One guess...go ahead... that's right Jeremy! Was this for real or was I just hallucinating from my overwhelming hangover? I got out the car very annoyed and asked him what he was doing there. He told me that he had left his cell phone in my bedroom and although he tried to break in to get it, he was not successful. As we walked in, I was thinking up an excuse in my mind as to why I was home so soon from my long road trip. Umm I was too hungover and turned around and came back or my car wasn't acting right or I came down with remorse flu... He got his phone and asked if I wanted to hang out which before he could finish the question I said "NO"! It might have been rude of me but at this point I was just done with the entire situation and wanted it to be over. As he left, I gave him a pat on the back and said goodbye. <br />
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If you have ever danced around the idea of a one night stand, please learn a lesson from my misery. Not only should you plan out the date, but you should always be sure to have a plan in place for their departure. You should also make sure that upon his or her exit, they have ALL of their belongings with them and leave not even a used tissue behind. Furthermore, in this day and age (not that I'm that old) it really isn't the smartest or safest thing to do. If you really need to have sex but don't have a partner, consider doing it with a friend. Oh and ladies, if you get a chance to cop a feel of his merchandise before taking him home, do so. If you can avoid bad kissing followed by even worse pencil penis sex by merely putting your hand below his equator, then do it. Otherwise know that you only have yourself to blame, not the pencil.Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-44496041332286251952011-10-11T00:45:00.000-07:002011-10-11T00:45:37.637-07:00Plus size submission.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZupCqmaCm94WRQM0HdjeCwLH1HAjp_biWM0d9TQ6hAzanhKShjOW-J6-1EuRDek5Ysa-Fp07CH86EAGBqY6sJtFiDZiReTehd3iGOi3wMz4gcL_o6QuW5KsP7ES92PDyakoKE_XSbBU/s1600/black%252Cand%252Cwhite%252Cbroken%252Cheart%252Chammer%252Cphotography-ca0b2fd57244b95ebd1876c3176dd846_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZupCqmaCm94WRQM0HdjeCwLH1HAjp_biWM0d9TQ6hAzanhKShjOW-J6-1EuRDek5Ysa-Fp07CH86EAGBqY6sJtFiDZiReTehd3iGOi3wMz4gcL_o6QuW5KsP7ES92PDyakoKE_XSbBU/s320/black%252Cand%252Cwhite%252Cbroken%252Cheart%252Chammer%252Cphotography-ca0b2fd57244b95ebd1876c3176dd846_h.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>One might ask why I keep hitting myself with a hammer? I mean, we all know that the hammer is designed to pound nails into walls, make noise and inflict pain. So the same could be said for online dating. I know that it can cause pain but I am also aware that I need one in order to "get my nail pounded". So I keep subjecting myself to the agonizing pain of online man hunting. <br />
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If you are not aware or have not had to belittle yourself and join an online dating site, let me fill you in on how it works. First of all, you have to create your profile. This involves photos of yourself, likes and dislikes, your body type, what and who you are looking for, kids, pets and basically everything but your bra size (but trust me, a lot of pigs, er um I mean men, do ask that too). Once you go live, you can start window shopping for your perfect specimen. This also works the other way. All sorts of men can check you out and oh do they ever. Some are so hot that you think that they aren't real (some aren't) and there are others that are so horrendous that you hope they are tucked away in a prison cell for life (or should be). Every now and then you get surprised by one that not only is good looking, but is also good on paper. He makes a good living, likes dogs, not on social security, single and looking for more than a fling. I was so fortunate to have one these rare breeds email me. His name was <em>Larry, </em>38 years old, never married, no children, owned his own home, great career and good looking. What's the catch??? These men are so extremely hard to find and whenever I do happen to stumble across one, they are usually batting for the other team. So imagine my shock when he contacted me! <br />
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We did the obligatory email exchange and he was more witty with each one. Then we moved on to the texting and phone calls. He was still funny and even came through as charming. After a week of this communication foreplay, he asked me out on a date. He suggested meeting at Starbucks (which I never do as a first date) and then suggested that we meet for ice cream. Don't rub your eyes, you read that right....ice cream! No ice cream and cocktails or ice cream after dinner, just ice cream. How does one dress for such a special event? Do I dress in layers because an ice cream shop is cold or do I wear something cute and flattering because it is a first date? Then again I could be completely overdressed because it is just ice cream. After I gave this dilemma too much thought, I settled on shorts, cleavage flattering top, flats and made sure to do big hair and low key makeup. There had to be some balance...a sexy single girl who enjoys the simple things.<br />
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I arrived to the ice cream shop on time and he was there waiting for me out front. He looked just like his photos and might have even been a bit better looking. I leaned in for a one armed hug and he went full in with both arms and squeezed me really hard. I took that as a good sign. We walked in and selected our treats. We each got two scoops in a cone and went back out front to sit and talk. It was a warm Las Vegas evening and so it made sense to dine out on the patio. Yes, that was sarcasm. <br />
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Larry was very talkative and very smooth. He always made eye contact and was very engaging in the way he spoke to me. So as soon as I finished my frozen goody, I went on to ask questions and to share a bit more about me. We had a great exchange and I really enjoyed everything that he had to say (I never even got to count the 50 states). He even said that he was looking forward to our next date and suggested seeing a show on the strip, no ice cream. If you are waiting for the ball to drop... wait no more! As the evening came to a close, we touched on the topic of online dating. He initiated the topic by asking what it was about his profile that made me interested enough to respond to his email. I explained that I found him to be attractive, he seemed to have good qualities and it was enough to make me want to learn more and potentially get to know him better. He seemed really pleased with my answer and then started to push his chair back to leave. I should have just gotten up to leave but no, I had to turn the question back onto him. I asked him what was it about me and my profile that had him interested enough to contact me? Hang on, let me go grab a strong adult beverage before I tell you what happened next!<br />
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Okay, I am back with my Las Vegas Iced Tea. I changed the name from Long Island because I like to keep it local. Anyways, Larry scooted himself back towards the table and grabbed my hand. Ooh, this was getting serious. I was a little turned on thinking he had something very flattering to say and who doesn't appreciate a compliment right? He started off his list with my smile, blond hair, well spoken in my description, no children and that I wasn't on welfare. He leaned in a bit closer and in a very soft spoken and sultry voice he said "I really like your size". Okay, wait a second. WHAT!??!!? Larry then went on to say "I only date full size women because they appreciate a good looking, fit man and are very submissive". Go ahead, go back and read that again. You heard me. He believed that bigger ladies are so thankful to have a good looking guy date them that they go above and beyond to please the man. I now expected a film crew to appear and some obnoxious guy running out from behind a car telling me that it was a joke No such luck! I released my hand from his grip, pushed my chair back and told him that I appreciated our evening but it was time to go. I turned to walk to my car and he followed me. He got just enough ahead of me to stop me in my tracks. He looked so shocked that I was leaving and asked me what the problem was. I told him how ridiculous he was for saying that and further more how absurd it was to believe that. I gave him the opportunity to say that he was kidding (which by the way, was not funny) or to elaborate in hopes that he could turn it around. No, no no, it got worse. He told me that women like "me" should be grateful that men like "him" even look at women like "us" and that when he dated women like "me", he found them to do anything and everything to please him. He felt that there was nothing wrong with his belief and clearly I was the one with the issue. I wanted so badly to hit him but instead I walked past him, got in my car and drove home. I might have stopped by the bar first but eventually I made it home.<br />
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So again we ask, why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer?<span class="st"> Because it feels so good when I stop. I know that one day I will no longer be subjecting myself to the horror of first dates and possibly find a partner who doesn't expect me to call him master and thank him for taking a chance on a woman like "me".</span>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-51886841963597394422011-10-09T01:11:00.000-07:002011-10-09T01:11:56.186-07:00Check yourself before you wreck yourself!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKXMeD2J8nzFaZluEV8uABtXkA_9fy2ONqdKjwpneDxNEJGK6dheqryH37PmeQ5vKRq-3bNDZXIQZXWy4O05jCC1JeH_3UwMHBoY9tZPZJkGtCuIF1jEmNc61ZBelGZaXXf-bG6DinDE/s1600/iStock_toes000003963807XSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKXMeD2J8nzFaZluEV8uABtXkA_9fy2ONqdKjwpneDxNEJGK6dheqryH37PmeQ5vKRq-3bNDZXIQZXWy4O05jCC1JeH_3UwMHBoY9tZPZJkGtCuIF1jEmNc61ZBelGZaXXf-bG6DinDE/s320/iStock_toes000003963807XSmall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I used to work in Podiatry and my days consisted of working on patients with diabetic foot wounds, fractures, heel pain, ingrown toe nails and fungal nails. I know you're thinking that with all of that excitement, why would I want to date? As shocking as it sounds, I still found time to search out "the one". The majority of the foot patients were Medicare card carrying seniors and so I knew that I would have to journey out of the office to find a man...a younger man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was still shopping for men on the online dating site and there was one particular gent that I had been communicating with for a few weeks but our schedules just never allowed time for meeting. One day the clouds parted and divine intervention made way for us to finally meet for dinner. Since my apartment was far from work and the restaurant he chose was close to the office, I just brought everything to work to change into and freshen up with prior to our date.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am pretty sure that on this particular day there was a special run on diabetic fungal nails because I had spent over 8 hours filing and clipping down yellow diseased toe nails. That's it! No fractures or ulcerated wounds. The worst part was that by the time my shift ended, I only had enough time to change out of scrubs and spritz on perfume. I got in the car and nervously drove to the restaurant. My only hope was that the lighting would be poor and he would be partially blind. After all, I didn't even have enough time to even fluff up my hair or apply a fresh coat of makeup. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I had arrived a few minutes late and he had already text to say that he was at a table towards the back. I walked in and found him (he actually looked like his photo). He stood up and greeted me with a big hug and then we both took our seats. I was very happy to see that our particular section was not well lit and there was only a small tea light candle on our table. We exchanged small talk, browsed the menus, got cocktails and then ordered our dinners. He asked a lot of questions about what I did for a living and was fascinated by the fact that I could be around feet all day and it not bother me. I kept trying to shift the focus onto his profession (divorce attorney) and get some stories out of him because I am sure he had plenty. He finally confessed that feet "gross him out" and never in a million years could he have a job that involved feet. This was working to my advantage because not only did he now admire my ability to be around disgusting feet all day but I thought that I could quickly work my way into sainthood! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After dinner, we ordered more cocktails and couldn't stop talking. We talked about everything and there was an obvious attraction between us. Before either of us knew it, we had been there all evening and the rest of the place was empty. No sooner did he suggest we go downtown and listen to a band and spend more time together, the lights all came on in the restaurant. The staff was clearly trying to drop a hint for us to shut up, pay the bill and leave. He stood up and said he was going to go pay and then use the restroom and then we could go. He walked over to my side of the table to kiss me and just as he got close to my lips, he pulled back with the most nauseated look on his face. He immediately said in a high pitched voice "what is in your hair"???? I was horrified! My first thought was that maybe it was a bug which would have freaked me out too! He then started pointing and had put his other hand on his stomach and kept saying "what is it what is it"!?!? I reached my hand up and pulled on my hair in the area he was pointing to and there it was, a yellow fungal toe nail chunk. I wish I was kidding but nope, it was a toe nail clipping from one of the patients earlier that day. I got it out and tossed it to the floor all the while trying to hang on some sort of dignity and trying not to look as mortified as I felt. I tried to tell him why it was there and to assure him that it wasn't going to hurt him. Forget it! I couldn't finish my explanation because he interrupted and said that he couldn't handle that. He was so repulsed by it that he said he was sorry but <strong><em>that</em></strong> was something that he was just not okay with and wished me luck, said goodbye and even turned around why I left. He couldn't even look at me! So I did the walk of shame out the doors and drove home cursing my date, my bad luck, and every single yellow toe nail in the world! "Damn you fungus"!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I write this I am thinking that yeah, maybe he overreacted or maybe I should have run a brush through my hair prior to the date? Or maybe I just have to say that it takes a special woman to deal with disgusting feet by day and still have the desire to brave the dangerous world of dating by night. I might just be entirely full of crap because not long after that horror... I resigned from podiatry. </span>Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7473831570584249495.post-28638035502696583222011-10-06T22:05:00.000-07:002011-10-06T22:05:44.466-07:00Measuring tape<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX1GsOdICli_0hkCE7dpWFTlHWIPYuG82jCd7z47FgTjze6v05t-lLtLy0uMstSOHLUK2Rl9mT3sdhyn4FlxLKvt82CnWZCd4-7iqAKMW-X3eX88r5Mk7ZreHmOdkZXKBwuHYRA89Z6w/s1600/48462-Royalty-Free-RF-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Pink-Love-Heart-Holding-A-Cell-Phone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX1GsOdICli_0hkCE7dpWFTlHWIPYuG82jCd7z47FgTjze6v05t-lLtLy0uMstSOHLUK2Rl9mT3sdhyn4FlxLKvt82CnWZCd4-7iqAKMW-X3eX88r5Mk7ZreHmOdkZXKBwuHYRA89Z6w/s320/48462-Royalty-Free-RF-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Pink-Love-Heart-Holding-A-Cell-Phone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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There was an incident this evening that inspired me to blog about it. Hmmm, where to begin with this? Well let's just dive in shall we? So my "friend" from back in the day with whom I spent the long weekend with recently read my blog and clearly it struck a cord with him. He had to make the oh so big decision to disconnect with me as a friend or has he put it "it cost me the friendship". Let me sum up the message I received from him for you. Basically, what turned him off from me and what I did wrong was want to keep communication with him. Whoopsie, my mistake. It was quite the turn off for him when I wanted to talk and text such as we had prior to the trip. It seemed "needy" to him. It was also very "odd" that I knew he was online dating and how I knew that was also odd. Funny enough he is the one that told me about the site he was on in the past. Of course I knew.<br />
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So, why do I choose to share this with everyone? I would like to deconstruct this situation and break it down because men just don't get it. If any "man" out in the dating world reads this maybe it can shed some light for them but if it is only women, then I am sure they can relate.<br />
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1) Women don't like to be ignored. It really is that simple. The truth is far more appreciated even if hard to hear rather than silence. Silence is really the chicken shit way to handle a situation. If you go from talking, texting or communicating in some way daily and then you just stop, we will ask why. We will worry, want to know why and try to get in touch with you. That doesn't make us "needy", that makes us normal for wanting to know what changed. If you were into a girl and you both talked everyday, spent time together and then it all stopped, trust me you would try to find out why and would be butthurt!<br />
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2) Men very much like to say that they don't want women with baggage or drama but what I am learning is that men definitely measure the new woman to the past women. If your last girlfriend wanted to know where you were all of the time, didn't believe you when you told her or broke into your house to deliver gifts does not mean that me texting and wanting to chat with you equals the same person or behavior. For that matter, if you were ever with someone long term and they were not giving you much attention or affection then maybe you have issues with someone that does.<br />
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3) This might and hopefully will be the most obvious statement. Listen up men because this is important. If we connect with you emotionally and then connect with you sexually and still want to be with you, we are going to make an effort to be with you. If you gentlemen decide that it just isn't your cup of tea then we would like to know ASAP. Waiting for the phone to ring is something we all gave up long ago and to leave us doing so at this age is ridiculous and down right disrespectful. If you don't have to balls to tell us, then don't wait for us to do or say something that you can use as your excuse to not want anything further to do with us. Even an email or the easy way out text is your choice, it sure beats you pointing the finger after you are the one doing the childish silence game.<br />
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4) Women don't measure the strength of a man by the amount of guns they own, how many animals they kill for sport, or even the size of their penis. Or the amount of women you've been with doesn't make you a stud, it makes you a player. Not sexy.<br />
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So it is pretty simple. Be honest, if you are done then be done and tell us so we can move on. Also, don't measure up the next girl to the last one. We may all have boobs but we are not the same. Most importantly, if we text you or want to (God forbid) talk to you, it doesn't make us needy or crazy. It means we like you. I know that one is tough to swallow but grab a drink and suck it down.<br />
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On a personal note, if you don't like what I have to say, don't read it. Vegas Christyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08132439156137983218noreply@blogger.com2