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I remember our thread about cheating on my husband, but please don't
rag on me too hard, mostly because I don't need it, and because most of
you who did rag on me badly misunderstood what I said. It's OK to
laugh...some people might find it funny. I don't know. In fact,
please make jokes. I need jokes about this. I'm sure that I will
sound more like a teenage boy than a 45-year-old woman, but that is
because I have never been through this before. Believe it or not, no
one had ever really asked me out before Tony, except for one guy who
just wanted a quicky, which I didn't, and some grisly old men in
flannel shirts. I always thought that I was ugly or something, so I
just spent my time messing with cars and computers, shooting pool and
throwing darts in bars, flying, or smoking dope and watching
television. Maybe I married Tony because I thought I couldn't have
anyone else, and he's picked up on that. I don't know. This is as
fucking confused as I've ever been. I've tried to find a friend to
talk to on the Internet, but all they want to do is have sex. I think
they're reading through the lines, like the word "friend", maybe. I
haven't even told them the story.
Recently, I had put it off for months, so I decided to go do
karaoke...just to do karaoke. I used to do it almost every week with
Tony, and I enjoyed it. I told Jenny that I had my cell phone and to
call me if she needed anything, and left. I walked into the bar and
sat down with a book and a flashlight, looking for songs to do, when
the woman next to me, half my age and as sexy as any I've ever seen,
asked me if I wanted to dance. I really didn't see any problem with a
freestyle funk dance or something, so I told her that I would do it as
soon as I picked out my songs. She seemed very impatient, but I asked
her to wait. I wanted to get into the rotation.
She followed me up to the podium, and after I handed in my slip, she
said that she wanted me to call her "Bitch" and tell her to bend over.
I thought, Oh no, I don't need this shit, so I just said, "Well, it's
an easy enough name to remember, I guess", and I walked back to my
chair.
She sat down again and started talking about quantum physics, of all
things, and I told her that I minored in math, but I barely got through
it. She told me that numbers turned her on, so I thought that this was
my chance to get rid of her. I said, "I have a 440 Magnum in my car
that would probably put 375 and 500 on the dyno. I have an AK47 at
home that fires 7.62 x 39, but I love the .357 that I carry on my hip.
I load with 110 grains, kind of light but I'm supposed to get 1750 fps
out of the barrel." There. That should be a turnoff for a pretty
woman, right? Haha. She asked if I went full auto with the AK.
Then she sat on my lap and put her arms around my neck and started
trying to bite me, and I gently pushed her away. I told her that I was
married, and I just wanted to do some singing. This went on a few more
times, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I just gently pushed her
away.
This is where it started getting really strange. She told me that she
had MS, and she needed anyone, a man, a woman, or anybody who had
$2,000 a month to buy her meds, and that she wanted to live with this
person, promising to be faithful and do anything they wanted. She
started talking about how her health insurance wouldn't pay for it. I
told her that I wished that I could help her, but I couldn't. First of
all I didn't have the money, and second of all, I was married.
I had told her that I was married, but either she was too drunk to
remember, hadn't heard me above the music, didn't want to believe it or
something. She said that this was going to be a problem for us,
because she wasn't going to be the "other woman". I told her that she
was totally confusing me, because I had just walked through the door,
and she was talking to me like we were dating. I thought she would
leave at that point.
Then she started talking about her disease. I don't know anything
about MS, but when she mentioned taking morphine and pain meds and
still being in agony, I could empathize, and I began to feel sorry for
her, and wanted to help somehow. All of this time, I had been pushing
her away, as she was nearly trying to rape me, but then she gave me a
hug and I hugged her back. I was showing sympathy, I wasn't who she
was looking for, so I thought that she was leaving.
THOUGHT WRONG, DENISE!!! She jumped into my lap, grabbed me, and
started kissing all over me, even biting me. I kept trying to gently
push her away, because I didn't want to hurt her, but she was
practically attacking me, and fucking gawd forgive me, but I was
starting to give in. I finally got called to sing, saved by the bell,
I thought, and I thought that she would just go sit with someone else,
but the next thing I knew, she was on the stage next to me, trying to
bite my earring off and grinding her hips against me. Just to
interject some humor, have you ever tried to sing "Rapper's Delight"
while you're fighting off a rapist? It isn't easy. I just said a joke
about it, because everyone was watching, and someone even took a
picture, and I gave the mic back. In fact, there were quite a few
pictures taken, so I'll probably be on their web page in a few months,
and Gawd fuck me if I'm going to tell you the URL.
When I sat down, she had followed me. What the hell was the deal? I
thought we had decided that there wasn't going to be anything between
us. After going through the whole rape sequence again, she stood up
and started walking, but she was tripping and falling. I guess I'm
naive, I thought that she was sick, especially since I hadn't seen her
drink anything all of this time, so I put my arm around her and helped
her. The barmaid came and told me that she didn't know if the girl had
come in with me or not, but it was time for her to leave. She picked
up a blank pad and a list of taxi cab numbers, and the girl had trouble
writing down her address. I felt obligated to take her home, but I
knew what was going to happen if I did, so I just told the bartender,
"Tip her out", and I tucked out to the restroom.
After I came back, one of a lesbian couple asked me, "That girl was all over you. Why didn't you take her home?" Wow. That was a stumper. I told her that she had told me some things that were disturbing to me, but
that I wasn't going to spread someone else's business around. She
answered me with, "Oh, you just wanted a fuck, huh?"
I spent the next three hours, until closing time, singing and talking,
and at the end of the night, it was just me and the DJ, and we sang
Rapper's Delight together, he laughed about it, and I had almost
forgotten the whole thing...until I came home and woke up after three
hours or so of sleep. First love, I guess. It still hurts. If I
weren't married, I would be probably still be in her bed, and I'm glad
as hell that we didn't exchange phone numbers and I don't know where
she lives.
I felt better sitting around alone than I do right now. This shit
isn't my fault. I never initiated a touch, and hardly a word, to her.
OK, I knew that it was possible that I could meet someone who could
take over my emotions, but I didn't go there for that, and what do I do
for the rest of my life...hide? Some people say that love just
happens, it's just a feeling that hits you both and you can't control
it, and I never believed that until now. I always thought that two
people went looking for it.
I'm sure that all of you guys have been through this. Even if you
didn't take her home, you pick up the shirt that you were wearing and
smell her perfume, and it hits you in the chest. So, besides washing
the shirt, what do you do to get over it? Sitting here watching "I
Love Lucy" isn't doing it for me. I'm not going to get drunk, but I
sure do wish I had a joint to smoke, and someone here to talk to who
wouldn't leave teeth marks on my neck, which Jenny has been kind enough
not to ask me to explain.
I was gonna just delete this and not post it, but why waste a good
laugh? It's all absolutely true, but go on and give me your best shot,
because only a total moron couldn't make a damn good joke out of it.
Maybe I'll even post it to the next person who asks me for a fuck.
Love Always,
-denise
rag on me too hard, mostly because I don't need it, and because most of
you who did rag on me badly misunderstood what I said. It's OK to
laugh...some people might find it funny. I don't know. In fact,
please make jokes. I need jokes about this. I'm sure that I will
sound more like a teenage boy than a 45-year-old woman, but that is
because I have never been through this before. Believe it or not, no
one had ever really asked me out before Tony, except for one guy who
just wanted a quicky, which I didn't, and some grisly old men in
flannel shirts. I always thought that I was ugly or something, so I
just spent my time messing with cars and computers, shooting pool and
throwing darts in bars, flying, or smoking dope and watching
television. Maybe I married Tony because I thought I couldn't have
anyone else, and he's picked up on that. I don't know. This is as
fucking confused as I've ever been. I've tried to find a friend to
talk to on the Internet, but all they want to do is have sex. I think
they're reading through the lines, like the word "friend", maybe. I
haven't even told them the story.
Recently, I had put it off for months, so I decided to go do
karaoke...just to do karaoke. I used to do it almost every week with
Tony, and I enjoyed it. I told Jenny that I had my cell phone and to
call me if she needed anything, and left. I walked into the bar and
sat down with a book and a flashlight, looking for songs to do, when
the woman next to me, half my age and as sexy as any I've ever seen,
asked me if I wanted to dance. I really didn't see any problem with a
freestyle funk dance or something, so I told her that I would do it as
soon as I picked out my songs. She seemed very impatient, but I asked
her to wait. I wanted to get into the rotation.
She followed me up to the podium, and after I handed in my slip, she
said that she wanted me to call her "Bitch" and tell her to bend over.
I thought, Oh no, I don't need this shit, so I just said, "Well, it's
an easy enough name to remember, I guess", and I walked back to my
chair.
She sat down again and started talking about quantum physics, of all
things, and I told her that I minored in math, but I barely got through
it. She told me that numbers turned her on, so I thought that this was
my chance to get rid of her. I said, "I have a 440 Magnum in my car
that would probably put 375 and 500 on the dyno. I have an AK47 at
home that fires 7.62 x 39, but I love the .357 that I carry on my hip.
I load with 110 grains, kind of light but I'm supposed to get 1750 fps
out of the barrel." There. That should be a turnoff for a pretty
woman, right? Haha. She asked if I went full auto with the AK.
Then she sat on my lap and put her arms around my neck and started
trying to bite me, and I gently pushed her away. I told her that I was
married, and I just wanted to do some singing. This went on a few more
times, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I just gently pushed her
away.
This is where it started getting really strange. She told me that she
had MS, and she needed anyone, a man, a woman, or anybody who had
$2,000 a month to buy her meds, and that she wanted to live with this
person, promising to be faithful and do anything they wanted. She
started talking about how her health insurance wouldn't pay for it. I
told her that I wished that I could help her, but I couldn't. First of
all I didn't have the money, and second of all, I was married.
I had told her that I was married, but either she was too drunk to
remember, hadn't heard me above the music, didn't want to believe it or
something. She said that this was going to be a problem for us,
because she wasn't going to be the "other woman". I told her that she
was totally confusing me, because I had just walked through the door,
and she was talking to me like we were dating. I thought she would
leave at that point.
Then she started talking about her disease. I don't know anything
about MS, but when she mentioned taking morphine and pain meds and
still being in agony, I could empathize, and I began to feel sorry for
her, and wanted to help somehow. All of this time, I had been pushing
her away, as she was nearly trying to rape me, but then she gave me a
hug and I hugged her back. I was showing sympathy, I wasn't who she
was looking for, so I thought that she was leaving.
THOUGHT WRONG, DENISE!!! She jumped into my lap, grabbed me, and
started kissing all over me, even biting me. I kept trying to gently
push her away, because I didn't want to hurt her, but she was
practically attacking me, and fucking gawd forgive me, but I was
starting to give in. I finally got called to sing, saved by the bell,
I thought, and I thought that she would just go sit with someone else,
but the next thing I knew, she was on the stage next to me, trying to
bite my earring off and grinding her hips against me. Just to
interject some humor, have you ever tried to sing "Rapper's Delight"
while you're fighting off a rapist? It isn't easy. I just said a joke
about it, because everyone was watching, and someone even took a
picture, and I gave the mic back. In fact, there were quite a few
pictures taken, so I'll probably be on their web page in a few months,
and Gawd fuck me if I'm going to tell you the URL.
When I sat down, she had followed me. What the hell was the deal? I
thought we had decided that there wasn't going to be anything between
us. After going through the whole rape sequence again, she stood up
and started walking, but she was tripping and falling. I guess I'm
naive, I thought that she was sick, especially since I hadn't seen her
drink anything all of this time, so I put my arm around her and helped
her. The barmaid came and told me that she didn't know if the girl had
come in with me or not, but it was time for her to leave. She picked
up a blank pad and a list of taxi cab numbers, and the girl had trouble
writing down her address. I felt obligated to take her home, but I
knew what was going to happen if I did, so I just told the bartender,
"Tip her out", and I tucked out to the restroom.
After I came back, one of a lesbian couple asked me, "That girl was all over you. Why didn't you take her home?" Wow. That was a stumper. I told her that she had told me some things that were disturbing to me, but
that I wasn't going to spread someone else's business around. She
answered me with, "Oh, you just wanted a fuck, huh?"
I spent the next three hours, until closing time, singing and talking,
and at the end of the night, it was just me and the DJ, and we sang
Rapper's Delight together, he laughed about it, and I had almost
forgotten the whole thing...until I came home and woke up after three
hours or so of sleep. First love, I guess. It still hurts. If I
weren't married, I would be probably still be in her bed, and I'm glad
as hell that we didn't exchange phone numbers and I don't know where
she lives.
I felt better sitting around alone than I do right now. This shit
isn't my fault. I never initiated a touch, and hardly a word, to her.
OK, I knew that it was possible that I could meet someone who could
take over my emotions, but I didn't go there for that, and what do I do
for the rest of my life...hide? Some people say that love just
happens, it's just a feeling that hits you both and you can't control
it, and I never believed that until now. I always thought that two
people went looking for it.
I'm sure that all of you guys have been through this. Even if you
didn't take her home, you pick up the shirt that you were wearing and
smell her perfume, and it hits you in the chest. So, besides washing
the shirt, what do you do to get over it? Sitting here watching "I
Love Lucy" isn't doing it for me. I'm not going to get drunk, but I
sure do wish I had a joint to smoke, and someone here to talk to who
wouldn't leave teeth marks on my neck, which Jenny has been kind enough
not to ask me to explain.
I was gonna just delete this and not post it, but why waste a good
laugh? It's all absolutely true, but go on and give me your best shot,
because only a total moron couldn't make a damn good joke out of it.
Maybe I'll even post it to the next person who asks me for a fuck.
Love Always,
-denise
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