all that glitters is not gold

The IT Guy – Part One

it-guy-0013This will be the last sad story I write for awhile – as I will revert to the deviance chapters of my life to date: those stories make me gleeful and are no doubt less depressing.

The IT Guy is the other male creature (Ref: Mr Northerner) that has had a notable impact on my life. But for all the wrong reasons.

TIG was the one that made me into the distrusting, scorned, generally unimpressed woman that I still am when it comes to men. He showed me what utter pigs men could be for no real, decent reason. I think a lot of women have *this guy* in their past, and he somewhat ruins them for future males due to the complete rotting to the core that takes place in certain respects.

Anyway. My TIG.

I was a lot younger than I am now, in many ways. I’d just broken up with a guy I’d been with for near on 4 years. TIG was a guy I knew (as ever, through “the professional network”) and we’d historically had a few chats and laughs. We had contacts in common as well so sort of orbited around each other in a larger social circle.

He asked me out one day. I said yes. After a couple of weeks we started seeing each other. All was going ok until I heard mutterings on the grapevine that his ex was coming back to the area – predominantly to get back with him. I heard nothing of this from him, naturally. Alarm bells should have started to ring at this point – they didn’t.

After a couple of months, things sort of fizzled out between us as a couple. Apart from the sex. The sex, throughout everything, was brilliant. Sometime after things fizzled out, we started hooking up casually. A lot. Everywhere. At pretty much every opportunity.

However, by this point, unbeknown to me, he’d gotten back with his ex – again, I heard rumblings on the grapevine but was somewhat uninterested in paying attention to them. What did complicate the situation was that his ex returned to working in the same organisation as him, meaning things had to be kept very discreet, especially in our shared circle.

TIG and I continued to hook up. There’s a saying about time being spent with someone, and how that grows emotion. I’d agree with this. By this point we admitted that we loved each other, and I knew he was back with his ex. He wasn’t prepared to rock the boat and risk his relationship with her, following how ours hadn’t worked out. He also claimed that my temper was quite terrifying to be on the end of – a stance he would use extensively in difficult situations with me over the coming…years.

To Be Continued….

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Mr Northerner

There are two men that I will write about on this blog that had very notable impacts on my life. Mr Northerner is one of them.

As you will know, I quite like married men. There’s no relationship pressure, you don’t have to wash their socks, you generally get the best of them and they tend to be reasonable conversationalists.

Mr N was the perfect married man. How I met him is irrelevant, but we spent a lot of time together “in the line of duty” and things came to a point after a couple of months of our meeting when we both knew we liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. It helped that he had a northern accent and stunning blue / green eyes. Both things that I am an absolute sucker for. He was also a lot older than me and worldly wise which I still approve of.

The first time we had sex was amazing. Most men suffer from “opening night nerves” – not Mr N. The foreplay was spot on (!) and we had sex throughout the night in his hotel room. No doubt the neighbours loved it, I’m sure they enjoyed the show as much as I did…

By this point I already knew Mr N and I were going to be involved for awhile. We got jealous when we saw the other flirting with people. We often didn’t need to speak to communicate with each other in a room full of people. I used to make him baked goods as he liked sugar as much as me. He stayed round mine at least 2 nights a week as he worked away from home – his wife thought he was in accommodation with a male work colleague or something along those lines.

But it wasn’t all plain sailing – when Mr N and I rowed, did we row. People knew all about it and didn’t half hear it – the fact that no one ever actually sat us down and questioned our “relationship” was a small miracle.

So, we had a very passionate, fulfilling (on many levels) affair. It went on for about a year and a half. We were generally quite happy with each other during this time, and supported each other through some hellish situations. There are things he did for me that I never properly thanked him for and I wish I had.

However, as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. I stopped communicating with him properly because I’m prone to such things, and he put two and two together and got five – deciding I was cheating on him. Despite the fact that I hadn’t been, after accusing me of it, I promptly went off and slept with multiple people. To say things crashed and burned would be an understatement.

A few months after, I moved away from the area for a job, one of the reasons being that being so close to him in location was too difficult. I didn’t tell him I’d resigned, and when he heard it from a mutual acquaintance, the texts I got were pissed. This put further distance between us as we were as bad as each other at being stubborn – he wouldn’t tell me why it angered him so much that I hadn’t told him direct, and I wouldn’t tell him why I hadn’t told him direct. We both still liked each other but were too proud to say it. We probably both knew as well that there had been too much water under the bridge at this point – what we’d once had was shattered into a thousand pieces by harsh words and sustained periods of silence from both of us. Despite that, on the day I said goodbye to him, I nearly cried in front of him. I didn’t think he was far off it either.

I’ve never asked a married man to leave his wife for me – it’s a line I’ll never cross – but I know no one has made me think about the concept like Mr N did. I knew he loved me although I’d often throw it back at him when he said it, as it seemed pointless.

I’ve pretty much lost contact with Mr N now, although awhile ago he messaged me out of the blue to wish me happy birthday, on the day itself. It made me smile and we exchanged a pleasant few messages. I know he’s no longer with his wife, they’ve divorced and he is now seeing someone I know and I believe they are reasonably happy together, which does please me as even after the vile ending…I didn’t wish him ill.

He always used to say “why let the truth get in the way of a good story?” – maybe one day he’ll discover this blog and this true (yet good?) story will make him smile…?

Mr Un-Stud Muffin

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I once had a brief summer fling with an interesting specimen. In the environment I was in at the time, he was seen as being a proper sexy guy and I was… just me. A bit of an ugly duckling.

However, despite his amazing shell…He was one of the crapest shags EVER, lasting about 2 minutes – every time! He was really unexperimental in bed as well. Once after sex he said “So, yeah, sorry about that performance” – er, what? Are you a car? Am I a car? Is it not good driving weather? WTF?

The fling fizzled out pretty quickly for various reasons – distance predominantly – mental, physical…And the fact that I didn’t get off the whole time we were together.

All that glitters is most definitely not gold, and even ugly ducklings deserve an orgasm once in a while.

Mr Obsessed Diaries, episode 2; The Meet Up

After about 4 months of contact with this guy I had known for a few years but had seemingly dissapeared off the face of the earth (wishful thinking) for a majority of the time i had the misfortune to know him, we agreed to meet again.

When I say agree I mean “pleeeease see me, i love you so much i want you to have my babies, give me a chance” kind of talk until I agreed.

He met me from work one night and we went for a drive in his swanky car. He had travelled about 50 miles to see me and right from the off he was full on.

Within 10 minutes he was trying to play tonsil tennis with me, sadly for him, he kept hitting the net on his serve. I wasn’t disinterested, just figuring out what I was thinking of the situation.

He was staying in a hotel, I was staying at my boyfriend’s at the time (oops).

Never has anyone so forcefully tries to get me to stay in a hotel with them. I wasn’t seeing alarm bells, I just thought he was keen and really into me, and he thought I was playing hard to get.

Thankfully after a few hours of me repeating why I had to go home he drove me to my boyfriends and we agreed to meet in town the next day. So we did. I went into a shop to buy a top I had my eye on and he met me after telling me he bought me a present. It was a new phone (mine was well known for breaking and being old) which I said I couldn’t accept but he gave it to me anyway.

He gave me money to buy sexy underwear for that night when I was told I was staying with him. I bumped into some friends and was having a chat so he jumped in with “look at my job look at my car look at my new girlfriend” i managed to laugh it off.

He dropped me home after recklessly driving his car to try and impress me as I had work that evening. Again he picked me up and we drove to the hotel where there was champagne and roses waiting and i was blown away.

After mixing the champagne with some vodka most of the night is a blur, all I remember is being told to dump my boyfriend and having sex.

I woke up the next day a little worse for wear, clothes everywhere and feeling horridly guilty. Arms and legs everywhere and then I felt this weird feeling for this guy I thought for some reason he meant it when he said he loved me.

He woke up saying all the right things “morning beautiful” “you look so awesome” then “we would be so good together” I agreed to some point. Me being 17 over-romantasised sex for “making love” and basically fell for him there and then for no real reason other than he looked at me like he didn’t want me to leave and said all the right things.

His boat home was booked and we were saying goodbye until we decided I was staying in the car. I got on the boat home with him. Thankfully I saw sense and got the next boat back. I had run away before and the end result was not pretty. After a somewhat emotional goodbye we agreed to meet again….

 

The Saga of the Micro Penis

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So, once upon a time I had a good male friend. We were exceptionally good “happy hour” friends due to our shared love of booze. Unfortunately after one too many drinks during happy hour, a very unhappy hour was then spent in bed, with things seen that could never be unseen. I would also say felt, but, umm, I didn’t really feel it. It was undoubtedly the smallest penis I had ever (and to this date) seen.

So, unsurprisingly, our friendship went through a crap patch after this interaction but we weathered it out.

The next time I saw him was for his Birthday. He bought along a male friend, and I a female one. We hit the town after a few drinks at mine. Many drinks later, my friend and I decided we’d take the boys to a lap dancing club. Obviously, this went down a treat.

So, after a while in the lap dancing club, the birthday boy with the micro penis took a liking to one of the dancers. Myself and his friend were delighted to purchase him private dances and giggled away like school children in the corner as he was repeatedly led away.

At some point, we realised we’d not seen the birthday boy for a good while. We had a word with some of the staff and learnt that he had been ejected from the establishment for his conduct during his “last dance.”

So, we all piled into a taxi back to mine, with many jokes made along the journey at the birthday boy’s expense. He and my friend were now a bit drunk, which added to the amusement.

Once back at mine, bed arrangements were made – boys in the living room, girls in the bedroom. However, when I came out of the bathroom I saw MY moving duvet cover with two bodies clearly engaged in some adult fun underneath it on MY bed. I muttered good night and shuffled off to sleep in my living room with the birthday boy’s friend who was also feeling extremely awkward. The best however was yet to come (!) when we were treated to the sound of my bed creaking and various other accompanying sex noises in the small hours of the morning. Birthday sex indeed.

Needless to say the next morning was pretty hideous and the boys made a quick exit. Discussion with my friend after their departure alluded to me that she’d been incredibly drunk and somewhat not in her right mind to have properly consented. But, she did remember his micro penis and had resisted mumbling the words “is it in yet” during the act, which was clearly worthy of an Oscar.

During the following week I received many apology texts from the guilty penis – needless to say our friendship was unrepairable at this point and I didn’t then hear from him for years, which was fine by me.

Contact was then made a few years ago, asking if we could meet up as he had big news. It turned out he’d been sorting his life out, and was having a baby with his now long-term partner. He did also however let me know that on the fated night in the lap dancing club, he’d given his dancer his business card. They’d then met up for a date or two, but it didn’t progress because, among other things “she was an awful kisser.”

It seems not all birthday presents are as pleasing when the bright and shiny wrapping paper is removed…A bit like when you discover a micro penis lurking in a pair of boxers…