Wednesday, March 4, 2015

How To Turn Off A Man #3747

"Where do you work?"

"Here."

"Uh..."

ME: *blink*blink*

"I haven't seen you around."

"Nope."

"Where might I find you?"

"Around."

Yep. Word should have already gotten around that I am unapproachable and uninterested. I might say I failed at the pickup this morning and shot this poor man's dick in the ground... depending on his ego. Maybe he is not thin skinned. I don't know the dude. Some men have bigger balls, while others keep them in their purse. Besides this one stroke joke, I have a way of turning off men or being off-putting or making them angry or making them turn up their nose or...or...and...

You get the picture. I have a knack. Maybe they bore me after 6 months or I bore them. I am not quite sure but there are those who leave me after so long or those who turn off my emotions like pronto and then I am done. Just like that. Once you piss me off to a certain point, there is no going back. I can take a lot of nonsense, probably more than the average female. However, I can forgive, but if something is at a high hurtful level, it is over. Like... if you attack me (verbally because physically I would kick your ass) or if you have two girlfriends and wives, I don't think there is room for me and I do not like that balderdash. It is sad when you meet someone you think is genuinely unique and fun and you end up finding out they are that way with every online date, girlfriend, or wife they house. And vice versa if you are a woman.

How can you keep all the names straight? I know...you call them all babe, honey, sweetheart, beautiful. But...you don't see anything wrong or dysfunctional about that. Why not? If you bother yourself with guilt, why do you do it? Why would you hurt another human being who entrusts you with their heart? Are you that much of a self-righteous pig who disregards a person's well-being and feelings?

Let me tell you about emotional games and the playahs. Yes, I've been played. Multiple times. It hurts. The playahs don't care. I don't play. I put people too high up on a pedestal to do that to another person. I may hurt them by not being who they want or maybe I don't click with someone who likes me, but I am real. The most painful experience I have had was -NOT MY SERIAL KILLER SECOND HUSBAND- but when I trusted a man whom was very close to me and I felt was becoming my best friend and that man turned out to be someone else and had a whole 'nuther life with multiple women I didn't even know about. And this was a popular dude in his little town. If only they knew the facade. Ridiculous. And why? What is the thrill about all these different lives?

It matters not to him. However, that feeling of discovery crumbles your heart and you don't even trust your good brain to have any sense if you didn't detect the deception. I mean, I was a cop for Pete's sake. Poor Pete. He gets into these conversations and he wasn't even a part of it.

How do you even keep track of multiple lovers? Can you remember that Dan likes blow jobs but Fester doesn't want you to swallow? Or how about Ernie who likes you to tickle his balls but you can't go down on him? Furthermore, Dax likes you to lick his nose and refuses foreplay, gets right to the down and dirty. Additionally, Levi just wants a companion and likes you to hold his hand and sing the blues.

I mean, seriously. Who has time to make a flow chart for all your lovers?



I don't share my va-jay-jay with multiple lovers (all at once-space them out, people) , so why is it OK for a man you are seeing to do the same if he knows your moral stance? I mean not share YOUR vagina because men don't have them. Well, some men don't have vaginas, others act like such a bitch, so who knows...they may have an "innie" instead of an "outie."

You know what I mean. I was speaking to the crowd in general. Let me clarify...

Wankies and vaginas should not be MONOGAMOUSLY CHALLENGED. Your vagina or your wanky should not be in the Sports Hall of Fame for the NFL record for the most touchdowns, wide receptions, or interceptions. I'm not even going to talk about fumbles. There is Viagra for that. Most importantly, these plays should not be attempted at the same time.

If I tell a man who commits to me I don't like multiple lovers at the same time, then I would hope he would respect me or find a person who likes to pass around vagina funk and dick disease. I respect him, why not get the same in return? Maybe it is self-respect they are lacking and their arrogance overcompensates for little problems they have. They need to do an internal shakedown.

Nor do I like fake people. Fake people suck. Players are fake.

I am too old for that shit! I'm not in high school or college anymore. But, yes, I have been played more times than I care to admit. FAKE OUT!

Anyway, I digress.

Ok, so I mostly blame myself for my stupidity and don't hold any ill will toward anyone. Except my second husband. He is truly an ASSHOLE.



Back to the point of this story...I'll get there. I just had to rant about dating and relationship behavior to get to the punchline.

We (anonymous detectives) actually told our detective sergeant to get his balls out of his purse once. I credit my detective partner and I for those eloquent words and I continue to use them to this day. We were the only ones with balls enough to say it and not worry about the repercussions. It's true. We didn't get in trouble, believe it or not. The sergeant stink eye came out but no write ups. I don't even have balls but I grew a set that day.

So the breakfast dude was a tall, handsome professor. He is supposedly very nice and well liked...or so the cafeteria ladies told me. He was a snappy dresser. They also told me I was ruthless. Oh, well. I'm just doing my little part in America to drive dicks in the dirt. Next time I see him, I will pass out a long questionnaire including requests for dependent information, financials, and medical history. This also includes a section on your household daily drama, gun ownership numbers, fishing and hunting licences, extracurricular activities, pet numbers, dating site memberships, and pastimes.  Instagram that shit and I bet his facial expression would say a lot.

Perhaps women are the same as men in the first approaches, but I find men are more so disgustingly obvious. Take last night's workout in the rec center, for instance. There I am minding my own business...jogging....working on interval training...etc. I put headphones on for a reason...well, two.

1) I want to zone out to my music.
2) It's like airplanes. I don't want anyone to talk to me.

I notice the students all jazzed up in their cute little workout outfits. You can tell the ones who are there trolling and the ones who truly want to work out. It is the difference of two words: pedal and peddle.  Trollers pedal the bikes like a Sunday afternoon and move from one machine to the next after 10 minutes. They lift 1 pound weights. They jog a couple laps. They peddle themselves from one area to the next, searching for their next victim. Peddle that shit on the corner. I'm here to work.

On another note, boys should not ride stationary bikes. If they really bike, they should do it outside like a man. Tra lah lah-ing through an imaginary bike path and watching the basketball below is not going to attract a mate. I think men on bikes are usually trolling because they are fake exercising. I don't know. If a dude is going to bike for real, they are outside doing it. Stationary bikes are for girls. So are yoga mats. Don't get a mat if you are a dude. I know. It is ridiculously unfair of me to think like that, but I do. It think I am a gym racist. Girls can do all of the above and if you get a box and do box jumps and punch the punching bag, you are tough.

Photo credit: Pinterest


The "hardcores", I like to call them, are climbing the rock wall, doing box jumps, running full force for an hour on the mountain climber machine, then running 3 miles and finishing up with an hour of free weights.

There are some rules at the university gym:

1) Always clean your machine after use.
2) Don't be a machine hog.
3) Be respectful to others and respect the equipment.
4) Wear gym shoes only for gym use, not your garden shoes or work boots.

Yes, some of the ROTC run in their combat boots. Go figure.

My rules are a little more strict and mostly contain creeper/weirdo danger signs and gym etiquette.

1) There should be no camels in the gym. They belong in the desert. In fact...way, way, way out in the desert with miles of sand and no people. Seriously put a sock in it or something to ease the pain I am sympathy feeling just seeing that spandex cut your crotch in half. It hurts me to see that coming and everyone stares and laughs, snickers behind your back. Does it attack joggers? It looks like it would suck up small children. But seriously, can't you feel it? It can't be comfortable. Plus, it is really really ugly and then you have people comparing camel toes in the gym while pointing.

Same thing with short nutters with the boys. Nutters are not attractive whether it is your shorts which need adjusting or your Wranglers. I call them Stranglers when they tie your junk up into a teeny tiny little ball which we can all see. I will measure your junk by the high short mark. And it is really not attractive.

Last night I was jogging and my underwear crawled right up my ass and came forward to the front. Yeow! I mean, I felt it. It cut like a knife. I stopped on the track and dug them out of my vagina. No, I didn't go to the restroom. This is my way of making the playing field even when boys shift their junk. Plus, I can guarantee it deters trollers.

2) Daisy dukes might be great on the farm, but I don't want to see your hoohah when you do situps and I don't want to see your buns when you bend over. It is the same with lowcut shirts. Now I know girls just wear their exercise bras and spandex but those are hardcores. They look so hot, I would do them. Lowcut shirts worn for the sole purpose of drawing attention to the girls is not proper in the gym.

3) Put your damn phone away unless you are streaming music. Go out in the hallway to call and yell at your sister. If you want to sext and talk dirty to your boyfriend or girlfriend, the entire gym does not want to hear you panting.

Photo credit: Pinterest

4) Don't talk to me unless I talk first. Now, I don't judge you if you are fat or skinny or fit. It's great you are at the gym. Use your time wisely and leave me alone. You're there! Yippee! Just pretend I'm a wall flower. You don't see me.




5) I usually wear generic t-shirts like Cabela's or Underarmor insignia attire. It wasn't working so I changed strategies. You look hip and cool, wearing "designer gym wear" and then trollers ask where you got your shirt. Duh. Uh..."Cabela's" or Duh...Uh.."the gym store".  It makes you approachable.

So, I decided to start wearing some of my old cop shirts, like "LawDogs and Cowboys Charity Shoot 2006" and my "UCPOWER Homicide Conference 2004". First, it dates me with the numbers on there and second, no college student likes cops. They look away once they figure out you might be or were the fuzz. It backfired last night.

All be if one of those little nerdy piss ant types came up to me and asked if the t-shirt was mine or my husbands. I used plural and not possession. He stared at me with his big black rimmed glasses which are stylish but annoying when I am concentrating on working out.

"Who wants to know."

"My friend and I were wondering. Never seen it around here before and you have command presence."

"Did you learn that phrase in class?"

"I'm a criminal justice major."

"I see. Well, I stole it from a cop which got me sent to prison back in 2006. I spray painted his dog and stole his clothes and gun. They caught me, but I still kept the t-shirt. Been out for a few years now and I'm wearing it with pride."

Snort. Giggle.

I've never heard a man snort giggle but this little feller did in all his skinny wonder. I just shook my head. He was also one of those intellect types. I have no idea why he was working out except he needed to build up those gangling limbs. He look a little rangy.

"Yes, I was a cop. Carry on. Good luck with your studies and career as a probation officer."

"Oh, no, ma'am. I'm going to be a cop."

Photo credit: Pinterest


Lord, help us. Mr. Bean is going to be a cop.

Damn, I am going to buy a Hello Kitty t-shirt for gym use. I hope I can stand to even leave the house in it.


5 comments:

  1. I learned my lesson about running around on my starter wife. As sexy as some ladies are, it is just not worth the pain, betrayal, and hassled just to get a little mossy-jaw. I don't talk much to your old friend anymore, but he "seems" to have settled down. Or he just doesn't brag to me anymore. As for the gym, too many sweaty women to interest me. If my woman is going to sweat, it will be me making it happen.

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  2. Ok. Second time I tried to post these comments. Oy.

    Tennesse Grammie...I could not even wear sweats to the gym anymore. Icky. I have to have long basketball shorts or running pants. Even as a disguise it would kill me. I do not own any sweats.

    Coffeypot...I wished him well and we ended amicably. I have not given him a second thought since 2013? And that was not a romantic thought. I think it was because he popped up in my google chat one day. But, yeah. That was a weird time and I am glad I am not there now. It was not how I was built and glad it didn't last any longer than it did. Even if I was upset at the time, it was just purging from my previous marriage, I believe, and feeling vulnerable.

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  3. Tennesse Grammie...I might think about the gray wig, however. Unless it makes me sweat buckets and becomes itchy. LOL

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  4. Momma Fargo:
    R-O-F-L-M-A-O...!!!

    God, some of this sounds like my TEEN years...(and even a few years after that)...!
    I don't do "the gym"...
    Did a couple years of martial arts a while back...and was one of the better squash players at one company for a spell.
    Have to say...you have a wonderful way of expressing the truths of any given situation - gotta be the "authoress" (?) in you...and that's pretty damn admirable, no matter WHO the hell it cheeses off.
    :)

    Keep on being real, Kiddo!

    And Roll safe out there.

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