Spring Break Fun

Woo hoo, I can't stop having fun on my spring break. My left foot is in immense pain, so I haven't moved very much since Thursday, when I had my last class before spring break. I've left the house once since, Saturday night to hobble across the street to get some pop and nachos. My foot pain started with an apparent gout outbreak a few weeks ago, and the stiffness in the joint of my big toe has not gone away. And now because of the overcompensating I've had to do, the left side of my left foot has one long inflamed tendon running through it, and my right ankle is sprained. So even if "Torrie" had called me and asked me to come see her this week, as much as I'd want to, I don't think I could do it. It took me forever to limp to the store Saturday night, and I'm not feeling much better than I was then. I am icing the foot right now, trying to get well enough to keep an appointment with my psychiatrist today. I've been saving my Celebrex for the right time as well, popping one this morning and planning to pop another before I leave. But other than today, I don't see myself leaving the house this entire week, not that I go anywhere when healthy, but I did at least want to visit my family this week. Somehow it's different when I'm trapped because of health issues. I imagine myself going out, doing what normal singles do, going to the club, enjoying myself, hanging out with friends, making new friends. But darn it, I just can't do those things cause of this doggone foot. But once it gets healthy, what will I be doing? Watching baseball by myself, sulking, Googling my ex-girlfriends, sulking, wondering will I die unmarried with no kids, sulking...did I mention brooding and sulking? Hmm, guess that's why I'm going to a psychiatrist.

Reprieve?

"Torrie" and I have chatted a couple of times this weekend. According to her, she dumped me only because she assumed that I wouldn't want to wait for her to get her life straightened out once she told me that she wouldn't be coming to Chicago anytime soon. She apologized for assuming that I would be like other men in her past and abandon her when she wasn't able to devote her time to them. I apologized for assuming that she was looking for an excuse to dump me because she had found a warm body in her town and didn't need this long-distance thing anymore. The sons of her deceased stepsister have developed a blood disorder, and they are flying to California next weekend to try to find alternative treatments because they haven't been able to help the boys there in Minnesota. She had been spending a lot of time with the boys and that situation, but had never explained that to me; it answers the question I had when I read her kiss-off letter of what kind of "family matters" she had that she thought would stand in the way of us spending time together. We agreed that I once again would come up there to visit during my spring break next week if she got good news in California this weekend. I also dropped the hint that I may want to move up there permanently to avoid this scenario, since nothing, no work, no woman, no purpose, is keeping me in Chicago other than laziness. She seemed in favor of that. So perhaps this was all an instance of miscommunication and Torrie and I are going to seriously work on being there for each other despite the distance. One can only hope. Stay tuned.

"u r a nce guy huh"

This is a conversation I had Thursday night with a woman who sent me an IM. We had never met or chatted before, but it started when she saw my name in a member listing on a Yahoo group and decided to IM me out of the clear blue. I lost that first message she sent me, but this picks up with my immediate response asking her where she found me, since I am a member of over twenty Yahoo groups. Except for a couple of meaningless lines that I deleted, this is totally unedited.

dredog1221 (11:20:57 PM): which group would that be?
pandoras_obsession (11:21:07 PM): hugetits
dredog1221 (11:21:48 PM): i see...sure i'd love to chat, real nice pic on your profile...where in Chicago are you?
pandoras_obsession (11:21:54 PM): ns
pandoras_obsession (11:21:59 PM): near lincoln
dredog1221 (11:22:14 PM): really? i'm five blocks from Wrigley Field
pandoras_obsession (11:22:35 PM): kewl
pandoras_obsession (11:22:39 PM): u r very close
pandoras_obsession (11:22:48 PM): only a coupel of stops on the red
dredog1221 (11:23:36 PM): yep...sounds like maybe we should get together sometime being so close huh?
pandoras_obsession (11:23:54 PM): yeah
dredog1221 (11:24:19 PM): so what's your stats, height weight and whatnot?
pandoras_obsession (11:24:29 PM): lol
pandoras_obsession (11:25:33 PM): i am 44dd, 5'4 and have no ideal waht i really weight but i would fall in to the BBw I know however that means i have hips and ass which u can see in the im picture
dredog1221 (11:25:49 PM): indeed
dredog1221 (11:26:01 PM): why did u laugh? did i say something funny?
pandoras_obsession (11:26:16 PM): u just jumped to the point
pandoras_obsession (11:26:24 PM): caught me off gueard
dredog1221 (11:27:09 PM): well i'd love to get to know you as a person, i just like to imagine what i'm working with
pandoras_obsession (11:27:23 PM): k
pandoras_obsession (11:27:28 PM): so then what r u stats
dredog1221 (11:28:03 PM): i'm 6'1", about 350, 7 inches, uncircumcised and very thick
dredog1221 (11:29:09 PM): sometimes i wonder if i'm big enough when it comes to cock size, seems like these chicks want 9 or more, but i haven't had any complaints
pandoras_obsession (11:29:27 PM): i use to about 10
dredog1221 (11:30:36 PM): well nothing makes me happier than making the woman i'm with cum, so i'm willing and able to do whatever it takes to satisfy you, even if i'm a little small for you
pandoras_obsession (11:30:52 PM): that is cute
dredog1221 (11:32:43 PM): i've been with 5 women in my life, and they all complimented me a lot, so i think i'm good at what i do, whether it's oral or straight fucking or whatever
dredog1221 (11:33:15 PM): and they liked my shaved head, it's a turn on for some reason, lol
pandoras_obsession (11:33:38 PM): for most women a bald head is
dredog1221 (11:34:28 PM): so since i'm apparently lacking in the dick department, what would you want me to do to get you off if we got together?
pandoras_obsession (11:34:54 PM): lol...well now that u have put it that way
dredog1221 (11:36:08 PM): i mean i just feel like i would be inadequate if you're used to 10 inches...so i'd want to do what it takes to make it worth your while to meet me, i don't want to waste your time
pandoras_obsession (11:36:34 PM): sometimes it about other things then size
dredog1221 (11:36:58 PM): well i'm glad to hear that...like what?
pandoras_obsession (11:37:09 PM): personilaty
pandoras_obsession (11:37:15 PM): willing to play with new things
pandoras_obsession (11:37:24 PM): what porn i am watching
pandoras_obsession (11:37:31 PM): is there other people there
pandoras_obsession (11:37:39 PM): other women who r bi there
pandoras_obsession (11:37:42 PM): there is lots of things
dredog1221 (11:38:18 PM): are you ok with one on one? i don't do sex in front of others, i want to focus and concentrate on you
dredog1221 (11:38:37 PM): unless it was other women, which i've never done but would be interested
pandoras_obsession (11:38:44 PM): i am okay with one on one
pandoras_obsession (11:38:49 PM): but i explore to
pandoras_obsession (11:38:55 PM): and i a somewaht of a showoff
dredog1221 (11:39:07 PM): i can tell from your pics
dredog1221 (11:39:37 PM): if i were a woman with beautiful tits like yours i'd show them off too
pandoras_obsession (11:39:46 PM): lol
dredog1221 (11:40:02 PM): are you still in school?
pandoras_obsession (11:40:10 PM): yes
dredog1221 (11:42:19 PM): what are you going for?
pandoras_obsession (11:43:10 PM): pol sc
dredog1221 (11:43:43 PM): ooh, future senator perhaps?
pandoras_obsession (11:43:49 PM): maybr
pandoras_obsession (11:45:02 PM): how old r u btw
dredog1221 (11:45:09 PM): 29
pandoras_obsession (11:45:34 PM): u r a nce guy huh
dredog1221 (11:47:13 PM): yes i am definitely a nice guy, i don't know if that's a turnoff or not but i treat the woman i am with like a queen, i'm not rich by any means but i can promise i will always appreciate you and make you feel good when i'm around
pandoras_obsession (11:47:37 PM): that is really sweet
pandoras_obsession (11:48:18 PM): but in all honestly and all fairness so not what i am lookign for...i just want a playmate in chicago i have a bf but he lives in mobile
dredog1221 (11:49:45 PM): i see, well i'm not going to try to steal you from him but just telling you that i'm not gonna screw you and throw you aside like you're nothing, i'm going to do you right if you let me and treat you with respect
dredog1221 (11:50:14 PM): i can be a playmate no problem, i'm not dating anyone so i can be whatever you want me to be
pandoras_obsession (11:51:24 PM): lol...i jsut would not feel right knowing that you are one of the few nice guys out there...its a moral thing for me...guys who r jerks is no pro because i can dish as much as them but nice guys are to be treated well so that they can do right
dredog1221 (11:52:36 PM): i understand...the problem is i don't meet anybody that treats me well, so me and my nice self is sitting here all alone while the jerks never go to bed alone
pandoras_obsession (11:52:57 PM): i understand ur point but
pandoras_obsession (11:53:07 PM): one day u will find a nice gurl to be with
pandoras_obsession (11:53:44 PM): and ti will be if carnally knowledge of me is kept out of that...u just r too nice for me to corput
pandoras_obsession (11:54:29 PM): i have a thing of being able to turn people out and i dont want to do that to nice guys
pandoras_obsession (11:54:37 PM): nice gurls maybe but not nice guys
dredog1221 (11:54:45 PM): well you wouldn't corrupt me honey, believe me i've done a lot of dirty things in bed
pandoras_obsession (11:55:27 PM): trust me i corput some of the jerks
pandoras_obsession (11:55:37 PM): but i am on way to bed i have to get up in the mornign
dredog1221 (11:56:06 PM): ok well if you ever want to play i am here waiting
pandoras_obsession (11:56:15 PM): k

So to summarize...a young woman found my profile and sought me out for no-strings-attached fun, but once she found out that I am A NICE GUY, she lost interest. I swear I wanted to cry. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore. I refuse to turn into a jerk because jerks hurt the ones they are with, and I don't want to hurt anyone. Just the opposite, I want to be the one to turn to when a lady is sick and tired of being hurt and wants to be treated right. But I can't do that when I treat the women I'm with well and get dumped anyway, and I can't do that when I threaten any woman that wants to hook up with me with that horrible, digusting trait I have, the trait of caring, and they run away as if I told them I wanted to shoot them. And no one has the answer for the problem I posed to her, which is: If the jerks are getting laid every night because women don't want to mess around with the nice guys, then how do the nice guys ever get any company? And exactly when the fuck did being a nice guy become a BAD thing?

If my head wasn't already spinning, it is now. At this rate, I'm never going to have another lover again. Unless I offer to smack some girl around or something.

Alone Again...Naturally

"Torrie" dumped me. She sent me an e-mail yesterday expressing frustration that our schedules would not allow us to see each other anytime soon and therefore it was "better to just end it." Two days ago everything was fine. My spring break from classes starts at the end of next week, and I offered to fly to Minneapolis again, but she insisted that she would get the time off from her job and come to see me here instead because she had not done so yet and I had already come there twice. But in the letter yesterday she told me that she had been rejected for that request for the time off because she had not been on the job long enough. How the hell she jumped from there to dumping me I don't know, but she cited family demands on her time as another factor even though we don't meet often enough for me to take time away from her family. My guess is she met someone else locally and didn't feel like giving any more effort to something that was so long-distance. In that sense I guess I can't blame her. It still sucks to get dumped though, especially when in my mind she was about to spend time here in my apartment with me and really start becoming a big part of my life. Silly me. When will I learn that no one wants to be a big part of my life?

Torrie spent the last part of her e-mail telling me how great of a guy I am, and how lucky some woman is going to be to have me because I have such a big heart. Can anybody tell me why my big heart keeps getting trampled every time I offer it to someone? Can anyone explain why I have treated every woman I've been with over the last two years like a queen, doing anything I can to please them and show them how much they mean to me, yet my bed is empty every single night? What does it take? I talked to three different people since yesterday, and they all had different versions of the same theme: I have to be happy with myself and not be worried about having someone else. My response: Isn't that pathetic? The notion that I have to be satisfied with myself because I'm so pathetic that I can't get anyone else to be satisfied with me? I'm sorry, but that's just sad. The thought of me walking around saying to myself, "La la la, I don't care if no one wants to be with me cause I'm okay with myself, happy happy joy joy," makes me want to cry. All I keep thinking is: I have a big heart, I'm a good guy, nothing makes me happier than to make the woman I'm with happy, and yet eventually they all lie to me or get sick of being treated well and leave. Pathetic. Oh, and I can't forget the theme of all these recent disappointments coming from women I met over the internet. Okay, I can definitely see the point of maybe the women I meet online aren't looking for what I'm looking for. But my response is, I went without a date for six years prior to "Karen," the first woman I ever dated from the internet. As crazy as these online women have turned out to be, if it wasn't for the internet, my last girlfriend would have been in high school eleven years ago. So I can't give up the internet as an option; I can't get a date otherwise.

Well, I'm off to school, where dozens of attractive women walk all around me as if I don't exist. I'm not about to disturb one of those women by begging for a date, and besides, my confidence ain't exactly high, and I don't need any more rejection. I've had about enough for this lifetime.

My History (3rd In A Series)

This is the story of my obsession with a woman I worked with for many years. I'll call her "Yasmine."

The first time I ever saw Yasmine was in the summer of 1995, after I moved to a busier part of the trading floor. I had been in this busier part for a few days when I started to notice a Latina woman who seemingly never smiled but still looked beautiful to me. She wore a green and white traders jacket and spent most of her day going up and down the ten steps to enter and exit this monstrous traders pit called the index. After watching from afar, I realized that she was not a trader, but rather an assistant to one of the traders inside the index. I don't know what we were talking about the first time I spoke to her, but I distinctly remember being so magnetically attracted to her that I kept scooting towards her in my chair as we spoke and she kept backing up on her feet, until eventually I had her cornered, as if I was about to pounce on her. And I didn't even realize I was doing this.

She wasn't one of those angry, non-smiling people, which I have been accused of being many times. Rather, she seemed to be very shy, which is one of my weaknesses. I can't get enough of a shy, humble woman, I guess partially because it makes me feel like she would be more receptive to the presence in her life of a good man and partially because my mom was shy and reserved. Whatever the case may be, I could not take my eyes off her. She never wore makeup, another weakness of mine, and she carried herself in a way that made it seem like she was just working as hard as she could and couldn't be bothered with anything that would get in her way. But that contrasted with her manner of speaking to me once I got up the balls to talk to her. Then she turned into that shy, introverted girl, never making direct eye contact with me for more than a second in all the many conversations we had. I could tell there was something in her past that made her wary of anyone's advances. She didn't seem to have many friends, male or female, and the few men that spoke to her would warn me not to charge too hard after her because she didn't seem to be interested in that kind of thing at all.

Never one to listen to others, I pursued Yasmine as hard as I could. Now, I'm introverted myself, so it's not like I was making improper advances or telling her how great I could sex her in bed, but I asked her out many, many times, while I was still with my high school girlfriend, while I was dating a different co-worker who knew how I felt about Yasmine, through every other crush I had on anyone in or outside of work, for about seven years. We never went out. That's a lot of rejection to take to keep going after the same woman, you may say. That's the thing. She NEVER rejected me. She would accept whatever date proposal I had, a movie, Chinese dinner, whatever I came up with, she said yes. Then when the day of the date came, she would nervously smile and apologize and tell me that something came up and she wouldn't be able to join me. Did she not know what she was doing to me? Did she not know that a big piece of my heart belonged to her, just because of the way she treated me, always acting like it was the happiest part of her day when she would see me, and that I was aching to give her all of me?

Oh, she knew, alright. I told her so to her face. I wrote her poems and cut the paper out in a heart shape and presented them to her. I bought her a bell--yes, a little ceramic bell--for Christmas one year, because that's exactly what she asked for. I bought her flowers on Valentine's Day after Valentine's Day. I devoted so much of my energy to her that I wasn't pursuing any other potential dates for most of the seven years that I knew her. Her responses to these gifts were the same: a kiss on the cheek, a big hug, expressions of gratitude, repeated assurances that she thought of me as a great friend and that we would one day be able to go out together, no excuses. But as for romance? Well, Yasmine kept telling me that she did not have any desire for that. She was divorced before she ever met me, and she used that as a crutch to tell me that she didn't want her heart scarred any more than it already had been. This only made me want her more, of course. She seemed to be saying that I had a shot with her once she got over her heartbreak; she had so many opportunities to tell me straight up that she didn't want to date me, that she saw me as only a friend. But she liked the attention. One time I told this girl Aiden, who was a broker at a station that I had just been moved to, the whole Yasmine story, and how I was trying to leave Yasmine alone for good because the neverending chase was taking its toll, but that she was coming after me now that I was trying to ignore her. Aiden didn't want to believe that anyone was coming after me for any reason, and I wouldn't have believed it either. Then I went on a 15-minute morning break, and apparently Yasmine was coming to see me but arrived just when I left for my break and stayed there the whole time waiting for me to return just to chat with me for a few minutes. When she left, Aiden just looked at me with wide eyes and said, "She's been here since you left." I said, "I told you so."

There was one time that we went out socially, but I wouldn't call it a date. It was more like a security guard accompanying the rock star on her trip to the ballpark. Yasmine came up with Saturday tickets to a Cubs-Sox game at Wrigley Field back in 2000, and while she was a Sox fan from childhood, she rarely went to games, and was scared to attend this particular one alone because of the charged-up atmosphere of the rivalry. So after admittedly calling every other friend she knew and being turned down because they all had plans, she called 411 and got my phone number (I had given her pieces of paper with my number on them about 748 times before, but because she really didn't give a fuck, she had lost them all) and asked me to come with. I said yes even though my ankle was sore because I had rolled it, but this was Yasmine and I wasn't about to miss a chance to go out with Yasmine. Hobbling the entire way, I met her at a corner about two blocks from my house, where we hugged, then we took a bus from there to Wrigley, which was about eight blocks from my house. It was a great day, the Sox won (yay!), and I spent the whole game with my arm around Yasmine, enjoying the afternoon and praying that there would be more to come after the game. Of course, there wasn't. I asked her to lunch after, and she said she had to get back home to help her mother with something, so we got on the train and rode about five minutes to my stop. She stayed on and went back home. The worst part? After all the chatting and bonding during the game, I thought we were close enough for me to lean in for a hug or a kiss on the cheek when I got off the train. I got absolutely nothing but air.

Basically, she wouldn't admit it, but Yasmine had no intention of ever dating me but couldn't tell me so because no one had pursued her like I had and she loved the feeling of being wanted. And I wasn't bright enough to admit to myself that we would never get together. I loved her. I had convinced myself that she had every attribute that I wanted in a woman, ignoring the attribute of being frigid and icy that no man would want in a woman because that keeps anything from ever developing. I was so head over heels for her that I wouldn't listen to anyone who told me that she was trouble.

I might still have been rubbing her shoulders and hugging her and kissing her on the cheek and believing that there was a future with her if not for her being let go by the firm that she was working for a couple of years ago. Around that same time she had gently chastised me for kissing her on the cheek while she was on her cell phone with her "boyfriend." So I had been leaving her alone, again, which never lasted long. She had e-mailed me after that incident telling me that she was thinking about marrying whoever this person was, and my calm, mature, supportive response was to tell her he would never love her like I did. She didn't respond well to that. Shortly after that, she was laid off. Since we weren't talking, I didn't know until I happened to notice after many weeks that I hadn't seen her on the trading floor lately and asked around. I had been wondering how she was doing and what would have happened had she ever given me a shot at her. Would I have ever decided to try internet dating, and would I have ever met the women that have hurt me so much in the last year that I had to spend a week in a psych ward last summer? Would I have avoided all the torture I've gone through, or would it have been an extension of the torture that I went through pursuing her?

Well, to my total shock, Yasmine waved at me several weeks ago as I stood in line at the bookstore across the street from my college. She looked the same, plus about 30 to 40 pounds, understandable since she had an infant daughter, her "Mini-Me" as she described her. She still had dry, cracked lips that I yearned to moisturize with my mouth. She still made something inside me heat up with desire when she spoke in that shy, indirect way. She still had big cheeks that expanded when she smiled. She still seemed like she couldn't hurt a fly. But she hurt me, over and over again, whether she knew it or not. And as a result, that love I had for her is no longer there, even though my lust for her still is. She still told me that we will get together for dinner or coffee sometime. She still accepted my phone number from me. The only difference is, this time she gave me her number back. Before, I would have killed to receive that back from her, just because it would have showed that she had some intention of returning the consideration I always gave her.

Now? Her number's in the garbage. If she ever calls me, fine. If we ever go out for coffee sometime, fine. But I know that we'll never be an item. And I know that if I could have showed her my love and how deep it ran for her, she would have appreciated it forever. But after all these many years, that window of opportunity is closed. And it's her loss.

Valentine's Day Thoughts

I won't even pretend to wish everyone a happy Valentine's Day. I'm usually all alone on this holiday celebrating the ability of everyone else in the whole fucking world to find a mate, and today was no exception. Sure, I sent a card to "Torrie" and received a virtual card from her (but only after I told her I was mailing her a card), but I didn't get to spend the day with her or anyone else. My bed as usual will be empty tonight. Selfish? Goddamn right. If I don't feel for me, who the fuck will?

I did kiss a woman on the cheek, a woman whom I fell in love with years ago when we both worked at the Chicago Board Options Exchange. This woman, "Yasmine," happens to be taking classes at the same school I am, and I saw her a couple of weeks ago when I was buying books across the street from the school. I almost fainted. I had not seen her in three years, and I did not expect to ever see her again. This was not a romantic rekindling of a prior affair, however. My love for Yasmine was always gently rebuked and never returned, the proverbial banging my head against a wall. She was too nice to tell me that she wasn't interested in me, but the truth is, she wasn't interested in me. Five years of chasing her should have told me that, but again, I was in love. In a way I never have felt as strongly about a woman as I did about Yasmine, and it was just so ironic that after five years of giving her roses and cigars and cards on Valentine's Day and getting nothing in return that I finally let go of her in my heart so that I could make room for the women that would use and abuse me over the last couple of years, and now that I've been mentally beaten down, here she is, on Valentine's Day, back in my life, if only for a four-minute conversation about nothing. But at least I no longer think that I'm going to convince her to give me a chance. I know damn well that nothing will ever happen between us, and I've accepted that. I'll have the entire pathetic Yasmine story in my next post.

I did not sleep all weekend, and I think it was because I knew Valentine's Day was coming, and at this time last year I was in that great cosmopolitan town of Mukwonago, WI, giving jewelry and poems and flowers to "Karen" and watching her respond not with glee or gratification but with the statement "Oh no, please, no more gifts!" Wow, honey, I'm glad you appreciate all I'm doing for you. I was talking to a friend about my lack of rest concerning this anxiety, and she responded, "I can tell you still love her." I've thought a lot about that, not just recently, but last year when all the drama happened. I've come to the conclusion that I never loved Karen. I am not feeling anxious because I was in love with Karen. I'm feeling anxious because I was in love with the concept of Karen. The concept was that she was a nice, sweet, quiet, demure, intelligent white woman who accepted my advances, thought I was attractive, and wanted me to be a part of her life. I should have known that was too good to be true. But that was my mindset at this time last year. As I laid down to sleep with Karen in her bed in Mukwonago, WI, on Valentine's Day night, I was thinking to myself, I'm moving up here soon to start a new life with Karen, one that will result in marriage and children in the future. And I couldn't have been happier, even if I wasn't really attracted to her, even if she was lousy in bed, even with the gaps in logic that made me suspect her before I ever found out what kind of pond scum she was. She was my dream personified, and I thought that my personal life was finally settled.

That's why I can't sleep. A year ago, everything was perfect on Planet Dre. Then the 10.0 quake tore up my world. Maybe five years from now I won't feel so bad when this time of year rolls around. Right now, I feel like someone ripped up my stomach from the inside. Happy Valentine's Day indeed.

Serving A Purpose

I wanted to serve some kind of purpose this weekend in Minnesota. I wanted to go visit "Torrie" and actually have a reason to be there besides just being there for her. Whether it was a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, or just someone to talk to, I wanted to spend those two days there with her doing something to make her feel better.

Making love served the purpose.

We spent Friday evening in my hotel room together, and that was more time with Torrie than I thought I was going to have. She was shaky, driving somewhat erratically and babbling at times, but it was understandable. There was other drama going on besides her stepsister Jody dying: The father of Jody's children was in town and wanted immediate custody of the kids. Those same kids wouldn't have a final visitation with their mother because her current husband for some unknown reason had her remains cremated without anyone in her family having a say over this. And to top it all off, Torrie's ex-husband, who she had not seen since 1997, paid an unexpected visit as well. So I think that I came to town at the perfect time, so that Torrie would have somewhere to go to escape the situation. In my uneducated opinion, the sex and togetherness that we had was a great stress release for her. She even said at one point afterwards, "You don't know how bad I needed that." The funeral was Saturday at three o'clock, and the hours before were spent intensely. She came back around seven, to my surprise. She was supposed to join her family on a 45-minute trip to a prison to see a brother who was unable to attend the funeral. But since it would only be a five-minute visit due to the rules of the prison, and because it had already been a long day and longer week, Torrie skipped that meeting. Instead, we ate dinner and went to bed. Sunday morning was spent physically draining every drop out of the remaining time we had together, as my flight back was at 1:50P. I felt very good about things when I left. I felt that I had done the right thing and supported Torrie in a time of need, and I felt that she appreciated my efforts.

I don't know when the next time will be that I will see Torrie, but I do know that we have become very close, and that our first night togther on New Year's appears to be a springboard to a long companionship, as unlikely as that would have seemed. I care very much for her, and I think that I have a special place in her heart, as well as on her body. I've never been complemented so much in bed before. She makes me feel very wanted, and she knows how much I want her, so we'll see how things go. But everything looks great so far.

I have started my semester from hell--four classes, all at night, after attending school last semester for the first time since high school ten years ago. What the hell was I thinking? I wrote down all the dates for papers and tests from all four classes, and now my datebook is littered with nothing but little notes about this research paper due and that test taking place on that date, with the hotel information for Kentucky Derby weekend May 7 thrown in. I'll be very busy, so if I ignore anyone or don't contact anyone, don't worry, I haven't become an underground hermit that shuns the rest of the world.

I'll let Michael Jackson keep that spot in society to himself.

R.I.P.

That was quick. It's not even the end of January, and already my intention to make this year the year that I controlled everything and did things my way has been destroyed.

"Torrie" had told me about her sister when I met her. She said that despite being only about 280 lbs, she decided to get the stomach-stapling surgery mainly because her husband thought that she was too fat. She said that she was in the hospital due to complications from the surgery, but that she was coming out of it. Then over a week ago she went into cardiac arrest. Torrie reported that she was recovering from that very well, and doctors said that she would be out of the woods soon if she continued to progress.

This past Monday night, Torrie's sister went into cardiac arrest a second time. This time she succumbed.

Literally minutes before Torrie found out Monday night, we were online together hammering out details and arranging my second visit to Minneapolis this coming weekend. Everything is in place if I still make the trip--the airfare, the hotel, the times that I arrive and depart. Torrie has all that information in her posession. We had it all figured out.

It is all so meaningless right now.

The decision to still make the trip is all on me. I asked Torrie how she felt about me coming up there. She said that if I still wanted to visit, it was fine. I may not have decided to even consider coming if not for something small Torrie said through her tears. She said that she still wanted to see me. That means a lot to me, that she would want to convey that through such a tough time. It would still be an awkward situation, considering that she can't possibly spend that much time with me this weekend (especially considering arrangements are this weekend as well), and any time she does spend is time I am taking away from her grieving with her family. She really should be with her family at this time, not worrying about some guy she's only met once. But I am leaning towards going because I want to be there for Torrie in this time of need. I feel that if I back out now, I would send a message that I only want to be around her when I can get some tail, and as selfish as I have been vowing to be from now on, that is not true at all. I enjoyed every second with Torrie New Year's weekend, not just the time in bed. So I think that if I fly up there only to hug her for a few minutes as I arrive and again as I leave, at least I was able to comfort her for a little while. She possibly may want to spend more time with me, just as an escape from the circumstances. And that would make me feel so good, to be there for her to focus on something else for a spell. Basically, I feel that there is no right or wrong decision I can make. The very first thing I did was put it on Torrie whether she still wanted me there, and if she didn't, I would have easily respected her wishes. But I haven't received any indication from her that she doesn't want me to come. So I probably will.

I won't even comment on what Torrie's sister's husband must be thinking right about now. Okay, maybe I will. I just can't imagine deciding to walk down the aisle with someone and decide later on that there is something about that person that is so offensive to you that you would want them to surgically change it. If it was that bad, why did you marry her? And if her weight wasn't that bad but got out of control over the years, again, why did you marry her if your opinion of her could go so low because of a few extra pounds? To be honest, I shouldn't be speaking on this, because I don't know either person and I probably don't know anything close to the whole story. But if the details I have are correct, I'm disgusted for him, I'm angry as a man who wouldn't think of altering the appearance of a woman I claim to love for better or for worse, I'm stunned trying to imagine what Torrie must be going through, losing a sibling because of this, and I feel a little sorry for the guy because if he has a heart at all he's going through absolute hell in his mind right now and always will.

In other more personal news, my job interview Monday went about as bad as humanly possible because the place was five blocks away from the bus stop and I had to stomp through inches upon inches of snow in dress pants and shoes (and those of you in Chicago know about the snow we got last weekend), and as a result I was a physical and basically emotional mess when I finally arrived ten minutes late. I was told by the man interviewing me that he would call me that evening if he wanted me to come back for a second day. I'm still waiting for the call. A learning experience, I guess.

Next week begins the semester from hell, where the man who waited ten years to go back to school for fear of failure takes on four classes at once. All together now: What the hell was I thinking?!? I know it will be a lot of hard work, and that was why I planned to go to Minneapolis this weekend, because I didn't know when the next time would be when I would have the chance. My timing stinks. But it doesn't matter now. There are way more important things to think about right now.

My next post will be after my trip to Minneapolis.

Poker Face

Well, unemployment has allowed me to play a lot of poker, online and live, for play and for money. And apparently I need a lot more practice before I amount to anything. It's getting to the point where it's rare for me to win more than a couple of hands in a tournament. That sucks. My problem seems to be aggressive play, both using it and defending it. I am not nearly aggressive enough when I have good hands, so when I do make a big bet people know that I must have something because I usually don't bet much at all, and they fold, leaving me with winning hands very small in chip size. Then, when I have a decent hand, I have to decide whether to play against someone making a huge bet, and the vast majority of the time I fold. It's a long learning experience I will have to go through to become good enough to someday participate in the World Series of Poker, and it looks like it will be an expensive series of lessons. But it's my dream right now, and I want to pursue it. Poker is a hell of a game, and I want a piece of the action.

Wouldn't mind winning that $10 million prize at the World Series of Poker either. $10 million for winning a card game? Only in America.

I have an interview with some outfit this coming Monday out in Hillside, so wish me luck with that. I'm sure you can tell how thrilled I am with that. Honestly, you can tell when you're going for an actual opportunity and when you're going to put your resume in the big green file cabinet and nothing more, and that's my feeling about this. But as you can read in my previous posts, I have been wrong about so so many things.

Just watched the PBS documentary "Unforgivable Blackness: The Rise and Fall of Jack Johnson." Johnson was the first black world heavyweight boxing champion back at the beginning of the 20th century. Words can't describe how eerie it was to see a story about a big, bald, broad-shouldered, smiling black man with dimples who had a serious taste for white women...and wound up being jailed for it. The laws of the time made it illegal to transport women across state lines for "immoral purposes," but that was meant to discourage prostitution, not stop a black man from traveling with a white companion. But because they couldn't find a "great white hope" that could beat Johnson, they cut him down in that manner. I knew that it was not always safe to drive around with the white women I have dated like I was. I didn't know just how unsafe it used to be. Jack Johnson resembled me in many ways, and to see his story left an impression on me, mostly that I shouldn't take criticism of my dating choices from anyone, because he had to go through tons more shit to spend time with whom he wanted to spend time. I actually have it good. I haven't been harassed or accosted once while out with my dates. And for that, I have never been more grateful.

Speaking of being out with a white woman, "Adrienne" this past Sunday became the first woman I have ever hosted in my apartment who didn't wind up with her clothes on my bedroom floor. Adrienne is someone I started talking to around the same time I was trying to get together with "Jane," so on a smaller scale she has now experienced the heartbreak that is my life. At least she wasn't around for the other events of my 2004. But Adrienne knows everything, she knew that I switched New Year's plans after Jane canceled to go meet "Torrie" (she didn't approve of my juke move from one stranger to another but ultimately she said she was happy that I wasn't alone), she has met my friends, and she knows that I wind up in bed with the women that I spend time with. But she's not that kind of girl, and I respect that. We watched movies and cuddled on the couch, but I didn't put my hand anywhere that it shouldn't have been, I didn't put my lips anywhere at all, and a good time was had by all. So we appear to be on the road to being really close friends. Didn't know I was capable of just being friends with a woman. Am I maturing? Am I a wimp? Am I attempting to be faithful to Torrie even though I haven't seen her (except on her webcam...wow, is she a sex bomb!) since New Year's? Stay tuned for the next episode of "As Planet Dre Twists and Turns."

(That was horrible, I know...)

End Of An Era

I still can't believe I am unemployed. It was almost ten years ago that a woman in charge of an employment agency took a look at the math scores I posted on a test she gave me and suggested I try for the price reporter position at the Chicago Board Options Exchange. The jobs I had before then were not fun and not very good. A day labor stint, a week at a cafe (ironically a block from the CBOE, but at the time I knew nothing about it), a couple of months at a Woolworth's...not good times, not good times. So I didn't honestly expect to get the CBOE job when I applied, especially after the math test I had to take for the position. Difficult? No, not at all, simple addition and subtraction of fractions. So what was the problem? I didn't finish the test in the alloted 20-minute time limit because I spent the night before with my girlfriend. Hey, it was the first night I ever spent with a woman, and I wasn't going to miss it for anything.

Despite the incomplete test, I was hired anyway. I held on to that job for my life, especially after moving out on my own a couple of years after starting there. I really needed the job then, because I wasn't about to move back with my uncle and his family. Too crowded. But my mistake was not attending school while working, and now that I have been laid off, I'm basically in the same situation that I was in when I first got the job in February 1995: An uneducated black man looking for work that won't require me to do any actual labor, because I'm so out of shape that physical work isn't an option. The only difference is, I have some work experience for my resume. Big whoop.

But it's a strange feeling, being jobless. I'm thinking in my mind what's going to happen when my rent comes around at the end of the month. I will be ok this first time, but what if I'm out of work for a significant amount of time? This was part of the bad feeling I was trying to avoid last year when I asked first "Karen," then "Sarah" if I could move in with them when I lost my job. At least if I had those plans, I could concentrate on the move and knowing that I had someone that was going to be there for me and help me find work in that town, plus I would be splitting bills and rent. Now? Well, I went to the unemployment office Monday; that went smoothly, took about an hour. I'll find out what my benefits will be through the mail. I looked on some online sites for work, but there's always something just not right about the data entry positions I'm focusing on finding. One job seemed perfect but was too far out of the city, and I don't drive, so the job has to be within public transportation limits. Another job required a degree to apply even though it sounded like something I could do with ease. Another had hours that would just barely overlap with the evening classes I'm already committed to for the next semester. Another was a desk job at a university in the city, which certainly sounded like something I could do...but it was third shift, 11P to 7A. Yikes! There's no way I could get my body used to working at 2A and not sleeping.

In other words, it ain't going good so far.

Last Friday was my last day. It was very weird knowing that a lot of people that I said goodbye to and shook hands and exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses with were folks that I would never see again. It was more significant than leaving grade school or high school because of the time frame. Ten years at this place. Some people were there when I started and are still there now. Some people I saw every single day, and now they are totally out of my life. Some people I saw every single day, and never said a word to them, yet I will miss them anyway. It's something that probably hasn't even hit me yet, what with all the uncertainty about my next step. But after a few weeks I expect the withdrawal from the routine I went through for so long to really hit me. Right now it just feels like I'm on vacation, because I didn't leave the house then either. But I'm never returning to 400 S. LaSalle, not in a week or two weeks, not ever. And it's not sad, it's not making me angry, it's just...very weird. I'm ready to win Powerball right now, so that I won't have to worry about my future anymore. Boy, what perfect timing that would be.

Oh, and I'm not bashful about begging...if anyone has a job for an uneducated black man, hit me up.

"I Have The Dick, So I Make The Rules"

What a New Year's weekend.

What a crazy past year.

What a crazy life.

What the fuck?!?

I still can't believe what happened this weekend. "Jane" and I had been having great conversations leading up to what was supposed to be the first of many good times spent together New Year's Eve in Lexington, KY. Before Christmas, the last time I spoke to her was Christmas Eve, and everything was going well. I wasn't able to call her over the Christmas weekend because I was spending time with my folks. But she was on my mind the whole time, and when I came back home Monday, I was getting more and more excited knowing that only five days remained until I traveled to see her.

But this is me, and this was still 2004, the worst year of my life. That Monday Jane sent me an e-mail saying that she was pulling out of the meeting, and not for some legitimate reason, like her daughter was sick, or she was sick, or her mom was sick. No, she was pulling out because she just had "a bad feeling" that something bad would happen if she came to meet me. I spent the next few days talking to Jane on the phone and begging her to see my side of things, how bad I wanted to meet her, how nothing bad was going to happen, how I had already put out for the airfare and hotel for no other reason than to come see her. No dice. She just had a bad feeling. She tried to tie her daughter into this "bad feeling" shit, saying that it would be two whole nights that her 18-month-old would be staying with her father, and she was just so worried because it would be the longest she had ever been separated from her that long. I tried to come up with all kinds of solutions. I told her that I would get another room just for them and she would never be out of her sight. I had my friend Cassandra speak to her for 15 minutes basically serving as a character witness for me. I begged her to just come meet me, out in public at the airport so that I wouldn't have the chance to do anything bad to her, not that I wanted to. I told her that she wouldn't have to go to the hotel with me, much less stay with me overnight. Just come meet me and somehow justify the money I was throwing out to come meet her. The best I could get was "I'll reconsider." But by Thursday night, she still gave no indication that she was going to make the trip.

What was I to do? This was the last thing I was expecting, and it was such a shitty end to a shitty year. This year 2004 started with me standing all alone at Buckingham Fountain in very chilly weather watching fireworks ring in the new year while couples and groups of friends huddled with each other all around me. Meanwhile I was standing there with my hands in my pockets like Michael Jackson at Disneyland. That was because my girlfriend, "Karen," was nowhere to be found, not answering my attempts to contact her. Two months later the image of my girlfriend wearing almost nothing and posing next to her female best friend for an internet swingers group would pop up on my computer and send me into a mental tailspin. My fuckbuddy "Sarah" would rescue me from that pain and invite me to give my love and trust to her, only to tell me near the end of the summer that she was rescinding her offer because she needed her space when she wasn't being beaten and dominated as a form of sexual pleasure by men she hardly knew. Autumn brought two nights of sex with a co-worker, who thought so highly of me that she talked freely about giving her boyfriend a blow job and swallowing but refused to put her mouth on me even when I asked. So just when I couldn't feel any lower about myself, here's Jane saying that I sounded like the perfect man for her and telling me how flattered she was that I would come all the way down to Kentucky to meet her and oh, how much fun and great sex we were going to have. And she knew all about the year I had and how horrible I felt about being all alone last New Year's after thinking that I was going to have someone there with me. So what, her actions were saying to me. I still don't care enough about you to consider keeping my end of the deal.

After a year of having my eager-to-please personality returned to me covered in shit, I finally decided to do something for me. Fuck everybody else, I was going to find company for New Year's Eve this year. It would hurt Jane when I told her, I knew this. But as far as I'm concerned, she had her chance. She had me spending money that I really don't have to meet her ass, only to decide way after the fact that she was uncomfortable. How fair was that to me? So I was going to do what I wanted to do, whether it was fair to Jane or not.

Enter "Torrie."

Torrie had been flirting with me on another group for a couple of weeks. She was a new member, and one of the first posts she wrote once she joined was to me, to tell me that she liked a big black man with a shaved head, that she was in Minneapolis but had visited Chicago and loved it, and that she wanted to chat sometime. Showing a maturity level that I normally wouldn't, but I really was being faithful to Jane, I told Torrie the 100% truth: that I thought she was hot, that I was flattered by her attention, and that I loved her tattoos, but that I was meeting a young lady on New Year's Eve for the first time and I was focusing on her and making sure everything worked out with her. Torrie said fine, but if she "didn't satisfy my hunger...I'll be here for ya." And I left it at that...until Jane canceled on me for no good reason. I wrote Torrie and let her know that I was now free for New Year's and that I would come see her if she was still interested, or she could come see me. She said she was interested but short on money, so coming to Chicago was not an option. Wouldn't you know that the eager-to-please me invited her to come down anyway and I would handle her financials? She declined, then warned me that there are a lot of golddiggers that would take advantage of that, so I should be more careful. And she is right. Putting out and doing all I can to accommodate a woman got me nowhere all year long.

Torrie and I first spoke to each other over the phone on Thursday, Dec. 30. I waited that long to call her because I was giving Jane every opportunity to change her mind. And I would have told Torrie if Jane gave me the green light, because Jane was first. But once I spoke to Torrie and heard the things she wanted to do with me and to me, Jane lost her opportunity. Actually, she would have lost it even if I had not made other plans because it would've been impossible for me to get the ok from her Friday, go home after work, get my bags, and make the 5:50P flight. (By the way, Jane did try to do just that, calling me Friday afternoon to inform me that she was reconsidering. I flatly told her to not worry about it, I had other plans. She hung up, stunned.) So Thursday night I canceled my United flight to Lexington, made a NWA flight reservation for 5:00P to Minneapolis, booked a room for two nights at the Hampton Inn in a nearby suburb, and hoped and wished as hard as I could that Torrie would be there when my plane touched down Friday.

She was.

She looked just like her picture, short reddish-brown hair, big full lips, and a deep voice to match her larger-than-life but still sexy features. She was 30 years old, 5'8", 220 lbs, and knew exactly what to do in the bedroom. We met after a half-hour of looking for each other once I arrived in Minneapolis. It's a big airport. And waiting outside wasn't pleasant: Temp in Chicago when I took off from Midway--about 45...temp when I landed in Minneapolis eighty minutes later--19! But the weather was the only bad thing about the weekend. The Happy New Year countdown and kiss was great, the blow job before I fell asleep was great, the sex the next morning was great, her pussy tasted great, the loud sounds we made as we came over and over may not have been so great to the other folks at the Hampton Inn that weekend, but it was great for us. In short, I have absolutely no regrets about making the trip, even though just a few days ago I was in love with a different woman. I don't usually do New Year's resolutions, but this first one was easy to keep: Stop doing things to please other people, start doing things to please myself. And despite my efforts to make Torrie squirt all weekend, don't be fooled: I didn't go up there to make her happy. I went up there to make my cock happy. In fact, I had to buy a t-shirt that I saw up there that was so perfect in describing the attitude that I must have from now on if I want to protect my heart from being broken again. And the shirt was in my size, too. It simply said: "I have the dick, so I make the rules." When I let the woman in my life make the rules, I always got screwed. From now on, I'm doing the screwing.

Not that Torrie has any complaints about that.

What's It Like?

What's it like to be beautiful?
To look good and be adored?
What's it like to receive attention?
I'd like to know

What's it like to be with someone?
Someone who is there for you?
What's it like to have an actual partner?
I'd love to know

What's it like to not be alone?
To go through life cared for and appreciated
What's it like having companionship?
I'm dying to know

They say you must love yourself
Before anyone else can
But they don't say what it's like
When no one else cares
When you don't matter
To the rest of the world

If love were shelter
I would be homeless
If love were clothing
I would be naked
If love were food
I would be starving to death

I'd like to know
I'd love to know
I'm dying to know
I'd give anything to know

What it's like
To be loved

A Year Older

Today I turn 29 years old. Yikes.

Next year I will turn 30. With nothing to show for my life.

Now, that's no one's fault but mine. I realize this. It's still depressing as hell, but I know that we all get out of life what we put into it, and I haven't put shit into my life. But with the impending loss of my job and the full load of classes that I will take next semester, I am moving forward and making strides in an attempt to make something of myself. I may come up short ultimately, as usual, but if I don't put forth the effort how will I know?

This is turning into the year of sweeping the trash out of my life. It started with the Karen situation in March. Then I put my trust in Sarah's hands, and got squashed for my efforts. I fooled around with a woman I worked with this summer, and I bought her a present for her birthday a few months ago. Today, I got absolutely nothing from her. Not a gift, not a "Happy Birthday," not a fucking word. And we saw each other several times, so we didn't miss each other. I was a little hurt, a little disappointed, a little angry. What I wasn't was surprised. When I made the decisions to lay down with these walking vermin, I knew what I was getting into (except with Karen), so any bad results that occurred should not surprise me at all. We're not talking about women with great personal histories. And hell, I don't have much luck either, so the combinations were combustible from day one.

So in 2005, my resolution is to stop associating with people who I know are pieces of shit and expecting my efforts to treat them with respect and dignity to be appreciated. Karen? Obviously out of my life. Sarah? She called today, but I didn't answer or call her back. For what? As for the woman at work, I never plan to speak to her again. I have to surround myself with quality people if I expect to have a quality life. It's hard enough to focus and stay straight. It's much harder when your support group consists of whores and dirtbags and selfish people who care about no one but themselves.

My next blog will be after I return from Lexington for New Year's with Jane. Wish me luck.

Peaks And Valleys

Some good news and some bad news came my way this past week. First, on Tuesday when I showed up for class, the head of the English department took me aside and asked, "Would you be (insert my full name here) by chance?" I said yes, very warily. I didn't know who he was when he asked. But he introduced himself and informed me that my exit essay had been chosen as the best out of all the students at my junior college, which is a little like saying that I was voted best looking man in a room full of hockey players. But I was still pleasantly surprised, especially considering that I didn't write the essay thinking that there was any kind of prize attached. He asked me to come back to school the next day to receive a prize for achieving this feat. I wavered, because Wednesday is not a school day for me and I was not interested in showing up for whatever "honor" was being bestowed on me...until he informed me of the $500 prize. Of course I was there with bells on the next day.

I walked into a room full of teachers. The English department had gathered in a room for their Christmas party, and this was the room I was told to come to when I got off work. It was a very humbling scene. All the teachers congratulated me one by one, some telling me that my essay was so good that they were passing it around to the other members of the faculty. Then I found out that the money was actually a scholarship in the name of a former English teacher at the college who died, and his sister, tears in her eyes, told everyone how much her brother meant to her and told me how proud he would be of my work. Then an empty envelope was given to me in the name of presentation, because the actual check had not been signed by the proper authorities. I said a couple of words, mostly how speechless and honored I was, then I shuffled back to my seat as if embarrassed by the attention. The check should be waiting for me when I come back after the Christmas--oops, winter--break. By the way, the essay was my answer to the question: "How does physical appearance affect how you look at yourself and how others look at you?" I had so much to say about that subject that I went through the five sheets of paper originally given to me and asked for one extra.

The award made me wonder where I would be if I had tried to attend college right out of high school. My grades were atrocious and my concentration was the same, so I honestly don't think I was ready for more school when I graduated high school. So I have been working at the same job for the last ten years while basically waiting to win Powerball so I wouldn't have to worry about education. But that never happened. Now that I have started school, it has been fun and rewarding. The three credits I received for passing English 101 may not seem like much, compared to the 60 I need for an associate's degree or the 120 I need for a bachelor's. But because I actually enjoyed the 17-week journey while I earned those, I am looking forward to what else I will learn while I pursue more credits. I will not be expecting more rewards for my writing, however. Perhaps I am a good enough writer where I will receive more accolades in the future. But for now, I need to enjoy the experience and make sure that I keep my concentration level high.

Speaking of that job I've had for ten years, that's the bad news. As you know if you read my previous post concerning what happened between me and "Karen," I have known that my position was being eliminated since October 2003. Friday morning, I learned that the end should be coming on January 7. Of course, me being the lazy fuck that I am, I have nothing lined up after I am let go. I have heard of receiving unemployment, but I know nothing about it. From what I hear, it won't pay nearly as much as what I'm making, not that I am making a lot now. This leaves me three options: Stay out here by myself and try to find work, get a roommate, or move back to my uncle's cramped house, where he, his wife, and their two teenage boys reside, in order to save money. I don't think I am moving back to my uncle's house; it's just too difficult to adjust to living with those many people after living alone for seven years. Plus, where would I host the houseguests with bags of dildos who blow me twenty minutes after meeting me? I don't think I want to look for a roommate; all the people I know I wouldn't want to live with, which leaves the rest of the world, who are all strangers. I don't deal with strangers well. Guess that leaves wasting my settlement check from my layoff on rent.

Notice how I did not consider moving in with "Jane" as an option. Yes, everything is still going well between us. We still talk every night, and usually every morning. But I have learned my lesson from Karen and "Sarah." I am not going to make plans to share a place with a woman until I feel like I really know her. This may take a few years of long-distance dating. Oh well. I'll be damned if I get screwed over again like those other women did to me. It's less than two weeks to the first meeting between me and Jane. I want this more than anything else in the world right now. We seem to be separated at birth, our personalities are so similar, and I absolutely cannot wait until we spend that weekend together to see how we mesh in real life, not just over the phone. But I will not expose my heart to Jane, no matter how much I think I am in love with her. It may not be fair to her, and it may hurt her that I seem to keep an air of distrust when dealing with her. But I swear the next woman to lie to me or let me treat them well all summer only to dump me because I don't apply clamps to her nipples and humiliate her, I don't know what I will do. I have to protect myself. No one else sure the fuck will.

Speaking of Sarah, she sent me a birthday card and wrote that she hopes I get all that I wish for. (My birthday is December 22.) It's taking all my self-control to not call her and curse her out. All that I wished for was one woman to treat me right and let me treat her right. And for several months she was okay with being that person. Then she started longing for those wonderful nights handcuffed on someone's kitchen floor with a ball gag in her mouth.

By the way, I heard that she is supposed to be moving up here to a suburb near me. I wonder what master she met that lives up this way? Stay tuned...

And if I don't get a chance to do it personally, happy holidays to all of you. I hope you all get what you wished for.

I'm going to go hang myself now or swallow some bleach or something...

My History (2nd In A Series)

This is the story of a relationship I had with a woman I met online. I'll call her "Sarah."

I saw Sarah's profile when I was bored and surfing a singles website one Saturday. This was in late 2003, when I was feeling so worried about where the relationship between me and Karen was headed that I went looking for someone else. No, I had not found out about Karen's other life yet, but there was just something not right about her. A long-distance relationship can work, but it's very hard when there's no phone calls or contact between the two parties, except for every other weekend, and that's only for a few hours sometimes. It's no excuse for me looking for something else, but that was my reasoning, and I'm not sorry.

Sarah's profile said that her hobbies were "sex, sex, sex," and she had pictures that sure made it seem like that was all she thought about. Finally, I thought, someone desperate enough to perhaps fuck me. And she was in the state, another plus. Her pics were very blunt, she had both her breasts in her hands in one pic and was holding them up on display, and another pic had her nipples being pinched by clothespins. For some reason the pics made my dick instantly hard, and that's exactly what I told her in my first e-mail to her. I guess I've always been attracted to women who have no inhibitions about their body. That certainly described Sarah. We flirted through e-mail for a few weeks, then she let me see her on her webcam, and her lack of inhibition continued as she would often set the webcam on the floor and proceed to show me everything about her. And I mean everything.

Soon we were talking on the phone, very suggestively of course, and despite me having had sex with Karen at this point, I decided to invite Sarah up to my apartment. This was a four-hour drive for her, so I was feeling very good about things, seeing that she had talked to me and still wanted to meet me. She would tell me in the days leading up to her coming here exactly what she planned to do to me when she got here. I couldn't wait. Finally, on a Tuesday, she met me outside my apartment after I got off work. I had the next day off, in case things worked out well. And work out well they did: Twenty minutes after we met, Sarah was between my legs adjacent from me, giving me oral sex...and swallowing every single drop. She even brought a bag of sex toys with her to continue the fun as long as she wanted. No doubt about it, Sarah knew exactly what she liked and what she wanted to do, and I was loving it.

Sarah visited several more times, including on my birthday, December 22nd, when she helped me wrap Karen's Christmas gifts in between sessions of fucking me. It was a perfect scenario for me. Sarah loved having sex with me, she was disease-free and unable to get pregnant, she loved giving me oral sex, and she was insatiable in bed. There was honestly no reason I could find to stop seeing her, Karen be damned. She was even fun outside the bedroom. Sarah had a small-town personality to her, having been born in Kentucky and living in the relatively small Springfield, IL, and it was a refreshing change from the arrogant bitches I worked with in the city of Chicago. She really seemed to be enjoying life, and I was enjoying it more and more every time I saw her.

In fact, I was enjoying it too much. Once the new year came and plans intensified between me and Karen for me to move to Milwaukee with her, I started withdrawing from Sarah because I wanted to make it easier on myself when I left the area and stopped seeing her. We had not spoken in several weeks when that Friday came that I discovered Karen's swingers website. After calling my best friend and expressing my shock, I called Sarah, but got no answer from her cell phone. Then I talked to Sarah's daughter online, desperately looking for someone to talk to. She let Sarah know that I needed to talk to her ASAP. Sarah called that evening, I told her the story, and she drove the four hours the next morning to my apartment and spent the entire weekend with me, consoling me, fucking me, going to a comedy club with me to get my mind off things, and going bowling with me so someone could be there with me when I broke the news to my uncle, who was a teammate on my bowling team. I will never forget Sarah being there for me that weekend, dropping everything to come up here and make sure I wasn't alone. Who knows what I would've done if I didn't have her there with me.

This began a serious relationship between Sarah and me. Sarah became sort of my rescuer, the person who was there for me in my worst moment, my best friend, lover, and the only thing I had in my life to hold on to. This may have been a lot for a promiscuous woman such as herself to take on, but she did. She visited on most of her two-day breaks from her job, driving up here sometimes right after work at 10PM, arriving at my apartment at 1AM or 2AM and staying until the morning she had to return to work two days later. She would drive me to my job in the morning and then take off for Springfield, only having a brief rest period until she started work at 2PM. We told each other that we loved each other, but I would preface it by saying that it wasn't the same type of love I had for Karen. It was the love and appreciation I had for someone who was always there for me, whereas the love I had for Karen was the be-my-wife-and-mother-of-my-children type. I wasn't sure if Sarah resented that, but she did make it clear that she wasn't expecting to be in love with anyone ever again, and she was being a good girl and not sleeping around especially for me. Of course, after what I had just been through, I had to reason to trust her, but I wanted to.

Sarah told me the weekend that she came here after my breakup with Karen that she would be there for me and do anything for me, and I immediately jumped on the occasion to ask her if she would let me move to Springfield with her. She said yes. I spent a weekend down there with her getting a feel for her apartment and the town, and I liked the quiet atmosphere. I was looking forward to going there and starting over, just like I was looking forward to moving to Milwaukee and starting over. But I didn't intend to be in a monogamous relationship with Sarah. I never had that in my mind when I met her, or after we slept together, or at any point. And as a result, the beginning of the end of our relationship came when her 22-year-old daughter, "Elaine," started flirting with me. Elaine was engaged, but she didn't let that stop her from giving me a big hug when I met her and Sarah on my first trip to Springfield and later pecking me goodbye on the lips in front of Sarah. I honestly didn't think Sarah would have a problem with me sleeping with her daughter, especially considering I wouldn't be the first man to have had them both. But on the Monday after Sarah and I returned from a weekend in Louisville at the Kentucky Derby, where we had a wonderful time and seemed to be as together as ever before, Elaine's flirting became heavier, and when I chatted with Elaine on the computer the day after the Kentucky Derby trip, Sarah's irritation was palpable. A joke I made about Elaine having a dick (no, she didn't, just some bad joke by me) turned into Elaine actually typing in the words, "No I don't have a dick, but I have a pussy. It's wet for you." And when Sarah saw this, well, it was time to talk.

Sarah informed me that whatever relationship we were supposed to have, casual, serious, whatever, she would not feel comfortable with me starting to see her daughter when I'm supposed to be moving in with her soon. I understood, and put the brakes on anything physical happening between me and Elaine. But a convergence of events would tear at the fabric of that agreement between me and Sarah. Elaine was supposed to come visit friends near Chicago that Thursday and made plans to come see me, just as friends. On Tuesday, Sarah returned to Springfield. When Thursday came, Elaine's fiance found out about her plans to see me and expressed his outrage. Elaine then called in tears and told me that she was not coming to see me. The next day, Elaine informed me that a man that Sarah had a long sexual history with was staying at Sarah's house, and the smell of alcohol was in the air. Sarah claimed to have quit drinking. What's worse, Sarah stayed up past midnight one night with me telling me how she kept telling this same man to leave her alone, that she wasn't interested in seeing him anymore, but that he kept calling and she didn't know what to do. Among my advice was to ignore him or to call the police. Not among my advice was to let the fucker into her house and get drunk with him for two days, right after she spent a great weekend in Louisville with me. But I really didn't mind if she fucked him. My problem was with her telling me how special our relationship was and how she didn't want me to see her daughter, but it was okay for her to see this guy, whom she admitted was nothing more than a fuckbuddy.

I was livid. I didn't even want her daughter for a good reason other than she wanted to fuck me, and I never turn down a woman that actually wants to fuck me. It was just the principle of her asking me to respect what we had, then disrespecting it herself. She admitted he was there with her when I called, but claimed that they weren't doing anything together, which I would never believe because of how much she told me she didn't want anything to do with the guy anymore. Why else would she decide to let him back into her life if not to fuck her? That's all he could do, according to her. I angrily threw insults and accusations at her until...wait for it...this nigger grabs the phone and tells me that they really weren't doing anything together and that he's such a morally upstanding person that he wouldn't lie to me, even though he had a girlfriend he was stepping out on at the time. I felt like the biggest fool in the world that night, and honestly, for the rest of the summer, because I knew she had fucked him but didn't have the concrete proof. I wondered why I had to always meet these types of women, that lie and cheat and have no respect for me, until I realized: Hey, I was lying and cheating on Karen when I started seeing Sarah in the first place.

At that point I decided to accept whatever happened because I deserved it for being such a dick that I slept with Sarah despite dating Karen. So for the rest of the summer, I backed off and let Sarah be, and we went out when she could make it here to Chicago and enjoyed ourselves, and still had plans for me to move down there when my job let me go. The last time we went out, I thought I really did a good job of trying to make her happy. I bought concert tickets for an artist that she really liked, but she had her teenage son for the summer and didn't want to leave him alone in her Springfield apartment, so I rented a hotel room for two nights and had them both up here as my guests. We enjoyed the concert, then went out to dinner the next night. I thought everything was going well.

So, of course, because this is me we're talking about, it all came apart soon after. I had always known that Sarah was bisexual and into BDSM. Well, she started asserting herself more and being more confrontational after discovering a BDSM club in her area where she met other people who enjoy that lifestyle. She had always felt that she was weird and felt alone because of her love of pain, but with this group of people, she was no longer alone, and she gained the confidence to tell me that my loving and caring ways weren't what got her off. Soon after, she went to Milwaukee for a weekend to visit a man who was a foster brother for a brief time during her childhood, when she went from foster home to foster home. When I talked to her that Saturday afternoon, she couldn't stop talking about this guy's wife and how "sweet her pussy is." She didn't call me at all that night, the first night since we became serious that she didn't call. I didn't sleep at all that night. I knew that she was fucking this woman, and probably the man, too. The next day when I asked her what she was doing the night before, she expressed shock that I would think that she would fuck her foster brother. I asked, "So all weekend you haven't done anything sexual with anyone?" Her response: "Well, I ate his wife out. Twice." I asked if she thought this was cheating on me. She said no, because it was with a woman. I vehemently disagreed, and the next weekend, after a week of arguing, she dumped me, claiming that she just didn't want me moving in with her because she needed her space. When I offered to do anything to stay with her, she showed just how much she wanted to get rid of me by describing in detail a night she had spent with a man she met in this BDSM club. Electric shock, nipple clamps, ripping her pubic hair out by the roots, making her sleep all night naked on a cold kitchen floor, making her go to the bathroom on newspaper in the corner...and at the end of all this she said, "And I loved every minute of it. I got off on it. I love to be humiliated. Is that the type of woman you want to be in love with?" And because I didn't want to lose her, I told her that I would accept her in any way she wanted, bruised, battered, whatever. I told her that I understood what she wanted, and I didn't care. She said, "You don't understand me. You never will understand me."

Most people would love to meet someone that would accept them under any conditions. Sarah? She came to my apartment two days later, picked up her personal belongings, and left. I cried pretty hard that weekend. She said she did too, but why? She was getting exactly what she wanted. She was dumping me. She was ridding herself of the albatross of a monogamous relationship, which she never wanted because that's not what got her off. She would be free to fuck anyone she wanted, the man she claimed she wanted to get rid of, her foster brother's wife, her foster brother, her daughter, whoever.

And I was all alone. Again.

No Turning Back

It's official. On Friday, December 31, at 5:50P, United Airlines Flight 6885 will leave O'Hare Airport here in Chicago and go nonstop to Lexington, KY, and I have a ticket to be on it. I shall meet Jane at the airport and she will drive us ten minutes to a nearby Comfort Inn hotel, where I have reserved a room for two nights.

I am so fucking scared.

I don't know this girl from Joe Blow, I've never even seen a picture, and I'm getting on an airplane for the first time since 1990 to meet her? What the hell is my problem? Do I need love that much? Am I really that needy? And, most important, can I get a full refund on that plane ticket if I should come to my senses in the next thirty days?

Actually, I have no intentions of backing out now. I can't be wrong about every woman I date. One of them has to actually turn out to be human, right? And we speak every night, and every morning, and even when I call when she's not expecting me to, she always picks up the phone and talks and tells me how happy she is to hear me. So if she's a lying bitch like everyone else I've ever gone out with, she's doing an even better job of hiding it than Karen.

But I'm not turning back now because I can't live my life not trusting everybody. That's no way to go about living. I can't shoot down every opportunity that comes my way just because it might not work out. That's a good way to ensure that I grow up lonely and bitter, which I may still do anyway. But I have to explore the things and people that interest me, and just hope that things turn out happy in the end. Wish me luck.

A woman I dated this summer, "Sarah," would argue my opinion that everyone I've ever been with was a lying bitch. She may not have lied to me, I will admit. All she did was listen to me beg her to stay with me and tell her that she was all I had and all I wanted and that I would accept her in any way that she wanted, and respond by telling me that I never understood her and never will. Huh? It was a big mess, and I'll explain it in my next post.

Until then...

Thankful

For my family, always there for me regardless of my stupid decisions.

For my health; although I'm a big man I'm a strong man and I hold my own.

For my friends, willing to ignore my many faults and hang around me anyway.

For anyone like Sunshyn, Cassandra, my playmom Cheryl, and even Meredith, who tell me the truth about myself and show me how good I am...or what an asshole I am.

For "Jane," who makes me believe in love again.

For the franchise mode on my video games, so I can feel like I'm accomplishing SOMETHING in this world.

For the NBA, NFL, MLB, and college sports; without them I would spend my nights watching reality TV and losing brain cells.

For Britney Spears, Tara Reid, Jessica and Ashlee Simpson, Paris Hilton, and Anna Nicole...women whose complete lack of talent and intelligence make me appreciate real women even more.

For Giordano's Deep Dish Pizza...the next best thing to sex.

For the CTA, cause owning a car in this city must be fucking hell and so far I haven't had to find out.

For life. It is beautiful, it is precious, and it belongs to each of us. Let's take full advantage of it while we can.

For love, which everybody needs.

For anyone who cares to read this. I appreciate you more than you could possibly imagine.

Remove Foot From Mouth

I must immediately backtrack now and ignore my previous post concerning the lady I was talking with on the computer. For, you see, we have fallen in love.

Whether it happened because one or both of us is insane and desperate for love and understanding, time will tell I suppose. All I know is I have never felt a connection with someone as strong as I feel with "Jane." Jane was too shy to call me before last Sunday, November 14, but when she finally did, I talked to a woman with a voice of honey and a spirit so strong I felt I could reach through the phone and touch it. And I'm not a spiritual person at all, folks. Not even close. In the week and a half we have talked since, Jane and I have bonded and told each other things we both never thought we would tell a living soul. She was so heartbroken after the breakup of her relationship with her daughter's father that she had shut her feelings down and given up on love. She was devoting all her time to her infant. And I, of course, was adrift as usual.

I think we need each other. I think we were intended to come together at this point in our lives, after the end of relationships we both thought would be forever. I know what I bring to the table after going through the events of the past year. And that is a healthier outlook on love and relationships. You see, if Jane and I somehow don't work out, I will be fine. I have so much more self-confidence than before, when I met Karen. I thought when Karen and I broke up that I would never love anyone again. It was just too hard on me, and love shouldn't be hard on anyone. It should be a wonderful experience that enhances an already fulfilling life. Karen was my life. That's the difference.

I want nothing more than Jane to become a part of my life, to welcome her into my world with open arms and show her that from this day forward she now has someone she can rely on and believe in. But if the day comes when she doesn't want that any longer, I will let go, shrug my shoulders, and continue the search for the one who understands me and wants my love. I now realize that my heart doesn't belong to Jane or Karen or my high school girlfriend or the hundreds of other women I have attempted to share it with over my lifetime only to be told "You aren't man enough for me" or "I think you're a really good person, but..." or "I think we should just be friends." My heart belongs to me. And I'll be damned if I have picked up the pieces to it after having it shattered by Karen so that I can give it to someone else to jump on and trample. I do love Jane. I already feel that strongly about her. But, if she's just pretending to love me back for some reason, I'll be okay. I won't be alone forever. I'm too fucking good to be.

My History (1st In A Series)

This is the story of a relationship I had last year with a woman who I met online. I'll call her "Karen."

Since I'm very shy, I don't go out to meet people, so if I date at all it's women that I meet online. That's because online I can tell the woman upfront how big I am, what my hobbies are, etc., and she can decide whether she wants to reject me before we meet, which is much more preferable to being rejected face to face. So Labor Day, 2003, I'm surfing online personal ads when I come across one from a woman living in Wisconsin looking for a black man over 200 lbs. with a shaved head, which was her "weakness." Well, I'm a black man over 200 lbs. with a shaved head, so I decided to contact her.

Karen and I chatted through e-mails for about a month before I decided to try to get up to Wisconsin to meet her. Our first meeting was at a women's pro football game in Kenosha, WI. Why there? Because my friend got a job broadcasting those games, and I could tag along with him going up to Kenosha and coming back. Karen actually lived about 45 minutes away from Kenosha, but she agreed to come down to meet me because otherwise we weren't going to meet unless she came to Chicago. She looked exactly like her picture, except her hair was brown in the picture and now it was blonde. She was 5'4", about 200 lbs., with glasses, and she seemed even more shy than me. She quietly sat through the football game, saying almost nothing, then she, my friend, and I went to a restaurant afterwards and had dinner. At the end of the date, which I thought didn't go well because she seemed so bored all night, Karen gave me a long hug and a kiss on the lips, which shocked me. I guess she liked me more than I thought.

We met the exact same way a couple of weeks later, and at the end of this date, we kissed in the rain for almost five minutes. So everything seemed to be going well. Our e-mails were getting steamier, and if there wasn't much we seemed to have in common outside the bedroom, it was becoming clear that we were interested in finding out more about each other in the bedroom. So, predictably, on the third date, Sweetest Day, when I took a Metra train to Kenosha without my friend, Karen and I went back to her house, watched some rented movies, and made love. We took too much time the next morning, so I missed the train back to Chicago, and without any complaints she drove me all the way back home, a two-hour drive. She thanked me with lots of kisses, and she wrote the sweetest e-mail the next day saying no one had ever given her flowers for Sweetest Day and that night was "like a dream...I'm asking myself, is this really happening to me?" I thought I was falling in love.

Karen kept doing things to make me believe that she really was in love with me, small things like having my favorite soda at her apartment when I visited, and large things like surprising me with expensive tickets to a wrestling match for my birthday. Around this time I found out that my job was being eliminated soon, and when I told Karen this, she immediately started dropping hints about how nice of a city Milwaukee was. I asked her if she wanted me to move in with her so soon, and she said yes. I had a nagging feeling that it wasn't a good idea, but because I wanted to be in love and I thought she was in love with me, I agreed to move up to Milwaukee with her as soon as my job let me go. Of course, my family wasn't thrilled about this when I broke the news on Thanksgiving. But I felt so much like Karen was the one I had been waiting for my whole life that I invited her to spend Christmas with me and my family. She drove to my apartment, I gave her the stuffed animals that she had been hinting she wanted for Christmas, then we drove to my uncle's house and spent a beautiful Christmas Day with my family. Once my folks saw how over the moon I was about her, and she seemed to be about me, they eased up on the worries that we were going too fast.

The first sign of trouble came when Karen didn't call or e-mail me for New Year's. This after she asked me no less than three times what we were doing for New Year's. Actually she never called me in the entire six-month relationship. Maybe that was the first sign of trouble and I didn't realize it. When she did write a week later, she claimed she was at her parents' house. No explanation for why she kept asking me to make plans, then disappeared for a week. Around this time she started being too busy working to meet me on the weekends, so I only saw her once between Christmas and Valentine's Day. And oh, what a strange Valentine's Day it was. It was on a Saturday, and that whole week she was on a cruise, so if we were doing anything for Valentine's Day I didn't know because I couldn't get ahold of her. That afternoon I e-mailed her asking if I should be preparing to come up to Wisconsin, and she wrote back telling me yes, leaving me wondering just when the hell she planned to let me know this. It was a strange evening because we met a friend of hers I'll call "Rhonda" who was married with kids and didn't mind letting everyone know that the guy with her as a Valentine's date was neither her husband nor the father of her kids. The poor dude, neither one of us knew the sick web we were in that evening. It was just dinner and dancing, maybe three hours, but it felt like eternity with that woman. I gave Karen two different Valentine's Day presents in addition to roses, and when I pulled out the second gift after we got to her place she cried out "No, no more presents!" Nice reaction. More quiet sex followed, which was normal, she always made almost no sound during sex, as if she was waiting for it to be over with. The next day she literally slept until 3PM.

I wonder every day what would've happened if I hadn't been bored and surfed the singles website where I met Karen, but one day I did that, and I came across an ad from a woman named Tawanda Lou Benton advertising a BBW (big beautiful women) swingers and sex club in southern Wisconsin, complete with a link to the Yahoo group formed by the leaders of the group. Curious, I clicked the link. The front page of the Yahoo group had no pictures, but the text read, in part: "Our moderators, Karen, Rhonda, and Linda, will be happy to assist you with any questions." Hmm, I thought. The Karen and Rhonda I know are both BBWs, both live in Wisconsin, and Rhonda is a swinger and isn't the least bit ashamed of it. Wouldn't it be crazy if this is my Karen doing this shit, and I never knew? So I applied to join the Yahoo group, just to get in to see the messages on the message board and look at the profiles of the moderators and make sure in my crazy little mind that this wasn't my Karen. My first application was denied. My second application was denied. I used a different e-mail address and applied again, and again I was denied. The last time I ever saw Karen was on a Tuesday, about three weeks after Valentine's Day and about two weeks after I first saw the ad for this swingers website. I asked Karen of she had any weird fetishes that she had never told me about. She said no. I asked her if there were any surprises that she would have for me once I moved in with her, sexual or otherwise. She said no. I was this close to bringing up the website by name to see her reaction but I didn't. The last thing she ever said to me after I kissed her neck goodbye was, "Thanks for getting me all worked up."

Three days later, that Friday, I went to the swingers site after I came home from work. Instead of the usual front page, a new picture had been placed on the front page. It was Karen and Rhonda, in a photographer's studio, looking seductively at the camera, wearing no clothes. I almost fell out of my chair. After pacing for an hour not believing what I was looking at, I called Karen. No answer. I left a message asking her to please call as soon as possible. I guess I wanted her side of the story before I totally lost it. I waited all evening. No call. I wrote a one-sentence e-mail: "All I want to know is, why lie to me all this time?" Instead of calling me, she left an e-mail response the next morning: "I don't know what you're talking about, but believe what you want."

I called again, but again no answer. I then pasted the link to the website and e-mailed: "THIS is what I'm talking about." I don't know how long that e-mail was, but it contained such choice words as: "What kind of sick game were you playing on me?" and the sentence that made me cry while I typed it: "I let you meet my family you fucking whore!" She never responded to the e-mails or the voice messages. I was admitted into the group that same Saturday morning, and I got to read the posts she had left over the two years she had been running the site. Seems she's always had a fetish for black men with shaved heads. It also seemed that she didn't enjoy her Christmas with my family. A member of the group asked her what she got for Christmas. Her response: "A glimpse into my future...and a great big headache."

My mental breakdown was gradual. Every day I came up with more and more elaborate ways to physically hurt this woman. Every night when I went to bed I couldn't get to sleep. My gut felt like someone had blown a grenade up in me. I didn't eat as much, couldn't stop thinking about her, and when someone got me to laugh or tried to cheer me up, I wouldn't be able to do it for more then three seconds. It was like I had lost my ability to enjoy anything, even the things I usually enjoyed. Finally, two months later, sick and tired of thinking about nothing except how many ways I wanted to kill this woman, I checked myself into the Stone Psychiatric Institute at Northwestern Memorial. I stayed there a week. I learned ways to cope with my concentration level and to stop obsessing about the situation. I went on antidepressants. Now, eight months later, it feels like such a distant memory. Sometimes I still feel myself thinking of Karen and starting to become angry again, but instead of simmering all day, it fades. But the one problem I still have and always will is what I could've done to see it coming. People tell me that I can just take a lesson from it and move on. Exactly what lesson should I take? Don't trust anybody? Don't trust anybody I meet online? Don't trust women? Don't trust white women? Don't believe it when someone tells me they love me?

The only thing I learned is that anyone who says they know that their partner is faithful and would never hurt them is an imbecile. All humans are capable of hurting the ones they are close to. And some even get off on it.

Something Seems Familiar

Just checking in between classes at school. There was a teachers' strike that cost us three weeks of classes, so just being in school is something in itself. I'm flying through English 101 with straight As, which those who know me can testify will only make me more paranoid about how bad the higher levels of English will kick my ass. Speaking of paranoid...

I am in the middle of yet another online relationship, and as I will explain in later posts, the others haven't exactly gone well. This one has all the makings of disaster. The woman is about ten hours away from me, in eastern Kentucky. She claims not to have a picture, and says she's very shy and cautious because of the bad relationships in her past, which we all have. But she's not shy when it comes time to talk about sex. I have found out in the two weeks I've "known" her that she likes to give head, she prefers giving head to black men because it's more exciting, she has fucked ten guys in her life, the father of her one-year-old is so old he has a daughter her age (26!), and she thinks about me when she masturbates...but we've never met. Can you say psycho, boys and girls? But she's so shy that she refuses to call me even though she has my phone number. And when I suggested that I come down for a visit, she almost broke her computer typing so fast to tell me that she's not ready to meet me so soon. So I'm already resigned to the fact that this has no future. Hell, since she won't talk to me, I still don't know if this is even a woman.

Well my next class is about to start, so I suppose I should attend it. You may not know yet what happened in my past online relationships that was so bad, but this should tell you how bad it was: I spent a week in a psychiatric institution earlier this year in the aftermath of one woman who almost singlehandedly destroyed me. What the fuck happened? I'll tell you in my next post.

Until then...