Rubber Neckin’

This inspired me to share a story

tfln

A long, long time ago a man I was dating asked me to respond to a message from his ex on Facebook.  I had logged on to his Facebook account to change his profile picture while we sat on my couch.  While I was doing so his messenger popped up. It was his ex so he asked me to tell her he was unavailable.

His Ex: Hi!!!!

Me: This isn’t J***.  He can’t talk right now.

His Ex: Oh! Who is this?

Okay so clearly I had a choice at this point.  I could have just ignored her or closed messenger or I could do what I did, which was… be a complete asshole and tell her exactly who she was talking to.  This girl hated me. She hated me with a passion and in my opinion she had absolutely no reason to.  She had also been quite vocal about it to anyone who would listen for quite some time.

Me: This is Teri.

His Ex:  You stole my boyfriend you bitch.  Why would I want to talk to you?

Me: I was just letting you know, at J***’s request, that he isn’t able to talk right now.  I don’t want to be having this conversation anymore than you do.

His Ex: Fuck you! You stole my man.  You are such a whore!

A few short moments later the guy I was dating’s cell phone rang. I logged him off of my computer and asked if it was her.  He nodded as he hit the talk button.  “Tell your whore…” “…want to talk to that cunt,” I heard her screaming. He just hung up.  He apologized to me. “It doesn’t bother me,” I smiled and shrugged.  “Were you two dating when we met?” I asked. It wasn’t the first time it had come up. “Teri, we broke up two weeks before I met you.” he answered.  “I don’t really care. I just wondered,” I said. “She is crazy,” he added. “Clearly.”

I genuinely didn’t care.  I had met the man six months earlier, one night at a bar.  He approached me.  He flirted with me.  He was there with friends.  We sat and talked.  We wound up making out.  He called me the next day and wanted to do something again that weekend.  His relationship status never occurred to me.  I didn’t think anything would come of our night but six months later I was sitting on my couch with his arm around me watching movies.  I was fine with how we met and didn’t care about who had been in his arms before I was.

The ex was another story.  They had dated for three months and when they broke up she had a hard time letting go.  The night we met, she showed up at his friends’ bar hopping birthday celebration about half an hour before.  He told her to go home because he was just trying to have fun with his friends.  Thirty minutes later I was in the picture.  That weekend while I was at his place meeting some of his friends and having a few drinks, his ex texted him asking what he was doing.  He said he was hanging out with some friends and the girl he had just started dating.  Every cell phone in the group started vibrating.  She was texting everyone, trying to find out who I was and what I looked like.  I even posed for a picture so one of their mutual friends could send it to her.  While all this data was being thrown back and forth, two things happened.  Everyone decided that I was awesome and “the ex” decided she hated me.

She would tell anyone who listened that I stole her man.  I was a bitch.  I was a boyfriend stealer.  I was a whore.  The truth is none of that matters.  She was too busy blaming me for what happened to realize that even if they were together he didn’t have much respect for her. He was interested in me from the moment we met.  He was so engaged it never occurred to me that he may even have a girlfriend.  She hated me for taking something that didn’t belong to her.  He didn’t even belong to me.  People aren’t possessions.  He made a decision.  I made a decision.  Rather than be pissed at the person who was involved in her pain, she chose to hate me.  We never met but she will probably blame me for whatever pain she felt forever.

I can’t imagine holding on to that kind of animosity for six months after a relationship ended.  To me that is just nuts.  And if you are going to be pissed at someone maybe it should be the one you are emotionally tied to and not a complete stranger.  When it comes to jealousy and misplaced anger, I could not care less.

Exes shouldn’t really factor in to a new relationship. They were never part of your life and have no in your relationship with anyone.  Some relationships don’t work.  Women should spend more time focused on the future instead of constantly looking back.  That shit is just a pain in the neck.

Bitches Be Hatin’

A while back I asked some of my readers to give me some topic ideas; things they’d like to see me address.  I thought I had addressed all of them. I actually skipped the one I wanted to write the most.  My blogger friend and PDX sister Jen at Sips of Jen and Tonic wanted me to address the issue of women and why we are giant snatches to each other.  (“Women hating on other women. GROWN women…” Her actual wording).

It is ingrained into girls at a very young age that should look a certain way/behave a certain way/think a certain way.  This does two things.  It makes us hypercritical of women who don’t behave the way we, ourselves, were raised to. It also creates a sense of competition in girls which often results in jealousy.

As young girls we are instilled with our parent’s values.  Their views of acceptable and unacceptable behavior become the basis by which all others will be judged.  Although our own views may be modified we still base our opinions and assessments of people on what’ve we learned is okay. As children we typically compare ourselves to peers of the same gender.  We decide who we like and who we don’t based on what we’ve been taught is appropriate.  We tend to flock to peers who behave in a way that isn’t unfamiliar or uncomfortable.  We shun the girls who don’t act the way we do.

When we start to judge the behavior of other girls we also start to compare other factors.  We compare our friends, our clothes and our looks to other girls around us.  We compare these things based on our parent’s perception of beauty, social standing and how our role models interact with their peers.  When I was a little girl my dad watched Wonder Woman every week.  He often said Linda Carter was beautiful.  My mother joked, “He had a crush on her.” As a result I often identified girls with dark hair and big light eyes as being more attractive than blondes or red heads. I had a light auburn tint to my hair and I had brown eyes.

At young age my perception of what beauty was was not reflected in the mirror I looked in every morning.  We begin to compare ourselves to others at a very young age.  We become aware of physical and social differences.  The idea of competition and jealousy stem from our perceived notion that someone else is superior physically, mentally and or socially. This sense of competition and basic understanding that we may not meet our these standards is carried with us into adulthood.

As we grow up our ideas about acceptable behavior, beauty and our belief structure may change but that desire to judge and compare ourselves to other women never does.  As we mature we all find ways to deal with that sense of competition and jealousy but it never goes away.  Women are raised in a way that encourages us to dislike each other.

I always try to be honest about what I feel and the truth is I have a hard time being friends with women.  When I do have female friends, I often form closer bonds with women I feel superior to or don’t view as a threat.  Any other relationships I have are more a case of keeping a close eye on the competition.  Regardless of the nature of my personal relationships, I don’t typically lash out at the women in my immediate social circle.

Even with women whom I genuinely connect there is a certain level of back-biting, shit talking and a strong desire to compete and compare.  Some of us have done a better job of adapting and trying to build relationships with other women. Women don’t know how to view other women as peers rather than competition.  We are jealous and tend to be more emotionally and psychologically cruel to each other because we all understand the basic insecurities of other women. Our mistreatment is often more damaging and effective than men’s.

Women are typically awful to other women because they are trying to prove their superiority or to deflect from some perceived inadequacy. How awful we are to each other is directly proportionate to how we feel about ourselves.  Our sense of self develops and strengthens as we get older.  The more secure we feel about ourselves the less inclined we are to point out the inadequacies of others.  Most women aren’t really capable of having a strong long term relationship with other women. We aren’t taught how to like each other.  Knowing and admitting all this doesn’t excuse grown women being cruel to other women.

Another lesson most of us learn as children is that people deserve a certain level of respect.  This also develops and grows with age.  As we become adults we learn that most of our desire to be cruel and hateful is useless and counterproductive, socially and emotionally.

Grown women who still openly hate and mistreat other women don’t like themselves.  Some people just never get to a point where they are able to love and accept themselves. I think men actually reach this point of self acceptance in adulthood more more quickly than women do.  The best advice I can give to a woman being attacked or harassed by another woman is to just keep doing you.  What some nasty, juvenile woman thinks doesn’t matter. She’s just pissed that you love and accept yourself.  All the other shit we compare doesn’t matter.  Your confidence is what really makes you superior and that jealous woman trying to cut you down knows it.

My Love/Hate Relationship

…with Anal Sex

I have been writing a lot about my personal life lately.  I don’t mind doing do it occasionally.  I always try to tie my personal experiences into everything that I write but I don’t examine my emotional state all that often.  I just try not to focus on the bad parts of my life because the truth is I always get by and I don’t like talking about something until I find the lesson in it.

This morning I was going through my comments.  I had a suggestion on a recent post in which I asked for topics. It was four simple words, “only write about sex.” Although I deleted the comment and I never only write about sex, the reason I get so much traffic is because I do write about intimacy a lot.  I decided to indulge the request.  The request made me smile and I have been promising a certain someone I would talk about something that related to our sex life for a while.

I had never had anal sex until about a year ago.  It wasn’t that I was unwilling to try it; I just didn’t trust anyone enough to do it.  As I have discussed openly in the past, before I met GwtS last fall I was in FWB situation with a guy I have known for a while.  At some point we got on the subject of anal and I told him I had wanted to try it.  We decided to try it together.  He had had anal sex before and had some ideas about how to make it less uncomfortable for me.  Most importantly I trusted him. (He was also not very big which for the first time was a plus in my book.)

We had anal sex a handful of times and I neither disliked nor loved it.  It was simply something different and different could be good sometimes.  A few months later I started dating a guy I did like and trusted.  He asked me if we could have anal sex.  I was a little leery because he was pretty well endowed.  His dick is as big around as my wrist.  My wrists aren’t huge but I most certainly wouldn’t be trying to ram one up my ass.

To say that it was a completely different experience would be an understatement.  It was painful.  It hurt like hell.  Nothing says romance like a little rectal tearing.  I was also afraid of the long term damage that might be inflicted based on his girth alone.  I often joke that he ruined anal sex for me (not that there was much to be ruined.)  For a long time I refused to do it.  I know he wanted to but I really didn’t enjoy it.

Like anything else you share with a partner, communication is key.  We actually talked about what was bothering me about the experience.  I needed him to go slower and be less forceful.  Finally we got to a place where I could even relax enough to have an orgasm while we had anal sex.  I am certainly not going to have it on a regular basis but I have decided I don’t hate it.  But if I start shitting my pants when I sneeze someone is going to die.

 

 

Why Women Hate Me (The Grass is always Greener…)

I have had my fair share of female drama over the last year and a half.  Most recently with a neighbor who felt like I was trying to take men from her.  Needless to say she hates me.  I don’t care that she hates me and that makes her hate me more.   I didn’t date for a very long time.  When I began to change things about myself and started losing weight, men started paying attention to me or at least I noticed they were.

I was infatuated with a guy I dated off and on so the male attention was nice but I never really saw it as anything more than ego boost.  I barely acknowledged it.   I liked flirting from across the room and having casual conversations with men I knew were attracted to me but I was really not interested in anything more than that.

Many of my female acquaintances seemed to harbor some silent anger toward me.  I was the butt of their jokes.  I was called a hoe, self-absorbed and many of the women I knew would remind me that not long before no guy seemed to know I existed.  I was dating someone and never engaged any of the men who bought me drinks or paid me a compliment with anything more than casual conversation.  I still managed to be labeled a whore.

When things fell apart with the guy I had been dating and I felt like I was ready to try and date, my mind was in a strange place.  I was still angry and hurt about the way I was treated by the guy I had been dating and I knew I needed to work on ensuring that didn’t happen again.  I needed to have better control over my emotions.  I needed to learn to guard myself against premature emotional connections.  I did it in an unconventional way.

I realized that I didn’t really have to try to get men’s attention.  I know I was a little slow coming to this realization but I was on a learning curve.  I could go out with friends and barely acknowledge a guy I found attractive.  We would make eye contact, he would come to where my friends and I were sitting and I would barely engage him.  He would talk to my friends; I would comment occasionally, accept a drink from someone else or even leave the table to talk to another person.  But at the end of the night, nine times out of ten, I was the girl whose number he asked for.

So for several months, I dated men casually.  I seldom felt attached.   I was just having fun and learning to better protect my heart.  I was learning to separate attraction from genuine connection, to alter the irrational idea that if a man slept with you he must really like you.  As I became comfortable with my understanding of what I felt and how I could control how much emotion I put into it, I began to look for something more substantial again.

Again the women in my life seemed annoyed.  I had been promiscuous and seldom serious about dating.  It was easy not to take me seriously.  The teasing and judgment was the same. No one was really supportive.  I had again reached the point where I wanted something more.  I wanted something longer term and committed.  I began dating with something more serious in mind.

To my friends, my behavior hadn’t seemed to of changed.  So when I settled on one man, they all seemed surprised.  I liked him and I really had no desire to see anyone else, so I didn’t.  After a few months things fell apart with him and he was simply lumped in with all the guys I had blown through (no pun intended) over the past few months.  The only difference was that I was genuinely hurt.  No one really seemed to care.  When I finally started dating someone else it became  a running joke amongst my friends.  After a string of failed attempts at potential long term partners I was teased about my inability to commit and about how often I changed partners.  To them, my behavior still seemed very promiscuous.

I paid them no mind and continued to date in the hope that I would find someone I really connected with.  I really wanted a relationship and I had to date to find a partner.  As some of my friends began realizing I was serious.  That I was really looking for something more significant they seemed confused.  Many encouraged me to casually date and others admitted they had been envious of adventures.  These women, who had been so mean and judgmental, wanted my life?  My friends in relationships wanted my life and I wanted what they had.  Many tried to convince me that what they had wasn’t so hot.  I tried to explain to them that dating just to date wasn’t always as fun as it seemed.

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.  I really want a relationship and I took the hard road trying to find one and mean while all my “coupled” friends were living vicariously through my adventures.   I really do want just one.  I guess I am still entertainment and the women who envy me are content to see me as a slut.

Yes, attractive men like me. Yes, I have had a lot of partners.  And yes, I do date a lot but I am also really lonely.  Women hate me because as many have admitted, they wish they were doing what I was.  Shit!  I just want a boyfriend.

 

 

 

“You Are So Weird.”

(Or More Reasons I Belong in the CCC)

I am quirky. I know I am quirky and it something that most of my friends find amusing. Some people think I am just crazy. Here are a few of the things that drive me nuts.

COTTON – I hate cotton. I don’t mind cotton clothing I mean cotton. I don’t like cotton balls. I hate to touch it. I take nail polish off with paper towels. I am getting used to the idea of q-tips, as I wear make-up and need q-tips. One of the things that bothers me most is when cotton is packed in a bottle (like an aspirin bottle.) I can’t pull it out because it snags on the mouth of the bottle and it starts to pull apart. ICK!!! I hate cotton.

STYROFOAM – I don’t dislike for environmental reasons. It is bad for the environment and that bothers me but the reason I dislike Styrofoam is the noise it makes. It makes a kinda’ squeaky, nails on a chalkboard sound. I hate when my food or drink comes in something Styrofoam and I will typical transfer it to another container before I can even eat or drink.

CHEWING LOUDLY – This is one of my biggest pet peeves and also a breach in etiquette. I really cannot stand to listen to people eat or chew. Loud eaters drive me crazy. It is rude and no one wants to hear anyone else chew. If you chew with your mouth open or talk with your mouth full, you can pretty much guarantee I won’t be eating with you again. This is one dislike that I can explain. My father had the same issue with loud eaters and “conditioned” my brother and I to be very quiet eaters and drinkers, thus instilling in us, a disdain for noisy (piggy) eaters. I just want people to eat quietly and chew with their mouths shut.

BUGS -To be more specific, I am really scared of moths, grasshoppers, crickets and mantises. These specific bugs scare the shit out of me. I think my issue with them is that they don’t brush off as easily as other bugs. They seem sticky to me. No other bugs really bother me. I don’t want them crawling on me but I am not afraid of them.

KLEENEX – Again this is a textural thing and it is one of my weirdest quirks because it makes no sense. I do not have an issue with all tissue. . . just facial tissue. I have no problem with the stuff you shove in gift bags or with toilet paper. (Actually, now that I am writing this I guess I might mildly dislike those things but not nearly as much as facial tissue.) I hate the way facial tissue feels and if it is folded over or doubled up and rubbed together it makes me want to crawl out of my skin. For some reason the idea of two sheets of tissue rubbing together makes me cringe.

STICKY – I don’t really like sticky things. I more directly have problems with sticky hard surfaces and dirty faces. This is normally an issue I experience when I am around children. (But I do like kids.)

“MOIST” – Shit. Fuck. Hell. Damn. I have a dirty mouth and I have no problem with just about any form of profanity but when someone says moist I want to hit him/her in the face.

BODY FLUIDS See sticky.

GAS IN PUBLIC – First of all, I don’t ever want anyone to fart anywhere in my general area. It is just gross. I don’t care if it is natural . . . it is fucking gross. Secondly, if you burp try to be quiet about it and excuse yourself when you do it. I realize that it happens but you don’t have to burp loudly. I know one woman who will burp loudly anywhere and then say, “Excuussseeee me!” Then she is snarky when I give her a look. That is gross and not at all attractive. Have some manners.

I think these are the weirdest and/or biggest quirks I have. Some are pretty legitimate. I know it is funny. I get made fun of for many of these.

 

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