OK, so here's that story. Spoilered for length of course. Life lessons, internet dating, and a happy ending. This is a long one, so be prepared. My memory is...detailed.
About six years ago I went through what has so far been the worst breakup of my life. That is a different story, one with it's own set of life lessons, the primary of which is don't ever date into a family that is largely comprised of the Sicilian mafia.
The reason I'm telling you about that is because afterwards I was left alone, robbed of every last dime I had, heartbroken, homeless, far away from any family or friends. They even took the kitten I rescued and had raised into a healthy, happy cat I named Gwen (after the panther in the R.A. Salvatore novels). The only thing I had left was my car, a beat up old Ford Crown Vic with the driveshaft about 400 miles from falling out. Maybe sometime I'll tell you guys the story of how I got involved in all that, and how I got my revenge.
So there I was, and with a few quarters in the driver side door handle, called my parents and told them I needed to come home for a while.
A few months later, I had a job, a steady paycheck at least, and things were looking up a bit. I had even managed to trade that old beat up Crown Vic for a Pontiac that couldn't go in reverse. The drive shaft fell out of the Vic the minute the shady overcharging used car salesman cranked it up. It was beautiful, watching the wanker (that I just saw rip off a little old lady on a car) in the rearview mirror, cursing and screaming and throwing his hat on the ground as I drove off with a smile on my face.
Oh, but on with the story. I was still devastated from the breakup, but I was getting better. A little bit more every day.
I started thinking that maybe it was time to get back into dating (hindsight being 20/20, it took a while before I realized I wasn't ready), I was lonely, and I was thinking that anything is better than sitting at home alone on a Friday night, thinking about the ex.
So I began looking at dating websites. Lo and behold, one day I come across a familiar, beautiful face on yahoo. It was a young woman I worked with, who had smiled at me before, when I was still too broken down to really respond.
Her name was Jessica. And when I say she was beautiful, I mean to say that if she stood next to any number of supermodels or playmates or angels you'd have told them to get the hell out of the way so you could see her better. 6'3" and maybe 120lbs. Golden blonde hair you would dream about running your fingers through. A model's figure but with perfect b-cup breasts. A smile that lights up a room, a voice that makes you forget anyone else is talking. Legs that go on for days and a walk that could cause vehicular accidents if used for evil.
I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I messaged her. Probably that I'd just say "Hey, we work together! I didn't know you were single...." and she'd ignore it. But I know that you'd have to be crazy not to message this girl.
Imagine my surprise when the very next day, we were talking like old friends at work, chatting about the things we love to do and where we want to go in life, laughing at each others jokes, casually flirting and caressing on lunch break. I wasn't surprised to find out she modeled when she could, had even had a couple of spots in magazines I never read. I couldn't believe it was happening. Here was this absolutely amazing woman, and she was into me in a way I haven't seen before or since. To say I felt like the luckiest guy on earth is an understatement. I remember the first time we kissed. We were sitting in my car, the one that wouldn't go in reverse, hiding out from the rain after going to see a movie. She leaned in close and looked in my eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes," she said, "such a beautiful light green color with a ring of gold in the middle. I've never seen eyes like that."
As far as first kisses go, some are ok, and some are electrifying. Hiding out from that storm, I still rode the lightning.
Oh but how far we can fall when we climb so high.
Things went on, getting better and better. We'd been on a several dates, and both of us knew that soon, very soon, we'd be doing something we had talked about for a month.
That night came, and it was amazing. No matter how everything turned out in the end, I will never regret that one night, not in the least. To say that she set the bar high for every other woman I've ever dated since then....well, let's just say that in six years I still still haven't found anyone that has even come close.
But the next morning....I wake up and walk into the kitchen, start the coffee, and walk back into the bedroom. There she is, sleeping, her bare left shoulder peeking out from the covers, her hair tousled and shimmering in the morning sunlight. I lean down to kiss her cheek and I see something out of the corner of my eye, twinkling in that same light. Her purse had spilled out partially the night before, some of it's contents sliding across the little wooden table.
I turn to try to recognize what was there, and before I even made the full turn I knew...it was a wedding band.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
But I did want some coffee. I could wrap my head around that, so I went back to the kitchen and poured myself a cup. I sat down at the table, poured the cream and sugar, took a sip, and quietly said "what the fuck".
My mind raced, trying to figure out all the angles. Is it hers? Is she married? Why didn't she tell me? Oh god what if the guy finds out? How do I feel about this, I've never slept with a married woman before? What should I do, what should I say, what should...
She walks out of the bedroom wearing a long cotton button up shirt of mine, and my heart stops just at the sight of her, her yawing into her hand, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Just beautiful. Amazing.
She goes straight for the coffee, and after leaning over and kissing me on the forehead, she sits down across from me at the table, smiles, and then asks me:
"Want some toast?"
I reply "Are you married?" Of course I want toast. I want to eat toast with this girl every day for the rest of my life after last night.
And then that look. The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain. She lowers her head into her hand and wipes a quick tear from her eye.
"Yes. But we're separated."
I can't imagine how I looked. I might have had the same look as her, because that's how I felt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know...I don't...I didn't know how you would take it. And I really like you." Another quick tear wiped away with the sleeve of my shirt she's wearing.
"How long have you two been apart?"
"A couple months, he...we argued. A lot. He loved me but he's just treated me so bad for a year and I couldn't...I just couldn't take it anymore."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's ok. I wish you had told me is all. Do you still see each other?"
She pauses. God that moment dragged on forever. Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not.
"Sometimes. Sometimes I think maybe we can work it out. Sometimes I remember why I left but...there's still a big part of me that cares for him, and I go, and we talk, and I leave again. The past two months have been so confusing."
"What about me?"
"You've been," she smiles through the tears now, and reaches her hand out to touch mine, "you are amazing to me. You've made me so happy this past month, even with everything else going on."
She rises from her chair, moves over to me, and wraps her arms around me as I pull her into my lap. We sit there, cradled together, heads leaning on one another as the warm morning sun lights up the room only slightly less than the smile on her face. We stayed that way for over an hour. We never did have toast that morning.
She stays most of the day, and we forget about our troubles. When she left, I wondered to myself "How long"? How long will it last? I didn't know, couldn't know, but still I wondered that one question until sleep took me that night.
And so it went. Four happy months we were together, four happy months of days and nights together, working and playing, all of it a set of the most wonderfully bittersweet memories I have. He tries to call her occasionally, switching between repentant husband and jealous that she's seeing another man. She avoids him, mutes the ringer when I'm there, smiles and laughs and tells me she loves me. And I love her too.
One day, I'm in the mall. I see her walking towards me. But it's not just her. He's with her, and they're walking arm and arm, talking to each other, smiling at each other, being together.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
As they get closer, distracted by each other, I just stand there, frozen. As they pass me by, she sees me. She sees my face.
The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain.
I can't imagine how I looked.
She comes and sees me that night. I don't have many words.
I just ask why.
She tries to tell me that he's changed, he's been going to counseling. And she loves him; she's always loved him.
"What about me?"
"I love you too but..."
She pauses.
"But what? You're not telling me something."
She bows her head and wipes a quick tear from her eye on the sleeve of a shirt I bought her for her birthday.
"I'm pregnant Jake. He's the father."
And for what is not the first or last time in my life, I curse this ability I have to read people. She's lying. I knew. Her eyes told me everything. The pupils dilate, the breathing changes, and she taps her fingers slightly. She always was bad at poker.
Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not. Somewhere deeper, a part of me knew there was nothing I could say or do to change this, not without hurting her, or causing her to potentially be hurt by him. You see, he never found out who I was. For all he knew, it was just his imagination stirring all that jealousy up, all that anger, eventually forcing him to seek therapy for it. And he did. I found out years later that he changed, he really changed.
"And you love him?"
"I do."
"And he loves you?"
"Yes."
"Then go to him."
"Jake, I..."
"Just go. There is nothing either of us can do now to change things. For my part, I have no regrets. Just go."
Tears running down her face, she touches my left arm, looks into my eyes one last time, and walks out the door.
I never saw Jessica again, but a few months or so back she found me on Facebook and chatted with me. She and her husband have been together for almost ten years now if you don't count those four months she and I were. They're happy. They have a nice house, a chihuahua, and she's now working as an accountant. Her daughter's name is Abbey, and this year she will turn six. She's beautiful, and she's a total daddy's girl.
You see, Jessica showed me some pictures of her when we last talked. She has her mother's smile, and her eyes are so pretty: Green, with a golden ring right in the middle. It's so rare to see eyes like that.
So about that happy ending. I never said it was my happy ending. I'm happy for them, they're a really good family. I say that honestly and with serenity.
Life takes us to some strange places sometimes. And for my part, I have no regrets.
I never know how to feel after reading stories like this, but at least you didn't know she was married when it started. The guy my wife went to knew exactly what was going on since they worked together. Rabblerabble
OK, so here's that story. Spoilered for length of course. Life lessons, internet dating, and a happy ending. This is a long one, so be prepared. My memory is...detailed.
About six years ago I went through what has so far been the worst breakup of my life. That is a different story, one with it's own set of life lessons, the primary of which is don't ever date into a family that is largely comprised of the Sicilian mafia.
The reason I'm telling you about that is because afterwards I was left alone, robbed of every last dime I had, heartbroken, homeless, far away from any family or friends. They even took the kitten I rescued and had raised into a healthy, happy cat I named Gwen (after the panther in the R.A. Salvatore novels). The only thing I had left was my car, a beat up old Ford Crown Vic with the driveshaft about 400 miles from falling out. Maybe sometime I'll tell you guys the story of how I got involved in all that, and how I got my revenge.
So there I was, and with a few quarters in the driver side door handle, called my parents and told them I needed to come home for a while.
A few months later, I had a job, a steady paycheck at least, and things were looking up a bit. I had even managed to trade that old beat up Crown Vic for a Pontiac that couldn't go in reverse. The drive shaft fell out of the Vic the minute the shady overcharging used car salesman cranked it up. It was beautiful, watching the wanker (that I just saw rip off a little old lady on a car) in the rearview mirror, cursing and screaming and throwing his hat on the ground as I drove off with a smile on my face.
Oh, but on with the story. I was still devastated from the breakup, but I was getting better. A little bit more every day.
I started thinking that maybe it was time to get back into dating (hindsight being 20/20, it took a while before I realized I wasn't ready), I was lonely, and I was thinking that anything is better than sitting at home alone on a Friday night, thinking about the ex.
So I began looking at dating websites. Lo and behold, one day I come across a familiar, beautiful face on yahoo. It was a young woman I worked with, who had smiled at me before, when I was still too broken down to really respond.
Her name was Jessica. And when I say she was beautiful, I mean to say that if she stood next to any number of supermodels or playmates or angels you'd have told them to get the hell out of the way so you could see her better. 6'3" and maybe 120lbs. Golden blonde hair you would dream about running your fingers through. A model's figure but with perfect b-cup breasts. A smile that lights up a room, a voice that makes you forget anyone else is talking. Legs that go on for days and a walk that could cause vehicular accidents if used for evil.
I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I messaged her. Probably that I'd just say "Hey, we work together! I didn't know you were single...." and she'd ignore it. But I know that you'd have to be crazy not to message this girl.
Imagine my surprise when the very next day, we were talking like old friends at work, chatting about the things we love to do and where we want to go in life, laughing at each others jokes, casually flirting and caressing on lunch break. I wasn't surprised to find out she modeled when she could, had even had a couple of spots in magazines I never read. I couldn't believe it was happening. Here was this absolutely amazing woman, and she was into me in a way I haven't seen before or since. To say I felt like the luckiest guy on earth is an understatement. I remember the first time we kissed. We were sitting in my car, the one that wouldn't go in reverse, hiding out from the rain after going to see a movie. She leaned in close and looked in my eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes," she said, "such a beautiful light green color with a ring of gold in the middle. I've never seen eyes like that."
As far as first kisses go, some are ok, and some are electrifying. Hiding out from that storm, I still rode the lightning.
Oh but how far we can fall when we climb so high.
Things went on, getting better and better. We'd been on a several dates, and both of us knew that soon, very soon, we'd be doing something we had talked about for a month.
That night came, and it was amazing. No matter how everything turned out in the end, I will never regret that one night, not in the least. To say that she set the bar high for every other woman I've ever dated since then....well, let's just say that in six years I still still haven't found anyone that has even come close.
But the next morning....I wake up and walk into the kitchen, start the coffee, and walk back into the bedroom. There she is, sleeping, her bare left shoulder peeking out from the covers, her hair tousled and shimmering in the morning sunlight. I lean down to kiss her cheek and I see something out of the corner of my eye, twinkling in that same light. Her purse had spilled out partially the night before, some of it's contents sliding across the little wooden table.
I turn to try to recognize what was there, and before I even made the full turn I knew...it was a wedding band.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
But I did want some coffee. I could wrap my head around that, so I went back to the kitchen and poured myself a cup. I sat down at the table, poured the cream and sugar, took a sip, and quietly said "what the fuck".
My mind raced, trying to figure out all the angles. Is it hers? Is she married? Why didn't she tell me? Oh god what if the guy finds out? How do I feel about this, I've never slept with a married woman before? What should I do, what should I say, what should...
She walks out of the bedroom wearing a long cotton button up shirt of mine, and my heart stops just at the sight of her, her yawing into her hand, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Just beautiful. Amazing.
She goes straight for the coffee, and after leaning over and kissing me on the forehead, she sits down across from me at the table, smiles, and then asks me:
"Want some toast?"
I reply "Are you married?" Of course I want toast. I want to eat toast with this girl every day for the rest of my life after last night.
And then that look. The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain. She lowers her head into her hand and wipes a quick tear from her eye.
"Yes. But we're separated."
I can't imagine how I looked. I might have had the same look as her, because that's how I felt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know...I don't...I didn't know how you would take it. And I really like you." Another quick tear wiped away with the sleeve of my shirt she's wearing.
"How long have you two been apart?"
"A couple months, he...we argued. A lot. He loved me but he's just treated me so bad for a year and I couldn't...I just couldn't take it anymore."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's ok. I wish you had told me is all. Do you still see each other?"
She pauses. God that moment dragged on forever. Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not.
"Sometimes. Sometimes I think maybe we can work it out. Sometimes I remember why I left but...there's still a big part of me that cares for him, and I go, and we talk, and I leave again. The past two months have been so confusing."
"What about me?"
"You've been," she smiles through the tears now, and reaches her hand out to touch mine, "you are amazing to me. You've made me so happy this past month, even with everything else going on."
She rises from her chair, moves over to me, and wraps her arms around me as I pull her into my lap. We sit there, cradled together, heads leaning on one another as the warm morning sun lights up the room only slightly less than the smile on her face. We stayed that way for over an hour. We never did have toast that morning.
She stays most of the day, and we forget about our troubles. When she left, I wondered to myself "How long"? How long will it last? I didn't know, couldn't know, but still I wondered that one question until sleep took me that night.
And so it went. Four happy months we were together, four happy months of days and nights together, working and playing, all of it a set of the most wonderfully bittersweet memories I have. He tries to call her occasionally, switching between repentant husband and jealous that she's seeing another man. She avoids him, mutes the ringer when I'm there, smiles and laughs and tells me she loves me. And I love her too.
One day, I'm in the mall. I see her walking towards me. But it's not just her. He's with her, and they're walking arm and arm, talking to each other, smiling at each other, being together.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
As they get closer, distracted by each other, I just stand there, frozen. As they pass me by, she sees me. She sees my face.
The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain.
I can't imagine how I looked.
She comes and sees me that night. I don't have many words.
I just ask why.
She tries to tell me that he's changed, he's been going to counseling. And she loves him; she's always loved him.
"What about me?"
"I love you too but..."
She pauses.
"But what? You're not telling me something."
She bows her head and wipes a quick tear from her eye on the sleeve of a shirt I bought her for her birthday.
"I'm pregnant Jake. He's the father."
And for what is not the first or last time in my life, I curse this ability I have to read people. She's lying. I knew. Her eyes told me everything. The pupils dilate, the breathing changes, and she taps her fingers slightly. She always was bad at poker.
Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not. Somewhere deeper, a part of me knew there was nothing I could say or do to change this, not without hurting her, or causing her to potentially be hurt by him. You see, he never found out who I was. For all he knew, it was just his imagination stirring all that jealousy up, all that anger, eventually forcing him to seek therapy for it. And he did. I found out years later that he changed, he really changed.
"And you love him?"
"I do."
"And he loves you?"
"Yes."
"Then go to him."
"Jake, I..."
"Just go. There is nothing either of us can do now to change things. For my part, I have no regrets. Just go."
Tears running down her face, she touches my left arm, looks into my eyes one last time, and walks out the door.
I never saw Jessica again, but a few months or so back she found me on Facebook and chatted with me. She and her husband have been together for almost ten years now if you don't count those four months she and I were. They're happy. They have a nice house, a chihuahua, and she's now working as an accountant. Her daughter's name is Abbey, and this year she will turn six. She's beautiful, and she's a total daddy's girl.
You see, Jessica showed me some pictures of her when we last talked. She has her mother's smile, and her eyes are so pretty: Green, with a golden ring right in the middle. It's so rare to see eyes like that.
So about that happy ending. I never said it was my happy ending. I'm happy for them, they're a really good family. I say that honestly and with serenity.
Life takes us to some strange places sometimes. And for my part, I have no regrets.
I never know how to feel after reading stories like this, but at least you didn't know she was married when it started. The guy my wife went to knew exactly what was going on since they worked together. Rabblerabble
My mistake was staying with her for four months knowing she still hadn't worked out anything concrete with her estranged husband. I should have stepped back and insisted she deal with that issue before I continued seeing her.
What happened at the end...well that just gets to be my lifelong reminder to never get involved with another married woman.
Sojorn on
XBox Live: NBKHavoc | Facebook | Sorry for the sig, it's just temporary.
6'3" 120? My mind can't comprehend that height/weight combination. Granted I'm a dude, but I'm 6'2 175 and 120 is just....wuh?
I always find it oddly amusing to consider "I could lose your entire body mass. And survive."
Not quite so easily said these days, but yeah, 6'4" and ~235, to say that was a slender physique would be an overstatement. Note: I'm not passing judgement. I'm sure she was a marvelously healthy woman. Just sayin'.
Forar on
First they came for the Muslims, and we said NOT TODAY, MOTHERFUCKER!
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JuliusCaptain of Serenityon my shipRegistered Userregular
"Draughts" that last mere "weeks" or "months" are absolutely adorable.
The next time I actually get laid may well be the first thing I actually Twitter, as it should be recorded for posterity among other rare occurrences like blue moons and verifiable Yeti sightings.
Dude I haven't had sex for almost 2 months! OMFG!
The way other people talk about the amount of sex and wild parties they have I get the feeling that I'm somehow missing everything. But then I realise that I went to those parties and watched my friends just go home alone. It's all bollocks. Aside from a select few, people just don't have those wild stories that are supposed to be the norm.
OK, so here's that story. Spoilered for length of course. Life lessons, internet dating, and a happy ending. This is a long one, so be prepared. My memory is...detailed.
About six years ago I went through what has so far been the worst breakup of my life. That is a different story, one with it's own set of life lessons, the primary of which is don't ever date into a family that is largely comprised of the Sicilian mafia.
The reason I'm telling you about that is because afterwards I was left alone, robbed of every last dime I had, heartbroken, homeless, far away from any family or friends. They even took the kitten I rescued and had raised into a healthy, happy cat I named Gwen (after the panther in the R.A. Salvatore novels). The only thing I had left was my car, a beat up old Ford Crown Vic with the driveshaft about 400 miles from falling out. Maybe sometime I'll tell you guys the story of how I got involved in all that, and how I got my revenge.
So there I was, and with a few quarters in the driver side door handle, called my parents and told them I needed to come home for a while.
A few months later, I had a job, a steady paycheck at least, and things were looking up a bit. I had even managed to trade that old beat up Crown Vic for a Pontiac that couldn't go in reverse. The drive shaft fell out of the Vic the minute the shady overcharging used car salesman cranked it up. It was beautiful, watching the wanker (that I just saw rip off a little old lady on a car) in the rearview mirror, cursing and screaming and throwing his hat on the ground as I drove off with a smile on my face.
Oh, but on with the story. I was still devastated from the breakup, but I was getting better. A little bit more every day.
I started thinking that maybe it was time to get back into dating (hindsight being 20/20, it took a while before I realized I wasn't ready), I was lonely, and I was thinking that anything is better than sitting at home alone on a Friday night, thinking about the ex.
So I began looking at dating websites. Lo and behold, one day I come across a familiar, beautiful face on yahoo. It was a young woman I worked with, who had smiled at me before, when I was still too broken down to really respond.
Her name was Jessica. And when I say she was beautiful, I mean to say that if she stood next to any number of supermodels or playmates or angels you'd have told them to get the hell out of the way so you could see her better. 6'3" and maybe 120lbs. Golden blonde hair you would dream about running your fingers through. A model's figure but with perfect b-cup breasts. A smile that lights up a room, a voice that makes you forget anyone else is talking. Legs that go on for days and a walk that could cause vehicular accidents if used for evil.
I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I messaged her. Probably that I'd just say "Hey, we work together! I didn't know you were single...." and she'd ignore it. But I know that you'd have to be crazy not to message this girl.
Imagine my surprise when the very next day, we were talking like old friends at work, chatting about the things we love to do and where we want to go in life, laughing at each others jokes, casually flirting and caressing on lunch break. I wasn't surprised to find out she modeled when she could, had even had a couple of spots in magazines I never read. I couldn't believe it was happening. Here was this absolutely amazing woman, and she was into me in a way I haven't seen before or since. To say I felt like the luckiest guy on earth is an understatement. I remember the first time we kissed. We were sitting in my car, the one that wouldn't go in reverse, hiding out from the rain after going to see a movie. She leaned in close and looked in my eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes," she said, "such a beautiful light green color with a ring of gold in the middle. I've never seen eyes like that."
As far as first kisses go, some are ok, and some are electrifying. Hiding out from that storm, I still rode the lightning.
Oh but how far we can fall when we climb so high.
Things went on, getting better and better. We'd been on a several dates, and both of us knew that soon, very soon, we'd be doing something we had talked about for a month.
That night came, and it was amazing. No matter how everything turned out in the end, I will never regret that one night, not in the least. To say that she set the bar high for every other woman I've ever dated since then....well, let's just say that in six years I still still haven't found anyone that has even come close.
But the next morning....I wake up and walk into the kitchen, start the coffee, and walk back into the bedroom. There she is, sleeping, her bare left shoulder peeking out from the covers, her hair tousled and shimmering in the morning sunlight. I lean down to kiss her cheek and I see something out of the corner of my eye, twinkling in that same light. Her purse had spilled out partially the night before, some of it's contents sliding across the little wooden table.
I turn to try to recognize what was there, and before I even made the full turn I knew...it was a wedding band.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
But I did want some coffee. I could wrap my head around that, so I went back to the kitchen and poured myself a cup. I sat down at the table, poured the cream and sugar, took a sip, and quietly said "what the fuck".
My mind raced, trying to figure out all the angles. Is it hers? Is she married? Why didn't she tell me? Oh god what if the guy finds out? How do I feel about this, I've never slept with a married woman before? What should I do, what should I say, what should...
She walks out of the bedroom wearing a long cotton button up shirt of mine, and my heart stops just at the sight of her, her yawing into her hand, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Just beautiful. Amazing.
She goes straight for the coffee, and after leaning over and kissing me on the forehead, she sits down across from me at the table, smiles, and then asks me:
"Want some toast?"
I reply "Are you married?" Of course I want toast. I want to eat toast with this girl every day for the rest of my life after last night.
And then that look. The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain. She lowers her head into her hand and wipes a quick tear from her eye.
"Yes. But we're separated."
I can't imagine how I looked. I might have had the same look as her, because that's how I felt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know...I don't...I didn't know how you would take it. And I really like you." Another quick tear wiped away with the sleeve of my shirt she's wearing.
"How long have you two been apart?"
"A couple months, he...we argued. A lot. He loved me but he's just treated me so bad for a year and I couldn't...I just couldn't take it anymore."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's ok. I wish you had told me is all. Do you still see each other?"
She pauses. God that moment dragged on forever. Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not.
"Sometimes. Sometimes I think maybe we can work it out. Sometimes I remember why I left but...there's still a big part of me that cares for him, and I go, and we talk, and I leave again. The past two months have been so confusing."
"What about me?"
"You've been," she smiles through the tears now, and reaches her hand out to touch mine, "you are amazing to me. You've made me so happy this past month, even with everything else going on."
She rises from her chair, moves over to me, and wraps her arms around me as I pull her into my lap. We sit there, cradled together, heads leaning on one another as the warm morning sun lights up the room only slightly less than the smile on her face. We stayed that way for over an hour. We never did have toast that morning.
She stays most of the day, and we forget about our troubles. When she left, I wondered to myself "How long"? How long will it last? I didn't know, couldn't know, but still I wondered that one question until sleep took me that night.
And so it went. Four happy months we were together, four happy months of days and nights together, working and playing, all of it a set of the most wonderfully bittersweet memories I have. He tries to call her occasionally, switching between repentant husband and jealous that she's seeing another man. She avoids him, mutes the ringer when I'm there, smiles and laughs and tells me she loves me. And I love her too.
One day, I'm in the mall. I see her walking towards me. But it's not just her. He's with her, and they're walking arm and arm, talking to each other, smiling at each other, being together.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
As they get closer, distracted by each other, I just stand there, frozen. As they pass me by, she sees me. She sees my face.
The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain.
I can't imagine how I looked.
She comes and sees me that night. I don't have many words.
I just ask why.
She tries to tell me that he's changed, he's been going to counseling. And she loves him; she's always loved him.
"What about me?"
"I love you too but..."
She pauses.
"But what? You're not telling me something."
She bows her head and wipes a quick tear from her eye on the sleeve of a shirt I bought her for her birthday.
"I'm pregnant Jake. He's the father."
And for what is not the first or last time in my life, I curse this ability I have to read people. She's lying. I knew. Her eyes told me everything. The pupils dilate, the breathing changes, and she taps her fingers slightly. She always was bad at poker.
Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not. Somewhere deeper, a part of me knew there was nothing I could say or do to change this, not without hurting her, or causing her to potentially be hurt by him. You see, he never found out who I was. For all he knew, it was just his imagination stirring all that jealousy up, all that anger, eventually forcing him to seek therapy for it. And he did. I found out years later that he changed, he really changed.
"And you love him?"
"I do."
"And he loves you?"
"Yes."
"Then go to him."
"Jake, I..."
"Just go. There is nothing either of us can do now to change things. For my part, I have no regrets. Just go."
Tears running down her face, she touches my left arm, looks into my eyes one last time, and walks out the door.
I never saw Jessica again, but a few months or so back she found me on Facebook and chatted with me. She and her husband have been together for almost ten years now if you don't count those four months she and I were. They're happy. They have a nice house, a chihuahua, and she's now working as an accountant. Her daughter's name is Abbey, and this year she will turn six. She's beautiful, and she's a total daddy's girl.
You see, Jessica showed me some pictures of her when we last talked. She has her mother's smile, and her eyes are so pretty: Green, with a golden ring right in the middle. It's so rare to see eyes like that.
So about that happy ending. I never said it was my happy ending. I'm happy for them, they're a really good family. I say that honestly and with serenity.
Life takes us to some strange places sometimes. And for my part, I have no regrets.
I never know how to feel after reading stories like this, but at least you didn't know she was married when it started. The guy my wife went to knew exactly what was going on since they worked together. Rabblerabble
My mistake was staying with her for four months knowing she still hadn't worked out anything concrete with her estranged husband. I should have stepped back and insisted she deal with that issue before I continued seeing her.
What happened at the end...well that just gets to be my lifelong reminder to never get involved with another married woman.
Well my divorce was just finalized on Sep 8 and they are still together, so you could have gotten "lucky" and she could have chosen you. It's the luck of the draw I guess? You just can't make someone love you is what I learned from this, because you just end up doing everything you can to make them not leave and become a doormat.
6'3" 120? My mind can't comprehend that height/weight combination. Granted I'm a dude, but I'm 6'2 175 and 120 is just....wuh?
Model thin, srsly. She was bulimic when she was a teenager, and even though she kicked that, she still stayed obsessive over her weight. Being the tallest woman everywhere she went was hard enough when she was younger, and she never really stopped being ridiculously image conscious.
It was kind of weird, but this beautiful girl probably had one of the biggest problems with a lack of self-confidence that I've ever seen.
She did a couple photo-shoots while we were dating, and both times she was a complete wreck the night before. As in crying-saying-she-won't-go-they-won't-like-her kind of wreck.
I'm kind of glad she became an accountant. I don't imagine she has many sleepless nights wondering if she forgot to carry a 1 somewhere.
Sojorn on
XBox Live: NBKHavoc | Facebook | Sorry for the sig, it's just temporary.
The way other people talk about the amount of sex and wild parties they have I get the feeling that I'm somehow missing everything. But then I realise that I went to those parties and watched my friends just go home alone. It's all bollocks. Aside from a select few, people just don't have those wild stories that are supposed to be the norm.
Meh, it's not just that it's been a while since I got laid, but that I'm pushing an impressive string of ex's/ex-lovers that were on the whole fairly selfish (as in "got mine, fuck y'all" isn't just applicable to politics).
Intellectually I know that we're more prone to share our triumphs (and horrific failures), and if even a fraction of the thread's participants have a successful adventure (encounter, arrangement, long term, whatever) then it can seem like there's a whole lot going on all the time all over the place.
But I guess I'm just tired of feeling like it's always an uphill battle. Even if I know that based on how things are set up societally, for most of us that's just the way it is (I strive to quell my seething jealousy for some people here. You know who you are. :winky:)
Forar on
First they came for the Muslims, and we said NOT TODAY, MOTHERFUCKER!
OK, so here's that story. Spoilered for length of course. Life lessons, internet dating, and a happy ending. This is a long one, so be prepared. My memory is...detailed.
About six years ago I went through what has so far been the worst breakup of my life. That is a different story, one with it's own set of life lessons, the primary of which is don't ever date into a family that is largely comprised of the Sicilian mafia.
The reason I'm telling you about that is because afterwards I was left alone, robbed of every last dime I had, heartbroken, homeless, far away from any family or friends. They even took the kitten I rescued and had raised into a healthy, happy cat I named Gwen (after the panther in the R.A. Salvatore novels). The only thing I had left was my car, a beat up old Ford Crown Vic with the driveshaft about 400 miles from falling out. Maybe sometime I'll tell you guys the story of how I got involved in all that, and how I got my revenge.
So there I was, and with a few quarters in the driver side door handle, called my parents and told them I needed to come home for a while.
A few months later, I had a job, a steady paycheck at least, and things were looking up a bit. I had even managed to trade that old beat up Crown Vic for a Pontiac that couldn't go in reverse. The drive shaft fell out of the Vic the minute the shady overcharging used car salesman cranked it up. It was beautiful, watching the wanker (that I just saw rip off a little old lady on a car) in the rearview mirror, cursing and screaming and throwing his hat on the ground as I drove off with a smile on my face.
Oh, but on with the story. I was still devastated from the breakup, but I was getting better. A little bit more every day.
I started thinking that maybe it was time to get back into dating (hindsight being 20/20, it took a while before I realized I wasn't ready), I was lonely, and I was thinking that anything is better than sitting at home alone on a Friday night, thinking about the ex.
So I began looking at dating websites. Lo and behold, one day I come across a familiar, beautiful face on yahoo. It was a young woman I worked with, who had smiled at me before, when I was still too broken down to really respond.
Her name was Jessica. And when I say she was beautiful, I mean to say that if she stood next to any number of supermodels or playmates or angels you'd have told them to get the hell out of the way so you could see her better. 6'3" and maybe 120lbs. Golden blonde hair you would dream about running your fingers through. A model's figure but with perfect b-cup breasts. A smile that lights up a room, a voice that makes you forget anyone else is talking. Legs that go on for days and a walk that could cause vehicular accidents if used for evil.
I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I messaged her. Probably that I'd just say "Hey, we work together! I didn't know you were single...." and she'd ignore it. But I know that you'd have to be crazy not to message this girl.
Imagine my surprise when the very next day, we were talking like old friends at work, chatting about the things we love to do and where we want to go in life, laughing at each others jokes, casually flirting and caressing on lunch break. I wasn't surprised to find out she modeled when she could, had even had a couple of spots in magazines I never read. I couldn't believe it was happening. Here was this absolutely amazing woman, and she was into me in a way I haven't seen before or since. To say I felt like the luckiest guy on earth is an understatement. I remember the first time we kissed. We were sitting in my car, the one that wouldn't go in reverse, hiding out from the rain after going to see a movie. She leaned in close and looked in my eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes," she said, "such a beautiful light green color with a ring of gold in the middle. I've never seen eyes like that."
As far as first kisses go, some are ok, and some are electrifying. Hiding out from that storm, I still rode the lightning.
Oh but how far we can fall when we climb so high.
Things went on, getting better and better. We'd been on a several dates, and both of us knew that soon, very soon, we'd be doing something we had talked about for a month.
That night came, and it was amazing. No matter how everything turned out in the end, I will never regret that one night, not in the least. To say that she set the bar high for every other woman I've ever dated since then....well, let's just say that in six years I still still haven't found anyone that has even come close.
But the next morning....I wake up and walk into the kitchen, start the coffee, and walk back into the bedroom. There she is, sleeping, her bare left shoulder peeking out from the covers, her hair tousled and shimmering in the morning sunlight. I lean down to kiss her cheek and I see something out of the corner of my eye, twinkling in that same light. Her purse had spilled out partially the night before, some of it's contents sliding across the little wooden table.
I turn to try to recognize what was there, and before I even made the full turn I knew...it was a wedding band.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
But I did want some coffee. I could wrap my head around that, so I went back to the kitchen and poured myself a cup. I sat down at the table, poured the cream and sugar, took a sip, and quietly said "what the fuck".
My mind raced, trying to figure out all the angles. Is it hers? Is she married? Why didn't she tell me? Oh god what if the guy finds out? How do I feel about this, I've never slept with a married woman before? What should I do, what should I say, what should...
She walks out of the bedroom wearing a long cotton button up shirt of mine, and my heart stops just at the sight of her, her yawing into her hand, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Just beautiful. Amazing.
She goes straight for the coffee, and after leaning over and kissing me on the forehead, she sits down across from me at the table, smiles, and then asks me:
"Want some toast?"
I reply "Are you married?" Of course I want toast. I want to eat toast with this girl every day for the rest of my life after last night.
And then that look. The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain. She lowers her head into her hand and wipes a quick tear from her eye.
"Yes. But we're separated."
I can't imagine how I looked. I might have had the same look as her, because that's how I felt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know...I don't...I didn't know how you would take it. And I really like you." Another quick tear wiped away with the sleeve of my shirt she's wearing.
"How long have you two been apart?"
"A couple months, he...we argued. A lot. He loved me but he's just treated me so bad for a year and I couldn't...I just couldn't take it anymore."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's ok. I wish you had told me is all. Do you still see each other?"
She pauses. God that moment dragged on forever. Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not.
"Sometimes. Sometimes I think maybe we can work it out. Sometimes I remember why I left but...there's still a big part of me that cares for him, and I go, and we talk, and I leave again. The past two months have been so confusing."
"What about me?"
"You've been," she smiles through the tears now, and reaches her hand out to touch mine, "you are amazing to me. You've made me so happy this past month, even with everything else going on."
She rises from her chair, moves over to me, and wraps her arms around me as I pull her into my lap. We sit there, cradled together, heads leaning on one another as the warm morning sun lights up the room only slightly less than the smile on her face. We stayed that way for over an hour. We never did have toast that morning.
She stays most of the day, and we forget about our troubles. When she left, I wondered to myself "How long"? How long will it last? I didn't know, couldn't know, but still I wondered that one question until sleep took me that night.
And so it went. Four happy months we were together, four happy months of days and nights together, working and playing, all of it a set of the most wonderfully bittersweet memories I have. He tries to call her occasionally, switching between repentant husband and jealous that she's seeing another man. She avoids him, mutes the ringer when I'm there, smiles and laughs and tells me she loves me. And I love her too.
One day, I'm in the mall. I see her walking towards me. But it's not just her. He's with her, and they're walking arm and arm, talking to each other, smiling at each other, being together.
Shock freezes you. When you're faced with something you don't understand and simply can't muster the depth of thought in order to comprehend it, you just freeze. Maybe I just didn't want to comprehend.
As they get closer, distracted by each other, I just stand there, frozen. As they pass me by, she sees me. She sees my face.
The look on her face; regret. Confusion. Pain.
I can't imagine how I looked.
She comes and sees me that night. I don't have many words.
I just ask why.
She tries to tell me that he's changed, he's been going to counseling. And she loves him; she's always loved him.
"What about me?"
"I love you too but..."
She pauses.
"But what? You're not telling me something."
She bows her head and wipes a quick tear from her eye on the sleeve of a shirt I bought her for her birthday.
"I'm pregnant Jake. He's the father."
And for what is not the first or last time in my life, I curse this ability I have to read people. She's lying. I knew. Her eyes told me everything. The pupils dilate, the breathing changes, and she taps her fingers slightly. She always was bad at poker.
Time stopped while my heart sat and wondered if it should go ahead and shatter again or not. Somewhere deeper, a part of me knew there was nothing I could say or do to change this, not without hurting her, or causing her to potentially be hurt by him. You see, he never found out who I was. For all he knew, it was just his imagination stirring all that jealousy up, all that anger, eventually forcing him to seek therapy for it. And he did. I found out years later that he changed, he really changed.
"And you love him?"
"I do."
"And he loves you?"
"Yes."
"Then go to him."
"Jake, I..."
"Just go. There is nothing either of us can do now to change things. For my part, I have no regrets. Just go."
Tears running down her face, she touches my left arm, looks into my eyes one last time, and walks out the door.
I never saw Jessica again, but a few months or so back she found me on Facebook and chatted with me. She and her husband have been together for almost ten years now if you don't count those four months she and I were. They're happy. They have a nice house, a chihuahua, and she's now working as an accountant. Her daughter's name is Abbey, and this year she will turn six. She's beautiful, and she's a total daddy's girl.
You see, Jessica showed me some pictures of her when we last talked. She has her mother's smile, and her eyes are so pretty: Green, with a golden ring right in the middle. It's so rare to see eyes like that.
So about that happy ending. I never said it was my happy ending. I'm happy for them, they're a really good family. I say that honestly and with serenity.
Life takes us to some strange places sometimes. And for my part, I have no regrets.
I never know how to feel after reading stories like this, but at least you didn't know she was married when it started. The guy my wife went to knew exactly what was going on since they worked together. Rabblerabble
My mistake was staying with her for four months knowing she still hadn't worked out anything concrete with her estranged husband. I should have stepped back and insisted she deal with that issue before I continued seeing her.
What happened at the end...well that just gets to be my lifelong reminder to never get involved with another married woman.
Well my divorce was just finalized on Sep 8 and they are still together, so you could have gotten "lucky" and she could have chosen you. It's the luck of the draw I guess? You just can't make someone love you is what I learned from this, because you just end up doing everything you can to make them not leave and become a doormat.
No, she made it pretty clear where her heart was with that one. And besides, at that time, I felt so betrayed I didn't want to be anywhere near her. She had made her choice, and nothing I said was going to change it.
Could I have pressed for a paternity test? Yeah. Would that have changed things? Maybe. But I remember thinking "If he finds out about her and me, he might just have it in him to off us both." Some of what she had told me about him indicated he might have been capable of it. Years later, I'm still not willing to break up a happy family just to satisfy my desires. They're happy, best to just let them be.
And you're absolutely right about the last part. I've had the shoe on the other foot, so to speak. Doormat and everything.
Sojorn on
XBox Live: NBKHavoc | Facebook | Sorry for the sig, it's just temporary.
"Draughts" that last mere "weeks" or "months" are absolutely adorable.
The next time I actually get laid may well be the first thing I actually Twitter, as it should be recorded for posterity among other rare occurrences like blue moons and verifiable Yeti sightings.
Dude I haven't had sex for almost 2 months! OMFG!
The way other people talk about the amount of sex and wild parties they have I get the feeling that I'm somehow missing everything. But then I realise that I went to those parties and watched my friends just go home alone. It's all bollocks. Aside from a select few, people just don't have those wild stories that are supposed to be the norm.
I dunno
I have some crazy stories
Its just that, those stories are once out of maybe twenty nights out, and months and months between.
But I don't remember the nights I go over to a buddies house, have a couple beers, watch futurama and go home. I remember chasing my friend peeing on him. I remember drinking vodka and steel reserve with a bunch of asians I didn't know, and waking up to one of them naked, never finding out what happened. Etc etc.
KakodaimonosCode fondlerHelping the 1% get richerRegistered Userregular
edited September 2010
Quite a few years ago when I was younger and stupider, I found out my girlfriend was cheating on me.
I ended up with an incisor stuck in my right index knuckle and a 90 day deferred sentence for aggravated battery. He ended up with 3 shiny new dental implants. I figured the trade was worth it.
It's just not worth the drama and potential for trouble to mess with someone who's seeing someone else.
Unless their partner is cool with it and tells you in person.
Kakodaimonos on
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kaliyamaLeft to find less-moderated foraRegistered Userregular
Finally have new pictures that I can put up on my OKC okcupid.com/profile/KurnDerak They are pictures of me in my kilt as best man at my brother's wedding. I'm in the blue sport coat on the left, then on the right in the second picture.
There are some others that I like, but either they're just not as good IMO or a bit too odd for OKC.
Thanks for the comments everyone. I'm a little surprised they were so positive but, you know, self esteem issues, yay. Looks like I have a date this week, although our work schedules don't work very well together. We'll see.
so a girl came up to me in the bar yesterday and was flirting like hell
i reciprocated, then found out through casual conversation that she is 17
my blood ran cold, i am 25 and i look young so i guess it wasn't really her fault but
crisis narrowly averted
e: plus she looks to be in her mid-20s, tongue, lip + septum piercing, dark hair with blond highlights, mature
aughghghghg
(just for clarification 16 is the age of consent in england + wales so it would be legal, if still wrong)
Uh, if it's legal, why would it be wrong?
I know when I was 17 I certainly wanted to fuck (and I did, and I feel like most people do these days?). Why would you assume it's wrong? Because she's female? I grant that age can factor into all kinds of situations where women get pressured into sex, or can factor into date/acquaintance-rape or what-have-you, but if she's the one hitting on you, I don't think you really have anything to worry about. In fact it seems more patriarchal to assume that she can't make decisions for herself or god forbid actually want sex just because she's a teenage girl.
When I was a little kid, I always pretended I was the hero,' Skip said.
'Fuck yeah, me too. What little kid ever pretended to be part of the lynch-mob?'
Cause there's a huge gap of maturity between a 17 year old and a 25 year old? Sometimes what's legal isn't what's right.
Who cares? If you're talking about a long-term relationship, sure, that might be relevant, but if someone's hitting on you in a bar, all that matters is that they (and you) are capable of making their own decisions on the issue -- i.e. capable of consent. If someone wants to bone, and is in a position to make that decision, than anything else is just Puritanical bullshit.
And I dunno but I don't put too much stock in the age-gap thing anyway. My mom had a boyfriend who lived with us for I think about eight years, who was 16 years younger than her. Shit happens, dogg.
Fartacus on
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BeastehTHAT WOULD NOTKILL DRACULARegistered Userregular
edited September 2010
i mean she is really mature for her age, she hangs out with mostly 20+ people, it just feels inherently wrong to me
my youngest brother is her age too so i would never hear the end of it
I was doing some browsing on Plentyoffish recently and was disappointed with the ages of these women. I'm 32 so search between 22 and 37. Most of the women were much closer to 37 than 22.
So I thought, "Okay, maybe there are a lot of younger women on this site, but they're excluding people over 30 in their search parameters." So I made a new profile and put 18 as my age.
No, man. There were a few people who had 32 out of their range but not many. And many more had 18 out of their range.
Conclusion: there just aren't many young women on the site. At least as far as what I was looking for.
I'm pretty sure mid 20's women who think 32 is too old might also find 18 too young. They're probably looking for someone in, oh, I don't know, the mid 20's. Maybe.
Anyway, I started taking my profile a lot less seriously and it became much easier to fill out. It's also a lot better at attracting winks from people 100+ miles away. Success?
Anyway, I started taking my profile a lot less seriously and it became much easier to fill out. It's also a lot better at attracting winks from people 100+ miles away. Success?
Dating is supposed to be fun. If it was annoying, exasperating, or uncomfortable, people wouldn't do it. Filling out an online personals ad isn't about making a resume, it's about saying "hey I'm into some stuff and it's a lot of fun, let's do that together"
Not that it's best to be aloof, but taking it less seriously comes through in the text and makes you seem like someone fun & harmless. If you approach it too seriously I think people tend to give off stalker-vibes, which is a great way to never get messages.
Not that it's best to be aloof, but taking it less seriously comes through in the text and makes you seem like someone fun & harmless. If you approach it too seriously I think people tend to give off stalker-vibes, which is a great way to never get messages.
limed to the nth power
I can't speak for all girls but personally I like to date people who don't take themselves too seriously. It means you are probably not wrapped up in yourself and you are a lot of fun. And it never hurts to make a girl laugh if your profile is funny - it will mean a better chance of standing out as a good person to message/respond to.
edit: I've been noticing more and more people posting in this thread saying "I started taking my profile less seriously, toned it down and made it more funny, and I got more messages!" Pallaeon is probably the 3rd or 4th person who has said this in this iteration of the thread alone. So it sounds like a sound, well-tested strategy.
Posts
Well there are pretty much 3 colors of eyes.....so 1/3?
I never know how to feel after reading stories like this, but at least you didn't know she was married when it started. The guy my wife went to knew exactly what was going on since they worked together. Rabblerabble
My mistake was staying with her for four months knowing she still hadn't worked out anything concrete with her estranged husband. I should have stepped back and insisted she deal with that issue before I continued seeing her.
What happened at the end...well that just gets to be my lifelong reminder to never get involved with another married woman.
I always find it oddly amusing to consider "I could lose your entire body mass. And survive."
Not quite so easily said these days, but yeah, 6'4" and ~235, to say that was a slender physique would be an overstatement. Note: I'm not passing judgement. I'm sure she was a marvelously healthy woman. Just sayin'.
Dude I haven't had sex for almost 2 months! OMFG!
The way other people talk about the amount of sex and wild parties they have I get the feeling that I'm somehow missing everything. But then I realise that I went to those parties and watched my friends just go home alone. It's all bollocks. Aside from a select few, people just don't have those wild stories that are supposed to be the norm.
Well my divorce was just finalized on Sep 8 and they are still together, so you could have gotten "lucky" and she could have chosen you. It's the luck of the draw I guess? You just can't make someone love you is what I learned from this, because you just end up doing everything you can to make them not leave and become a doormat.
Model thin, srsly. She was bulimic when she was a teenager, and even though she kicked that, she still stayed obsessive over her weight. Being the tallest woman everywhere she went was hard enough when she was younger, and she never really stopped being ridiculously image conscious.
It was kind of weird, but this beautiful girl probably had one of the biggest problems with a lack of self-confidence that I've ever seen.
She did a couple photo-shoots while we were dating, and both times she was a complete wreck the night before. As in crying-saying-she-won't-go-they-won't-like-her kind of wreck.
I'm kind of glad she became an accountant. I don't imagine she has many sleepless nights wondering if she forgot to carry a 1 somewhere.
I hate you. :P
Meh, it's not just that it's been a while since I got laid, but that I'm pushing an impressive string of ex's/ex-lovers that were on the whole fairly selfish (as in "got mine, fuck y'all" isn't just applicable to politics).
Intellectually I know that we're more prone to share our triumphs (and horrific failures), and if even a fraction of the thread's participants have a successful adventure (encounter, arrangement, long term, whatever) then it can seem like there's a whole lot going on all the time all over the place.
But I guess I'm just tired of feeling like it's always an uphill battle. Even if I know that based on how things are set up societally, for most of us that's just the way it is (I strive to quell my seething jealousy for some people here. You know who you are. :winky:)
Don't think I'll see her again.
No, she made it pretty clear where her heart was with that one. And besides, at that time, I felt so betrayed I didn't want to be anywhere near her. She had made her choice, and nothing I said was going to change it.
Could I have pressed for a paternity test? Yeah. Would that have changed things? Maybe. But I remember thinking "If he finds out about her and me, he might just have it in him to off us both." Some of what she had told me about him indicated he might have been capable of it. Years later, I'm still not willing to break up a happy family just to satisfy my desires. They're happy, best to just let them be.
And you're absolutely right about the last part. I've had the shoe on the other foot, so to speak. Doormat and everything.
I dunno
I have some crazy stories
Its just that, those stories are once out of maybe twenty nights out, and months and months between.
But I don't remember the nights I go over to a buddies house, have a couple beers, watch futurama and go home. I remember chasing my friend peeing on him. I remember drinking vodka and steel reserve with a bunch of asians I didn't know, and waking up to one of them naked, never finding out what happened. Etc etc.
3ds friend code: 2981-6032-4118
That's only cuz I didn't cum in it.
When I asked her when she wanted to go out again she was like "Well you have my number, so you can call me." Bleh. It's such a non-committed answer.
in fact its slightly on the "yes" side of "maybe"
"quotation marks"
I think it's ok, but i'm kinda rusty at this stuff
On the one hand, I feel really bad being the other guy.
On the other hand... Well, I still feel bad, but who am I to tell her not to have sex with me. If she wants to cheat on her boyfriend, thats on her.
...yeah, I know I suck, but at least I'm honest?
Ohh yeah, someone asked earlier, I do not know the boyfriend in question. If I did, that would be a different situation.
3ds friend code: 2981-6032-4118
I ended up with an incisor stuck in my right index knuckle and a 90 day deferred sentence for aggravated battery. He ended up with 3 shiny new dental implants. I figured the trade was worth it.
It's just not worth the drama and potential for trouble to mess with someone who's seeing someone else.
Unless their partner is cool with it and tells you in person.
There's a girl with your avatar photo as one of her profile pics. she's too cool for either of us.
her boyfriend will have a long list of people to beat up
3ds friend code: 2981-6032-4118
I used to weigh 120 and be 6'0"
It's called a hypermetabolism, and there's nothing that poor kid can do about it. He'd have to eat bare-minimum 4600 calories just to put on weight.
There are some others that I like, but either they're just not as good IMO or a bit too odd for OKC.
i reciprocated, then found out through casual conversation that she is 17
my blood ran cold, i am 25 and i look young so i guess it wasn't really her fault but
crisis narrowly averted
e: plus she looks to be in her mid-20s, tongue, lip + septum piercing, dark hair with blond highlights, mature
aughghghghg
(just for clarification 16 is the age of consent in england + wales so it would be legal, if still wrong)
I agree with the Nike slogan.
Agreed.
Try it out, see how things go.
The worst that'll happen at this point is she doesn't go out with you again which is what you've already assumed so what do you have to lose?
She could cut my penis off in a rage.
Okay, so the solution to that is to never have sex again, ever.
Is that an option?
"I'm thin, thankfully, and not fat."
Shame too, since she seemed cool. But damn, that's just way too shallow for me.
Uh, if it's legal, why would it be wrong?
I know when I was 17 I certainly wanted to fuck (and I did, and I feel like most people do these days?). Why would you assume it's wrong? Because she's female? I grant that age can factor into all kinds of situations where women get pressured into sex, or can factor into date/acquaintance-rape or what-have-you, but if she's the one hitting on you, I don't think you really have anything to worry about. In fact it seems more patriarchal to assume that she can't make decisions for herself or god forbid actually want sex just because she's a teenage girl.
Um... I would proofread?
Who cares? If you're talking about a long-term relationship, sure, that might be relevant, but if someone's hitting on you in a bar, all that matters is that they (and you) are capable of making their own decisions on the issue -- i.e. capable of consent. If someone wants to bone, and is in a position to make that decision, than anything else is just Puritanical bullshit.
And I dunno but I don't put too much stock in the age-gap thing anyway. My mom had a boyfriend who lived with us for I think about eight years, who was 16 years younger than her. Shit happens, dogg.
my youngest brother is her age too so i would never hear the end of it
You're 24 and would meet up with 40 year olds?
I was doing some browsing on Plentyoffish recently and was disappointed with the ages of these women. I'm 32 so search between 22 and 37. Most of the women were much closer to 37 than 22.
So I thought, "Okay, maybe there are a lot of younger women on this site, but they're excluding people over 30 in their search parameters." So I made a new profile and put 18 as my age.
No, man. There were a few people who had 32 out of their range but not many. And many more had 18 out of their range.
Conclusion: there just aren't many young women on the site. At least as far as what I was looking for.
Anyway, I started taking my profile a lot less seriously and it became much easier to fill out. It's also a lot better at attracting winks from people 100+ miles away. Success?
Dating is supposed to be fun. If it was annoying, exasperating, or uncomfortable, people wouldn't do it. Filling out an online personals ad isn't about making a resume, it's about saying "hey I'm into some stuff and it's a lot of fun, let's do that together"
Not that it's best to be aloof, but taking it less seriously comes through in the text and makes you seem like someone fun & harmless. If you approach it too seriously I think people tend to give off stalker-vibes, which is a great way to never get messages.
I can't speak for all girls but personally I like to date people who don't take themselves too seriously. It means you are probably not wrapped up in yourself and you are a lot of fun. And it never hurts to make a girl laugh if your profile is funny - it will mean a better chance of standing out as a good person to message/respond to.
edit: I've been noticing more and more people posting in this thread saying "I started taking my profile less seriously, toned it down and made it more funny, and I got more messages!" Pallaeon is probably the 3rd or 4th person who has said this in this iteration of the thread alone. So it sounds like a sound, well-tested strategy.