The answer is, sadly, not any time soon, it seems.
I should be sure to put emphasis on the "good" part of the lay.
Ladies, up until recently, I didn't realize that there was something called a "bad" lay. I mean, I've had a fair amount of partners, and they've all been different. I've been with "very little" and with "very big", and I found that I prefer right in the middle. I've been with "very aggressive" and "very passive", and found again that I prefer right in the middle. But even the most extreme end of the spectrum didn't leave me totally unsatisfied. You know?
Maybe I've just been lucky so far, but I've never been with a guy who had no idea how to use his junk. I guess it had to happen eventually.
So, anyways, where was I?
Ah yes, I got through Alan's rather thick skull that I wasn't interested in dating him, and exchanged numbers with Jeb.
The following Tuesday, I met up with some friends for Happy Hour, and was feeling on the fence about whether or not I would be attending Jeb's karaoke night again this week. I mean, really? Just show up? That would mean being brave and putting myself out there. If I go, then that would show Jeb that I'm interested in him. ACK!! I can't do that! Oh, here comes that damn insecurity again.
Just when I've about talked myself into a dripping puddle of self hatred, I get a text from Jeb.
"Might you be coming to karaoke tonight?"
Yessss! Good boy.
So I did just that, and had a grand ole time. After my friends left, Jeb and I continued to drink and talk and sing, and the next thing I know we're walking together back to my place.
Wait a sec... MY PLACE??? Shut the front door!!!! I've never had a boy back to my own place before. Let me tell you somethin ladies, this is one of the major perks of living alone. No roomies to wake up, no one to answer to. If I want to have some random boy back to my place, then no one has to be the wiser.
We'd just curled up on the couch together to watch some Daily Show, and, by the way, I was more than content to sit there and cuddle, when he reached over and kissed me. Alright then! Bring it on buddy! I'm more than happy not wasting time with formalities...
SO...
Could it be? Might it be? Is it possible that Miss MA finally landed a decent lay?
Ahem... how do I word this properly?
How bout this? NOPE.
Do you ladies want the gory details? I mean, does anyone REALLY want the gory details?
Of course you do, you twisted, sick, beautiful individuals!
OK, I'll keep this small and quick.
Small. And quick...
Smallest, quickest, ever. In fact.
Oh dear, I really am going to hell ladies. I hope you'd all like to join me...
Now, even just having said that, you all know that I'm not an entirely evil person. I can actually be very nurturing, caring, and kind. I didn't kick him out of my bed. I didn't even stop returning his phone calls. In fact, I decided I liked this guy well enough that I would actually let this continue with the hopes that our bedroom frolicking would improve with time.
I know. I'm totally insane.
Because, of course things started to get weird after that. Any ego, but particularly a man's ego, is so unbelievably fragile. I think, as unsatisfied as I was that night in bed, he was equally unsatisfied, and embarrassed. Now factor in a little immaturity, and WHAM! Here comes the bad behavior.
Over the next few weeks, I spent my energy trying to connect with him on a personal and emotional level, showing him that I was someone he could confide in, even trust.
He, on the other hand, spent his energy over the next few weeks trying to show me in no uncertain terms that he was cool. Possibly even too cool for me.
You remember that day in either middle school or high school when that boy broke your heart because he pretended not to know you or made fun of you in front of his friends? It's happened to all of us in one way or another.
Let me try to paint this picture properly.
I say, "Are you coming to karaoke tonight? It's my friend's birthday!"
He says, "I'm going to be there, but I'll be hanging out with my brother, just so you know."
I think, "Um, OK. But certainly this guy is capable of not only hanging out with his brother, but also showing me the basic respect that one shows someone that they've (sort of) slept with." Right?
Wrong.
Ignored. Straight up. And when I decided that I'd had enough and wanted to leave, he shook my hand goodbye.
He shook my goddamn hand, ladies.
So my seriously steaming, slightly intoxicated self decides to text him with "WTF?"
Not my most shining moment, but honestly, I really wanted to know, "WTF?" Wouldn't you?
Well, he seemed to think that was funny, because he answered with a stream of text abbreviations such as, "WTF, LOL, LMAO, BRB" and the likes.
Asshole.
I didn't even warrant that with a response. What a douche bag.
So, at any rate, I woke up the next morning with perhaps the most whiny wussy voicemail I'd ever heard on my phone. Goes something like this. (In a high pitched, douche-baggy voice): "Um, Mary Anne, I think you might be mad at me, and I'm sorry, but I said I was going to hang out with my brother...yadda yadda yadda."
Ah, if only I had just let it go there. But you all know me too well. I have to thoroughly torture myself by dragging it out unnaturally long before I can walk away.
The major hang up I was having was due to karaoke. As I mentioned previously, I would prefer that karaoke be a sexy man so that I may marry it. So, understandably I think, I didn't want to stop going. It was the most perfect karaoke I've ever been to. It was on my night off, 4 blocks from my house, they had all sorts of obscure, hipster-ish songs, AND auto-tune. I mean, seriously top notch. I figured if I could smooth things over, maybe Jeb and I could be friends and I wouldn't have to miss out on my true love.
I'm actually kind of proud of myself for this next move, because it's a fairly mature way to approach an awkward situation. I waited for about a week, then picked up the phone and called him. When he (of course) didn't answer, I left a message saying something to the extent of, "Hey Jeb. I feel like things got pretty weird there, and I'm really sorry for that. I think you're really cool, and I would be really bummed if we ended on that note. So, if you want, give me a call. I'd love to get together and grab a cup of coffee or lunch or something! Hope you're having a great day!"
About an hour later, I receive a text from him saying, "I'm at work right now, but I got your message and I totally agree! Let's definitely get together soon!"
Hells yeah. That just bordered on the most normal interaction I've yet had with a man. Halle-freakin-lujah!
Oh geez. So here we head to the grand finale of douche-bag-dom.
Over the next couple weeks, Jeb and I exchange a couple texts, but I'm still feeling kind of weird about going up to karaoke. Then my good friend came into town to visit, and I thought, why not? I want to show her what I love about this city so much. So, after a really awesome live music experience, I suggest that we finish off the evening at karaoke.
We walk in, I see Jeb, we say hi and hug, I put in a song, I grab a drink, we sit down.
And then it happened. Jeb is up on stage finishing a song, and I hear Jeb's brother over the mic giggle like a stupid girl, "Good job, Jeb. WTF? LOL. LMAO. BRB. OMG."
OH SNAP. I quite nearly shot my drink out of my nose. You have to be freakin kidding me. Did I really just hear what I think I heard?
This is actually somewhat hard to relive, ladies. Humiliation is not a pleasant sensation. I felt the blood rush straight to my face, and my throat tightened as I chugged the rest of my drink, and looked over at my friend. "We need to go...now."
I was torn between two extremely strong urges. I equal parts wanted to disappear as quickly as possible and jump up on stage, grab the mic and scream, "Oh yeah? Well, Jeb has a reeeeeeealy small penis, and he's just insecure because he can't perform and I know it!!!!!!!!"
I did the former. Probably a good move. Maybe I should reevaluate the whole karaoke thing. It's seeming to cause some serious judgement errors on my part.
Over the next couple weeks, I agonized over the experience, analyzing and analyzing with friends what had actually occurred. Some said I was being paranoid, others agreed that I had been dissed on a major level. The following is what I decided to take away from the situation:
1. Karaoke may not be the best place to meet a man.
2. I should not text while drunk. Ever.
3. People can be really, really mean. Especially when their ego is at stake. This was the hardest lesson for me to learn. I don't like to think that people are capable of intentionally, purposefully hurting or humiliating someone else. But I feel that this is a naive part of me that is slowly dissipating as I age. A youthful ideal that, as it goes, will allow me to be a bit more protective of myself, if not a bit bitter as well.
So, with that last realization in mind, I'm not going to talk about Jeb's tiny, semi-functioning penis anymore. I mean, my ego is obviously intact enough that I don't need to stoop to that level to feel better about myself. Just because he has incredibly major, huge performance problems doesn't mean that I should go around broadcasting it to the entire world. So, I'm done. No more. I promise.
Hee hee.
In conclusion, in the epic contest between who is wussier, I'm afraid I can't commit to an answer. People are strange, and consistently do very strange things. Ultimately, I think we all just want to be loved, and some, if not all of us aren't quite sure how to go about getting there.
From here, I'm going to be more selective, more protective, and more loving of myself.
Certainly, no more D-bags.
Sigh.
