She’s ridiculous…

Really!  It’s 11:30 at night.  My first alarm goes off at 5:40 am.  My oh-shit-your-ass-should-be-in-the-shower-already alarm goes off at 6:00 am.  I don’t want to go out to eat.  …again.

But that’s not even where the real frustration is, darling!  Let’s skip through some context and fast forward a bit.

-break-

Her face was flushed, with that stupid squirmy look in her eye, “What are you doing?  …Don’t do that.” She said, dragging out the that; trailing off on guilty pleasure.

“You put my hand there!” I said, astonished.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get hot.”

This back and forth went on for a bit.  The word hot carries a few extra translations for her.  I’m still perplexed.  “…you put my hand there!” I re-emphasized.  “Alright.  Let me go.”

“No.” She replied, without skipping a beat.

“What?”  I must be stupid.  My guy-ness just must not be able to see the logic in this.  “Let me go, babe.  I need to roll over on this thing.”

“No.  I want you hear.”

“But you told me not to touch you.”

“So…”

“What?”  Again, I’ve just realized that being guy just means you can’t understand them.  With much effort, I found away to break free of her clench.

“Baby!” She said, protesting.

“Oh my God!  Good night.”

 

Yeah, yeah; blah, blah. Next story.

“Yes, dude.  I get it.  No really.  I fucking get it!  …you had no clue that sleeping with her would cause her to be so ‘attached’.  Yada, yada, shut your mouth!  Let’s talk about something else.”

Words that were never spoken besides through the corridors of my brain.

It’s ridiculous though.  We’re all there for our friends right?  Certainly.  But if you know how the story ends…?  And you made it clear as night to them before the story began…?  And you KNOW that they knew it too…?   I just don’t want to hear it.  Thanks for the coffee.  Now shut the fuck up.

Here’s a pre-relationship rule:  If you sleep with her damn near on the regular, she’s over at your house five out of seven nights a week, and she looks at you with caring eyes… You guys are going to be “attached.”  Deal with it.  It’s what happens.  That’s what you get for jumping in.  I don’t care about your ex, or what you told her, you’re just silly for stringing her along and tagging this girl at the same time.

Smart guys don’t do that.  Smart guys understand that one woman is already too big a handful when you add up monetary, mental, emotional, time, and responsibility demands.  Smart guys go about their lives with…

Well there are actually no smart guys.  And if there were, we’d never admit to it ;)

Regardless, though; quit your bitching.  I’m about to gag on the late you just bought me.

 

No play, No attention.

“This pussy aint’ free!” she says, throwing a cute little wink in my direction.

I look back with a half wince. The very words coming out of her mouth make me want to smack the shit out of her (disclaimer). “This two bedroom condo ‘aint’ free, baby.”

She laughs it off. I press my lips together with little amusement. This is sexual frustration. Women think it’s a joke; a cute little game or something. I can’t count the times (yeah I can; it’s painful) that she’s been next to me in bed and pleaded from the other side of her personal barrier, “Just roll over on it, baby! Go to sleep.” …another pleading utterance slipping from her mouth in the fashion of a convict that sees her execution coming.

What’s the freaking deal?! I want sex! This would all be good and over if you would just comply and give me a few moments of your oh-so stressful day so I can get the freaking baby batter out of the brain and sleep in peace, content, before waking up again at 5:40 in the morning.

She speaks for all women, I imagine (or she imagines). “What do you think? Am I just some sex toy? Your, your… Your little thing that you can just get some from?” She says it with absolute determination of dignity and female independence.

“No, Baby!” I say, nipping that shit right in the bud. “You’re my freaking girlfriend. My hot, beautiful, and sexy girlfriend with the scrumptious looking ass and sexy, enticing lips that drive me mad every time you bite the bottom one; casually walking around the room in your hot-pants and bra. You fucking murder me with that shit, and then you wonder why I’m going to bed with a hard-on! Is that insane? Is that so abnormal? …to find my girlfriend incredibly attractive and want to take her every chance I might get? …to want to run my fingers over every inch of her body, kissing, teasing, biting her ear, looking into those magnificant eyes that wrapped me up the very first night that I saw you? Is there ‘asshole’ in that?”

“No.”

You would think the point is conceded with her short reply. That’s pretty decisive in my book. I make a fucking fabulous point. She’s hot. I want to fuck her. I didn’t ask to go to bed with this throbbing hard-on. Less than a week ago, her hormones went burzurk and we had sex some seven times! …didn’t even leave the house. It was insane. I think that was some type of record in my life. Should I have known that that was it for the week? Silly me. Had I known that, I probably would have chosen to equally distribute those sessions throughout the coming days.

I’m not asking for much, I swear. I’m not even trying to get laid every night. I’m just trying to get off every night (within reason. …most nights, I suppose.) Does it sound dirty? Perverted? Sicko or sex crazed? Nah. I don’t think so. If I was single and I was faced with that dilemma, I would masturbate and sleep. Done. Chemicals pour through the body, nerves subside, thoughts settle, the night takes care of itself. I’m sleeping.

One night I did do just that. …that was a mistake. Harmony looked over like she had seen a gruesome car wreck. She was devastated. I haven’t jacked off in our bed since. WTF? What the hell does that leave me when the hormones are tap dancing in my libido?

Are guys really supposed to “grow up” and just subside the sexual drives? Is that part of excepting that we love this one? We give up our normal behavior to conform to her “normal” behavior. We ignore the fact that we started dating her because not only was she an incredible girl, she was super hot as well? Where is this logic failing me?

Something is breaking down and communication is becoming difficult.

I decided I’m going to go on a sex strike. (God those words hurt!) I’m determined to put her in my shoes! Women like sex too! I’m no dummy! They just have a weird ass schedule on it and tend to only want it when it’s convenient for them (one way sanganas!) I just think I have a long, long waiting game to play! That fucking sucks!

Sucks! I want to get fucking laid! I love her but she’s killing me. …and I do believe that will be the theme of this site. I love her, but she’s killing me!