Tag Archives: bi-polar ex

Once you go black…

I won’t lie that I am more than a bit sheltered.  I have never done anything sexually with someone of a different race.  I’m not opposed to it, but if I had my choice I’d like to start out with something small like an asian or latino and work my way up.

Last night I received the grand daddy of all offers.  When HOTTIE stood us up because he had a test today (BUH!) I went out prowling for someone who will act interested.  And I found him:

I wish it was really Drake, but it’s as close as I’ll ever come and he really does look like him, lucky me.  I have met this guy, I’ll call him Drake 2.0, a few times before. Once at a party where I had my hair in buns on the side of my head like princess Leia during my star wars phase.

The second time was at a pizza establishment at 4am where I offered him a slice of my pie, no pun intended.  I *think* he accepted the offer, but he reminded me that this happened during the time period when I was accident prone, to myself.  I had casts on 4 out of 5 fingers on my left hand and my entire arm wrapped in a weird arthritis type cast.  I know you’re all wondering what happened, as was he, I told him I got my arm caught under a lawn mower.  But here’s the real story:

I had just found out about Bi-Polar ex and the fat troll make out a few days prior, so I drank to forget my name.  The night started with beer pong with my besties, rollerblading alone around my apartment complex while double-fisting bud lights.  At some point the night took a turn for the worse and my “friends” let me go to the bars.  Alone.  The pictures from that night told me that I found some of my neighbors and went back to their place to play beer pong.  Something bad happened and I found myself in a pile of broken glass on my bedroom floor and my left appendage gushing blood.  I crept into Gigi’s room and she claims I had a towel wrapped around my arm with saran wrap around the towel, how I managed that one handed is beyond me but it’s pretty damn impressive. Gigi left her boyfriend to take me to the hospital, where our hilarious and inappropriate hawaiian friend Lara joined.  I ended up with 30 some stitches, a re-fillable prescription of vicodin, 5 awkward casts, and 25 pictures of my friends hanging out in the hospital ER at 4am.

Anywho, it’s embarrassing to tell people that I’m such a lush that I honestly don’t know what happened.  I know it was from a vase and I assume it fell off my wall and broke and I was drunkenly trying to clean it up in order to avoid exactly what happened, but much like the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know.  So I would just make up whatever came to mind when people asked what happened.  It was usually the lawn mower story, or that I got my arm caught in the bus and then it drove off.

Back to the black dong, Drake 2.0 jokes around about having a one night stand which I joke back and say oh yeah your bed or mine? Like a whore.  I know.  Christ.  When he started to talk seriously about it and I was just drunk enough to not have a repeat of the elevator incident, I decided it was time to go so I made up an excuse and left my tab open for all my slumlord friends to nickel and dime my bank account to death, but not before I gave him my number.  He texted me all day and all night about hanging out tonight.  I agreed but as the day wore on I started to get nervous, black men notoriously have big penises.  Not that I was going to run out and sleep with him but I have a week and a half left in this city so I’m not reaaally looking to start conquering my next great love.

But I am scared, no terrified, to let a black man’s penis near my V.  More terrified than I am to become the creepy cat lady, which is an idea I’m starting to warm up to as I get closer and closer to 26 and the end of my fertile life as we know it. I am a small girl and I am nervous it will turn out like Mr. Hands. I’m only 25, I can’t die. If you’ve never seen or heard of Mr. Hands I suggest you keep it that way, trust me you do NOT want to know.  The story and images will sear into your brain and give you and your children nightmares for the rest of your life.  Gigi showed me the actual video without giving me fair warning of what it was and I no joke barfed my dinner up. Ok, so it’s a guy having sex with a horse.  Actually the horse is having sex with him, in the butt, and he dies after it.  The most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.  And if you google it, kill yourself because you’re SICK and don’t deserve to live.  That’s what I should’ve told Gigi after she watched it a second time.

So I texted Drake 2.0 a few hours before we were supposed to meet up and asked for a raincheck.  He’s flying out to L.A. for a job interview tomorrow (probably an interview to be famous, I’m a moron) and doesn’t know when he’ll be back.  Looks like I missed my chance at going black and never going back, I think I’m ok with it though.  He was asking Gigi about my ex bidness and I don’t want none that drama.  I’ll just keep it as a coulda, woulda, shoulda situation. Shoulda. Damnit.

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Bi-polar ex

I went out to get pants shitting drunk. Again.  And all hell broke loose.  Again. My phone has never blown up so much in my life.  People don’t call me to wish me a happy birthday, but if they get word that I’m getting drunk it’s, OH the entertainment has arrived.

Monday night I get a text from Merdie telling me to come over and drink tequila with him and his roomies, I say that I can tomorrow night, so it’s a plan we’re blacking out on Tuesday.

Tuesday comes and I get a text from Texas asking if I want to go out. Well of course, come one come all.  If I’m gonna pimp myself out I better do it right.  Then, my friend Chuck (who is a girl) tells me she is coming up and acts gay but says he’s straight friend Adam and her other friend Barbie are going to join in on the festivities.  ALRIGHT! Now we have a fucking party.

So Chuck, Barbie, Adam and I are at my place taking shooters like it’s our job, waiting for Merdie to get off work and give us the green light to come over, which never happened (bast!),  when Texas texts me and says to come over and take shots with them.  So we do.  It’s all kind of a blur but since my mouth tasted like someone pooped in it this morning, I can imagine we were combining all sorts of alcoholic treats.

About 11:15 we all stumble out of Texas’ place and into our favorite drinking establishment, Snakes, when Chuck pulls me into a booth and says “GIZ!!! LOOK WHO IT IS!!”

I look up and see none other than bi-polar ex.  Oh this night just got interesting.  Some background info on bi-polar ex:

He has the name, bi-polar ex, because he is for reals bi-polar.  At least that’s what the word on the street is.  He never told me anything about it, but I have heard from more than one source if he doesn’t take his meds it is bad news bears and things will get broken. Icaramba.

Chuck and Gigi had a 4 bedroom apartment a few years ago with only the two of them living in it.  They put an ad on Craigs list looking for 2 female roomies, so Mercedes and I moved in, and when we moved in bi-polar ex was subleasing Chuck’s room for the summer. So there, that’s the story of how I met Chuck, Gigi, and bi-polar ex and a slew of other characters who I’m sure will come out of the woodwork in due time.  If I had known the injuries, broken hearts, and shattered dreams that would occur because I lived in that apartment, I still would’ve fucking done it.  Best year of my life.

I have no bad blood with bi-polar ex, he’s actually one of the more decent guys that I dated.  We were never officially together so when I got word of him making out with some fat troll at a party there wasn’t much I could say; other than to say nothing at all, and quit talking to him, which is exactly what I did. And for the past year and a half he has badgered every single one of my friends, probing them for info on what’s up with me, all while he has had a serious girlfriend, Katie.

So here we are shooting the shit with bi-polar ex and his bff, texas and his bff, and my gay but says he’s straight friend, waiting to meet up with snoops friends, if HOTTIE would have walked in the door I think I may have had a heart attack.  There was way too much sexual tension in the room for one girl to handle.

So Texas tells me he’s too fucked up and has to go home, thank the jesus lord because bi-polar ex is getting drunker by the minute and is starting to drop bombs like, “I really fucked up with you,” and “You’re the only girl that’s ever given me a thrill.” To which I respond, “I don’t think your girlfriend would like you saying those things.”  Then he reveals that things aren’t going so hot with his girlfriend and he doesn’t think it’ll last much longer.  Ya ya ya…. that’s what the guy ALWAYS tells the stripper he’s about to fuck at his bachelor party.  Come on.

Fast forward to the end of the night, I look around and no one is left from our group except yours truly and bi-polar ex.  I’m close to blackout status once again because he keeps buying us mind erasers, and I know it’s only going to worse from here on out. And it does.

“You know, I  knew you were the girl I was supposed to marry the first time I hung out with you.”

Actually I do know you feel that way because you told all my friends and they told me, mind you the first time we hung out was nearly 2 years ago when I was 23 and a raging drunk (not much has changed), and I was throwing a broken tv off of my balcony, just to hear it shatter. But I remind him of the awful things I used to do to him when he would fall asleep, I’m worse than a frat brother, not to mention at one point in the evening I walked out of the bathroom and my dress was totally tucked into the back of my underwear.  No one told me, I figured it out when I started wondering why I could feel the leather from the stool on my bare ass when I knew my dress nearly drug the ground.

Yes, those are temporary tattoos.  I am too fucking lazy to cut them apart.  A funny story about these temporary tattoos.   You can see there are google eyes in there.  Well, Mercedes was dating this scrubby guy at the same time who would always ask her to have sex doggy style.  Which she is strictly a starfish kind of girl, so I talked her into letting me put google eyed temporary tattoos on her ass so when he pressured her to do it doggy style she could say OK then just before he stuck it in he would see some creepy eyeballs looking back at him.  It was a smash hit, for us anyway.  The scrub hated it but I laughed my ass off when I heard him scream “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?” and bolted out of our apartment.

Not only would I, his psuedo girlfriend, do things like this to him every single time he passed out on me.  I would also let my friends partake and spread the wealth.

After the marriage line and reminding him how many times he threatened to pee all over my apartment after the pranks I pulled on him, I look over and he is down on the ground on one knee saying he’s serious and asking if I will marry him. I can’t make this shit up people, my jaw dropped and I said, “Fuck!!! Get off the fucking floor you fool, you’re gonna get gangrene on your knee!” He gets up and tells me he is dead serious and if I would even CONSIDER giving him a second chance he would dump Katie and never speak her name again; and if I don’t then I’ll always be the girl that got away.

He rambled on for a good hour about how sorry he is for making out with the fat troll at that party, how he was so immature and partied too much back then and didn’t realize what he had until it was gone.  He took the time to list everything he loves about me, bashed on himself and snoop-linus for fucking up the best thing that ever happened to them.  But, that’s what they all say, right? Katie is kind of trollish herself, but from reading what she posts on his wall she seems like she has a mediocre personality. My guess is that it’s not going well because he cheated on her, he wouldn’t give me any deets, but I know these assholes like the back of my hand. OR maybe it’s not going well because every time he sees one of his ex’s he pulls this shit, I mean he was hugging me and kissing my forehead the entire night.  I told him it was inappropriate and he’d be in deep doo-doo if any of his gf’s friends saw, but he didn’t care.  He even tried to hold my hand.  How romantic.  Gag.

Chuck started texting me saying she was done shoveling pizza into her face and she would ride this bike she found with 2 flat tires around my parking lot while she waited on me to get home.  My friends are the most special people.  She wrecked it of course, so I had to book it home to doctor up, Chuck “Bloody Knees” Smith.

Bi-polar ex offered to walk me home, so off we went.  We got about halfway back to my apartment when he stops me in the middle of the street and says he can’t go any further because he’ll want to come in.  I mean, last I heard don’t I have to invite him in? That never happened, so I don’t know why he was getting so debbie fucking downer about it because I wasn’t about to let anything happen, but I just rolled with it and said ok.  Then came the water works.  I don’t know if he was actually that upset that he lost me or if he is just that desperate to get laid, but I mean I’m 25.  I’ve seen it all.

I couldn’t even get in the door before he was calling asking to come over, I told him no and that he should see where things go with his girlfriend, if it didn’t work out then he could call me but I didn’t want to be a factor in them breaking up.  I’m not a home wrecker.  Plus his parents are polish and his mom scares the bejeezies out of me.  If she likes this girl and he dumps her for me I will be scared she’ll pound me with her iron fist or try to scratch me up with her mustache.  He went around and around for another 20 minutes feeding me the same bullshit he had been all night and sending me texts that say, “I miss you.”

The liquor was starting to set in on me, I don’t remember replying but it was in my sent box so I guess I said, “I’m not saying I don’t miss you or that I do, but boundaries.” This text makes sense, kind of.  When I dated bi-polar ex I notoriously would send him super weird creepy texts when I was blacked out, so I guess he is probably used to it, but the kid brings out a different side of me.  The best one ever being, “You’re missing out on an upstairs romp session where they paint their necks with the bowl-skier.” Whatever in the hell that means.  If I have a moment where I start thinking I am too cool for school or any of these faggots I read that text message to bring myself back to reality.

He replied about how even before all of this he knew I was the girl with a hook and that the selfishness in him wants to be with me.  I think I should seriously consider touring the United States talking to high school girls about lines that guys will try to pull to get you to sleep with them, AND if they’re desperate enough they’ll poke holes in the condoms so they can get you forever.

I woke up this morning to find that I had posted this on his facebook wall:

Apparently, to me, an overweight monkey wearing a jean jacket is just HIL-ARIOUS at 4 o’clock in the morning.  I’m really working on the monkey issue but unfortunately there isn’t psychotherapy offered yet for a monkey addiction.  And if I drink? Well, you see what I do.

All in all, the stuff was really nice and made me feel good. And if I hadn’t been shit on by every single guy I’ve ever dated I probably would’ve bought it and woken up with him in my bed.  What’s really good to know is that even when I am bordering a blackout I still have my wits and can smell bullshit from a mile away.  He has been texting me all day trying to take me on a date, to get margaritas and tacos.  The kid knows me too well to know that I will never turn down an alcoholic beverage, especially if it is paired with a tiny corn envelope!

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