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Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Chapter 3, or Happy Anniversary to me

Going back to June 2008 (in case you haven't noticed, it was a busy month for me), on what was supposed to be my seventh anniversary, I went to Vegas with my parents and my sister.  On the drive out, the artist formerly known as my husband texted me something divorce related and lawyerish.  Thanks, Dick (and no, Dick is not his name, but it should be).  All I responded with was "happy anniversary".  That shut him up.

On our second night, my sister and I went to Margaritaville where I met Cute Bartender.  Later, we met him at O'Shea's.  My sister joined in a game of beer pong and I joined Cute Bartender at the bar.

Through my intoxicated haze I heard Cute Bartender saying stuff like, “When I know what I want I go after it” and “I have to wake up early tomorrow to take my niece to see Wall-E.”  As soon as he said that I had a mini orgasm and kissed him.  It’s like he knew I love everything Disney.  He was taken a little off guard because he said, “I totally forgot what I was just saying.  What was I just saying?”  I said, “I don’t care,” and kissed him again.  He mentioned that he’d like to take me somewhere in his truck.  That sounded like a fun little adventure (and not dangerous at all).
I looked for my sister and told her about Cute Bartender’s proposal and we decided that he was a small guy and I could probably take him if he started behaving ungentlemanlike.  But just as a safety precaution, my sister made him pinky swear, and stamp it, that he wouldn’t hurt me.  Nothing stands up in court like a pinky swear and stamp.
         Cute Bartender found a parking lot and we had truck-bed sex.  He was so skinny and he wanted me to be on top.  I felt like a giant.  I got the feeling that maybe this guy was a chubby chaser or something.  I wasn’t sure if I was big enough to be considered in that category, but he was definitely small enough.  He was small downtown also; about half the size of Guy from high school; maybe even smaller than half, but it got the job done.  To be fair, Guy from high school is huge so really it’s not nice to compare.

Kids, don't try this at home.  Try your hardest NOT to make dangerous and stupid your reaction to hurt and depressed.

2 comments:

  1. This one made me sad... Mainly because bartender pickup guy had little junk in his forward trunk. And I have doubts about the Chubby Chaser comment. You are not chubby. Unless Chubby means hot. And Hot means delectable...

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    1. Ah, but I was chubby back then...by about 55lbs.

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