7 – Bad Boy or Man Boy Part 1

20 May

shit

Sometimes, the internet can be an evil place.  With just one click, one may find themselves smack dab in the middle of hairy ass cracks, images of herpes infested genitals, New Zealand, cuddly baby photos, illiterate ranting and raving, etc.  The internet is also a viable tool for losers who are too lazy to scam in the flesh…thus, enter Andrew.

Andrew is an ex from nine years ago.  When I meet Andrew, I was taking Post-Baccalaureate classes while trying to decide on the next step to take in my life.  He was four years my senior, so he was 28 at the time.  He lived the lavish ghetto rich lifestyle and I found him utterly irresistible because I had tired of dating (Read fucking) ego-inflated college frat boys, stalkers, woman beaters, sex-o-phobes, momma’s boys, and rapists.

Andrew and I physically meet at work, in a call center for a highly known insurance company.  The guy who normally sat in the cubicle on the other side of me was absent that day, and Andrew was assigned to temporarily sit in his seat.  Our eyes locked while I was off on one of my bathroom breaks, and I knew that I had to talk to him.  I had just finished an 8 month intensive of Weight Watchers…and was 40 lbs lighter than I had ever been in my life.  No man was considered unconquerable to me during that time of my life…and Andrew’s “newness” intrigued me.  He seemed so mysterious.

We began to date.  I vowed to myself that I would make a true effort to be a “good girl” (Read no sex before the third date).  Andrew seemed patient with me…didn’t force me into sex (Read…he’s probably already fucking someone else).  I took that to mean that he was an upstanding member of society (insert maniacal laughter) because, after all, we had been dating an entire month so I obviously knew ALL there was to know about Andrew (insert stifled giggle).

Then, one day…I received a phone call from Andrew.  Well…it came from his phone at his house, but it wasn’t him.  The ovary laden caller explained that she has seen my number on the Caller I.D. and in Andrew’s cell phone over the past month (quite frequently) and she wanted to know the nature of my relationship with him.  I told her that we were dating.  I could hear a small intake of breath, as though she were preparing her body for a tumultuous blow.  She asked me many questions, as I her, and we both came to the conclusion that Andrew was a two-timing-slut!  The caller said that she had been financially supporting Andrew for the past year while he slipped in and out jobs, smoked weed, dating other women, and could not always account for his time spent away from home.

…This would explain why I had never been to his house…

I waited until the next day…knowing I would see Andrew at work…I confronted him with the information after work.  I asked him to come over to my apartment.  He lied his way out of everything.  He said that she was his ex and he was doing her a favor by giving her a place to stay while she got her life back on track.  I didn’t know who to believe.  See…this was no college boy.  I was playing in a league well above the skills level I held.  In comparison to Andrew, I was a lightweight.  Not only did he lie his way out of the situation…that night also became the night of our first physical encounter.  I was hooked!

I then spent the next two to three years following Andrew around like a lost puppy…I will have to devote a separate series of posts to my escapades with Andrew.  He’s back in my life (or, at least, ATTEMPTING to return).  He found me on Facebook, sent me a message, and left his phone number.  I hesitated to return his call…in fact, it took me one month.  I remembered how much work and how much TROUBLE he was…and how it was so not worth it!  But, my curiosity (Read: boredom…loneliness…needed an ego stroke) got the best of me.

I called.

The first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t regret much in my life, but you are the ONE thing I do regret…I regret letting you go.  I should have never let you get away.”

That’s when I realized, after practically ten years, this man-boy had not changed at all (not a good thing folks)…

“I know,” I responded smugly.

…He hadn’t changed…

…Still full of shit!

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