10 – Match.Com Madness

6 Jul

Picture 23 copy

Call me a hater…but don’t call me Kendra.  I’m flabbergasted.  How does someone who looks like an inbred pygmy, with the personality of sheet rock, become awarded with the ability to marry an intelligent and devoted man like Hank?[1] How (why) has this idiot escaped the hell I know as D-A-T-I-N-G?  I’m pretty[2], intelligent, hard-working, honest, don’t have a bobble head on top of a nine-year-old boy body, have HUMONGOUS boobs[3], and like to give head…so where’s MY Hank, goddamnit?!  Instead of having an eighty-something, millionaire, ex-boyfriend who probably has a HEFty investment in Cialis/Levitra, I have Match.com.  I hate Match.com.

I have gone on three Match dates.  I’m still an angry-blogging-bitch, so that should tell you how well those dates worked out.  For now, I will tell you about…let’s see…what shall I call him?  Much Bitchassness Awry (MBA)!  MBA and I were performing a cyber-dating tango.  I spotted him on a non-Match dating site a few months back, started a chat with him, and then…well…I don’t know what happened.  I may have met some other loser who, ostensibly, must have diverted my attention for the short-term.  Anywho, I thought that MBA was a “perfect” dating candidate for me because of his height[4], extensive education (recently completed his MBA at a prestigious university), sensible age[5], ability to articulate himself, attractiveness, and his seemingly extensive knowledge of astrology[6].

He didn’t seem overly enthused by my romantic overtures, so I abandoned ship.  Then, I joined Match…I read his Match profile and fell in love with his proper usage of the word “perdition.”[7] I ignored the fact that he was leery of chronic wielders of sarcasm…ummm…because that would be me!  I ignored the fact that, if he went through the bother of writing that in his profile, he is probably built with a weak constitution.

So, after what I deem way too much of cyber chatting, I leave him a Match message that says something along the lines of “Let’s take this conversation of the internet…here’s my number…” and he responds with “I already asked you out on Face Book.”  I was like, you could have CALLED…I gave you my number (weirdo).  Another thing I ignored, the fact that he chose to “ask me out for beverages”[8] on FB instead of just fucking calling me!  UGH!  So we made plans to meet at a local bar/eatery at 1pm, actually, MBA said “between 1pm-3pm”…LOL!  At 12:30, while I’m flying about 80mph in a 65mph zone, I receive a phone call from MBA.  He says that time got away from him, and he really needed to reschedule because his brakes had gone bad and needed to be replaced.

A moment of silence, while we respect the blatant STUPIDITY residing within Mr. MBA.

I took that to mean we would not be meeting…ever.  I laughed it off, and thought that maybe he chickened out on the date thing.  Around 4:30pm, I receive a text from MBA.  He wanted to know if we could meet at 6pm.  I thought that was rather presumptuous of him…seeing as how he cancelled earlier.  We agreed on 7pm.

My date with MBA was as eventful as shopping for toiletries.  He reminded me of bosses I have had while working corporate jobs: the personality of sandpaper mixed with the sense of humor of a rock.  I understood his aversion to sarcasm.  He would not get it.  When he spoke, I felt myself drifting off, slipping deeply into the monotonous drone of his voice.  Thank God I had salsa dancing to look forward to…a spin on the dance floor always rights the wrongs of bad dates!

That bobble-headed Kendra, whom of which throws her panties on the floor and never picks up after herself, should thank her lucky stars that she doesn’t have to contend with the Match madness.


[1] The question is OBVIOUSLY rhetorical…It’s all about the Playboy, baby!

[2] At least, that’s what my gay boyfriends and my mother keep telling me…LMAO!

[3] And no, my stomach does not overshadow/avalanche my boobs!

[4] 6’2” …I am 5’10” …Height can become problematic for me.

[5] 37

[6] He knew his sun, moon, and rising signs…IMPRESSIVE!

[7] Foreshadowing…Hello?!  Dating IS the road to perdition!  LOL!

[8] Yes, he REALLY wrote “beverages”!  LOL!


9 – Bitch-ass-n*%^^a…My Battle with “Somtimey” Dick

27 May

no bitch ass ness

The Midnight Sex Texter never came to visit… 😦  He said that his trip would be four hours longer if he altered his route and drove through my city.  I was disappointed because he and I have not had sex we broke up in 1996…I’m wondering how much more he has learned over the decade and a half we have been apart.  I have promised to come visit him during the summer…since I will have two months off.  I am highly anticipating a fuck fest frenzy 🙂  I hope he will not become a complete Bitch-ass-n*%^^a…

When I realized that he would not be coming, I called Kenneth. Things are “so-so” with him…I guess I’m not jazzed about him like I used to be…I’m so like “What’s the point?”  I’m getting absolutely nowhere with him!  He’s too much work (mainly because he’s off having a great time with whoever) just to get some damn conversation and sometimey dick!  And then when I do get it, it’s aight…it ain’t the type of shit I want to spend the last year of my fleeting “early” 30s chasing after.  Kenneth did not answer the phone.  Bitch-ass-n*%^^a…

By Saturday evening, I was ready to throw myself in traffic just to end the sheer boredom I was experiencing.  I cursed my single-with-no-kids girlfriend who never seems to want to go out with me…I cursed my married-with-kids girlfriends who would LOVE to go out, but could not…I cursed Kenneth for being a failing, bitchass, FWB who preferred the pursuit of new pussy over what-is-good-and-known-at-home…I cursed Midnight Sex Texter for being an undying mama’s boy….I cursed my entire existence as I scrolled through my phone…again….fishing without bait…I closed my eyes and landed on:

Jason (a.k.a. Shar Pei) – Yes, I was just THAT desperate for something to do.  I wasn’t desperate enough to have sex with him, but I certainly did not mind initiating a last minute date (no, I would not have allowed him to pay for me…no sex…right?).  So I called him…oh, I forgot to add that I texted him earlier in the week (testing the water) and he said that he was on vacation.  So, when I called Saturday, I thought that he would, surely, want to get together.  So, we’re talking…I start fishing around…asking him about recent movies and if he’d seen them.  He didn’t take the hint.  Then the game came on…so I let him go (conversation was dragging).  Bitch-ass-n*%^^a…

By Sunday, I was like a caged animal.  I absolutely had to go out and DO something!  I went to my tried-and-true favorite – Barnes and Noble.  I saw a hot cop; Glistening bald head and tattoos adorning his forearms[1].  He was sitting down, reading a book[2].  So, since I’ve decided to turn a new leaf by attempting to be more approachable, I said something to him.

“That doesn’t look like work to me,” I sing sweetly in a coy voice.

His eyes unglue themselves from the page.  I smile.  He realizes I’m playing/flirting with him.

“This IS work,” he shifts his body a bit, and the bench wiggles beneath him.

I select a seat that is adjacent to him.

“Sure it is…tell me anything!”

He smiles.  I smile.  We smile.

I busy myself with the book I’ve selected…trying to make it look as though I’m not really stealing clandestine glances at his muscular arms…his muscular and TATTOOED arms…(sigh).  From the corner of my eye, I see him trying to size me up.  I refrain from stripping my clothes off and allowing him a better look.  Nothing happens…he didn’t write me a ticket for Blatant Fantasizing (lol).

So…that was my uneventful Memorial Weekend and my unluckiness with Bitch-ass-n*%^^as. 😦

[1] Hmmm…he could be a bad boy in the disguise of a good boy…yummy…AND he has a job!  Yayyyy! 🙂

[2] Yes, I found that odd…the sitting-down-and-chillaxing-while-on-duty part…

8 – CockGobblers and BoogerWolves: An Open Letter

23 May

bitch please

Dear Andrew,

While I enjoyed our first promenade down memory lane, I do not wish to rehash any of the following PAST occurrences every time we talk:

v  Having sex on the side of the road in the woods

v  Me becoming completely nude in your truck[1] while you leisurely drove about town

v  Having sex in your driveway while MANY cars drove along the busy street you lived on

v  How nice/corruptible/virginal/naive I used to be[2]

v  How shy I used to be

v  How innocent I seemed until the proverbial door to the bedroom closed

v  How well (and often) I sucked your dick[3]

In case you have not realized, I have grown over the past ten years.  I now have a career[4], a car of my own, bills, a puppy, a Master’s degree, an acceptance to receive my Ph.D., and a dwindling set of dependable friends.  I do not want to talk about the past.  I want to talk about the present and the future.  I want to be proactive.  I do not find it attractive that, at thirty-eight years of age, you:

v  Don’t know the name of your daughter’s high school

v  Live at home with your mother…in HER house…

v  Have no job

v  Still drive around town while smoking weed

v  Smoke weed

v  Smoke Black-N-Milds

v  Can’t afford to buy your own plane ticket to come visit me[5]

There are so many things I find pathetic about you, on so many levels.  You are exactly what I am NOT looking for.  I am not one of your cockgobbling boogerwolves who would jump at the chance to do your laundry, pay your bills, and support your sorry ass.  You have not changed, at all, from the Andrew I used to know!  Also, if memory serves me correctly…you don’t exactly “SIZE UP” to my present level of man slaying expectations.  So, I definitely am not going to expend my valuable time, energy, and money on a thirty-eight-year-old, wee-dick wonder, who is still unable to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up.

So…it was lovely reconnecting…now I’ve gotta run and go do some grown-up stuff.  Call me once you’ve graduated from pull-ups to big boy pants.

Your Good Thing Got Up and Went,

1 Bad Girl 🙂

[1] Thank God for tinted windows!

[2] Read: Nothing like the chronic booger-wolf cock-gobblers you were accustomed to in your small town

[3] You never seem to want to talk about how infrequently you returned the favor

[4] That I fucking hate…but a career none-the-less!  In this economy, beggars can’t be choosers.

[5] And then had the audacity to ask me to buy the damn ticket!  HA!

7 – Bad Boy or Man Boy Part 1

20 May


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!

6 – That’s Mister Detective Handcuffs to You: A Dating Odyssey in Two Parts

20 May

Neimans handcuffs

Saturday night was prom (yes, I teach high school…and if any of you are considering it, DON’T DO IT!) and I ended up there because I was hoping to seduce the hot Science teacher whose room is next to mine.  Also, I went because my spur-of-the-moment invite to the beach (by FWB Kenneth) flopped like an elderly man’s flaccid penis (and you know how I detest *old*).

Part One

My Chimerical Trip to the Beach: Thursday night Kenneth called me and asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with him that weekend.  And when I say Thursday night, I mean 9:00 pm –ish…so I say, “Sure.  Are we going in the convertible?”  Cause the drive is four to five hours, and I know he can’t think that I’m going to drive.  He hesitates.  “Well, you know the other car won’t make it, but the convertible is a gas guzzler.”  I don’t say anything.  I am thinking I know this dickweed can’t think I’m driving, because this last minute trip was not my idea!  I drive an SUV!  That’s a fucking gas guzzler, too! “I’ll have to work all that out.  I will give you more details about the trip tomorrow.”  So I remind him that I do have a dog, and I will need enough time to make arrangements for her.

Next day…

FWB calls me at 6:45pm, smack dab in the middle of me trying to pay attention to Jen Lancaster’s book talk!  I, obviously, did not answer the phone.  So I return his call around 8:00pm.  He explains that his parents will be at said destination, and that all accommodations are paid for…we just need to get there.  Okay, so I’m in!  My heart starts to race.  I begin to think that he *finally* wants to introduce me to his parents as his girlfriend (you are allowed to start laughing now, really, it’s okay) seeing as how we’ve been fucking around for the past three years…never mind the fact that he had a live-in girlfriend for 2.5 of those years (it’s all so convoluted…because the only reason they are no longer together is because she died due to sudden illness six months ago…and…well…FWB guy will have to be a separate post)!

Anywho…I begin to scramble around and attempt to pull this spur-of-the-moment trip off.  I also do my best job to ignore the nagging little voice in my head saying, “You shouldn’t go.  If he REALLY wanted to go with YOU then he would have given you a few days more of a notice.”  But I kicked that annoying little nagging bitch in the mouth and kept it moving!  I cleaned, washed, packed, shaved, plucked, and primped…all the while singing “He wants me to meet his family” ( Oh, God, if only I had said “No”).  I had even found a place, other than her normal boarding place, for my baby girl to stay for the weekend.  I was trying to find peace with the fact that she was late on her shots and would have to stay in a bootleg boarding place (for bootleg owners) while I paid THREE TIMES the amount I normally paid…just to pull this thing off!

I’m getting to the handcuffs part…really! J

It was 2:00 am before I went to bed.  I was supposed to drop my little lady off at Boot Leg Kennel, Inc, and then drive to Kenneth’s apartment by 7:30/8:00 am.  I don’t really know how it happened, but I totally overslept…to the tune of 9:15am.  I woke up feeling rested and completely ignorant of the fact that I was supposed to be on the road that very minute.  It hit me like lightening and I called.  An extremely pissy Kenneth answered the phone.

Me: I’m so sorry!  I overslept!  I slept right through my alarm, and I never heard your call!  I can be over there ASAP.  I’m already packed and everything.

Kenneth: How do you know I haven’t already left?

Me: Have you?

K: No…but now it’s too late.

M: No it’s not.  I can be over there in no time.  I’m already packed.  I’ve just got to drop the dog off.

K: Well…if you can be here in 45 minutes then we can go, but if it’s any later than that then I’m just going to make other plans to do something else.

Now, this is where I want to wedge my foot deeply into his ass while screeching my champion battle cry of “Fuck you!”  Is he fucking kidding?  I have 45 minutes to get there?  HA!

M (as nicely as possible because I have an explosive temper once ignited): No…don’t do it like that…I already have to take the dog to a bootleg kennel and pay three times the amount I normally would, due to the short notice.  I don’t want to drive all the way to your house, after doing that, and have you tell me that you don’t feel like going anymore!

K: Okay, then…I don’t think we should go.

M: You sure?

K: Yep.  I’ll talk to you later.

WOW!  Talk about let down…I got in the shower, sent FWB a text asking him (once more…making an idiot out of myself) if he was sure. He didn’t respond.  I called his phone, and he didn’t answer.  I called again (no…I don’t usually call a man back-to-back…extenuating circumstances) and this time he had turned the phone off.

…Bitch made ass n*&%a!

It was then that I realized (after at least four total hours of talk time between my mother and a good-advice-giving-girlfriend) that Mother Nature had done me a favor by not allowing me to wake up.  I didn’t need to go anywhere with him because I’m better than that shit (the real test will be when he calls again…I’m supposed to ignore the call a few times).

…So I guess I am going to prom…

Part Two

Detective Handcuffs was the lighthouse beacon that reeled me in as soon as I entered the threshold of the hotel.  I thought he was hotel staff, and I needed to know what floor the prom was on and how I could get there without stepping foot inside an elevator (Read claustrophobic control freak).  Dec. Handcuffs was more than willing to guide me to the lower-level of the hotel.  He told me that he was not hotel staff; however he was working the prom as security.

He told me that he remembered seeing me at work (stalker).  I remembered, too (after he jostled my memory by retelling the conversation I had with another co-worker while he was in the room).  And let me tell you, this man is handsome…handsome…handsome…Large shoulders and arms, 6’3”, smooth walnut brown skin, shaved head, well-spoken, in shape…ummm…and he had a loaded gun…and a pair of shiny silver handcuffs.  I caught sight of them and my mind spiraled into all sorts of sex fantasies involving HIM chained to a bed (lol) and me…well…you get the picture! J

Det. Handcuffs: So what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here without a date?

Me: Long story (sigh)…

D: Ya man ain’t treatin you right?

M: Something like that.

D: See, these young guys don’t know how to treat a woman.

M: (Laughing) Young!  You can’t be more than 35 or 37 yourself!

D: (REALLY laughing) Baby, I will be 47 on Monday.

GASP!  Old School Sexy Alert!  I think I’m rolling in my pre-dug grave!  I’m enchanted by an O.S.S.?  Damn!  There really is a first for everything!

M: You don’t look a day over 35!

D: Well how about we meet up on the third floor after this thing is over?

GULP!  I don’t do one-night stands (anymore).

M: Well, I guess I better go inside the banquet room and find my seat.

D: So you scared?

Then his hands came out of his pockets…oh no…married!  BOO!  I fled the scene with a sly laugh…hoping he got the message.  But, apparently, he did not because I spent the rest of the night “running” from him.  He sat at my table, coincidentally ended up in the picture line right behind me, and called his phone from my cell phone when all of us teachers left the table to do the Electric Slide with the students (damn Electric Slide).

He called me three times between 9:00pm – 11:00pm, leaving the same fucktarded message, “Hello.  This is Detective Handcuffs.  Someone called me from this number, and I am returning the call.” UGH!  I think that it is needless for me to say that I completely ignored him!  Dating a married man is a forbidden zone in my book.

The thing I learned from all of this is to never say never!  There really are some old school sexy men out there that I may, one day, consider…unmarried, preferably!  I feel sorry for Det. Handcuffs’ wife…he sucks as a husband.

5 – 2 Bare Breasts and 1 Margarita

18 May


So, my birthday was last week…and I’m sure you’re wondering if I got any bday sex.  Yes!  I did…but I will say that it came in an unforeseen fashion (lol).  Kenneth made a date with me for the Friday night after my birthday.  I made sure to look as sexy as possible because he told me, before his arrival, that his time frame for MY birthday dinner with him could only last between 8:00-10:30 pm. I believe that it is pointless to say that I was *miffed* by the idea of him taking me out, booking me up, and not sealing the deal (once again…back to my grandmother’s wise advice about having a spare).  I do not have a spare.  I have am currently taking applications for one, however, I have yet to find something to my liking.

Okay…so back to the sexiness…I purchased the perfect “little black dress.”  I looked as though I had been molded inside this dress!  Spaghetti straps…knee length…oh, and the bodice of the dress buttoned-up, so I made sure that I left the top button undone (and I am VERY top heavy).  My mission was to lead him astray and commandeer his body, thereby keeping him in my bed all night long and away from whatever plans he made on MY bday dinner night.

I had one Pomegranate Margarita and I was completely loopy.  So loopy that while on the way back to my apartment, I began to reach my hands up into the sky once he dropped the top of his convertible…I arched my back and allowed the ripples of wind to whip through my fingers.  I felt so free, but yet trapped at the same time.  I wanted to do something that would REALLY conjoin me with the bond of nature, so I began to unbutton my dress.

Kenneth glanced over at me while I unbuttoned myself, and practically swerved off the road.  His hands were confused! One strove to cup my breast while the other steered the car along the sinewy road.  “What are you doing, girl?” he asked as he leered longingly at the cleavage peeping through the folds of my dress.  I smiled wickedly and then completely exposed myself (yes, it was dark…and yes, it was not a well lit road).  Kenneth seemed incredulous at how brazen I had become.  He looked at me as though he did not know me…and the truth is, he doesn’t.

When I was in undergrad, I did stuff like that all the time (without the influence of ANY drugs)…I did it because I felt like it, and because whomever I was with was very accepting of me…my TRUE (uninhibited) self.  Not many men are capable of handling that.  After that moment, I really did feel free…I realized that what I had done was more for me than for him, when initially, I thought I was doing it only to capture his attention.

When Kenneth dropped me off that night, he came in for a while…but still no bday sex. The next day, however, he did call and stop by to deliver a quickie.  I think the image of the dress combined with my bare breasts blowing in the wind was too much for him to say no to.

4-Are You a “Common Bitch”?

6 May

I’m speechless…I think I’ve become a “common bitch.”

She had me at pussy juice…WOW!