Pocketful of Peens: October 30th 2012

I am not one to be shaking my hips and batting my lashes towards a taken man; even if he is winking my way first. The thought of infidelity makes me so mad I could spit nails. So this tale of a peen leaves me annoyed and even more paranoid about unfaithful men who find rubbernecking to be their favorite pastime.


I was meeting a group of friends in Ft. Worth for a birthday celebration. We were all meeting at a hotspot downtown for dinner and of course I was running late so I snagged my own cab to the restaurant. Side note, I had this crazy witch feeling I would see my ex-flame there. Sure enough, his ass was the first thing I saw when I was fixing to get out of the cab. I clutched onto the taxi driver’s seat and told him I didn’t want to get out of the car because my ex-boyfriend was right outside. The driver pumped me up, told me I could do it and took my cash. My legs trembled as I peeled myself off the car seat. I opened the door and I’m pretty sure the wind picked up just so I could have a “sexy, wind in the hair” entrance. I glossed right by my ex-love and his new flame of the week. This was simply the cherry on top of a weird, unsettling night. On to the real purpose of this passage: to highlight the shady actions of another fella.


At the oversized dinner table, I found myself sandwiched between two cute boys. One I knew had a girlfriend and the other was a wild ass single boy. I had my body positioned towards the wild ass. Nothing wrong with a healthy dose of tipsy single flirting. The boy with a girlfriend kept chatting me up though. I almost exclaimed, “Quit cockblocking me!” The cockblocking turned into a platonic, interesting conversation. I found the attached guy quite interesting and thought to myself, “I hope to find a nice, handsome guy like this some day.”


Through out the night I kept telling him how much I adored his girlfriend and I wished she was there for the birthday celebration. Eventually, I caught onto weird facial gestures he’d make when I mentioned her name. I was a little tips, but recognized this was not appropriate boyfriend behavior. If the guy I was in love with was running his mouth that he wasn’t that into me, I’d dropkick his ass and it’s sayonara sucka!


As the night progressed, he kept encouraging me to take shots and claimed he was the best wingman a girl could ask for. No offense, but no guy is going to buy my ass a drink when you’re hip to hip with me buddy. Take it down a notch and scoot on back. I kept bringing up his girlfriend, in an effort to not blur any lines of inappropriate activity. Every time I said her name his face twisted as if he just tasted fish guts. Each time he warped his face, I became more and more sad. I finally said, “If you feel like this, don’t be dragging her around, wasting her time. She deserves better.” He would quickly change the subject and let another shot scurry down his throat.


At the third bar, I created some distance between us and was dancing like a loon. We were all being silly and awkward, having the time of our lives. Pretty soon, the birthday girl came up to me and told me my cockblocking, wingman friend had the hots for me. He was babbling on to her how bored he was with his girlfriend. She said he went on for five minutes that he was jealous I was dancing with other guys. Some piss-poor wingman. I don’t think they’re supposed to get jealous…you’re enlisted to line ‘em up and I‘ll do the picking.


If I may be honest, for a second I was flattered by this news. This seemingly interesting, handsome guy was into me. The chorus of Robyn’s “Call Your Girlfriend” began blasting in my head. But then I was overcome by annoyance. It occurred to me this guy was ranting about his unhappy relationship to anyone who would listen. That’s not a salt of the Earth man. That’s some baby sissy shit a girl would do. I don’t like that. Plus, you can bet your bottom dollar I’m not the “next best thing” that comes along. Don’t choose me just because you’re bored with you and your girlfriend’s sex life. I ain’t after some shot in the dark, sheet-twisting, one night stand. Every girl wants to be pursued and not while the guy is drunk and “committed” to another girl.  I acted like I didn’t know the new piece of info and kept my boogie shoes on.


As the group strolled on back to the hotel, I was so excited for a king size bed all to myself. I would sleep in, order room service and watch TV late into the morning. The wingman guy walked me to my door, plopped a pathetic peck on my cheek and left for his shared room upstairs. As the door shut, I paused and thought, “That was weird as hell…time for my fluffy big bed!”


A few minutes later after all make-up was removed, I hear a tap tap tap on the door. I opened up and it was him. Images of how this could potentially play out flashed in my head. Luckily he was accompanied by a super drunk friend. The friend curled up on a chair and the wingman guy helped himself into my bed. They claimed the upstairs room was way too crowded. I placed a barricade of pillow between me and the man in my bed. Being a bit of a prude, I haven’t shared a bed with many a men. It had been quite some time so I’m sure if this cat was single, I would have had my legs wrapped around him like an octopus.


The morning came and I dashed out. I felt like it was an awkward one-night stand. I’d never had one of those little sex flings, so I imagined that’s how the morning after would play out. I quickly slipped out and let the sleeping men lie, pissed that I didn‘t get the morning to myself. That afternoon, I was totally expecting a Facebook friend request offering to help pay for the room. Nope. Silence. I thought, “Surely in a couple weeks he’ll break up with his poor girlfriend.” Nope. They’re still together. I feel sorry for her because she is incredibly sweet, vibrant and kind. Hope she wises up, but I’m sure not going to be the one to break the news her boyfriend is dickish.


This weird situation I found myself in left me even more sheepish when it comes to trusting a lover. He may claim he loves you, wants to give you the world and marry you, but what is he saying behind your back? Is he buying other girls shots and posing as their alleged wingman? Is he discussing your boring sex life with others? Here’s a tip for the wingman. Take a hard look at how good you have it with a girl you don’t deserve. Maybe the bore-whore in the bedroom is you. Swing by a sex shop, invest in a Kama Sutra book and spice things up yourself. Don’t go airing your sex disappointments all over town while flirting with other women. If you want out, get out. If you want in, then shape up and shut up.