I decided to write a few posts today because I have been traveling for work and didn't have time to write lately.
Last night I got back into town and ran to Whole Foods ("Whole Paycheck") to get some groceries. I hate being in crowded stores and generally race through the store grabbing what I need, then get the hell out of there. I don't browse or waste a single second. I can't stand being in confined spaces with people walking around like fucking space-cadets, weaving around, stopping abruptly every three feet, it makes me crazy. So you can probably guess that I don't meet a lot of people while shopping, but I hear that the grocery store is a great place to meet women.
While I was in the produce isle haphazardly filling a bag with apples I noticed in my peripheral vision that someone was painstakingly inspecting each one before putting it in her bag. I started formulating a smart-ass remark as I looked up, it's involuntary for me, but when I saw she was cute I didn't say anything. I noticed that she had a ring on her left ring finger, but it didn't look like a wedding band or engagement ring. I realized I had no idea what to say, anyway. I ran through a few options in my head, but I had nothing. To give you an idea of where my head was, one of my (better) options was to pull out the apple on the bottom of the pyramid and have them all crash to the floor. I figured that I would at least have an opener, but decided that wouldn't be fair to the people who work in the store. What else can you say: "Shop here often?", "Hey, I like apples too, we should fuck." (yes, the later did cross my mind).
I never said anything, but I think my challenge for the week is going to be to figure out something (appropriate) to say to meet a girl in a store.
My friend Chuck's theory is that I need to meet women in places other than bars if I want to increase my chances of finding some "normal" ones, and by "normal" I think he means sane. I suppose the grocery store is as good a place as any to start.
Suggestions are appreciated.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
"He's a big dumb animal, isn't he folks!"
The title of this post is a quote from the movie Tommy Boy, and is my standard saying whenever I do something retarded. My alternate title for this post, also from Tommy Boy, was "Let me tell you why I suck."
I had six hours in the car by myself on Sunday to contemplate each millisecond of Saturday night, and by the time I rolled into the city I was so filled with self-loathing that I didn't know what to do with myself. I ate some dinner then went to bed, hoping a good night's rest would make things seem better.
I got into work around 7am Monday morning feeling as badly for myself as I had when I went to bed. I decided I should write to Dee (you have to get right back on that horse when you fall off). I think I wrote three drafts, they were all complete shit. The first email was an apology for being a jackass. The second draft ignored my buffoonery, and went along like nothing awkward ever happened. The third draft was a mixture of the two. I don't know how, but before I really knew what was happening I had clicked "I Agree" on the 1-800-flowers website sending a dozen red roses to Dee's office with a card that read "I wish I got to see you more often." Moments after sending I had a minor panic attack, what the hell was I doing? I had only sent flowers once before in my life, this was completely out of character for me, what a jerk-off. In case you are wondering, once you buy the roses there is no way to stop the order.
I had six hours in the car by myself on Sunday to contemplate each millisecond of Saturday night, and by the time I rolled into the city I was so filled with self-loathing that I didn't know what to do with myself. I ate some dinner then went to bed, hoping a good night's rest would make things seem better.
I got into work around 7am Monday morning feeling as badly for myself as I had when I went to bed. I decided I should write to Dee (you have to get right back on that horse when you fall off). I think I wrote three drafts, they were all complete shit. The first email was an apology for being a jackass. The second draft ignored my buffoonery, and went along like nothing awkward ever happened. The third draft was a mixture of the two. I don't know how, but before I really knew what was happening I had clicked "I Agree" on the 1-800-flowers website sending a dozen red roses to Dee's office with a card that read "I wish I got to see you more often." Moments after sending I had a minor panic attack, what the hell was I doing? I had only sent flowers once before in my life, this was completely out of character for me, what a jerk-off. In case you are wondering, once you buy the roses there is no way to stop the order.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Home Again
I found out last Thursday that one of my uncles passed away. He was 89 years old, and had led a full life, so while I was sad to learn of his death, it wasn't sudden or a surprise. I decided to drive home Friday night to attend the Saturday morning wake and funeral.
Earlier in the week I had made plans with Bear to go to a movie on Friday night, so I called her on Thursday to let her know that I had to cancel. She obviously understood and said we could do it another time.
I left DC at 7pm and was able to avoid most of the normal DC traffic. However, I did get caught in major traffic in the NY area, which made for a ridiculously long drive that night.
I was at the funeral all day on Saturday, but while driving from the church to the cemetery I sent Dee (from Date 7) a text message asking her if she was free that night and wanted to meet up for a drink. Dee said she was free and decided to meet out for a drink at 9pm.
When I met Dee at the bar she looked great, she was even cuter than I remembered. We sat at the bar, grabbed a drink and talked for a while. About an hour later some of Dee's friend's walked in and joined us. It was a little tense for a minute because I had gone out on a date with one of the girls, though it was many years ago. Luckily, though, the girl, Lauren, was cool about it. As soon as I was able to I discretely whispered to Dee that I had taken Lauren out on a date or two and that it didn't work out. She, too, was cool about it, and it wasn't an issue.
Dee, her friends, and I bounced around to a few other bars, but we eventually split off from the group and got a drink just the two of us. The last time I actually talked to Dee (on the phone) I had invited her to DC for a weekend, and she told me she wanted to hang out a few more times before we spent a weekend together. I was disappointed that she didn't want to come down, but to be honest I was more surprised than anything. Dee and I had a great time the last time we hung out, and I thought it was a given that she would visit.
I am not sure how we got on the topic of family (perhaps because of the funeral), but I mentioned that my parents were divorced because my father had an affair. In an unusual moment of frankness, Dee said that her parents had gone through a difficult phase because her father had also had an affair. However, I noticed that Dee was very careful not to say her father had an affair, she always said "he had a girlfriend" as if that was a lesser offense. Dee also said that most of the men she knew cheated on their wives, and said something to the effect of "I don't see a point in getting married because guys always cheat". I don't think you have to be Freud to see that Dee had been burned once or twice.
Earlier in the week I had made plans with Bear to go to a movie on Friday night, so I called her on Thursday to let her know that I had to cancel. She obviously understood and said we could do it another time.
I left DC at 7pm and was able to avoid most of the normal DC traffic. However, I did get caught in major traffic in the NY area, which made for a ridiculously long drive that night.
I was at the funeral all day on Saturday, but while driving from the church to the cemetery I sent Dee (from Date 7) a text message asking her if she was free that night and wanted to meet up for a drink. Dee said she was free and decided to meet out for a drink at 9pm.
When I met Dee at the bar she looked great, she was even cuter than I remembered. We sat at the bar, grabbed a drink and talked for a while. About an hour later some of Dee's friend's walked in and joined us. It was a little tense for a minute because I had gone out on a date with one of the girls, though it was many years ago. Luckily, though, the girl, Lauren, was cool about it. As soon as I was able to I discretely whispered to Dee that I had taken Lauren out on a date or two and that it didn't work out. She, too, was cool about it, and it wasn't an issue.
Dee, her friends, and I bounced around to a few other bars, but we eventually split off from the group and got a drink just the two of us. The last time I actually talked to Dee (on the phone) I had invited her to DC for a weekend, and she told me she wanted to hang out a few more times before we spent a weekend together. I was disappointed that she didn't want to come down, but to be honest I was more surprised than anything. Dee and I had a great time the last time we hung out, and I thought it was a given that she would visit.
I am not sure how we got on the topic of family (perhaps because of the funeral), but I mentioned that my parents were divorced because my father had an affair. In an unusual moment of frankness, Dee said that her parents had gone through a difficult phase because her father had also had an affair. However, I noticed that Dee was very careful not to say her father had an affair, she always said "he had a girlfriend" as if that was a lesser offense. Dee also said that most of the men she knew cheated on their wives, and said something to the effect of "I don't see a point in getting married because guys always cheat". I don't think you have to be Freud to see that Dee had been burned once or twice.
At the end of the night I drove Dee to her car, and there was a very awkward moment when we said good night. When we leaned in to kiss her good night I sensed some apprehension on her part, and thought she was going to kiss me on the cheek. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable I turned my face and kissed her on the cheek as well. I think I had misread her, though, and this only made things even more awkward. I said good night and drove off as soon as her car started.
I can be so smooth....(insert sarcasm here)
Friday, December 5, 2008
Mr. Nowhere
I had an interesting evening with Bear last week. We went to dinner and she steered the conversation to my past relationships. I tried to evade the topic, but she was relentless. I would change the subject and she would circle back, this must have happened five times. The outcome of her barrage of questions was: A) My longest relationship was just over one-year and B) I don't like or want kids. She then explained that when she talks to her friends she refers to me as "Mr. Nowhere", because that's where this relationship is headed.
She didn't like my response, which was "Yup, that pretty much sums things up". I didn't say this to be mean, I was just being honest and I don't see this relationship going any further than where it is now. We have fun together, and as I said earlier, the sex is good, so unless she is looking for something more why does the relationship have to change?
I could go on a long diatribe here about how women are obsessed with always moving the relationship to the next step (dating>engagement>marriage>house>baby>baby...) simply for the sake of supposed evolution, but I will spare you the gory details. If Bear is looking for a husband in me than I think my nickname is correct.
My guess is that Bear will not be in the picture much past the holidays.
She didn't like my response, which was "Yup, that pretty much sums things up". I didn't say this to be mean, I was just being honest and I don't see this relationship going any further than where it is now. We have fun together, and as I said earlier, the sex is good, so unless she is looking for something more why does the relationship have to change?
I could go on a long diatribe here about how women are obsessed with always moving the relationship to the next step (dating>engagement>marriage>house>baby>baby...) simply for the sake of supposed evolution, but I will spare you the gory details. If Bear is looking for a husband in me than I think my nickname is correct.
My guess is that Bear will not be in the picture much past the holidays.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Charlotte, NC
I know this blog is supposed to be about dating in DC, but I had to travel to Charlotte for work so I will throw this story in because I think it's hysterical.
I had to run down to Charlotte for a couple of days to check on one of my offices. I go down a couple of times a year and really enjoy the city. Charlotte has some great restaurants, the city is easy to navigate, and like most places in the "South" the people are very friendly.
A funny side note: My first night in Charlotte I ran to the mall across the street from my hotel for dinner. I had worked late and didn't feel like driving downtown to eat. I went to PF Changs to get a seat at the bar but it was full, so the hostess suggested I come back in 20 minutes and she would hold a seat for me. I walked around the mall for a little while and wandered into a shoe store, mainly because the two sales girls were really attractive. I talked to them for a bit then browsed the store. While I walked around I overheard the following conversation (paraphrased):
Clerk1: "I had a lunch date today."
Clerk2: "Really, with who?"
Clerk1: "You know that guy Rob who always comes in here, sometimes with a girl?"
Clerk2: "You went out with him, how was it?"
Clerk1: "It was OK, he asked me for my number last time he came in."
Clerk2: "How did it go?"
Clerk1: "He is nice, he works at [I don't recall where, but it was a store in the mall], BUT HE DRIVES A BMW!"
After hearing about the BMW, Clerk2 became just as excited as Clerk1, I think I even detected a tinge of jealousy. Is that it? All you need to get laid in the Mid-Atlantic states is a German car? I left the store immediately (Hertz had given me a Mustang for the week).
This, however, was not the funny story of the trip.
The next night I went downtown to a restaurant called Zink, where I usually go for dinner at least once when I visit Charlotte. Zink isn't the best restaurant I have ever been to, and probably not even the best in Charlotte, but the sushi is good, the atmosphere is casual, and they get a good crowd in the early evening, so I always end up meeting people. This trip was no different.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink and a few plates of sushi. While I waited for my dinner I started talking to a blond girl next to me who had just ordered dinner as well. She had just moved to Charlotte from Kentucky to work at one of the banks in the area, and this was her first day at her new job.
D11-Kentucky: Kentucky was semi-cute, sexy may be more accurate. She is hard to categorize, she was sexy, but in a porn star kind of way in that she was good looking, but looked like she had been "ridden hard and put away wet" a few times. She was on the short side, maybe 5'4", bleach-blond hair, big boobs, and a REALLY heavy accent, I almost couldn't understand her. She was well-dressed in a conservative suit (skirt, I'm not really sure how to describe it), and was maybe 5 years older than me.
Kentucky and I talked for a while and eventually shared a dessert (I know, weird, her idea). We both cleared our tabs and I asked her if she wanted to grab a drink somewhere. Neither of us knew the area very well, but we ended up at a bar across the street that has some pool tables upstairs. We ordered a couple of beers and I fed some change into the pool table. While I was racking Kentucky asked if I wanted to play for money, I said sure, and she suggested $20 a game. "Whoa, that's kind of a lot, really?" I asked. She said "yup". Since I consider myself a good pool player I agreed and said "I don't have a problem taking a girls money". Well, she killed me. We played another game double or nothing, and I did better but still lost. I won the third game only because she scratched on the eight ball. I ended up clearing our bar tab to call things "even" on our bets.
We left that bar and I said I had to get back to my hotel, but asked her if I could walk her to her car. Kentucky said she had walked to the restaurant from work, so I ended up giving her a ride to her place, which was about 5 minutes away. When we got to Kentucky's apartment she invited me up for a drink, and I agreed. Up until this point I didn't think there was much chemistry between us, but what the hell, it was either have a drink with her or sit in my hotel room and check email.
Kentucky lived in a huge apartment complex above a grocery store, I think it was a Harris Teeter, or Whole Foods. She didn't have anything to drink in her place, so we stopped at grocery store and bought a bottle of wine and went upstairs. When we walked into her place I laughed out loud, hard. The only thing I could see in her huge (by DC standards) apartment was a vacuum cleaner. She explained that the moving truck broke down and that everything was scheduled to arrive in a day or two. All she had were the clothes she brought with her in the car, an inflatable mattress, and two beach chairs on her deck.
I'll be very honest, at this point, and the only time in my life, I was actually a little scared. Things were going well, too well, really. I'm not a professional athlete or movie star, it's not every night that women take me home from restaurants, so I was feeling pretty good about myself. But when I saw the empty apartment I started to think that maybe I was about to have my organs harvested or something. I had a vision of waking up in the bathtub covered in ice, with my kidneys missing. I really considered bailing on the drink and getting the fuck out of there, but hormones got the better of me and I settled for a "grand tour". I know I sound like the crazy one now, but I made a point of secretly checking the closets to see if "Billybob" was hiding with a scalpel. The place was gigantic, three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, on the top floor of the building with a porch and great views of the city. It would have cost $5,000/month in DC (but was probably $900 in Charlotte). She excused herself so she could change and asked me to open the wine, which I did, but I also put the chain on the door to keep "Billybob" from sneaking in on me (again, I know I sound like the crazy on here, but trust me, it was sketchy).
She came out in a tank top (no bra) and tiny shorts. We sat on the porch and had a few glasses of wine, and were both feeling pretty tipsy. I went inside to use the bathroom, and when I came out she was standing there and kissed me. I was still paranoid about getting killed, but as usual the little head overruled the big head, and we awkwardly made our way to her inflatable bed. The air mattress may have been fine for just her, but with two of us on it it was like hooking up on the floor. I remember thinking "Jesus, dude, when are you going to grow up, you're hooking up on a goddamn rubber bed".
Kentucky was down to her thong at this point, and I only had my boxers on. She gave me a pretty bad hand job (so much for my porn star theory) that ended up all over her, then got on top of me and started grinding really hard. She was on top, dry-humping away, making all kinds of noise, when her eyes rolled into the back of her head, so I thought she was coming. Then, she leaned back and collapsed to the side. I sat really still for a second, wondering if she came or died. I got up, kneeled next to her and said "hey, are you all right?", but there was no response. I thought "Oh, shit, she's fucking dead, what are you going to do, this looks bad, really bad.". I put my face really close to her and could tell she was breathing, which was a relief. I jumped up and ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her. On my way there I thought of the scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta thinks "Mrs. Mia Wallace" overdoses. It's weird how your mind operates in times of crisis. Anyway, when I came back to the room she had rolled over on to her stomach, covered herself with a blanket and was snoring like a 300-pound lumberjack. I tried to wake her, I wanted to make sure she was asleep and not having a seizure or something, but she would only half wake up, and kind of swat me away. I decided it was time to go home. I didn't think she was in an danger, and it was really late.
I put on my clothes and left her place. I locked the door knob from the inside so no one could get into her place and was just about the close the door behind me when I realized the keys to the rental car were somewhere inside. That would have been bad! I ran inside, found the keys and got the hell out of there.
As I drove home I laughed at how ridiculous that whole night was. I got lost for about 45 minutes going back to the hotel, but didn't care because I was laughing so hard. I figure she either passed out while she was riding me, or faked it to get me out of there. Either way it is hysterical.
I had to run down to Charlotte for a couple of days to check on one of my offices. I go down a couple of times a year and really enjoy the city. Charlotte has some great restaurants, the city is easy to navigate, and like most places in the "South" the people are very friendly.
A funny side note: My first night in Charlotte I ran to the mall across the street from my hotel for dinner. I had worked late and didn't feel like driving downtown to eat. I went to PF Changs to get a seat at the bar but it was full, so the hostess suggested I come back in 20 minutes and she would hold a seat for me. I walked around the mall for a little while and wandered into a shoe store, mainly because the two sales girls were really attractive. I talked to them for a bit then browsed the store. While I walked around I overheard the following conversation (paraphrased):
Clerk1: "I had a lunch date today."
Clerk2: "Really, with who?"
Clerk1: "You know that guy Rob who always comes in here, sometimes with a girl?"
Clerk2: "You went out with him, how was it?"
Clerk1: "It was OK, he asked me for my number last time he came in."
Clerk2: "How did it go?"
Clerk1: "He is nice, he works at [I don't recall where, but it was a store in the mall], BUT HE DRIVES A BMW!"
After hearing about the BMW, Clerk2 became just as excited as Clerk1, I think I even detected a tinge of jealousy. Is that it? All you need to get laid in the Mid-Atlantic states is a German car? I left the store immediately (Hertz had given me a Mustang for the week).
This, however, was not the funny story of the trip.
The next night I went downtown to a restaurant called Zink, where I usually go for dinner at least once when I visit Charlotte. Zink isn't the best restaurant I have ever been to, and probably not even the best in Charlotte, but the sushi is good, the atmosphere is casual, and they get a good crowd in the early evening, so I always end up meeting people. This trip was no different.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink and a few plates of sushi. While I waited for my dinner I started talking to a blond girl next to me who had just ordered dinner as well. She had just moved to Charlotte from Kentucky to work at one of the banks in the area, and this was her first day at her new job.
D11-Kentucky: Kentucky was semi-cute, sexy may be more accurate. She is hard to categorize, she was sexy, but in a porn star kind of way in that she was good looking, but looked like she had been "ridden hard and put away wet" a few times. She was on the short side, maybe 5'4", bleach-blond hair, big boobs, and a REALLY heavy accent, I almost couldn't understand her. She was well-dressed in a conservative suit (skirt, I'm not really sure how to describe it), and was maybe 5 years older than me.
Kentucky and I talked for a while and eventually shared a dessert (I know, weird, her idea). We both cleared our tabs and I asked her if she wanted to grab a drink somewhere. Neither of us knew the area very well, but we ended up at a bar across the street that has some pool tables upstairs. We ordered a couple of beers and I fed some change into the pool table. While I was racking Kentucky asked if I wanted to play for money, I said sure, and she suggested $20 a game. "Whoa, that's kind of a lot, really?" I asked. She said "yup". Since I consider myself a good pool player I agreed and said "I don't have a problem taking a girls money". Well, she killed me. We played another game double or nothing, and I did better but still lost. I won the third game only because she scratched on the eight ball. I ended up clearing our bar tab to call things "even" on our bets.
We left that bar and I said I had to get back to my hotel, but asked her if I could walk her to her car. Kentucky said she had walked to the restaurant from work, so I ended up giving her a ride to her place, which was about 5 minutes away. When we got to Kentucky's apartment she invited me up for a drink, and I agreed. Up until this point I didn't think there was much chemistry between us, but what the hell, it was either have a drink with her or sit in my hotel room and check email.
Kentucky lived in a huge apartment complex above a grocery store, I think it was a Harris Teeter, or Whole Foods. She didn't have anything to drink in her place, so we stopped at grocery store and bought a bottle of wine and went upstairs. When we walked into her place I laughed out loud, hard. The only thing I could see in her huge (by DC standards) apartment was a vacuum cleaner. She explained that the moving truck broke down and that everything was scheduled to arrive in a day or two. All she had were the clothes she brought with her in the car, an inflatable mattress, and two beach chairs on her deck.
I'll be very honest, at this point, and the only time in my life, I was actually a little scared. Things were going well, too well, really. I'm not a professional athlete or movie star, it's not every night that women take me home from restaurants, so I was feeling pretty good about myself. But when I saw the empty apartment I started to think that maybe I was about to have my organs harvested or something. I had a vision of waking up in the bathtub covered in ice, with my kidneys missing. I really considered bailing on the drink and getting the fuck out of there, but hormones got the better of me and I settled for a "grand tour". I know I sound like the crazy one now, but I made a point of secretly checking the closets to see if "Billybob" was hiding with a scalpel. The place was gigantic, three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, on the top floor of the building with a porch and great views of the city. It would have cost $5,000/month in DC (but was probably $900 in Charlotte). She excused herself so she could change and asked me to open the wine, which I did, but I also put the chain on the door to keep "Billybob" from sneaking in on me (again, I know I sound like the crazy on here, but trust me, it was sketchy).
She came out in a tank top (no bra) and tiny shorts. We sat on the porch and had a few glasses of wine, and were both feeling pretty tipsy. I went inside to use the bathroom, and when I came out she was standing there and kissed me. I was still paranoid about getting killed, but as usual the little head overruled the big head, and we awkwardly made our way to her inflatable bed. The air mattress may have been fine for just her, but with two of us on it it was like hooking up on the floor. I remember thinking "Jesus, dude, when are you going to grow up, you're hooking up on a goddamn rubber bed".
Kentucky was down to her thong at this point, and I only had my boxers on. She gave me a pretty bad hand job (so much for my porn star theory) that ended up all over her, then got on top of me and started grinding really hard. She was on top, dry-humping away, making all kinds of noise, when her eyes rolled into the back of her head, so I thought she was coming. Then, she leaned back and collapsed to the side. I sat really still for a second, wondering if she came or died. I got up, kneeled next to her and said "hey, are you all right?", but there was no response. I thought "Oh, shit, she's fucking dead, what are you going to do, this looks bad, really bad.". I put my face really close to her and could tell she was breathing, which was a relief. I jumped up and ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her. On my way there I thought of the scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta thinks "Mrs. Mia Wallace" overdoses. It's weird how your mind operates in times of crisis. Anyway, when I came back to the room she had rolled over on to her stomach, covered herself with a blanket and was snoring like a 300-pound lumberjack. I tried to wake her, I wanted to make sure she was asleep and not having a seizure or something, but she would only half wake up, and kind of swat me away. I decided it was time to go home. I didn't think she was in an danger, and it was really late.
I put on my clothes and left her place. I locked the door knob from the inside so no one could get into her place and was just about the close the door behind me when I realized the keys to the rental car were somewhere inside. That would have been bad! I ran inside, found the keys and got the hell out of there.
As I drove home I laughed at how ridiculous that whole night was. I got lost for about 45 minutes going back to the hotel, but didn't care because I was laughing so hard. I figure she either passed out while she was riding me, or faked it to get me out of there. Either way it is hysterical.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Venues
My buddy Chuck came over last night to help me move something at my house. While we were unloading some things from Chuck's truck at least five beautiful women walked by, which got us talking about my recent dating exploits. Chuck's theory is that the reason every girl I go out with is crazy is because I meet them all at bars. It's an interesting hypothesis, I am going to try and test it in the coming months.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Bear/Colombia
I tried juggling Bear and Colombia for a few weeks and things did not work out so well. The outcome was that Colombia lost interest and Bear said I am a "communicative let-down", though I am not certain that is even grammatically correct.
To be honest, I don't think I had ever "set the hook" with Colombia. To keep the fishing metaphor going, I am pretty sure I snagged her with a lucky cast. Colombia was playing games of her own, and on several occasions changed plans on me at the very last minute, which leads me to believe she was seeing someone else at the same time. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I suppose. I basically let my communication with Colombia trail off, though I will say I was certainly the pursuer.
As for Bear, I enjoy her company and the sex is great. Actually, the sex is fantastic, she is completely uninhibited. Sometimes the best sex is when you're not sure if you're fucking or fighting, and this is certainly the case with Bear.
To be honest, I don't think I had ever "set the hook" with Colombia. To keep the fishing metaphor going, I am pretty sure I snagged her with a lucky cast. Colombia was playing games of her own, and on several occasions changed plans on me at the very last minute, which leads me to believe she was seeing someone else at the same time. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I suppose. I basically let my communication with Colombia trail off, though I will say I was certainly the pursuer.
As for Bear, I enjoy her company and the sex is great. Actually, the sex is fantastic, she is completely uninhibited. Sometimes the best sex is when you're not sure if you're fucking or fighting, and this is certainly the case with Bear.
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