Frankie, no!

Last week I was hanging out with a couple of friends after work and one guy was saying that his girlfriend caught him jerking off, and how embarrassing it was. We all told our most embarrassing dating stories, and I thought I would share mine.

About five years ago I met this girl from Texas at a wedding (we'll call her Dallas). I've mentioned her before, she was really hot but really into herself. Her favorite sexual position was any one where she could watch herself in the mirror.

Anyway, we met at a wedding, fooled around a bit back in my hotel room that night, but that was all. Dallas was 27 at the time and had just divorced her high-school sweetheart husband, so I guess I was a rebound. After the wedding we talked a few times on the phone, and she came to visit me for a weekend. About 2 months later I went down to Dallas to hang out with her for a long weekend.

I flew down on a Wednesday night and planned to stay until Sunday evening. We toured the city, had dinner with the couple from the wedding a few times, and it was just a chill weekend. The only problem with the weekend was that Dallas had just moved into this very chic loft that had almost no walls. The bathroom was semi-enclosed, so if you went into the bathroom and stunk the place up, it was going to be really obvious. Needless to say, I wasn't comfortable doing that at this early stage of the relationship, so I took a couple of quick dueces at restaurants.

That Saturday we slept in and had a late breakfast. At noon we made a pitcher of Margaritas and went to the pool in her building. As I said, the building was ultra-chic and had this great pool. It is true what they say, everything is bigger in Texas. I have never seen so many tall, blond, big breasted women in one spot in my whole life. Everyone who lived in that building must have been 6' tall with d-cups (Dallas was only 5'9"), and they were all at the pool.

By 1pm we were out of drinks and I really needed to take a crap. In the fastest talk I could muster I told Dallas that I was going to run upstairs and make us another pitcher. She started to say that she would do it, but I grabbed her keys and the pitcher before she could even finish her sentence and ran upstairs.

When I got to her apartment I locked the door, threw the pitcher in the sink, and brushed aside her little $3,000 dog, Frankie, that thought I had come upstairs to play with him. I ran into the bathroom and did unkind things to that toilet while Frankie ran in and out of the bathroom area. When I was done I flushed and washed my hands. While I was at the sink I looked over at the toilet and saw that it had clogged and the water was dangerously close to overflowing. A hot wave of panic flooded my body. I yelled out loud, "Oh shit! Quick, find a plunger!". I looked all over the house but there was no plunger. Out of logical solutions I talked to the toilet "Pleasepleaseplease go down. Go down!". A few minutes passed and the water level stayed put just a few inches from the top of the bowl. There's a time for talk and a time for action. I "gently" kicked the base of the toilet with my heel, hoping to dislodge the stubborn turd. Nothing. I kicked again, and the water splashed a bit. I kicked harder. More splashing, and more kicking. Nothing.

Time was wasting, Dallas was surely wondering where I was by now and I was afraid I might knock the toilet off the base. I decided to make the drinks then come back to the toilet issue later. They say drinking is only a temporary solution to your problems, but that would have been just fine for me at that point.

I made the drinks while little Frankie, who was a Brussels Griffon (like Verdell from As Good As It Gets), danced and yapped for affection. I really liked Frankie, but he was treading on my last nerve, so I gave him a gentle swat with my foot and said "Beat it, Frankie!"

With the drinks made I turned my attention back on the toilet. The water had receded a little, "Maybe the kicking worked!", I thought. I carefully studied the water level, I knew this was a critical moment. If it was still clogged, the next flush would send the water rushing everywhere. To flush or not to flush? If it was still clogged and I walked away, it was the equivalent of leaving a grenade with the pin pulled, the next person to touch that handle would cause a shit-filled flood. Without thinking I pushed the handle and watched in terror as the water crept up to the top of the bowl, then up and over! Fecal water went everywhere. With no walls and concrete floors in the damn apartment the water spread from the bathroom to the bedroom to the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen for a mop. I opened every closet, but no mop. I was now yelling "Frankie, get out of my way! No fucking plunger! No fucking MOP! Who lives like this?". I needed help.

I ran out of the apartment and into the hallway, all I needed to do was find one guy, any guy, and explain what had happened. It was in the man-code that he would have to help me. I stood in that hallway, in my bathing suit, for five minutes and only beautiful blond women passed. "You're fucking kidding me, right? How can there only be chicks in this place?", I thought, exasperated. I went back into the apartment to re-look for a mop and plunger, even though I had already checked three times. As I was going through the kitchen I heard splashing, "NOW WHAT?", I yelled. I followed the splashing into the bathroom. There, in the crap/urine water was Frankie, frolicking and splashing around. "Frankie, no!"

I grabbed a towel of the vanity and scooped up the filthy little bastard. I brought him into the kitchen and put him into the kitchen sink. Even on his hind legs he was 3 inches too short to get out. I squirted some Palmolive dish soap on him and turned on the faucet. After a quick rinse I dried him off then put him in his crate.

All this mayhem had taken only 25 minutes. I was in a frenzy, and out of ideas. I washed my hands again, grabbed the pitcher and walked down to the pool. When I got down there Dallas said "What took so long, everything OK?". I said "There is good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?". "The good news", she said. "There was just enough tequila to make one more batch of drinks." she shrugged and said "Then what's the bad news?". I said "The bad news is that this place has very weak plumbing and your toilet is overflowing."

Dallas was pretty cool about it. I told her we had to go to Home Depot and pick up a few things. She tried to go upstairs to change but I told her there was no way that was happening. I had a t-shirt and my wallet, so I made her drive me to Home Depot in her bikini. She waited in the car while I bought a plunger, mop, and disinfectant. I then made her go back to the pool while I disinfected her apartment and dog.

I flew out that next day, and Dallas came to visit me one more time, but things didn't pan out after that.

Weekend

Friday night I took it easy. Some friends went out to the bars but I decided to stay in, drink a few beers, and watch TV. I have been spending a lot of money so a night in sounded like a good idea. I talked to Kay that afternoon and told her to be ready for a bike ride Saturday morning at 10am. I know it's early, but neither of us sleep-in much.

Saturday morning I got the Ducati out of the garage and after a lot of pleading, swearing and dirty-talk I finally got it started (like Italian women, Italian motorcycles are very beautiful, but very tempermental and run extremely hot). Kay was staying at a friend's house watching their dogs, so I rode out to Alexandria and picked her up. Kay had never been to Annapolis so my plan was to take her there for the afternoon.

Annapolis was a great time. We rode around the town for a little while then stopped and had lunch at one of the spots on the harbor. After lunch we toured the USNA campus and took in the sights.

At 4pm we decided to head back into the city. I started the bike but it stalled twice, then it made an awful buzzing noise when I tried to start it again. Fuck. I took off the seat, and raised the tank to expose the battery. The positive terminal on the battery had melted and the wire was dangling. This was not good. I was proably 40 miles from the nearest place that would sell a battery for that bike, but that didn't matter because there was no way it would have a charged battery for me at that hour of the day (it takes 6 hours to charge the battery). Basically, we were fucked. I took out my tool pouch and disconnected the battery, which had started smoking. I was thinking "You know what would be awesome, if my bike caught fire right here on the street, just a few feet from multi-million dollar yachts and hundreds of people". Long story short, I used the pliers to mash the nut for the wire into the melted terminal post and gingerly rewired it back into the bike. I put the battery back in the cradle, tightened everything up and hit the starter. There were lots of sparks, so I gave a few screws a couple more turns and hit the starter again. It turned over and I cranked the throttle wide open. Blue flames shot a foot out of the exhaust pipes, scaring the shit out of half a dozen people on the sidewalk (yes, this amuses me). I put the seat back on the bike, Kay and I threw on our helmets, and we got the hell out of there.

The ride home was a little tense for me because I wasn't sure exactly what would happen if the positive wire shook lose from the battery. I knew that the bike would lose power, but I didn't know if the bike would sputter and slow or if the back tire would lock up (which is not a good thing). On Sunday I tested this on my Honda and found that the back tire does in fact lock up when you turn off the power. Ignorance is bliss, I guess, so we cruised home at a moderate 75mph.

Back at my house Kay and I had a very sweaty session before trading the bike for my car and driving back to Alexandria. That night we went out in Clarendon and I spent the night with Kay at our friend's house. They have a really nice back yard so we sat outside and drank some wine, then went to bed in the guest room. Kay was a little less inhibited, probably because my tenant wasn't below us, so the sex was great.

Broken Bed, Broken House

Yesterday was one of the strangest days I have had in the city, everywhere I went I was involved in one sort of nonsense or another.

My day started off on the wrong foot when I overslept by an hour, so I decided to work from home. My clumsy tenant broke the bed in the unit downstairs (I didn't ask how), so I had a 2pm appointment to pick up one I bought off craigslist in the U Street area.

I worked all morning and at noon I called it a day and decided to clean up my yard a little. I weed whacked, and raked, and swept my paths. I also trimmed all the weeds in the alley and at the entrance to the alley where an older man and his lazy-waste-of-life-free-loading-non-working grandson and three great grand kids live. I clearly have no respect for the grandson who just smokes blunts all day, but the little kids are cute and I feel badly for them. They run around in diapers and play unattended on the sidewalk. On occasion the neighbors and I clean up their yard, and yesterday was my turn. When I was done some guy came out of a neighboring house and asked me what I would charge to trim around the trees near his sidewalk. I told him the charge was nothing and trimmed them up for him. He introduced himself then said "You look hot, you should come over for a cold beer and relax", the guy was a little "fancy" so I politely declined, and walked back to my house. I appreciated the gesture, but I didn't know what his motives were.

As I was walking down the alley back to my place I heard skidding, then a series of crunches, then what sounded like three dumpsters being thrown off a building into the street. I went back to the street and saw cars in varying degrees of demolition, strewn all over the place. With the help of Fancy and a few other neighbors they pieced the event together for me. Apparently a guy in an SUV lost control of his vehicle at a high rate of speed and hit a parked car. That car rammed into another parked car in front of it. The first car went over the curb, over the sidewalk, and into a stone wall. The second car bucked off a car in front of it, skeeted left, and landed about where I was trimming weeds 5 minutes before still with The Club on the steering wheel. The SUV continued to skim against the sides of cars until it came to rest 75 feet away. No one was hurt, but wow, close call. Good thing those kids weren't outside playing. The cops came but I don't know if or how drunk the driver was.

The second part of the day was spent picking up a used IKEA bed frame. When I showed up at the house a young woman and a dude met me at the driveway. They helped carry out the frame, and I wrapped the parts in blankets and strapped them to my trailer. When it was done I reached into my pocket for the cash, but when I looked up the girl was crying inconsolably. The guy was hugging her, but she just bawled, sobbed, and was almost on the verge of hyper-ventilating. I stood there for a good five minutes with the cash in an outstretched hand before I tapped the dude on the shoulder and said "Here's the money, thanks for the bed". He took the cash and I drove off totally bewildered. I am very glad I do not have to sleep on that bed.

When I got home to get rid of the old bed and set up the new one my tenants dog slipped around me and out the door. I grabbed him by the collar but he spun like an NFL tailback, backed out of his collar, and took off running down the street THROUGH traffic. FUCK! I ran off after him, but he was a block away in the time it took me to go three steps. I called him and he began to do the old head fake playing routine. Just when I was an inch away he would take off again. This was futile, I ran back to her apartment, grabbed a leash and a box of Cheerios, and ran back after him. As soon as I saw him I shook the box and started screaming "cookiestreatsCheeriosfooddinnerfuckinggoodstuffhere", not sure what the buzz word would be that would draw him back. "Dinner" seemed to do the trick and he ran back to me then sat perfectly at my toes. I jumped on him, put him in a headlock and put on his collar. He tried to back out again but I twisted the collar (a trick from my dog) and dragged him back him. I should point out that he's some kind of Sheppard/Husky mix, a big dog, and more than a little scary looking. Once in the door I threw a handful of Cheerios on the floor and then almost collapsed from heat stroke/cardiac arrest.

The day finally turned around when I had dinner with Kay, followed by three rounds of great sex. She continues to wet my bed with cum but I love it. I just throw a towel over the wet spot and we collapse for the night.

Lobster or leftovers

My buddy says that women and work are like dinner: it's either lobster or leftovers. You're either riding high or scrounging just to get by. Nothing could be more true. Actually, he also says "Women are like buses, they are all the same, and a new one comes along every ten minutes." They seem a little contradicting, so let's ignore the second saying for now, I will use it another time.

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting at my desk when my personal cell phone (as opposed to my work cell) rang with a number I didn't recognize. Normally that sucker would have gone right to VM, but I was expecting a call from a contractor, and I have a new high-maintenance tenant, so I thought it could have been important. When I picked up I immediately recognized the voice, it was Lavita, the tattoo chick from Saturday night.

Lavita: I am calling this girl Lavita because it's similar to her real name, which I think adds to the overall wackiness of her that really needs to be conveyed. Lavita is probably around my age, 5'5", dark hair, light skin, great body, and artsy. She wears black square-framed glasses, which give a kind of nerdy vibe. But they are offset but tons of tattoos that are anything but nerdy. She has a huge dragon that covers most of her back, both arms have big pieces, she has one covering her left breast that runs up her chest towards her neck, and a few more here and there. They are hard-core, not your typical tramp stamp on the lower back ("might as well be a bulls-eye"), but they are still somehow feminine. Lavita is a graphic designer, though I am not sure in what capacity. Oh yeah, she's bi.

Lavita and I talked at the bar on Saturday night. This was before Kay and I talked, and I was still fairly certain I was being blown off, so I was on the prowl. Lavita and I struck up a conversation at the bar, danced a bit, and sat outside while she smoked cigarettes. At the end of the night I said "OK, I've had enough, I'm going home, care to join me?". The look on her face was really funny, it was very serious, but emotionless, and she said "You are a very attractive guy, but I am not going home with you.". She then handed me her phone and just said "Put in your number".

Based on her look, and a few other cues from the night, this girl would be BUCK WILD in bed. I am sure she would teach me things that never would have even crossed my mind. So I am intrigued.

Anyway, Lavita called me and we shot the shit for a few minutes. I told her I would call her later this week, but I don't think I am going to. However, I may keep her on a back burner in case things don't work out with Kay.

Kristi, a girl that I met at a golf tournament in June emailed me last night. About every two weeks we email each other and suggest we get together for happy hour, but we never follow-through on this. Kristi has a bunch of single friends she wants to hook me up with, but they all live out in Dulles. I've seen some pictures, they are all these super-tall, super beautiful blond sorority-looking-chicks. But fuck, Dulles? Really? I hate crossing Dupont circle because of the traffic, how would I ever motivate to go all the way the hell out to Dulles?

Lastly, I have two new Facebook stalkers. I need to get off that site, it's more trouble than it's worth.

Trying to put all this out of my head. I have had three dates with Kay, two of which I cooked her dinner. We are going to try and get together tonight for dinner, but I think it's time I took her out someplace. I will see if there's a place she's been wanting to go to and take her there. Also, she's dog-sitting for friends this weekend, so I may go stay with her since she will be "in lockdown".

Scent

I have made commitments and promises to my friends and one sister that I will not crush Kay's heart by being my normal dick-head self. I have been threatened with bodily harm if I go back on these promises. I like Kay, and have no intentions of hurting her, but the gods are conspiring against me.

The timing is so (im)perfect it's laughable. Yesterday, after hundreds of unnecessary hours in the gym, GG decided to...well, not ignore me. It's as if men give off a hormone when they are trying to be "good guys", some sort of scent that women find irresistible.

I was standing in the lobby of my building waiting for some coworkers to join me for lunch when GG walked out of the elevator looking stunning. Jesus she's tall! I looked up from my Blackberry, smiled, then looked back down. I didn't even say hi because she was a good twenty feet away from me and with the girl she usually works out with. A second later I felt a hand grasp my bicep and when I looked up GG was walking past and said "Hey, how are you?", I nearly shit my pants, clearly she thought I was someone else. I let out an impish noise that could only loosely be interpreted as "hello" and she walked off looking back once with a smile. She had walked out of her way to say hi, what the hell is that all about?

I realize she only touched my arm and said hello, it's not like she blew me, but put in context of her virtually ignoring my existence up until then, it caught me off guard.

On a completely different topic, my crazy neighbor made a comment on my Facebook page about the "noises" she heard coming from my patio on Sunday night. The noises were Kay and I in the hot tub, so it's really inappropriate for her to make any comments about that. I ignored her.

Sunday Night Plans

Saturday night was just as debaucherous at Friday night, and I wound up meeting some girl Madam's Organ and getting her phone number. She was hot, but COVERED in tattoos. I have a thing for tats, but it was probably a bit much. I was out with some people who know Kay and they weren't pleased that I was getting this girls number, but as I saw it I was kind of getting screwed over by Kay and was free to do whatever I wanted. Sunday afternoon almost confirmed this.

Kay and I had plans to dinner Sunday night, so I called her and left a voicemail to give me a ring and we could figure out what we wanted to do. She called me back a little while later and said she was slammed at work and would be in the office until late that night, and asked if we could reschedule for Wednesday. I suppressed the growing internal rage. Long story short I basically told her that if she didn't want to hang out that's fine, but that I didn't appreciate being strung along. I explained that I enjoyed her company, and understood that she just got out of a bad relationship. I didn't want her to feel like I was putting any pressure on her, but that she had cancelled on me twice and I wasn't too happy about it. I said she can call me next week if she wanted to get together and said goodbye.

I was pissed, but there was a calming effect because I had now confirmed that she wasn't interested. At least the uncertainty was gone. I was not going to all Kay again, I wrote her off.

Ten minutes later the phone rang, it was Kay. I answered and she apologized and asked if I wanted to hang out that night. The question seemed preposterous. She knew I wanted to see her, Kay had to decide if she wanted to see me, and I told her that.

We met up and after dinner had a talk about what was going on. I found out that a few people had warned Kay that I didn't have a history of stable relationships, and that she should be very careful because I would end up hurting her. This didn't come as any great surprise to me, I figured that talk would happen. I explained to Kay how much I liked being with her, and that I had no intention of hurting her. Kay admitted that she tried to put a little distance between us because of what she had been told about me. Again, this is understandable.

In the end our talk cleared a lot of issues that could have been avoided by having this discussion earlier. Kay stayed at my place and I think we kept my new tenant up most of the night.

Kidnapped Friday Night

Friday night I went to a few bars and spent WAY too much money, even by my warped standards. I spent all the cash I had on me then moved on to damage my credit card. When the bar closed and my friends and I stumbled into the street, I knew it was going to be difficult to get home because the weather sucked. I finally hailed a cab and jumped in.

As soon as I got into the cab I asked the driver if he took credit cards, otherwise we would have to stop at an ATM. He said he took cards and drove on. When we got to my house I handed him the card and he said "OK, $50...." and just let that hang in the air for a second. I calmly reached over the seat and pluck the card from his hand and said "$50? You drove me 2 miles!", he responded "$30 credit card service charge". I was now putting the card back in my wallet and said "I was born at night but night last night fucko, take me to an ATM." This really irritated him. He began to scream and shout at me, sometimes in a foreign language. I said "Scream all you want, I'm not paying you $50. Not now, not ever. So fuck off." I was clearly drunk.

So now we had a standoff. We both knew that if he stopped that cab at an ATM there was no way in hell I was coming back to pay him, so he locked the doors and kept saying "Give me card" (I think he was middle-eastern). At the next stop light I had had enough fun and tried to get out, but he had the child locks on, so I was trapped. I looked at him, now really mad, and said "Look, Taliban, this is called kidnapping, unlock the doors." He really went crazy now, and I started to get a little nervous. He was heading West on Maryland Ave towards Benning Rd. Drunk as I was I knew that was not an area I wanted to be brought to, especially by this guy. I had a new plan. While we were driving I lowered the window. At the next light I started to climb out. I made it out to my waist but he punched the gas and ran the light. I almost fell out but managed to get back in the car before he got going really fast. Now I was super pissed and was running dangerously low on "towel-head" based ethnic slurs.

I was mentally weighing two options. The first was that I was going to choke him out from behind until he unlocked the doors. The second is that I was going to call 911 and report a kidnapping. The next day I consulted with several attorney friends and they thought either option were well within my rights at that point. However, I opted for number 2 and started dialing. While I did I said "Hey, Al Qaida, I'm calling the cops, you're going to be in Guantanamo by morning, let me know how that water boarding works out" and hit send on my phone. As the phone was ringing the driver spotted a cop car and pulled up along next to the guy. The cabbie and I both began yelling our sides of the story, and cop just shook his head like he had seen this a million times that night. We were a block from a 7-11 store, so he ended up telling the driver to take me there and he would make sure I didn't run from him before paying. I thought this was equitable and agreed (I decided not to press for kidnapping charges after the cop shot me a deadly look for even suggesting it).

While I counted out the fare I made a couple references to him sleeping with his camel then got the hell out of there. Obviously there was no tipping.