Sluts Make the World Smaller

Posted: December 10, 2013 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s true.

I’ve never hidden the fact that through the better part of my life I was a slut. I look back and it actually bothers me. Trust me, I always dread the moment when anyone asks how many people I’ve slept with. If it’s a guy, they don’t believe me and if it’s a girl, they believe me and look at me like a petri dish. The truth is that it’s in my past. I had a very strange concept of feeling wanted. I gained a sense of control and affection by going around sharing myself like a buffet. It didn’t help that the male role model I had encouraged that.

Either way, I’ve stayed far, far away from that for quite some time now. Sure, life isn’t as exciting as it used to be, but it’s not as complicated or shallow. Either way, just recently I realized that a Facebook friend received a comment from a pretty attractive girl. I was pleased to find that her Facebook was not locked so I could scope out her photos. Thing is that the name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

It couldn’t be since the girl was related to my Facebook friend.¬† I would have known before, right? The girl in the photo was attractive, but rather nondescript…but the smile gave it away. I can’t quite describe it, but she has a very particular smile and I suddenly remembered her. I spent time with this girl many years ago for a few¬†months. Eventually she gathered feelings that I didn’t have and I determined it was time to walk away and I did. We saw each other only a couple of times after that but never spoken again once we fell out.

So here I was with a Facebook friend related to someone I had been hooking up with for months…the common denominator? My privates. My privates had created an Einstein-Rosen bridge of sorts. I was mortified. Did my Facebook friend know that I was a huge prick with the relative such a long time ago? Did the girl spot me like I spotted her? To be on the safe side I’ll never make a comment on that Facebook friend’s page again.

einstein-rosen-bridge

This was similar to a time where I was dating who would become my then wife. We broke up for a brief period of time and I wasted no time in hooking up with some attractive, yet unintelligent, Hispanic girl from the art school named Janie. I told her the truth, though, and she knew I had just broken up. A few weeks later my ex and I decided to get back together. I thought it was far more important for me to look into the relationship I had for so long rather than one with a hot, brainless girl I knew would go nowhere. I explained to Janie that I felt it was the right thing to do. She flipped out and told me that my goal had been to get in her pants and since I had, I was now leaving her. I never did get a chance to defend myself.

One day I attend a party at my then wife’s uncle’s house. She explains to me that she’s going to introduce me to the cousins. I can’t see the cousins face, but from the back I knew it was Janie. She had the same gorgeous skin color, same poofy hair, mannerisms and even from a side view, similar features. I froze. Even my privates tried to climb into an Einstein-Rosen bridge.

As I walked up to the cousin, I realized that this girl was too tall to be Janie. I had hoped it wasn’t just the shoes and I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized it wasn’t her. I could have danced or run around in circles screaming like I scored the winning touchdown. I would have if I had regained my testosterone. That was likely one of the last times I purposely withheld information pertinent to a relationship. I have learned that your privates know no bounds of time or distance. Like Plato said: “Don’t do shit that you don’t want people to find out about” or something. If I recall correctly the mathematical formula is : P+V=X

PS: Speaking of sluts, you know I like to take a photo of myself as I write the blog, but I am doing so after my run (I haven’t slept, eaten or hydrated properly in days AND I’m still sick) and it didn’t go well, so I’m butt ass naked. Sorry.

WIN_20131210_171424

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