GIRL 64
RAPUNZEL GIRL
What was it, I wondered, the fifteenth girl who hit on me without a picture? The picture she sent was indistinct. She had long blonde hair and referred to herself living in an ivory tower. Rapunzel Girl. I probably should have followed the indistinct picture rule. But the exceptions to the rule would not have made it to my bed had I done that, so I took the risk.
February had clicked over into March by that time, and my phone conversations with Rapunzel girl grew more frequent. She had a killer voice, that was for sure, and was very sexual. In the phone phase, she was dying for me to be exclusive with her.
She told me she was tired of dating, because every guy she dated asked her to marry him, much too quickly, and she didn't want to get married at all. I told her that her problem was unique, that very few women complained about that, and that whenever someone has a problem no one else has, the source is the individual, not the environment. Huh? she said. I told her she was inviting these proposals somehow, giving the guys permission, or even planting the seeds in their minds. That pissed her off, but I didn't care.
Finally I agreed to meet her for a lunch date. It's a bit embarrassing to show up in person for someone who's watched you beat off on camera. But I'd done it before, and all for the cause. That cause being finding an actual girlfriend.
It wasn't that I didn't enjoy dating. It was a pleasant distraction. But I was lonely for someone I could love like Girl 6, Alayna. I told myself I wasn't trying to replace her, but the truth was that the love I had with Girl 6 was so moving that I couldn't imagine going through life without it.
I walked into the Americana Diner with a swagger. This woman would love me, I knew that. My concern was her - what would she really look like?
When I saw her, my heart sank. She was 15 years older than her advertised 41 years. She was wrinkled and, let's just say, advanced in years. She was a smoker, when her profile said she wasn't, and that will age the body and face, but her age was more than cigarette smoke induced. You can usually tell by the hands, as females themselves will tell you.
I settled the check and walked her to her car. She wanted a kiss.
I shook her hand. I made my point, in an honest way, I suppose. But she pulled me to her and raped my mouth with hers. Finally I was able to pull away, smiled at her, and went back to work.
She IM'd me immediately when I got home. I didn't answer. Her instant messages and emails grew desperate and abusive. Within ten minutes of my refusing to answer, she became enraged and began to accuse me of very strange stuff. Of manipulating her emotions. Of lying to her.
Ironic, isn't it? Yet another deceptive, lying female, furious at a male for supposedly lying to her?
At this rate, I'd get to a hundred with nothing to show for it but an empty wallet and a notebook journal filled with entries like this one.
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