House of Sin

Friday, April 21, 2006

Why now..?

... because blogging while intoxicated is fun for me, and for you!

(AKA Oh, True Love (you fickle bitch) part le deux)

Where was I, anyways? Ah yes. Last Saturday.

I worked, I came home, and did, um... well, not a fucking thing until around 8pm. That's when I realized that it was my birthday, goddamnit. What to do, what to do, what to do...

Ah, yes. I know what (who) to do! HD.

HD and I have experienced what those "in the know" call sexual tension for the last three or four years. I run into her about once a month, and we have one of those "I know we could fuck like bunnies, YOU know we could fuck like bunnies, but it's best we DON'T fuck like bunnies"... moments.

I know better. She knows better.

Back in January, I had the pleasant experience of DearJohn'g the EX. Well, It was pleasant for me. A day or two after that wonderful moment, I stopped at HD's house. I was horny, she was horny (we're always horny), and we fooled around. She moans often (I like 'em loud) and she was very satisfied. I showed up at her house a week later, repeat, rinse, wash. But on that occasion, after getting absolutely drenched, I was the unfortunate victim of her attempt to cajole me into a relationship.

That's where the STOP sign went up. The woman was relentless, and crafty, I'll give her that. She begged, whined, cried, guilted and rode me, in an attempt to get me to say just one word:

"Us."

HAHAHA... ahhh..

Nice. Try.

I should make it clear (if I haven't already, (and my apologies dear reader if I haven't!) ) This Bastard is very much Not Interested In Relationships. Or Committment. Or any word coming close to those two terms.

I like being single. And I'm rebounding left and right. And that's the way I want it. Anything else is drama, or work. And This Bastard wants none of that.

... Where was I. Ah, yes. Saturday.

Being that it was my birthday weekend, and that I'm working on my confidence (see previous post), I decided to make a house-call. I had run into HD the week before, and made out with her for about 5 minutes. It was fun.

The Bastard likes the fun. Oh yes.

So, I called, saying I was "in the area" (lie) and that I had a "poker game later" (big lie), and that I "wanted to talk" (HAHAHA... oh, how I make me laugh). I showed up, chatted with her, and "apologized" for "taking advantage of her" the previous week.

In the back of my head, there was only one thing This Bastard was looking for. See here(NSFW!), for those lacking in subtlety.

So we fooled around, again. And it was fun, again. It was my birthday weekend, damnit. I should be allowed to have fun.

Please note, the above statement was an unconscious response to The Bastard's conscience, who (contrary to popular belief ) does exist, and does occasionally rear its' ugly head, no matter how much it gets beat down. Bad, Bad Bastard.

I have no conscience. Lies, all of it.

Aaaaaaanyways. Towards the end of our little encounter, she wrapped her arms around me, and... um... cuddled. Uhhh. I shudder at the thought. But, she's fun to fool around with. I'll probably call and offer to "apologize" again. Heh.

BAD BASTARD.

I'm not listening.

--

And then I went home.

That was the beginning of last Saturday night. Unfortunately, it was also the climax.

(con't)

-- The Bastard
music: Asshole, Denis Leary, No Cure For Cancer.

Posted by The Bastard :: 1:08 AM :: 0 comments