The guy I met this weekend took the ridicule well and even gave it right back to me.
I could tell that he was into me within the first five minutes of meeting him.
Fine with me as long as you keep your distance, sir.
He tried to leave later on in the night and would only stay if I admitted that I was attracted to him.
I was convinced that he shouldn't be driving after the games of beer pong he played so I swallowed my pride and told him that yes, I had been flirting back all night.
We walked away from everyone to talk and that's when he started feeding me the lines.
"I just think you're so beautiful... I want to take you out and hold your hand. Is that okay with you?... Can we cuddle tonight? I just want to be around you... Let's listen to Abbey Road remastered at my house tomorrow night..."
Blah blah fuckin' blah.
And we made out a bit.
"You're such a good kisser."
I walked right into it.
He found my dimple while we were sitting by the fire and then "romantically" said, "You're so beautiful."
I hate when men tell me I'm beautiful.
I shouldn't hate this, but my experiences have led me to.
We went back into the house and made out a bit more.
He led me into the basement to make out a bit and confessed that he was erect.
Ya. I could tell.
Then he said, "What? You don't believe me?" and tried to take it out.
I stopped him and started walking back up the stairs. What the fuckkkkkk?
People came in and were talking to us and he started to walk towards the front of the house.
I followed him and he wanted to go back to his house.
I hesitated and he said, "Or we could go to your house."
More of my hesitation in the car led us to talk about spending the night at our own places.
But drunk and lonely Ms. Harding said, "No it's okay. You can come back," knowing damn well what was expected to happen.
I said, "I'm gonna pass out soon."
He said something like, "Not before this," started kissing me within five minutes of walking into my room... and then started to undress himself. I stopped him before he got to his underwear.
We made out some more and before I knew it, it was all over.
He had said all night that he wanted to cuddle with me, but... no cuddling.
Just him telling me to stop rubbing his back because it tickled too much.
I didn't sleep well.
He tossed and turned a lot.
He left around 8am and went home to get ready for work, but not before asking me to text him while he was there.
But now, I'm not speaking to him because he pulled a "Billy" on me and is claiming that I was the one who came on to him.
Billy was a really nice boy I met through a friend about three years ago.
The night we met, he told me I was beautiful and held my hand and wished I wasn't going back to school after spring break. He drove me home the next night from a friends house and we parked. He started kissing me, but stuck his hand down my pants. I had to stop him several times, but even though I stopped him, he still asked me if I wanted to "go further."
I asked him to take me home and called my friend crying about it.
A year passed and I found out that Billy had told my friend that it was ME that asked to "go further" in his car, parked in front of a creepy sump.
So now here's another guy, pulling a "Billy" and making me out to be the manipulative succubus.
That's why I don't like being called, "beautiful."
That's why I'm like this.