GIRL 95
BEND OVER BACKWARDS GIRL
You're probably wondering at this point what the fuck happened to my mental health after Israeli Air Force Girl, Girl 93. And what happened to Girl 94, The Great and Powerful Bat Girl. And which of my admitted multiple personalities is writing this? Rex? Mikey?
So many questions. So few answers. For me as well as you.
Bend Over Backwards Girl, BOB Girl for short, had been corresponding with me for some time. Mostly one liners that would get into the gutter pretty quick. It was obvious that she was sexual, lonely, wanted male company, and was willing to go from a date with one glass of wine to backseat of the SUV to give a blowjob.
Contrary to what is believed about my libido, I won't let just anyone touch me. I've been labeled a male slut by every female who's broken up with me, which can be understood in the cases of those I cheated on, but the ones I was faithful to claimed that as well. I'm slutty but not a slut. There's a distinct difference. Once I decide you're worthy of sharing sex with, I'm a degenerate playtoy. But until then, my cock stays in my pants. The mixed signal is that I may still act slutty and come on to a woman even if I've decided to avoid sexing her up. It is my own particular kind of dishonesty. Even when there are no physical nerve endings involved, the ego blast coming from a woman who I know will say "yes" is too good to pass up. This, in essence, makes me a male tease. A pussy tease.
So despite the status of my dating Girl 94, The Great and Powerful Bat Girl, I agreed to have lunch with BOB Girl.
Was I cheating on Bat Girl? Opinions differ on that particular subject. I'd told Bat Girl I absolutely HAD to finish out the Hundred Project. That, to me, was a precondition. Was she happy about it? It wouldn't be much of a romance if she were.
I sat down at lunch with BOB Girl. She looked exactly like her pictures. She had been married to an alcoholic. She was a classic, textbook, Al-Anon candidate, codependent. I didn't think the whole "codependency" issue was real. I thought that whole concept had been judged obsolete.
But here the poor woman was. I felt bad for her plight, but there wasn't much I could do for her, or contribute to her thought process for that matter. I was polite and shook her hand and left.
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