The Dildo Awards

This is a top ten countdown of the guys that made my life interesting and messy.

10. The DJ: My first real boyfriend. I was 18 and he was 24. The DJ was one of those guys that seemed perfect. He was sweet, attentive, and secretly a gigantic whore. Too bad I didn’t learn a lesson about DJ’s here. The DJ and I were over when I showed up to his apartment and found him in bed with a twinkie. This was one of those moments that made me wonder if he was looking for someone with personality; the boy in his bed certainly didn’t have looks.

9. Newbie: Oh little Newbie. As of late we’ve exchanged a few friendly text messages. I would say we’re on good terms. Newbie was searching for a boyfriend, or at least someone to stand on the other side of the glory hole at the gym. Sadly, I was more interested in my hand. Fun fact: Newbie slept with The Devil before he met me. The problem was that he told me he knew The Devil and said that they never did anything. I went to the sex source and found that to be a wet spot of a lie.

8. Biker Boy: This relationship was short and probably in my favor. Biker Boy was another great guy; he was just a little too possessive. I was forced to show him the door when he told me to choose between my wife and himself. I would never pick a guy over my Ray Ray. Why we kinda liked him: He gave me a laptop for Christmas. Unfortunately, it was replacing the one he broke. Why we’ll remember him: The day I broke it off he locked himself in my bathroom and refused to come out. When he finally left he threw a snowball at my window and then text me five minutes later to ask if we could talk. Ray Ray and I laughed about this for hours that night over a pitcher of beer.

7. Wall Street: If I qualify as a Negative Nancy then he must fit into the category of her mother. Never before have I met a person that was such a downer. The boy had a big package, I won’t lie, but he was so short and skinny I’m surprised he didn’t carry a brick in his bag to keep from being swept away by the wind. Wall Street gave me the choice to be serious or hit the road. I hit the road, literally. I left his place, walked down 34^th Street and called Stay Lo so we could start mocking him.

6. Dollar: Dollar will make a great wife someday. He already has the drinking problem going strong and a lady friend to encourage his bad behavior. I did love his lady friend. If I could have stolen her, I would have. I imagine him marrying someone like Wall Street, sitting around their penthouse apartment, and beating the Cambodian children they illegally adopted. I’ll always remember Dollar for hurting his ankle and being unable to help me move into my first Brooklyn apartment.

5. The Cop: This boy has one good thing going for him, and that would be his current boyfriend. Sadly, The Cop recently cheated on his boyfriend and they may be over. The Cop was another nice guy, but he was clingy and had breath like an asshole (I’m not into rimming).  I felt compelled to get even with him after our breakup because he behaved like such a douche. What I did: Slept with his current boyfriend. This ended up working out pretty well for me. Chicago (The Cop’s boyfriend) and I became friends and still talk today.

4. The Trainer: Let me take a minute to say The Trainer is still the best I’ve ever had. That’s coming from 5 years after the fact. I was young and fairly dumb when we met. I was drunk at a club and he grabbed my arm. I confused him for my friend Mandee. We danced and he tried to take me home. I said no because I had a boyfriend at the time. I gave him my number and told him to give me a call. The next day I dumped my boyfriend and 30 minutes later was at The Trainer’s door. He banged me like a cheap drum for two months then sent me a text saying he was getting serious with some guy. I was pissed, but got what I deserved for screwing my boyfriend over.
  Why I win: I saw The Trainer last year. He said I looked great. This was coming from the former fit, gorgeous Greek guy. He was tied down with a house, a boyfriend, and a beard full of graying hair. I found it fitting to make out with the friend he was with and put my hand down his pants. I did pour a beer on my Ray Ray right before all of that, but she loved it; just a side note.

3. The Devil: The Devil was a dick. I could leave it at that, but I won’t. I was behaving like one of the needy gross people that I hate while we were dating. He was behaving like the asshole rebound guys that I go for. There are a few theories out there as to why we broke up. What’s true: I’m a lush and he’s a ho. We’re on friendly-ish terms these days, meaning I got over my enraged phase. Watching him setup his own demise has been more satisfying than any revenge I could ever have. Just in case of emergency, as I always do, I save tid-bits of information. You never know when you’ll hate someone again.

2. The Photog: I’ve had the hardest time figuring this guy out. Come to think of it we were supposed to hang out the other day and I forgot about it, oh well. We’ve slept in the same bed at least 20 times, one of which his hand was down my pants. I thought we were going on a date not too long ago, but he ended up inviting another friend and ignoring me until I left. The Photog is either playing a very odd game with me, or he’s totally not interested in me and I’m not getting it. There’s still time for the plot to thicken here, so I’ll hold off on my final say.

Number One: There is only one person in my life that could be the biggest bitch I’ve ever met. That would be me! Did you think I would name anyone else number one? Yes, I’ve been screwed by guys in every way a person can be. I’ve also screwed… over a lot of guys along the way. I’d say at this point my karmic scale is about even. 

Three Fingers In

My wife came to town. That’s right, my wife. We had limited fun considering I had the flu the entire time, but havoc was wreaked none-the-less.

There were two notable nights that Ray Ray and I shared. The first is the night we went to Metropolitan in Brooklyn. I love my dive bars, but I hate when other people love them as well. It was packed by the time we had our second drinks finished. Trying to escape the growing crowd we moved to the patio so Ray Ray could smoke and I could stretch. That’s when our new friend Jeff approached. 

Mr. Jeff wanted to ask our opinion on a guy opposite us. Apparently the two had gone on a date and now the dude was ignoring him. He didn’t immediately mention the date was months earlier and that by date he really meant they had bad sex and went their separate ways. *Please note: at this point I was fairly intoxicated. I commented that the guy was balding, boring, and obviously going home with the chocolate daddy he was talking to. That’s when Mr. Jeff tried to get me to play wingman for him. Now, that’s a rarity on my part, and I’ll only do it for my straight friends.

Mr. Jeff pointed out this guy and that guy and finally I was forced to inform him that I don’t pursue guys, they pursue me. That’s when he informed me that I was kind of a little bitch. DING! DING! DING! That’s about the understatement of a lifetime, but it’s the truth. I felt compelled to share my drunken philosophy with our new friend. Guys like bitches. They like big ones, little ones, even slightly retarded ones. They just do, it’s a fact. Think of all the people you’ve dated, or even just been slightly attracted to, I be you can count a bunch of bitches in there.

We left the bar, but the best was yet to come. Ray Ray and I were forced to sleep on a twin blow-up mattress due to the fact that my apartment had been infested with bed bugs and I had thrown all of my bedding out. We lay there giggling like schoolgirls and talking about Ray Ray’s sexual escapades in Utah when she let me in on a secret. I literally almost peed my pants laughing when she told me. The new guy she had been “dating” was a butt man, this I was well aware of. The thing I wasn’t aware of was the fact that he was also a fan of the digitizing his tender emotions. This guy was not so much into sexing the butt as he was into fingering it. Not one, not two, but three fingers! Please, take a moment to look at your hand. Even if you have slender fingers that’s a lot for one ass to take, unless you’re a skanky whore that can’t keep your pants on and your posture upright, but I’ll leave Newbie out of this. This was the cherry on our first night.

Night number two: We started at The Chelsea Hotel so Ray Ray could see where Sid Vicious accidently stabbed his girlfriend Nancy in the late 70’s. No one told me anything about the bar there that night. We walked in and boy were we surprised when it was gangsta chocolate fest ’09. One beer and we were out the door. We traipsed over to my favorite old man gay bar and started depleting their supply of liquor. There is a good reason I stick to drinking beer. You see, when I drink liquor I do stupid things.

Beginning the blood bath of drunken texting I started in on Candy Mountain. I had been irritated I hadn’t heard from him since the last time we fooled around. I’m a lady bitch, you text me the next day! He apologized and I was off to my next victim. I sent a text to my first real boyfriend Jerome. We’ve been broken up going on four years, and apparently tonight was the night I chose to confess my unwavering love for him. I didn’t stop there. I also told him that I had been waiting all of this time for him, and that I was going to keep waiting. If he were a gentleman he would have ignored me, but instead called the next day to talk about it. Simple fact: Yes, though it makes me a loser, what I said was true. Sad truth: Never gonna happen.

Even after that, I still wasn’t done. Then I started in on Newbie. Mostly I was just giving him shit, but I did add that I wanted to see him. Which is partially true. I mean, he’s a nice guy, a liar when it comes to stupid shit, but a nice guy. I have a feeling the last of my text victims will be the one to come around and bite me in the ass, well poke to be more exact, but we’ll see.

Now, my wife is gone and I’m left to tend to myself. I’ve been good thus far to keep out of trouble, even after a night out with PETA and another with The Animator. Though the night I went out with PETA I was re-introduced to a guy I met last summer. All I can say is he has the worst breath, how does his boyfriend overlook that? I mean, cute face, god-awful breath. To PETA’s credit it was a super fun and very needed night, of which more are sure to come.