Honey, Can’t We Just Talk?

My wife is the pant wearer in our marriage.  Yep, kinda, sorta.  She said I am pumped full of estrogen. Well kinda pumped full, sorta.  If I am, then she’s full of testerone.  At night, she wants to have sex. I am sometimes happy to just talk.  With three little ones, we never get to talk anymore. Not that I mind having sex but a little ‘tell me about  your day’ sounds sooo good!

Last night I was rubbing her suggestively, at least to her.  To me it was just a loving touch, not a sign that my tired ass needed some play.  As soon as I saw that she was getting too aroused for my liking, I stopped and rolled over in my best, “Ok, goodnight, I’m off to la la land” impression.  It was almost 10pm for goodness sake!  I had to get up at 5am for work!

She said, ‘Most guys would kill to be in your shoe’ and I didn’t doubt her.  In fact, give me a good rest and I would kill for what she had to offer too.  Maybe it’s the older guy younger woman thing.  Maybe I should head over and ask Katie from Sassandbalderdash about this one.  She has some experience in this type of situation but I’m not sure if she has the intestinal fortitude to air it. She’s not as incognito as I am.  Sorry Katie, inbox me. Let’s chat. Is Mr. Craiglist in the same boat?

As soon as I’m done writing this, in fact right now, I’m going to head upstairs and do my husbandly duty.  No more estrogen-laden excuses.  Honey, can’t we just do it?

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Tim McGraw Losing Faith?

English: Tim McGraw and Faith Hill at the 2009...

English: Tim McGraw and Faith Hill at the 2009 American Music Awards (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I usually never blog about Hollywood crap…ok fine, who I am kidding?  The best blogs are those poking fun of celebrities and their wacky ways. Well this one is not so wacky. In fact it’s quite serious. Did you hear that Tim McGraw and Faith Hill are calling it quits?  Yes, the one-time country power couple are divorcing!  That’s serious man.

Reliable sources, no not The Enquirer, claim that Tim has fallen for a young masseuse.  Methinks Faith probably rubbed him the wrong way…Well I for one am shocked.  There was just something about these two.  The way they looked at each other, the songs they sang…they sure had chemistry.  It doesn’t matter that the one time hottie, Faith Hill is a bit older and perhaps not as hot as she was before but still…

Damn 24-year old masseuse! Keep the Faith Tim!

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How I Plan On Making 120 Million Dollars

Though marketed to heterosexual men, lesbian p...

Though marketed to heterosexual men, lesbian pulp fiction provided an identity to isolated women in the 1950s. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Hong Kong Dad is offering 120 mil to anyone who could straighten out his lesbian daughter. I’m all in.  Straightening out is my forte. I love money straightening out.  So this is my plan of action that I’m drafting up…

Ok, you got me.  I really don’t have a plan of action.  I have never straighten out a lesbian or gay person ever.  Where the heck do I start?  All that money, so close but still so far.  Some say gay is a part of the brain.  If I knew which part then maybe I could take it out. For that much money I could be a brain surgeon.  Others say it’s just that they haven’t had sex with the right person.  I could try that and give her a night of passion she won’t soon forget. But what if they are wrong?

I am clueless on how I could make a lesbo straight, even for that much money.  But maybe if her dad wants to pay me for making him gay…nah, homey don’t play that.  At least not for anything less than $120 000 000.

So I guess I won’t be making 120 million dollars any time soon…woe is me!

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She’s Young And I Am Older, I Am Mature But She’s Maturer

imagesIt was not supposed to be this way. She was too young. Well maybe I was too old but then that would sound self-defeating. We worked together on the night shifts and in the same department and I being Mr. Popular or was that Mr. Flirt? It was inevitable that we would cross paths. And so we did.

Yes, it wasn’t supposed to be this way and that was why we went out with co-workers for late night/early mornings eats or hangouts. These soon turned to unthreatening outings for two. Because of the age difference, I made clear my gentlemanly intentions. She agreed. You aren’t suppose to agree! What are you saying? I am not good enough for you? You calling me old?

She was very mature, and I am not just saying that to give myself an excuse. She was! I wasn’t and still isn’t, the most mature guy you would ever meet so that narrowed the gap and maybe put us to within a 10 year difference. In reality we were 19 years apart!  As a matter of fact, we still are.

As things heated up, I started googling May-December relationships. Could they work? But we are from different eras. She grew up listening to New Kids On The Block while I grew up with, ah, never mind. It didn’t matter that MC Hammer was making a comeback. What would we talk about? What could we possibly talk about?

We talked about music. She knew more about classic rock than I did and introduced me to Bon Jovi and others. She made me rediscover country and gave me Garth brooks and George Strait. Not exactly teen heart throbs. My younger and single male coworkers were sick with jealousy. Why me? They asked. “He always gets the new girls”. Yeah, I was known as a player. “It would never work”, they added. Strangely no one poked fun at our age gap. I was encouraged.

Encouraged, I decided to at least date for a while hoping she would wake up and realize she could do better. Well not better as in finding a better guy, just one closer in age. Unfortunately for her and fortunately for me, (It is still debatable who is the fortunate one) she never woke up. No no she didn’t die. Just never woke up to the realization .

Ten years and three of the cutest kids in the world later, coupled with an 8-year-old marriage certificate, we are still going strong. She still haven’t caught up age wise but mentally we are now about on level ground.

Ok, I forgot, it wasn’t all a cake walk, her aunt did take me out for a coffee talk and told me to ‘stay away from her, you old perv! You want her money?’ Not in those words. Then I smilingly told her I am the innocent one here. Your niece is the mature one, go give her crap, not me. Her uncle refused to meet the old sicko who was obviously playing his niece.  Good for me he did, he is a big scary looking dude. Happy to report that they all showed up at the wedding and had the time of their lives. Both aunt and uncle later succumb to my irresistible charm and now think I am Mr. Wonderful .

YOLO.

 

Memoirs of a nice player

Let me be clear, this is not a confession.  I repeat, this is not a confession.  I used to be in the game.  Yeah, deep in the game.  I considered myself skilled and quite a natural.  I wasn’t the hottest guy in the house but I sure was the one taking home the hottest lady in the house.  Mind you, that doesn’t mean that I was painful to look at or anything.  I was a player by all definition and never once did I sit on the bench.

Man, I played it like it a pro.  At the bars, I oozed ‘player’.  Oh yeah baby, I was a player.  I am not bragging about it but I learned from it. I wasn’t mean or an asshole to girls. I just had a lot of them. I never had a space between relationships.  My charm was a weapon.

It wasn’t about the sex, don’t get me wrong. I mean in some instances, the sex was a welcome additive but taking home that hot chick that all the other guys were salivating over was grand!  “How do you do it?” They would ask.  “What do you say to them?”  They would even point out hot girls and dare me to get a dance or a number, to which I willingly obliged.  I can’t remember ever striking out.  Why? I was nice. I was a nice player.

Now you wannabes are waiting for the big secret on how to meet and greet girls.  Well let me tell you how I did it.  I tried to always be myself.  I go up to the girl and I started talking her language.  I didn’t brag on things I have or didn’t have, or my accomplishments. I talked about everyday stuff, without trying to sound smart.  I made sure that she knows I am just there to talk, not get her in bed or get her number.  Talk usually led to one or all of those anyways.

I have dated girls who were supposed to be friends with benefits but being a nice player, I couldn’t  say no to their requests for a relationship.  How do I say no after spending time with them, enjoying their company or worst yet, having sex with them?  I couldn’t be that mean.  Let’s just say I was a con with a conscience.  Maybe I wasn’t that great of a player after all.

My wife of 7 years was supposed to have been just a friend.  I met her right after a breakup and we both agreed to just be friends with garnish on the side.  Well before you know it, she had succumbed to my charm and wanted more.  Of course I obliged. I had already slept with the woman!  Now I don’t regret a moment of it.  It was the best ‘yes’ I have ever said.

My playing days are over.  I am hobbled now but a guy can reminisce can’t he?  I couldn’t have been that bad of a guy as I am still friends with all of my exes.  They understand the game.  Hearts get broken.

Oh, and if you ever wanted some tips on dating, feel free to drop me a line.  Do it, all my friends do, especially my female friends.  Don’t forget, I know the game inside out.