In celebration of my favorite holiday, I shall tell you a story that is quite frightening in a non-traditionally scary way, and is the reason the ghosts of Halloween past will always haunt me.
In the city where I live, it is tradition to hit all the bars on the Saturday on or before Halloween. Since it is a college town, the multitude of ingenious costumes one may witness is quite entertaining indeed. (Though going downtown can be quite detrimental to my pocketbook- the reason being that I tend to accrue many friends when I’m drunk, to which I offer free drinks to.)
A few years ago, I decided to dress as Jessica Rabbit for Halloween,
which in retrospect, contributed to the outcome of my story. Anyhoo, after a few hours of bar-hopping, we settled on one bar and I bounded to the counter in my red sequined dress with the intent of procuring yet another round of drinks for me and my hubby. (at the time) While I was waiting for the gay barkeep to notice my voluptuous assets (in my drunken state, I did not realize he was gay, though his Village People costume should have given me a clue) the man beside me struck up a conversation. He offered to buy my drinks, to which I replied, “Of course you may buy my husband’s and my drinks if you wish” which did not deter him from his objective. Apparently the man had a Jessica Rabbit fantasy. We shall name him Mr. Moneybags, since he whipped out a business card (while telling me he ran Chanhassen) and the let me know that any call (or more) would be welcome. La dee da. At that point, I had gone 8 months without sex, since my hubby found me repulsive (or something) so I tucked the card into my cleavage (just in case).
After a few weeks of texting back and forth with Moneybags, I found out he was a sexual freak who was up for ANYTHING. He informed me that he had, in the past, frequented swinger parties and other such goings-on, which due to my sexaully- deviant nature, I found intriguing. I went to his house intent on ending my dry spell (pun intended) and with the intention of fulfilling some of his fantasies.
When I arrived, I realized that my beer goggles I was wearing the night I met him must have had a very strong prescription. While not completely unfortunate-looking, he ceased put a tingle in my drawers. Being the Coitus Warrior that I am, I toiled on, proceeding to receive the pounding of my life, while NOT acheiving orgasm.
(Sidenote: Mr. Moneybags informed me that he previously had lost copious amounts of weight, which unfortunately caused his stretched-out skin to resemble Jello while he was doing the deed. I believe this contributed slightly to my dissatifaction.)
Anyhoo, after leaving, I vowed never again to put myself in a naked situation with Mr. Moneybags. During the following year, I was bombarded with texts and drunken phone calls from Moneybags, asking for another round of my “expertise”, all of which I refused. The most vivid memory I have of these dark days was a voicemail left on my phone at 3 AM. It went as follows:
“Sparkle! Me and my friends are out drinking, and there are 3 horny guys with huge cocks who are willing to be at your service if you come out with us. And me.”
Now, I admit, I am probably fucked up enough in the head that I would find 3 or 4 guys at a time amusing, in the least. But considering that Moneybags would be included in said amusement, I decided to abstain. After not returning his calls and texts, Moneybags gave up on me. Or so I thought.
This past Saturday, while I was working as a Pizza Slut, I received a text from Moneybags after many moons. I realized it was the anniversary of our first meeting, the Saturday before Halloween. His text was a request to meet for drinks (and more) at the downtown bars of our past encounter. I let him know that I was at work, and that my Rockstar would be expecting me home afterward. He then told me I should tell Rockstar I was out with the girls. Now, I wouldn’t have done it anyway, but as I have noted in recent posts, I have no “girls” to pretend I’m going out with. Anyhoo, I told Moneybags I prolly wouldn’t be coming out. After receiving a few more texts including “PLEEEEEEASE” and “It will be fun”, I sent him the following: “I gotta tell ya, Dude. The sex was less than impressive.” After that I received no more annoying texts.
On my way to church yesterday, I got a response from my last text. Simply, “Agreed”. Oh, no. He did NOT just say that sex with me was un-impressive! I realize that he was probably just trying to save face in the light of my recent slam, but a plethora of texts and phone calls from him prove that I DID amaze and astound. There are so many things that I could have texted back, but I decided to be civil, so I only sent back, “It’s OK. Keep flashing your business card around, Dude. You’ll find somebody eventually. But you may have to pay them.”
I learned my lesson. Though I did not go home with him the night I met him, I DID pick him up in a bar. It is inconceivable to me that people do this more than once. Once was definitely MORE than enough for me. And I shall be haunted by the memory of the incident for every Halloween to come.
P.S. The best thing about our naked encounter was the toy he bought for me.
P.P.S. Thank you, all you Lovelys who viewed my page yesterday, even though I wrote nothing. I luvs you all! XOXO
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 