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I'm a dumpster fire
 
I have no sense of humor, poor grammar, and my spelling is atrocious. Don't blame me if you enjoy my postings. I don't get to express myself much in emails, so this is fun for me. You know what else I find fun? A whoopee cushion.
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Lost an argument with a 7-year-old
Posted:Feb 17, 2021 2:00 pm
Last Updated:Feb 27, 2021 10:11 pm
4943 Views

Yesterday, when I still could work from home, I did until four pm. I met my next-door neighbor outside and started cutting the limbs from her tree that broke and froze into my driveway. It's a mesquite-like tree with large thorns. I hate the tree, but it thrives in this area. After about an hour of cutting and pulling away limbs, my driveway was finally free, sort of. A lot of the thorns broke off and embedded themselves in the snow and ice. If I pulled my car in, one of them would indeed puncture a tire.
So, I started shoveling my driveway. After almost an hour, I got two sections done. Six more to go, yikes. A of walked me, and I knew one of them. "Shawn, can I you ten dollars to shovel my driveway?" I asked him.

He looks at it. "Ten, from where to where?" He asks as the rest of the walks away. I show him. "I'll do it." He says.
I went inside and could watch him as he worked. He was an enthusiastic . Didn't pause till he did one section, then another, etc. The last area was the hardest on him. It took him twice as long to finish it as the first two. I was pretty happy, looked in my wallet...Only two twenties...No problem. I'll just give him a twenty. At least that was my intention.

So I went back outside, took my shovel from him, and handed him the twenty.
"I don't have any change." He said.
"I think the work you deserved a little extra. You did a great job."
"But this is ten dollars more." He said.
"I didn't have anything smaller. Just take the twenty." I said.
"This doesn't feel right; we agreed on ten. I don't want to take advantage of you. My Mom and Dad like you." He said.
"Consider the extra ten a . Or a tip for great ." I said.
"A ? You want me to show you the ten dollars when you visit?" He said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"When my grandma gives my mom a , my mom stores it in the closet with the other and brings them out when my grandma visits the next time. She's got an ugly lamp in there, a porcelain duck, and an itchy sweater." He said.
"My little man, a is something you can throw away if you want. Otherwise, it's an anchor." I said.
"Why would I throw away ten dollars? How would ten dollars be an anchor? We don't own a boat." He said.

I had to think. How to put it in 7-year old terms? "Well, you could give the twenty to your Dad and ask him for two tens," I said, and off he ran with the twenty before I could complete the rest of what I was going to say. Whatever. I him. That was all that was important. I thought anyway.

I'm relaxing, folding the last load of laundry when I get a knock on the door. I go open it. After all, my neighbors knock. I disabled the doorbell years ago. Shawn's Dad is at the door with Shawn.
"Come in, come in," I said and pulled them into the warmth.
"Hey, my said you owed him ten dollars, and you gave him a twenty." He said.
"Yes, Yes I did. He worked really hard on my driveway." I said.
"But you said ten." He said, mimicking his earlier. "I don't want him to take advantage of you. I'm trying to bring my boy upright. Also, what is this about being boat anchors?" He said.
"That's what he said, Dad. Grandma's are boat anchors." Shawn said.
"I was speaking metaphorically. Comparing a that you can't throw away as something that ties you to the spot." I said.
"Metaphocaligory? Meta...I don't know the word. Are you trying to confuse my boy? Just take back this twenty, and when you get change, give him the ten." He said.
"I want him to have twenty, not ten. Do you understand?" I said.
"You have another job he can do for that other ten?" He said.
"I think my trash needs to be taken out, " I said in a confused manner.

Shawn zipped over to my trashcan in the kitchen, pulled it out, and took it to the trash bin I had in the backyard. The job only took a minute, but somehow I lost the whole argument.
Both of them were happy now, and we said our goodbyes. Why did I feel bad for letting the take out my trash? I mean, I wanted to give him more for that task, maybe a couple quarters. After all, I was already him for the driveway; why can't they just take my ? I thought of ways to sneak to the , but they have cameras all around their house. How would I explain taping fifty cents to his bike? Why must I live in this hell? Why can't I just let it go?
14 Comments
This winter wonderland sucks.
Posted:Feb 15, 2021 10:12 am
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2021 8:31 am
5431 Views

I have not seen it so bad in Austin, Texas, since I've lived here. My front lawn trees are broken, ice and snow everywhere. Rolling blackouts, meal planning on hold, the gym is closed. The worse part, I'm now stuck at home with a moody college . I should have never answered the phone on Saturday when he called.
I had a great time on Saturday, but coming home Saturday night was the wrong decision. My job won't even let me work at home because the office network is down. I've run out of household items to clean, organize, and I don't want to work in the garage it's so cold.

I got some interesting messages. All telling me I am stuck on myself. They don't offer any advice on how to get unstuck. I guess confidence is intimidating to those that don't have it. That guy that commented on my status, thanks Dude, I didn't know I could do that. If you are trying to make a friend, maybe start off with something less... Never mind, I can't change anyone. Add a few more comments, like I'm a terrible blogger and other stuff. Be creative.

The weather is preventing me from walking my friend's weird . She has her own ice/snow/rain boots. The puts them on herself at seven if the weather is terrible. She will bring you the leash right afterward and her coat. She will not pee or poop in any other yard except her own. Now, she stays with the woman who came to my office on Friday night because the power is out in the neighborhood. Unfortunately for her, the won't poop or pee in ANY yard except her own. She will whine till she gets there. She walks the to her own house a couple blocks away four times a day. That woman complains every time via text that it's all my fault. She volunteered, Jeeze.
Odd how that worked against her. She did something really nice for me, and now she is taking care of someone else's . I guess I could make the twenty-mile hike in the ice/snow to her house since my car is blocked in. A stroll in the cold that far doesn't appeal to me. Her electricity is sketchy in that area. I'm warm and toasty.

My gym is closed. Unlike the rest of the world of men, it bothers me the most. I've had this habit of going almost everyday for over a year now. It's less frequent when my job tries to get in the way, but I enjoy the clarity of thought I have after exercise.
Years ago, I tried going to this meditation retreat for a week. It was hot, mosquitoes, and the food just sucked ass. It was really hard, and I thought I was the only one there who couldn't get it. So, at night I would sneak around the outside perimeter of the camp, go swimming in a pond, and exhaust myself that I would sleep most of the day. On the third night, I met a Vietnamese woman at the pond I was swimming in. Yes, we had sex…and the next night, the following night. I was physically exhausted during the day, really active at night on the bank of that pond. She never gave me her name. When I got onto the bus the last day, I found out she was married to another guy on the bus. He was so happy about the meditation experience. I felt numb from it. The reason I went there was to do that, but I didn't really do it.

Fast forward to my Taiwan visit. I was in the gym after work, and a Buddha monk came in to exercise. I hit it off really well with him, and we talked about why I had so much trouble meditating. He laughed and said he had been doing it for years, and it still sucked. It was uncomfortable for him, his thoughts would wander, and his body ached with pain to be in the same posture with his brothers. His enlightened state came when he had endured the pain so long, his body would ignore it. Then he gave me some advice, and I don't think it conformed to his doctrine. "Lifting weights gives you pain, but you do it. Why not just lift so you can feel the pain more. Life is pain. The more you can endure, the happier you might be." I don't know if he was a good monk or not. He did me.
So, I lift instead of meditating. Being static is not a life for me. I'm never happy sitting still.
I hung around him and my friend in Taiwan for the months I was there. I didn't know enlightened monks could be so sour. I was entertained his company because he was so miserable most of the time. Our mutual friend kept me updated on him after I left. Told me about his pilgrimage to China. It felt good to hear news about him. It's horrific what the Chinese government did to him. What they do every day to people like him. That monk, it pains me, is dead.
I know it's weird, but I'm happier now remembering him. He showed me this finger trick that I used successfully at a local bar to make some girls giggle. He laughed when I told him about it. He lived his life through other people, not his own discomfort.

I'm going to go do laundry now, half a load, but it's something.
7 Comments
The Weather Monkey Wrench
Posted:Feb 14, 2021 9:17 pm
Last Updated:Feb 14, 2021 9:18 pm
5807 Views

I had a good workout with Gary on Thursday morning. I was surprised see him at my gym. We didn’t talk much. Just made plans for Friday morning. He is behaving oddly. I’m not sure if he believes me; I am not angry at him. I’m not even mad at Susan anymore. I have other problems, other drama.
So, the forecast looked grim, so I had accelerate my project so everyone wouldn’t have come in on Monday. I worked long into Thursday and did everything I had to finish for Monday, done on Friday. I texted the neighbor once. We made plans for Friday night, but I had to cancel. Work went long. Not her fault.
I was sitting in my office at seven pm on Friday night, writing emails when I got a from her.
“Plans for Saturday?” She asked.
“Walking a Saturday night for a friend. Wanna go for a walk?” I asked.
“I was thinking more of something stay at home like.” She said.
“Well, my friend lives two blocks away from you, so it wouldn’t take long. His gets depressed when he’s out of town. So the walks help.” I said.
“What are you doing right now?” She asked.
“Starving. Writing emails. Thinking of having something delivered to my office.” I said.
“I could pick up something for you, bring it over to your office.” She said.
“Don’t you think you should stay at home? The roads are clearer tonight, but they could get worse at any moment.” I said.
‘Where is it?” She asked.
“About fifteen miles away from your house, south on the interstate, left on Howard,” I said.
“Near my work?” She asked. Then she gave her work address, half a block away from mine.
I told her my office address. Then I told her I wanted three crunchy tacos from Taco Bell. Unlikely, I would get any take out for the next couple of weeks. I’ve been following my meal plan pretty well.
I rushed to get my emails done. No one else was in the office, and because of COVID, unlikely for anyone to show up after hours. When she texted me she was downstairs, I bounded from my laptop to badge her in.
I was so happy to see food that I pulled her into me and kissed her. After that, I took the bag and started walking upstairs. I remembered I hadn’t kissed her before. Damn, I was tired. She was quiet as I walked her to the office space. I grabbed my laptop, the food, my water, and a bottle for her. I took her to a conference room with a more oversized table.
“You work here?” She asked.
“Not often. I like to stay near the customer at his place. Our machines are there. My guys work there.” I said.
“It’s nice. Nicer than my office.” She said. She was twisting her shirt into fists on her middle. She looked skittish. I laid out the food, and we talked. It only took me a few minutes to eat. I felt tired and full. I was ready to head home. She kept looking around the room. Not really concentrating on anything.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“Nervous.” She said.
“Oh, I see. Well, let’s do a little role play.” I said.
“What do you have in mind?” She asks.
“Yes, let me be a realtor selling this office space, and you be a potential buyer?” I said.
“Are you a realtor? ****** was very vague on what you did.” She said.
“Nope, but this is play. Ready?”
“I guess so.” She said.
I stood up, took her by the hand, led her to the front of the office space towards the other entrance. “Stand here. Your name is Cathy Higgins. Remember, you are in the market for a new office. Got it?” I said. She nodded.
I walked away from her about twenty feet, adjusted my clothes, tightened my belt, breathed into my hand. Taco breath, great.
I turned around, smiled with no teeth, and walked briskly to her. I held out my hand to shake her hand.
“Welcome, Cathy, I’m so glad you made it. I’m *****, and thank you for selecting Schemer, Sneaker, and Sneak realtors for showing this office space to you today.” I said. I took her hand with both of mine and shook them from side to side instead of up and down vigorously.
“Hi, *****.” She smiled.
“Before we begin, please step up to the Zombie detector for a reading. It’s touchless, and in this day and age, we can’t be too careful.” I said and pulled her a few feet. I had her stand on the five dots and faced her towards the thermometer.
“Isn’t this a thermometer for COVID?” She asked. It read 98.3, “State of the art zombie detector, looks like you are mostly human, at least 98.3 percent human. I can’t tell you how glad that makes me not have to worry about you eating my brain. Now, you can tell by the blue décor that this is a calming environment. The floors have been freshly cleaned from the last attack. Luckily they all died before getting to the carpet.”
“Zombie attack?” She asked.
“Oh, heavens no, rabid raccoons, luckily we were prepared. This appliance comes with the office, so you won’t have to buy a new one. You can tell by the dents in the door it was instrumental. “I motioned her towards the refrigerator.
“Huh? What?” She said.
I placed her near the refrigerator door. “You see, The manager came around this corner covered in three crazy raccoons, trying to bite his face off and eat through his stomach. His employee used this appliance to beat the things off him. I demonstrated this by opening the door and getting it close to her face.
“Of course, one or two whacks would have been enough, but his employee was very thorough and beat the man until he fell down.”
She snickered. I pulled her into the carpeted area. “Here, you see about fifty desks for your employees to do their work. Internet, extra monitors, and, just in case, convenient placement of the desk legs so one could shackle the employee to his station. We can supply those for a small extra cost.” I said.
I pulled her into the nearest conference room. “And here we have what I like to the meeting room sauna. Picture this, your department has twenty people, but this seats sixteen, so those guys that sleep in meetings will have stand up. Everywhere else in the whole space runs cold, except this room with twenty bodies. We do have wifi here, except at the four seats upfront, you know, like where the presenter would need hook up. “
She was really laughing now. Room by room, I embellished, told outright lies, till we got to my boss’s boss's office. Took about thirty minutes. I sat her in his chair. “From here, you can see absolutely nothing going on in the rest of the office except the timed lights going on and off above the frosted portion of the glass in front of you. It was designed to give him privacy, but unfortunately, it has the thinnest walls, and all calls made in this room are broadcast fifty feet away from it. Now, for a cool six hundred grand, all this could be yours. What do you think?” I asked.
“How come there are no pictures on any of the desks, even this one?” She asks.
“Desks are first come, first used. No assigned desks, but people are creatures of habit. I can point to any desk and know who will sit there. They always choose the same ones, including me. I chose the one closest to the six thousand dollar coffee machine and bathrooms. Others chose to be near other people or window.” I said.
She placed her elbows on the desk in front of her and entwined her fingers.
“So no one comes here at night?” She asked.
“It’s unlikely. Sometimes, but it's rare one of my guys would.” I said.
She nodded, then asked, “Why did you kiss me earlier?”
“I wanted to is all. I won’t take it back.” I said and tilted my head up.
“How many women have you brought up here?” She asked.
I said nothing, just looked at her. I half-smiled. Where was she going with this?
She got up, walked closer to me, “I liked it.” She said.
“I take checks, make it out to me.” I said.
“I mean, I liked the kiss.” She said as she eased towards me.
I lifted her head with a finger to her chin. I looked into her eyes. No nervousness now, a look of anticipation instead. Her nose fit her; I liked it. I wish I had thought of a breath mint as I bent my head down to kiss her again.
An hour later, I’m sitting in the chair with my pants on the floor next to my shoes. Her pants were under the desk with her panties. She is sitting on my lap, her arm around my neck, nuzzled into my shoulder.
I had no idea what she was thinking. The office was so dark outside this room. For me, the sex was pretty good. I think she orgasmed more than once, but she could have faked them. I kept wondering at what point did I cross the threshold for her to behave this way. Was it really the kiss? It didn't seem possible.
How come when I get sex like this, I want more of it? I realized then, I’m never sated. Most people I know fall into four categories; those that love power, those that love vanity, those that love materialistic things, and me. The guy who loves sex so much he can’t ever be satisfied. Why was I born this way?
“My body feels like jelly. Can you come back to my house for the night?” She asks.
“I have to walk a tonight and tomorrow, but sure. I can’t stay past Sunday morning.” I said.
“What makes you think I’ll let you stay till Sunday?” She says.
I pinched her tit. That trap didn’t deserve an answer. “Get up, the sooner….Holy Crap!” The lights in the rest of the office were turned on after a door slammed. Someone else was in the office. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
“What’s the matter?” She asks.
“Get under the desk. Quick. Quick!” I motioned her and threw my shoes and pants under the desk.
She did, and I pushed her under more and sat in the desk chair. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” I said as I scrunched up closer to the desk.
“Oh, it's you. I saw your laptop out there. Glad I caught you. How’d it go?” my direct manager said.
“Everything is moved. The ice on the flatbed caused some delay, but I worked around it. Why are you here so late?” I asked. I could see my reflection in the glass in front of me. I looked tired.
“Korean conference call at the site. They wanted an update on the project and gave us another to do on week eight. I needed a printout before I headed home.” He said.
She pulled on my dick. I could see my eyes get more prominent in the reflection. I could feel her body shaking in laughter against my legs as she kept tugging.
“When are you going home?” He asked.
“Soon. Something came up, and I needed to think.” I said. My dick grew as she stroked it. Damn it.
“Go soon. The weather is getting worse. One last thing, you saved our asses, stepping up the way you did. If this thing comes in on time, most of it will be because of the good work you did.” He said. I tried to say 'thank you,' but if I opened my mouth, a groan would come out. She hit her head on the desk, trying to get closer to my dick. FUCK!
“Hit my knee. Thanks. It meeeeans a lot to me you telling me that.” I said. She yanked way too hard.
“Have a good night.” He said.
“You too.” I said. He turned and left the freaking door open. She had found the switch to raise the desk. It could move all the way up so you could work standing. The problem was, it lifted the front of the desk too. I moved my hand to the switch and pulled her finger off it. He couldn’t see me, so I knelt down and whispered. “Give me my pants.” She laughed at me. “Shhh!” I said.
I heard the printer. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
She had enough room for her head, and she started giving me head. I stopped thinking. I grabbed the edge of the desk and held on. This wasn’t fair. I would last a long time after I’ve already cum. I could feel her giggle on the back of her tongue.
The door slammed. Hopefully, it meant my manager left. I looked below the desk. She wasn’t dressed, still.
I got off the chair and away. I closed the door as she raised up from under the desk.
“I have another condom in the car.” She says.
“No. Time to go. What were you thinking?” I asked.
“You took advantage of me. I wanted to do the same. Jesus, that was so much fun. I’ve always wanted to do that. I’ve never had sex in an office before. Would he fire you if he knew?” She asked.
“No, but I need him to think I am behaving like the model employee he thinks I am. Last year was a lot of drama.” I said.
She nodded as if she knew. She had no idea. We got dressed, picked up the trash in the conference room. We left. Saturday is another story.
1 comment
The Monster Truck Dildo.
Posted:Feb 9, 2021 7:14 pm
Last Updated:Feb 14, 2021 1:14 pm
6386 Views

I was doing my job Monday, walking around, talking to the skilled craftsmen, when a piece of unistrut falls from the ceiling, hitting the ground next to me. It didn't hit me. The piece was relatively small, about two inches long, and weighed less than an ounce.
To me, yeah, something got moved, and this piece of scrap fell down. I've seen it happen many times because the building's pipes and infrastructure create crevices where something falls into an area where it can't be reached unless you uninstall the items around a machine. Better to leave the scrap there than bring a machine down to get it.
A lead foreman, however, saw it. New to his position, I assumed that he had the entire crew come down and interrogated them to find the culprit who dropped it rather than just writing it up as a near miss. He could have just asked, but he yelled. He criticized these guys right in front of me. Poking his finger in a few of the guy's chest, and the display was . Like he had something to prove.

At first, I let it slide, not my crew, not my direct guys. Yet, it's their job to get my stuff finished, and this asshole was holding up progress. Five minutes, then …eight guys were not working on my crap. I held up my hand to the guy as I approached him.
"Man, you've made your point. Do the paperwork and get these guys back up there." I said.

Then he started yelling at me. I let him rant for a minute, then I calmly said, "I'm the one in of this project, and you work for me. These guys work for me. The protocol is to file a near-miss report and coach them on preventing these things in the future. If you want to stay here, get those guys back to work. I doubt any of them knew this piece of scrap was up there. They can't see the whole length of the area they are working in. I looked up there myself, and none of them were around the area where it fell from."

"Uh…. I'll get them back up there." He said. Then he was quite cross putting them back to work. Where did this man learn his people skills? It was so unprofessional. I hung around till I heard things start moving again. His posture reminded me of a gorilla, only more .
Two hours later, I'm walking out of the plant towards my car. This big F350 backed up in a spot, and that foreman climbs up into it as I was about to leave. I'd seen that truck parked there for over a month and didn't know the driver. Mostly backs into that spot, so he can take off instead of backing up and leaving. Sometimes he has to park facing the building, again, so he doesn't have to back up to leave.

George, one of the guys he was yelling at, comes over to me as I watch his foreman drive away. The trailer hitch had what looked to be a pipe welded to the side of the hitch. George starts off with, "Heard you had a great time at *******'s party."
"Yeah, nearly got vomit on my shoes. I don't remember that foreman; is he new?" I asked him.
"New for us, but he was working southside. He's always been an ass." George says.
"I'm surprised he hasn't been fired."
"Bosses . He can't be fired. You would think he would be nicer considering how religious he is." He says.
"Religious?" I ask.
"Morman. He doesn't like us, non-believers."
"What's that cup holder like thing on the trailer hitch?" I ask.
"He has a barbeque grill that it holds. He grills directly from the back of his truck. He removes the tailgate when it's installed. The grill is oversized. He could have put an extension on it, but then it would stick out. Hard to park around here without someone running into it. "
"I want a grill on my car," I said.
"Dude, get a bigger car. That little thing would be off its front wheels with the grill he puts on his truck."
I laughed and said my goodbye, "I have to go walk a . Have a good night George."
"You too." He says.

So I got in my car, and I was thinking this foreman is a big dick. I drove down the street, turned right onto the highway, then read a marquee from the Adult store. 'Today only, vibrators twenty-five percent off."
Ha! Vibrators, dicks…I have an idea.
It couldn't possibly work. I took the next exit.
I turned around into the Adult store. I went in. There on the shelf before me was a huge big black silicone dick like it was a message from God. Twenty-five percent off, today only. Considering the length, almost inches, Jeeze the poor girl who was gonna use this, I saved her. It was really thick as the base too.
I bought it. The clerk told me I need to use some lube with it, but I declined. Man, if I worked in a porno shop, I would always be hard at work.
I placed it in my trunk of my car. In my mind, I was thinking about how I was going to do this. I grabbed some duck tape, just in case I needed it.
I slept on it the whole time that big dick was in the trunk of my car. I would giggle at what I had planned.

The next day, the guy couldn't park in his regular spot. The front of his truck was parked towards the front of the building. Nobody around….so I placed the big dick in the grill holder. There was a set screw in the holder, so I didn't need any tape. I screwed it in tight…walked back about ten feet. Took a picture of the big dildo sticking up on his trailer hitch. The black dick was in contrast to the white paint. Texted George with a picture, "Your boss is not going to appreciate you guys doing this to his truck."
I walked in. Turned off my cell. Went about the day.

I saw George in the cafeteria at lunch.
"Dude, was that you?" He asked.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"The dildo on the truck. No one else is claiming it." He said.
"I'm not claiming it. No video, no proof it was me." I said.
"He doesn't know. We're going to see what he does in the parking lot after work. That's some funny shit. Meet us there at four?" He asked.
"Meeting, video it for me. Probably the guy that did will be with you." I said.
He nods, walks away, laughing.
So, Tuesday afternoon. I'm doing rounds, checking on some tools. The same that was being harassed is working on my shit at warp speed. They had actually gotten a full day ahead of my schedule. Goerge climbs down when he sees me.
"It's still on his truck when we went to lunch. It was you. It has to be you. Please tell me it was you." He says, smiling.
"Wow, you guys really did a lot of work today. I wasn't expecting pressure testing till tomorrow." I said. I could hear laughing right above me. Someone was listening.
"He's on the dock today, so all of us keep laughing about it." He says.
"Well, great work today. Meeting gotta go." I said and walked away.
My Meeting went well. I walked to my car at around four. His crew was on the other side of the parking lot, watching him get into his truck and pull away. They looked delighted. I drove off, followed him for a bit, and noticed something when he braked. The dildo would thump on the tailgate. I could hear the thump through my car. It didn't look like it was damaging the truck, but I wasn't sure. It was pretty soft silicone. I hadn't planned on that. It bothered me that I didn't take that into consideration. The guy's a jerk and all, but I don't want to damage his property.
Wouldn't he have noticed that noise? Well, I guess we shall see.
6 Comments
Superbowl…Super fail.
Posted:Feb 8, 2021 6:40 pm
Last Updated:Feb 8, 2021 6:41 pm
7142 Views

I got my friend’s house early. Too early. Anyway, thirty minutes too early. I had brought beer, Miller light and Budweiser, and vanilla ice cream.
As she is making the cobbler, we are chatting about my other relations. I hadn’t realized how much she had known about . Her husband was there, friendly, and their friends started showing up. I realized I needed another fifty pounds around my middle fit in. These were some pretty big boys. At least with my six-foot height, I was the tallest. Everyone seemed be wanting the ‘Bucs win, so of course, I chose the Chiefs. It was nice know there were some Cowboy fans there.
I was really having a good time. Some of them worked on-site with me in the past, so I had a lot in common with a few. I just never spent time away from work with them. I love spending time with guys away from wor Away from the political correctness, away from timeline bullshit, away from people like me that screw up everyone’s time go home.
I was in my zone. I made fun of the Bucs. I built up the guys around me. Told a few stories of how this person or that person went way above in helping me with my own job. I had forgotten how much of a rift there is between me and the skilled workers. My position, education, or just higher status makes these guys timid with me at wor For this game it was different.
The kickoff happened, and her neighbor had not shown yet. , it didn’t matter. I was enjoying the company of the moment. I made some connections with a few of the guys. Unlike them, I was drinking water. I don’t like the taste of beer.

A few minutes into the game, her neighbor shows up. Five-foot six inches, wearing a mas Covid, I know, but no one else was. At this point I just want the disease get it over with. My friend announced food was ready. So I got up off the couch, and her neighbor was first in line, so I pulled her rear belt loop move her behind .
“Hey!” She said.
“Late people don’t get served first,” I said as I started filling my plate.
“Ladies get go first.” She replied.
“Hmm, the second time that lady bullshit has been tried on me this wee A lady would have shown up on time.” I said.
“I was busy.” She said.
“I helped cook this cobbler, so I want the first piece. You are thin enough eat the whole pan.” I said.
“You did not help cook this.” She stated.
My friend chimed in. “Well, he did. Made a mess of it before it got in the oven.” She said.
“I swept it up. You shouldn’t have poked me in the ribs while I was holding a bag of flour. It was totally your fault.” I said.

My plate filled, the other guys started getting their food, as I stood there. They nodded to this woman, but none said hello. I found that very odd. They got their plates and went back into the living room to watch the game and eat. I put my plate down on the counter and got the ice cream out of the freezer for my cobbler.
I turned around…and none of the cobbler was left in the pan. None. They had not even waited for the ice cream to go with it.
The neighbor was looking at me like it was my fault. Why was she just standing there, watching them take her share? She took off her mas A very pretty face, with a rather large nose. It was the biggest nose I had ever seen on a woman. She stared at .
I went over her, scraped the side of her nose. Pretended something was on it and said. “Don’t worry, I got the booger.” I flicked it away.
Her mouth opened and nothing came out. I tapped on her upper front tooth and said. “Are these your real teeth? They look really nice.”
My friend was choking, and the guys that caught what I said, “Oh my God! She is going to his ass.”
“I gave her a compliment. Why would she my ass for that?” I yelled bac
She closed her mouth. Then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Well, my friend here calls me Mr. Sexy,” I said and pointed her way.
“She does not.” She argued.
My friend replied, “Actually, I do. I ask him every time he comes my post how he is doing, and his reply is, ’I’m very sexy.’” She laughed. “We all call him that, but his other responses are just as crazy.”
“You are full of yourself.” She said .
“Actually, I’ll be full of peach cobbler in the next ten minutes, then my body will just exude sexiness. My ass might be too hot for that couch over there. ” I said and kissed my right index finger, touched my butt with it, and made a “Hssssss” noise.
She just stands there. I placed ice cream on my plate. I returned to the living room, to see the Bucs winning. Jeeze. She stayed behind and talked and drank beer.

At half time, I brought my paper plate back to the kitchen. I looked over the pizza rolls that were still left, but nothing really appealed to me. Chips, dips, salsa, a few ribs were left. I had eaten ribs already. I threw my plate away and noticed the trash can had gotten full. So I pulled the trash. The guys were yelling in the living room and I asked my friend where I should dump the trash.
“Outback, next the gate on the left, blue bin.” My friend said. Her neighbor was just standing in the kitchen holding a beer bottle.
So I took out the trash. Not a big deal…except…the neighbor followed out the back door.
“I don’t understand you.” She says as I put the trash away.
“, 52, six-foot, and I self identify as an office chair,” I said.
“Office chair?” She asks.
“Yes, people tend sit on and fart,” I said.
She laughed at that one. “******* said she invited you over here meet me.”
“She wanted me cheer you up. Have you not been cheered? Go Chiefs!” I said and raised my arms.
“Mostly. Some of the things she says about you can’t be true.” She says.
“I don’t know what she says about me.”
“She says you sometimes dance when asked a question.”
“Did she tell you about my funny walk? How I do the Igore impression from Young Frankenstein?”
“No…she missed that one.” She laughed.
“So, do you do anything fun?” I asked.
“I know a joke..hold a second…let me think… There were these guys, no guys and they were in a Texas town.”
“Was it a big town or small?” I asked.
“I dunno. I’ve never been there.”
‘So guys walk into a bar.” I said.
“No, they walk into a Dairy Queen. Wait, fuck, that’s the punchline.” She says.
“Oh, and the town is Mexia (pronounced Muh- hei- uh)” I said.
“You know the joke.” She says.
“My mom told me that joke forty ago. How do you know my Mom?” I asked.
“I don’t know your Mom.” She says.
“Let’s find out,” I said and pulled out my cell, dialed, I placed it on speaker.
“You can’t call your Mom.” She says.
“Of course I can call my Mom…wait…Hi Mom, I have ***** here at a Superbowl watching party and she just tried tell your Mexia joke. You should have coached her better. She gave away the punchline before she explained the joke. Do you know ******?”
“I know a few people with that name. Did she live in Dallas?” Mom asks.
“No..I…only lived here in Texas. Your is crazy.” She says and grabs my wrist.
“I don’t recognize the voice, tell her the story about you guys toilet papering that girl’s house. I love that one.”
“Mom. This is serious. This woman doesn’t know how to tell your joke. Oh, and I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you too. Tell her the toilet paper story. Bye.” My mom says. I put away my cell.
“You’re insane!” She says.
“Are you cheered up?” I as
“Yes. I am cheered up. Jesus, I can’t believe you did that.”
The back door opens, “Are you guys coming back in or are you going look at the trash bins all night? The third quarter is starting.” my friend says. Well, the bins were rather boring look at.

“Man, the Chiefs are probably twenty ahead by now,” I said. I didn’t believe it, but if they were I’d look cool.
Fuckers. So much for looking cool. I sat down on the love seat next Bill watch the rest.
She stands in front of both of us and says, “Bill, can I sit there? You go sit on the couch.”
He looks at and I shake my head “No.” and say. “It’s a trap! Don’t do it.” Wuss. He moved.
He laughs and goes and sits on the couch. The chiefs score a field goal. I stand up and do a field goal dance. The guys laugh….Then the Bucs scored a touchdown, and four of those assholes get up and do my dance. Then all them for the next field goal for the Bucs get up and do my dance to make fun of .
I pretended sul I turned the neighbor, “I started a trend or they have a contagious dance virus.”

The game was over, and they did it again. I got up and went the kitchen as the guys were leaving. My friend’s husband came and slapped me on the back, “Man, you should come over next season and we’ll watch your ‘Boys.”
“If I can. A lot can happen between then and now.” I said.
“Can you walk her home?” My friend asks.
“Is crime really that bad around here? It’s next door, right?” I asked.
“She’s not feeling good, and I think she drank too much.” She says.
“O You can keep the ice cream. I don’t want any leftover beer either.” I said.
So I went to the neighbor who was still sitting on the loveseat. She looked green in the face.
I motioned her with my hand, she took it and got up. We walked out the front door. She took steps. Then she puked in her neighbor’s flowerbed. It was ugly. The guys were laughing as they got into their trucks, but there I was holding her hand as vomit chunks spewed from her.
Then she started crying. I could smell the vomit and it was making me queasy. I walked her to her house. There was no way I was going in at this point.
I think she only drank or four beers. I couldn’t think of anything say. I found out later that she rarely drinks at all, but she was nervous around . I made her so nervous she drank, more?
My friend did give her number. I haven’t texted her yet. I’m still thinking of what say. I’d much rather talk her, than the security guard, despite the vomit. It took five hours clean my car, and I kept thinking of her last dig at swiping her hand across the inside of my windshield. Besides, I don’t want get together with any woman from wor
I think I’ll just try not being myself this wee Let things cool down. Maybe that will wor
1 comment
Her worst date….ever…part 2.
Posted:Feb 6, 2021 4:27 pm
Last Updated:Feb 6, 2021 4:28 pm
7759 Views

First of all, I had fun that evening and I believed she enjoyed herself despite my teasing and sudden ending.

I never go into this kind of interaction even expecting a kiss, much less sex. I’ve had dates where I enjoyed myself and we never even held hands. I’m fine with that. Every situation to me is unique. Every person, whether man or woman or alien is different. Everyone moves at their own pace. Some like it within a minute of meeting me, some a few days later. It’s not a big deal.

So, I headed into work, and the situation was touchy. Politically, my customer hates safety incidents because the group receives a cash bonus each quarter if there is none. So what happens in this setup? Oh, their employees might break an arm, have a heart attack, or some other gruesome event and they will drive away from the site and claim it occurred somewhere else. I saw a guy cut open his leg on a sharp piece of an exhaust pipe, tape his leg with poly tape till the end of the day, go home, come back the next day with twenty stitches. The group got their cash bonus that quarter. I was disgusted by the whole ordeal, but that’s their employee, not mine.
I managed the narrative for the event. My guys are not the customer. Fuck the customer, if his shit causes my guys to get hurt. He pays, not my guys. My guys are more important to me than the customer’s shitty incentive to themselves.
If you incentivize or punish for safety, you get fewer reports, not fewer events. Events still occur. Enough about that, that shit is boring.

Tuesday night was her night off. I was exhausted after the previous night, so I slept in. I didn’t wander back to the site till after one in the afternoon. She starts her shift at ten. I had all this work piled on me, so I knew it was going to be a long, very long day. I was on-site past midnight. I hadn’t seen her, but security guards are assigned each day so I could go months without seeing her again on the site unless she chose/assigned the same duty station I walked past.
The place is more peaceful at night. All the big wigs go home at four, so the real work gets done mostly at night when they are not underfoot and requiring stupid meetings. Before COVID, I could sit at a table for four, with other people during lunch. Now, each of those tables can only have one person. There are four booths, and we are allowed two people at them, but a plane of Plexiglas runs in the middle of the table separating you from the person you sit across from. There is no Plexiglas on the top of the seat like I have seen in local restaurants.

After midnight, I was hungry. I had brought my normal lunches and heated one up in the microwave oven in the cafeteria. I saw the security guard talking to another guard in the booth closest to the far wall. I knew the other guard well. I have had a great working relationship with the other guard for over ten years. They appeared to be enjoying each other’s company so I just sat in the booth next to them to eat my lunch. My date didn’t see me. My back was to them as I ate.

I could hear my date describe in detail to the other guard what happened as I sat and ate. I even finished my food and was just drinking my bottled water when she finished her story. I put down the bottle. The other guard was laughing about it, so I assumed everything went well for her till…..

“It turned out to be the worst date of my life. He made me so frustrated, leaving me like that.” She said.
“You seemed to be having a good time till the end.” My friend said.
“He didn’t go to the next level. Got me all excited and left me.” My date said.
“So what did you do after he left?” My friend asked.
“Went up to my apartment and started punching a pillow on my couch for a few minutes, then took care of business.” My date said.

I didn’t understand the context of that statement, I guess she went to the bathroom, whatever.

“So, when you were on top of him, what did he feel like? He looks good in shorts, seen him up here like that a couple times. Those calves of his look like rocks. My boo is all mushy in his chest.” My friend said.
“Solid. You can feel a thickness in his chest, when you press on it, doesn’t give.” My date said.
I was feeling pretty good at this point. Worst date ever, Hah!

I lifted up my water bottle to take a drink. “Plus, his cock was hard.” My date said. I fumbled my water bottled and splashed a little on my shirt.
I turned around in the booth I was sitting in and raised up on my knees to look over into the other booth. My friend said nothing, but her eyes got big, seeing me.

My date continued with, “I think it's pretty big. I could feel it from here to here.” She said as she moved her hand from her thigh up, then held her hands apart about twelve inches above the table. Wow, I would be pretty impressed myself.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. I held up one hand with my thumb and index finger spread about two inches apart. I mouthed the words, “Tiny” behind her.

My friend was shaking as I watched her trying not to laugh across the table.
“Well, I’ve heard it's small.” My friend said in a stressed tone. I nodded, gave a thumbs up.

“The other girls said it’s at least an eight incher. I’m thinking bigger. I could feel it on my belly button.” My date said. She was writhing all over me, of course, she could feel it there. She had a hold of it with her hand for some of that. I said she was handsy.

I shortened my fingers to one inch on my hand. My friend started to laugh. I quickly turned around, and put my stuff back in my lunch box. I had to finish a report before I could leave anyway.
I went back to my work area, logged on, finished my last report. I needed to wake up earlier and getting out after one am was not helping.

As I walked back to the entrance, my guard friend was at a different post. She saw me and waved me closer. “Why are you wasting time with her? She’s not your type.”
“My type? What’s my type?” I said.
She squinted one eye, whatever that means. Then she changed the subject, “Your girl finishes the first half of her training in July. She asked me to come out there for a week. Did she ask you?”
“She told me about it, but July is difficult for me. I thought her training would be shorter. Things are different in Florida than here I guess.” I said.
“You did the right thing, letting her go.” She said.
I said nothing. She had made an impact on me, that was for sure.

“So, since you're slumming, I’ve got a favor to ask you.” She said.
“I’m not mowing your lawn,” I said defensively.
She laughed, then she pulled out her cell, scrolled through it, then turned it towards me. Some blond middle-aged chick wearing a paper mask. I recognized the park she was standing in, Zilker Park.
“Ok, what about her?”
“My next-door neighbor, she needs some cheering up. You are the master at cheering people up around here.”
“Single?”
“Complicated.” She said.
“How will I meet her? What exactly do you want me to do with her?” I asked.
“Make her laugh. She's coming over to our house on Sunday afternoon for my boo’s Superbowl party. Can you make it?” She asks.
“Will I be fed? Peach cobbler?” I asked.
“Cobbler?” She asks.
“Word on the streets is you make a mean peach cobbler. At least when you brought that pan before Christmas, I got some. I enjoyed it. I’ll see what I can do to lift her spirits for some of your peach cobbler. I can’t think of anything else I would want from you.”
“Bring a twelve-pack of Miller light, and I’ll make the cobbler.”
“Your husband drinks Miller Light?” I ask.
“No, I do. He drinks shitty Budweiser.” She says.
“Wait a minute, it still feels like I am getting the short end of this deal. I’m bringing beer. I’m making happy. I have to spend my time over there. How long is this game anyway?”
“Jesus. Same as all other Superbowl’s.” She said.
“Well I haven’t watched one since the Cowboys went to one, so it’s been a while.”
She laughed. “Those ‘boys ain’t never going to the Superbowl as long as your owner is still alive.”
“He might drop any day. He’s really old.”
“Whatever. Be there half hour before the game, and you’ll get fed.”
I nodded and went home.
1 comment
Her worst date….ever.
Posted:Feb 4, 2021 5:56 pm
Last Updated:Jun 15, 2021 3:10 pm
7814 Views

Well, my freaking reputation caused me an “issue”, and now I’m paying the price.

Tuesday, almost a normal workday, except I went in an hour early. I skipped the gym in the morning because I have a pretty important project I’m working on. Anyway, the security guards were not the same ones I was familiar with during the day shift.
“Good morning Mr. ******” said the elderly male officer that greeted me.
“Unless you are giving me coffee, it’s not good yet,” I replied him. He chuckled.
The short female security guard his right, “Hey, it’s you!” She says.
“Hey, it’s you! Coffee?” was my reply.
“No, ahhhh…..Is it true what they say about you?” She asks.
Not knowing what the hell she was talking about, “Nope, he was dead when I got there. I know there seven bullets in his back, and it might look like all shots came from my gun that only shoots six bullets. He reloaded. Clearly, it was suicide.” I said.
Both of them are laughing, but neither was getting me coffee. What’s wrong with these two?

I went through the metal detector, and the female security officer moves from behind the counter to stop me and whispers. “So, did you date ***** and *****?”
“I guess you could it that, but I would it more of they tortured me until they moved to Florida kind of thing. See, I got this papercut building boxes for them.” I said and showed her my right index finger, “Or was it this finger?” And now held up my left index finger. I looked from one to the other and back.
“You crazy.” She said and touched my left hand with her right one, then pulled away. I said nothing, just looked at her for a few seconds.
“You're a friend of theirs?” I ask. I didn’t remember either talking about this guard.
“Not exactly. I know them.” She said smiling.
“I’m off at five, going to the gym for an hour, I’ll pick you up afterward. Where?” I said and pulled out my cell to get her number and address. Her eyes get big, and she tells me. I type it in my cell. People start showing up at the counter and she touches my upper arm before she goes back to her post.
I turn away, take two steps, turn back towards her, she is watching me. I mouth the words silently, “Stop looking at my ass.” As I point to my ass and then back at her. Apparently, she can read lips, she put both her hands up to cover her mouth and turned away from me quickly.
I got to my workspace and set up a future text to her to go off in about an hour. “I have to put away my cell for the next couple hours, so get some sleep, don’t think about me not wearing underwear as you were gazing at my butt.”

Wow, when I got back to my cell, she had blown it up. The last text was strange. “I’m so nervous about tonight.” She texted.
I didn’t text her again till after I showered at my gym. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Wear shorts and tennis shoes. I’m driving, so me if you want cancel. If you don’t , I’ll be there.”
I didn’t get a . She was waiting for me on the ground floor of her apartment building, dressed in shorts and tennis shoes.
I had a flashback the other security guard as I saw her. How could two women look so tacky in those blue shirts and black slacks, yet look more feminine and more fairy-like out of them? Both women had such nice curves that the uniforms hid. It was a travesty.

I pulled up and motioned for her get in the passenger seat. She walked around my car and got in.
She talked. I drove. Halfway our destination she finally asked. “Where we going?”
“ meet a friend. I already made plans do something before I made you tag along. You were a complete surprise.”
“A friend? What kind of friend?” She asked suspiciously.
“The kind I won’t do a threesome with. Jeeze, relax, we are nearly there.” I said.
She got silent for a very long time. I pulled off the road and up a gate and stopped. I got out, opened the gate, got back in the car. Pulled through the gate, stopped, went, and closed the gate.
The driveway here was almost gravel, and I drove past the house on this ranch to the stock pond in the back. I stopped the car. “We’re here,” I said.

She got out and looked around. “Your friend?” She asks.
“Saw us, be here within a minute or two. Name is Andrew. Don’t shorten it to Andy, it will only confuse everyone.” I said.
I looked at the pond, then opened my truck. I got out a box of ice cream cones (no ice cream, just the cones.) Andrew’s favorite.
Within a minute, Andrew comes walking up to us on her four legs. “Baaaa,” Andrew says. Two small baby goats are following Andrew. The security guard looks around, but Andrew comes up to me, and I pull out one cone and feed it to her. “Baaaa,” Andrew says as she takes it from me.
“Where’s your friend Andrew?” The security guard asks. “Oh, sorry, Andrew this is ******, ****** this is Andrew,” I said. “The are Maddison and Morgan.”
“Your friend is a goat?” She asks.
“She's a very good listener,” I said.
“She? Andrew is a ’s name.” She says.
“You know, I said the same thing, weird. Here, take this cone, and walk over the other side of the car.” I said.
She took the cone and walked to the other side of the car. “Now, her name,” I said.
“Andrew.” The security guard said and Andrew darted around the car towards her and started jumping almost.
“Better give her the cone, or she will start nibbling on your shoelaces,” I said. She does and then starts laughing.
“What?” I asked.
“I was expecting dinner, but not this.” She says. I then said, “Ok, she will let you pet her now. Madison and Morgan don’t have the same hangup as Andrew. No touchy unless Andrew gets a snack. This goat is weird. If you pet the , they expect to be petted at the same time. They get jealous of one another and will fight the other for the attention.”
She is laughing as she pets the baby goats. Andrew walks towards the water and drinks.
“I brought us dinner, sort of, I dug it out of trashcan at work.” I said as I put away the box of cones in the trunk. I got out my lunchbox, opened my sandwich bag, and handed her half of my sandwich.
“Tuna fish?” She says as she sniffs it.
“My own recipe,” I said as I took a bite and motioned her to the front of the car to sit. Then we talked, mostly about the ranch. It was my last time visiting it. My cousin sold it, and they were moving to West Virginia soon. It was a nice chat, and the sun was going down fast. A little after six and it was grey-black. Andrew and the had gone back up to the house. I guess we bored them.
I turned on my headlights, waiting for the next surprise. “It’s pretty here.” She says and I respond, “I’m more of a city . When I was a , my cousin would make me ride horses all over this place. This pond means a lot me. It was the first time I drove a tractor to build it. I saw my first rattlesnake over there. Went swimming in this stock tank as a . Fireworks on the bank some years. The house is awful. It’s so the flooring squeaks, the roof leaks, nails are coming out of the ceiling faster than my cousin can hammer them back in. Foundation problems, plumbing issues, but I loved spending time here. I think this ranch is rather ugly.”
She snuggled close me. Then the surprise. “Quack. Quack. Quack.” As four ducks landed on the water just like they had last time I was there. I went back my trunk get the bread I brought.
“Ducks?” She asks and I reply “I am confused about it myself. Ducks migrate, but these are very social and not really wild. We don’t know where they go during the day, but they come here at night if it’s not too cold, and if you get close to the water they swim right up to you. They expect to be fed, and if you do, they will follow all around the pond if they think you have food. They just showed up a few months ago. I would have thought the headlights would scare them away, but you can’t wave these guys away. They ignore attempts to drive them away. Odd ducks, but mostly friendly.”
I gave her a couple slices and started breaking apart pieces from the slices I had. The ducks didn’t even wait for us to get close to the water before they swan closer then walked towards us. “Quack. Quack. Quack.” Noisy critters. I tossed bread in the water, and they followed that.
“Can I pet them?” She asks.
“Dunno, I’ve never tried,” I said.
She got up close to the water, trying not to get muddy, with the bread and lured one close to her. She leaned, I stepped closer. The duck nibbled at the bread in her hand. Must resist temptation I thought. So close….so close...don't do it….fuck it.
I shoved her butt and in she flopped into the water headfirst, ducks scattered, then swan back to her as she raised herself up, pecking at her hand holding the soggy bread with their bills. I laughed. She splashed water onto me, but I stepped back for most of it. She stood, stepped closer and I held out a hand to help her out of the water.
She yanked on my hand with both of hers and pulled herself violently towards me and I slipped backward and fell. Now I was on the ground on my back with her on top of me. “You were supposed to go in the water!” She yelled as she dripped on top of me.
“You need to weigh another hundred pounds to move me. I can bench press you and then some.” I said as I laughed. “I still got wet, and my backside is in the mud, isn’t that enough?” I asked.
She kissed me instead of answering. “You smell like tuna,” I said. We writhed on each other. She was very handsy.
My cell phone rang with a distinct ringtone on the hood of my car after a few minutes of play, “I’m a loser baby, don’t try to save me.”
“I have to get that,” I said as I plopped her next to me and scrambled through the mud towards my cell. I wiped my hands on my shirt.
I had to them back. “I’m here. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I’ll be there in over an hour.” I hung up and looked at her. “Well, sorry cut things short. I have shower before I go work. One of my guys got hurt.”
She started flinging mud around. I was winching because I didn’t bring a towel. She and I both sloshed as we got into the car. I was dreading cleaning my car seats, but whatever.
Once we started driving away, I turned on the AC. She reached for the dial, and I slapped her hand away.
“Your hand is dirty,” I said.
“I’m cold.” She whined. I turned it down a notch, leaving two more to go.
“Really? I’m wet, muddy, and cold. ” She said.
“I have that effect on women,” I said as we drove.
A block away from her apartment, I reached over with my right hand and squeezed her left tit and said. “I’m not gay.” She started laughing.
“I can’t believe you did that. You can’t just touch me there.” She said.
“You already had both of them pressed against my chest. I’m pretty sure that gave me permission.”
“That’s different. It’s ok when I do it.” She said.
“So….when you were stroking my crotch, that was ok…but….me….” I said.
“Everything is out of order. You’ve confused me.” She said as she laughed.
I pulled up to the spot I picked her up at and stopped the car. “You’re home.”
She sat there. “Well? Time for you to get out.” I said and motioned with my hand for her to leave.
“A gentleman always opens a door for a lady.” She said.
“When you find one, he can open your door. Your arm ain't broke and I need to hurry. You didn't need a gentleman to get into my car. My guy at work could be bleeding to death from a splinter. You don’t want him to die, do you?”
She swiped her dirty hand across my windshield in front of her, leaving a hand smear.
I replied with, “No goodbye kiss for you. Please, I need to hurry. It’s an emergency. My job depends on me making sure my people are ok.” I said.
She got out. Slammed the door. As I pulled away, she flashed me her tits. WTF?

FUCK! I’m only halfway through my story….I’ll post this and have a part two…I’m just too tired to finish tonight from work.
0 Comments
I made a spur of the moment trip up to Denton, Tx
Posted:Feb 1, 2021 7:56 pm
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2021 2:45 am
8553 Views

My friend, Dave, was spending a week there because his mother was in the hospital. I convinced my other friend, Jay, that we could spend time with him on Friday and Saturday when he wasn’t at the hospital visiting his Mom. COVID restricted his visiting time but gave us more time with him.

We were lucky get hotel rooms. On Friday, after I arrived, Dave was at the hospital and I went out dinner with Jay. Pretty normal laughing and telling of experiences since we last saw each other over a year ago. It took over an hour to get a seat, and our stories got more outrageous as time went by. This was before we had anything to drink before us.

When the waitress finally showed, I could not believe how high energy our conversations had elevated. He and I are pretty expressive and the people at tables around us were watching us. When she came to our table, he froze, literally. She was young, pretty, but nothing I had not been around before. Even he had been around girls like her before. Twenty ago, it was her type we tried entice. When she left with the drink order I asked him, “What’s the matter? You were very shy, it's not like you.”
“It’s been a couple of since I even touched a woman, and I feel so .” He said.
“Jay, you are only a year younger than . We both have greying hair now, not a big deal. If anything, it’s a plus.” I said.
“It’s not the same now. Women are different. I’m different.” He said.
“When she comes back, tell her of that sleepwalking thing that happened you. I’ll think of an opener for it. Then you slide it in, and I’ll build you up, easy peasy.” I said.
“It’s an story.” He said.
“It’s a funny one. If she doesn’t laugh, I will.” I said.

It had taken so long to get a table, and finally, get someone to wait on us, the restaurant was starting to get slower, fast. Odd, for a Friday night. She came back with our drinks, and she looked exhausted. So I led with that… “Wow, you sure were busy tonight, and you must be as tired as my friend here was when he found out he was sleepwalking. Jay, how did that happen again?”
So, he told his story, and after twenty of building on it, embellishing it, polishing it, it was fucking awesome. It was over in less than minutes. She laughed, and went away without taking our order…WTF? It didn’t matter it was a funny story.

“I think that was a win,” I said to him.
“She just walked off.” He said.
“She laughed as she did it. She looks tired, and look, those tables are leaving, hers I thin” I said. He watched her and I just didn’t care.
She came back, ask us a dozen questions, then took our order. Jay always gave an honest, direct answer. I deflected everything because it sounded like a job interview. She remembered to take our order at least.
After she left, “What the hell are you doing?” I asked him.
“Just answering her questions.” He said.
“Look, you have a lot to be proud of, but she is a stranger. You don’t just give out those types of answers unless you know them better. The way you described yourself is borderline rich, and I’m not sure that advertising that is good for you.”
“She doesn’t know that.” He said.
“You have a private plane, you travel to other countries four or five times a year, you own your own business. To a college , that appears as higher status. She works here…for tips. Be friendly, but you don’t know her.” I emphasized.

“She can hear you. She’s standing at the table behind you picking up the dishes.” He said.
I turned around and winked at her. She had a predatory look on her face with a half-smile. I took a deep breath and leaned in close to him over the table and whispered some cautionary words. He appeared to understand.
The food finally came out. It looked good, and we dug in, after all, we had waited hours for it. As our chewing got slower, once again, our waitress shows up, “Would you guys like anything?” She asks.
“I’d like another beer,” Jay says and I respond with “World peace, but I’d settle for my neighbors not yelling at each other after they drink too much,” I said.
She didn’t crack a smile. “Wow, you must be exhausted, that was at least mildly entertaining..” I said.
“I’ve been here since ten-thirty this morning, and I have to close tonight.” She said.
“We should probably leave shortly, then. “ I said.
“It’s ok, but if you really want to help out, finish eating and move over the bar and order another round of drinks. That way my station can be cleaned faster.” She said.

“What’s in it for us?” I asked.
“In it for you? What do you want?” She asks, squinting her eyes. I took her pen from her apron and wrote on a napkin a phone number, handed it to her. “My next-door neighbor, Tim. Call him and tell him I am out of town so he can return my lawnmower on Sunday afternoon.”
“You could him yourself.” She argues.
I pull out my cell, scroll the messages and the five I sent him. “I did, but the guy refuses answer a . Do you see any replies from him? You asked. That’s my price.” I said.
Jay is laughing at us. call my bluff, she uses my cell call him. He answers on the first ring. “Hello. It’s ten o’cloc You know I have get up early. This had better be important or so help I will beat you with that damn wind chime.”
Then she talks, explains who she is, and what she is doing. Tim’s tone becomes a lot less hostile towards her than he would to me calling this late. He’s a good man, just really rigid. She hangs up, places my cell in her apron, and walks off. Jay just laughs at her actually doing it.
“I think she just stole my cell,” I said.
“Yeah, it looks that way. Maybe she forgot it wasn’t hers? She didn’t leave the check either. She’ll be bac” He said.
“Man, I’m tired, when she gets back with the chec You go the bar, order another drin Maybe you can spend a few minutes talking her without around. I’ll walk back the hotel.” I tell him.
She did come back with the chec I held out my hand for my cell. “Oh yeah, I’m so sorry.” She said smiling. Then she held out her hand. I reluctantly gave back her pen, after I chewed on the pen cap so my teeth marks were clearly visible. It was a pen from my hotel anyway. For such a nice place, they couldn't give out pens with the restaurant’s name on them? Jeeze. Jay paid the chec I left.

I slept very well that night, relaxed. Woke up at six, went downstairs get coffee, Jay was already there drinking one. Dave wouldn’t meet us for breakfast till eight.
He told me she did talk to him for almost twenty minutes after I left at the bar. I was very happy for him, but it didn’t go anywhere because she was tired. He told me I had a lucky room. I didn’t understand the reference, and I needed to finish that cup before I could think about what he was telling me. I’m not a good listener before my first cup.
The day went well. We ate with Dave and his brother breakfast, and they left for the hospital. Jay and I just talked most of the day, reliving our high school, reliving the past thirty . We went another nearby restaurant the hotel so we wouldn’t have drive, met Dave and this time his sister for lunch.

We gathered in my room afterward, just talked, shared experiences. I had so much fun during this time. We ate at another restaurant for dinner, then went back the hotel. I went shopping for a laptop charger, giving Jay time alone with Dave. Ironically, I stumbled into a wedding reception in the hotel dining area on my way back…and I mingled with the group. They shared some of the wedding cake with me, and I got the great grandmother to tell me about her grandkids, all seventeen of them. I went up to my room when the party seemed over. The father of the bride gave me his business card. Never met the bride and groom, they were already on their way to San Antonio.
In my room, I had just put my bag down on the table with my new laptop charger when someone knocked on my door. I really thought it was Jay or Dave, so I just opened it wide. The waitress from the night before was standing there, carrying a backpack and holding plastic shopping bags.
She sighed, and walked into my room. I looked into the hallway, both ways. It wasn’t either of those guys. I closed the door, turned around and she tentatively handed a plastic bag with something in it. I took it, still confused.
“Can I take a shower?” She asks finally.
I nodded. I’m was still not understanding why she was here. The scene didn’t make sense. I was wracking my brain trying to remember if I even told her I was staying at this hotel. I was tired yesterday, and not in my best form.
She went to the other room where the bed was, and placed the other bag on the bed, then went into my bathroom, closing the door.
I looked in the bag I was holding. A box of twelve condoms and tea candles. I thought absently, was she in my room prepare have sex with Jay? Why do this? Why give this? She gave them . I have no idea how long I stared at that stupid box in the bag. Then it hit .
It took less than seconds get undressed. I walked into the bathroom just as she turned on the water. She was already nude. She jumped and turned away from .
I lightly stroked her back with a finger, going down her spine. “I’m not ready.” She says.
“It’s o I needed a shower too.” I said, and this time traced ‘S’ patterns on her back with fingers. I can’t see her face. She gets into the shower. I follow.
“Maybe you should turn out the light.” She says.
“The light? Not yet,” I said and start kissing her neck as soft as I can moving an inch lower each time towards her left shoulder.
“It’s just that…” She says. I turn her around, and she backs up in the shower, arm’s length away. She holds her hand over her chest between her breasts. She could have just gotten out, yet she stayed in, and she is hiding something under that hand. A tattoo? A birthmark? Why hide what’s between those pretty breasts of hers? They were nothing to be ashamed of, and she didn’t mind me seeing them.
I reach out to her and stroked her hand from her middle finger to her wrist. I could feel her relaxing since I didn’t force that hand to move. I looked into her eyes, “I want to see it.” I said softly.
She lowers her hand and there is a scar that is a line with holes to either side of the line. She is watching my face. “Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Not anymore. It’s ugly.” She says. I must admit, it’s not a compliment to the rest of her body, but it was just a scar to me. I have a few of those myself. Not in that place, or that jagged. I’ve been in this type of situation before, and last time…I fucked it up. That girl had a scar on her face and I blatantly told her, “It doesn’t bother me.” Yet, to her, I guess it did. I was being sincere. I wish I had asked someone for the correct response for that time. I was in shock the relationship didn’t flourish then. We had gotten along so well. My sense of humor was hard on her.

“If you want, I can turn out the light, but I don’t need to,” I said.
She turned her head away from me. I stepped up to her. “You know what girls get that surprise me in my hotel room and are naked with me in the shower?” I whispered.
“What?” She said.
“They get kissed,” I said and went in for one as she turned her head back towards me.
As we kissed, I brought her into a hug and stroked her hair. I pulled her into the shower spray with me, picked up the bar of soap, and started washing her.
I stroked, caressed, kissed, and mostly teased her in the shower. She kept trying to grab at my dick, but I wouldn’t let her touch it until it needed to be washed. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have finished me off in the shower. We got more playful as the water washed over us. I really enjoyed seeing her laugh and smile. Once in a while, she would snort-laugh.

We dried each other off and the sexual tension was really high between us. When we left the bathroom, she looked around. “You didn’t light the candles?”
“I don’t have a lighter,” I said.
“It was in the bag.” She said.
“I didn’t see a lighter in the bag with the candles. Just a box of condoms.” I said.
She ran to the bed, poured out the contents. About eight tea candles and a lighter spilled on the bed.
“So that’s why. I gave you the wrong fucking bag.” She said and laughed.
“I thought it was the right bag. The first time a girl has walked into my hotel room and handed me a box of condoms right away.”
“I had this all planned out, and I fucked it because you made me nervous since you didn’t say anything as I walked in. You were supposed to light the candles while I took a shower and I would wear my lingerie that hid my scar.”

I laughed and picked up the lighter and a couple candles.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Lighting the candles. Quick, go put your lingerie on.” I said and lit one and placed it next to the bed on the nightstand.
“I’m already naked. You ruined everything by not knowing what I was thinking.” She said.
“Hold that thought,” I said as I lit another candle.
She stood with her hands on her hips. I left the bedroom and went to the other room and put on my shirt, then my shorts. I left the underwear on the floor with my socks. I picked up the bag with the condoms. She had come into the same room. I nodded, then I left the hotel room. I heard her say, “What…” Then the door closed behind me as I stepped into the hallway.

I turned around to look at the door, waited a few seconds, then knocked on the door.
She tentatively opened the door. “Special delivery,” I said.
She looked at me confused through the crack of the door. “I didn’t order anything.” She said. I pretended to read my palm. “Says here, you did. Can you sign for your package? I have other deliveries to make tonight ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” She said as she opened the door to let me in.
I held out the bag towards her at arm’s length. She took hold of it, and I pulled her close and tickled her underarm. She squealed, then hit me with the bag. “Ooof! Run away! She has a weapon!” I said as I playfully ran past her into the bedroom. I pretended to be looking for a hiding spot and ducked down behind the bed. She closed the door as she came into the room.

She turned out the lights. The lights of the candles barely gave off any light at all, but it added a calmness to the room. I peeked above the bed. She crawled to me, like a panther, dragging that bag with her on the bed.
Like a viper, she grabbed my shirt and pulled me up so I could face her. “You know what happens to boys that tickle me?”
“They get their dick sucked?” I said seriously.
She laughed and kissed me. It was all downhill from there. She was more aggressive than I would have thought at the restaurant. I lost my clothes and I didn’t get my dick sucked as she forced a condom on me. Jeeze. She broke the first one in her haste. Some women have no patience.

A while later, well, a lot of whiles later, “I thought you were interested in Jay.” I said as she played with the hair around my nipple.
“I might have been, had you not oversold him. He’s a sweet guy. We talked last night, but he is more of a Dad than my own Dad.” She said.
“How did know which room I was in?” I asked.
“I left your cell unlocked after the call and read your texts. No one’s ever done that to me.” She said.
“Done what?” I asked, thinking.
“Stole my pen right off me. Oh, I was so pissed at you. I took your cell in the back and snooped into your messages. Right there, to Jay, you gave him your room number. Who are those other girls?” She asked.
"Wait a second? You read my messages?” I asked.
“Only a few. I thought you might make a scene so I wanted to be quic I gave your cell back, anyways. The girls?” She said.

“I gave your pen back,” I said sarcastically. She pulled one of my hairs on my chest out. “Ouch!” I said.
“You didn’t need that one. We’re even now.” She said.
“Even? Is this some weird voodoo woman logic? How are we even?” I asked.
“You orgasmed, so the rest is irrelevant.” She said.
“Oh hell no. My orgasms does not match the six you had. What are you doing?” I said as she started tapping her fingers on my chest.
“Hush, counting.” She said and finished her tapping. “It was more than that I think, but it all blurred together. I was so caught up in the moment I lost track, really. Can you count earlier as making amends if I apologize? Please?” She said sweetly.
“It has to be sincere, and I do apologize for taking your pen. It was just there, and I was caught up in the moment. Now that I think about it, I could have really inconvenienced you performing your job. I wouldn’t want that for anyone.” I said.

She said nothing. The silence dragged on. “Can I sleep here tonight with you?” She asked.
“Yes, I would like that,” I said.

I got my apology a few hours later.

( confirmation 7968 )
2 Comments
The Gary Project - Day 5
Posted:Jan 22, 2021 6:56 pm
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2021 6:57 pm
8362 Views

I’m having a hard time writing today down. I’ll try to stay within the lines, but I am so pissed off from this morning.
We went to my gym this morning since I have a pending project at work. Walked in, Gary was next to me. I told him we were going to start with the StairMaster today. My gym has four of them, three of them were being used.

“I can wait. You can start.” He said.
“Then wait for you? It’s ok. The one on the end reading her book will give up hers. I’ve played this fiddle before.” I said and walked to the end one and announced loudly,

“JoAnne, put your book down and get your ass off that machine so I can exercise with my friend.”
The other two women working out on their machines turned their heads towards us.
“Why should I? I was here first.” She said.
“We both know you can walk all fucking day up those stairs if you have a book in your hand, and we’ll only be fifteen minutes. How long have you been there, thirty minutes, forty-five?”
“Over an hour, but who notices such things.” She smiled.
“It’s ok, we can do something else,” Gary says. I held my hand up to him.
“JoAnne, if your butt was any tighter I could use it as a crescent wrench. What would it take so I can use your machine for fifteen minutes?” I said.

She holds her book out to me, and I sneer at it as I take it. “Nicholas Sparks? Really? I don’t think you could pick a sappier author. I’ll do it, but I won’t like it.” I said.
“That’s the fun of it for me.” She said.
So I read out loud from page 354. I started with the line I blinked “Excuse Me!” and continued reading the page changing voices on the fly, going into narrator's voice, little girl voice, (But I didn’t know the character…supposed to be a man. Jeeze.) southern bell female dialect, deep voice man,…(Again..totally fucked that up.) and finished with the “I’m going to take that as a compliment” “It is” on page 357.

Everyone around us was laughing, except Gary, he looked embarrassed.
JoAnne got off the machine and got her book from me. “Fifteen minutes.” She said laughing. She went over to the bikes and started riding one.
We got up on the machines and exercised. I was feeling icky. Five days in, and he didn’t talk to me at all during the workout. I was tempted to bring him out of his shell but decided he must be thinking of something.

The last set done. “I have something I’d like you to give Susan. Come to the locker room with me.” I said.
I opened my locker and got out a plastic bag while he sat on a bench nearby. My gym, I could take a fucking shower, and I was going to. I took off my underwear, placed it in the bag, sealed it. I wrapped my towel around me, handed the gross thing to him.

“Susan wanted this. She used my own line against me when I said I don’t do anything for free when I asked for your schedule. As promised, I worked out for three days in them. I don’t want them back, and I don’t care what she does with them.” I said.
“I don’t understand.” He said.
“My guess is she smells them. She does that with my clothes when she picks them up in the bedroom. She doesn’t smell her own clothes. Why is your face all weird?”
“After we got married, she wanted me to… I told her that was gross and I wouldn’t do it.” He said.
“It was not comfortable for me. I don’t like putting on dirty underwear, but a deal is a deal.” I said.

“I guess that’s why she has your shirt.” He said.
“Shirt? What shirt?” I asked.
“The Army one. She wears it every night to bed. She does wash it.” He said as if that would appease me.
“Black letters on grey?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He said.
“When did this shirt first appear?” I asked casually, but inside I was fuming.
“That day you took her plant shopping. I’ll give this to her.” He said.
“I’m going to take a shower, then I’m coming over to your house for a few minutes to ask her something. I’ll see you in a few.” I said and closed my locker.
“She’ll be sleeping, but I’ll wake her before you get there.” He said as he left.

The water was not cold enough to cool my temper. That day, I had worked out, left my gym bag on the backseat in my car because her plants were in the trunk. The only time it was left alone was when I went inside the QT to get bottled water. I took her home, unloaded her fucking plants. I left.
When I was unloading my bag at home to wash my stuff the shirt was not there. I assume she stuffed my shirt in that overly large LVT she carries around. I was frantic. I went to my car to look for it. I went back to Gary’s gym to look for it. Not in lost and found. I called her and asked her if she saw it. She said no.

After that call, I looked in the trash cans in the locker room. Not finding it, I went through the dumpster in the back. I was there on a fucking Saturday night at two am looking for my shirt and finding used tampons but no shirt. I opened every bag dumped them, luckily it was only a quarter filled, still.

That shirt… I have an emotional attachment. My friend loaned me that clean shirt because I worked CQ duty and couldn’t wash my clothes in time. Before I had a chance to give him the shirt back washed, we went on a twenty-six-mile hike before graduation. He broke his hip on it, but finished the march, and bleed internally to death on the way to the hospital.
They didn’t even let me go to his funeral. His body was shipped back to Ohio. Even now as I type this, I remember how kind that nineteen-year-old man was. I was having trouble keeping up the PT in the beginning because I was fat, but he inspired me. He worked out with me on our time off. Sat and joked with me while I was repairing PCs in the command. We shared many a pizza together and talked about our lives before the Army.

I remember standing in formation when we got news of his passing. I was like a zombie, went to get my washed clothes to pack, and his shirt was there. I didn’t know his family and somehow it didn’t matter. I got through the training. Then st my new station, I wore that shirt on Fridays for PT. Later, Saturdays when I went to the gym, just because Saturdays felt more appropriate.

I got out of the shower. Dressed. Got into my car and drove to Gary’s house. I had to force my face into something not angry. I knocked on the door. Nothing. I waited a minute. Took a few deep breaths. Knocked.
Susan answered the door, smiling. She opened the door wider so I could come in. I did. On that bitch’s chest was my fucking shirt. Her breath smelled like mint and her hair was brushed. I forced a smile.

“Gary said you had something to ask me? You’ve never been here so early before.”
I got closer, man, she was pretty. “How about you take off your shirt first?” I said.

“We don’t have much time, the will wake soon.” She said and pulled off the shirt. Her tits sure were nice, too bad they were on her.
I casually took it from her and whispered in her ear as I held it in a grip of iron. “Thank you for returning my shirt,” I said.
“What?” She said.

I turned around and left. She was standing on the front porch with her arm over her chest as I drove away.
I got to work. She called. I didn’t answer. I blocked her number. She lied to me. She stole from me.

The thing is, I’ve loaned this shirt out to a few women in the past. If they ask, I do. It’s comfortable, even all these years later. After all, Robert would want me to share. I don't tell them the story behind it until I ask for it back.

What a way to start 2021. It’s been a while since I was so angry. I am washing it tonight and wearing it tomorrow when I go to the gym.
I haven’t gotten a call from Gary or text. It’s not his fault. Sucks, it is hard work to find a male friend to hang out with. Most men don’t have my same schedule. I’ll have to think of something else to do with all this free time. I have Saturdays open now too.

( Confirmation 845529 )
1 comment
The Gary Project – Day 4.
Posted:Jan 22, 2021 4:17 am
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2021 8:43 am
8359 Views

I got the gym a few minutes late today and Gary was walking funny as we went from the cars to inside.

“What’s wrong with you? Did you work your legs yesterday?” I asked as we tagged in.
“I bought weight lifting shoes and I haven’t broken them in yet.” He said.
They looked like red leather topped shoes to . Broken in? Why do shoes need be broken in? Maybe I’m the weido that just buys shoes that are comfortable and look nice.
“Let see one.” I said and held out my hand.
He bent over, took off his shoe, handed it to . The bottom of it was hard leather, like a boot. Durable, great if you are doing squats I guess, but terrible if you are running, no bend in the foot.
“They cost two hundred. What do you think?” He asked.
“I think you should return them and get your money back. You are not going power lifting levels for months yet. We were going start the treadmill today, but we’ll go back to the elliptical. You can’t even walk in these.” I said and handed it back to him.
He looked disappointed. “What?” I asked.
“I told my wife I needed these shoes, and you’re telling I don’t. I don’t want return them because that means I made a mistake. Now I know how she felt about the watch.” He said.

“Watch? What are you talking about?” I asked.
“The watch she bought you for Christmas, and you wouldn’t accept it.” He said.
“Dude, I don’t know anything about designer watches, but that one looked more expensive than I deserved. Cartier?” I said thinking that was the brand.
“It only cost four thousand, and we could afford it.” He said.
“I won’t be trapped by a watch.” I said.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“Do know why I am here with you right this moment?” I asked.
“She asked you spend time with me. That’s the only thing that makes sense. She feels sorry for me.” He said.

“Your wife loves you, she has told me that many times. Can we talk over there?” I said and pointed to the elliptical machines as I looked at the uncomfortable Rick behind the counter.
He tied his weird shoe back on his foot.
“Fourteen minutes, level two. We are just warming .” I said as we got the machines.
“I’m not normal.” He said.
“Yes you are.” I said.
“The first five years were fine, but sex just became boring and a chore,” he said.
“I’m not a sex therapist, Gary. We are here work out.” I said.
“No, but you’re a friend.” He said.

It was the first time he said that . Unconsciously I sped my efforts the machine.
“You’re smiling.” He said.
“I’m happy you called friend.” I said.
“Let’s get back . I’m not normal. I like see my wife happy and most of the time I don’t know how do it.” He said.
“You make her happy.” I said.
“Really? Did you see how we stared at each other at that coffee shop before you talked us? That’s our normal.” He said.
“That’s your choice. You just don’t know what other options you have. I just have more experience and you can attain that in time and practice.” I said defensively.
“You were not our first.” He said.
“First? Are we really doing this? Here?” I asked.
“The other two didn’t work out. One night stands both of them. We had great sex afterwards, well, not so great the second time, but it was ok.” He said.
“Where are you going with this?” I asked.
“You stuck around. At least until you left on your business trip. I was worried you wouldn’t come back.” He said.

I was still processing things. I looked at his shoes, and laughed.
The gym was starting fill . I started feel an itch between the creases in my legs my hips. It was strange sensation, but manageable.
The timer went off, we moved a different area of the gym next the benches.
“How much weight should I start for bench press?” He asked.
“Push . This is a baseline week. How many push ups can you do? I’ll demonstrate the pushup.” I said and got down between the benches and did a set of ten.
He got down on the floor and did good, and couldn’t finish a fourth.
“I suck at this.” He said.
“No, you lack experience. Did I ever tell you the story of when I joined the Army?”
“No.”

“Twenty seven, fat, never did a single pushup and the first test, I almost did one.” I said.
“So they yelled at you and you got better?” He asked.
“No, my drill sergeant got down in front of in the push position as I stood and said, ‘you start your knees today and tomorrow. Push yourself to do as many as you can this way as often as you can, then when I retest you, I expect a better pushup.’ So I did, and days later I did , days later I did seven, days later I did ten but could have done twelve. You had do ten pushups qualify for basic training and I still didn’t qualify start until I could finish a mile and half run in time. They took me in and I didn’t even qualify to start basic training. I was a fat computer programmer that had a good social skill set is . Hadn’t run since middle school. Exercise, bah.” I said.
“I don’t see the connection.” He said.
“Well, here is the next part. I told myself I was fat and berated myself internally and maybe the guy next to was thinking the same. Later, the same drill sergeant pulled us out of formation, then he showed us a picture of a , weighing at least a hundred pounds heavier than either of us and said. ‘This was me when I started here. Work harder each time we tell you and with time, you’ll look better, you’ll feel better.’ I did eighty pushups years later the day I left. I gained experience over time.”
“Now?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I did them occasionally warm instead of cardio, and do them with a clap or offset arm heights. They are uncomfortable right now since my elbow injury, but ten is a good start. I’ll get better.”
“I just don’t have energy. I’m sure I have the strength do more.”
“Did you eat breakfast?” I asked.
“I was going wait until after the workout. I thought I would burn more fat that way.” He said.
I sighed. “Breakfast. Workout. Eat something afterwards. Rest. Wear the shoes you wore the last days, please.”
“Can we talk the other thing now? I really need talk about it.” He said.
“Can we get through two more exercises and talk in the car about it?” I asked.
“Deal.” He said.
So we did. It was longest I had ever gone before getting the life story of someone. Normal people unload on me in the grocery store, gas station, or social gatherings. I can add gym parking lot to that now. I told him to get therapy if he thinks he needs it but everything he described to me was normal. Couples do crazy shit the time and argue about of it. Normal.

I wonder why people make a big deal of their sexual preferences. I’ve known men that wear pantyhose, women’s underwear, and some that sniffed women’s used underwear. I consider those men normal. Have sex with lizards, I don’t care. I knew a guy got only climaxed when he was stabbed with a pin. He was a joy work with and interact at work. I remember him crying, wanting me accept him, desperate for acceptance when we were at bar after work. I don’t know if he believed I did accept him, and he changed jobs after he told . Even knowing that I would highly recommend him for any position he applied. Hard worker, great attitude with the customer…Jeeze. I wish I knew where to find him today.
Gary didn’t text me day, but that’s what I wanted, right? It doesn’t feel normal .

( Confirmation 424303 )
1 comment
Gary Project - Day 3
Posted:Jan 21, 2021 3:39 am
Last Updated:Jan 21, 2021 3:40 am
8264 Views

Well, texts from him last night. after I went bed. Improvement? Not sure.
Early morning workout with him. No interaction with any other people. Barely anyone there at 5am at the gym near him this morning. My normal gym is packed at 5am.

I’ve been racking my brain on remembering what Russ taught me years ago on building my confidence teach him.
I can’t really follow the same path for Gary. I do remember the pain of it. Probably a thousand different rejections, tens of thousands of insults I endured, but it created something the men I work around me don’t have.
I not good at comebacks for insults, probably because I’m not interested in verbally hurting anyone. I might have gone down that path, but Russ’s words about people that throw out insults are trying make themselves feel better but are cutting their soul in the process. I still don’t really understand his meaning. The email I got yesterday has me wondering, why is this person angry when according the other people involved I make them happy. Society norms I guess.
I used swear in traffic, but when I had a , that stopped when my started repeating what I said. I wish I could take those words back…Jeeze. My mom should have warned . How come they don’t hand you a manual when you have a ? No wonder the world is fucked from the start. If I was in charge, first thing, a class for Dads on how change a diaper. I think I fucked a whole box before I got it right. Second class, examples of following your around for decades so they don’t kill themselves. try very hard kill themselves.
I must be broken. I know this is strange, but I miss the pain of those times. around people talk about being happier, and I want be in more pain? I want feel the strain in my body, a strain my mind, strain in other things.

His quietness today reminded of the times I was that way in my youth, thinking I wanted fix things my own. I was too proud to ask for help and silently suffered as my life spiraled out of control. His life seems controlled from the outside, except I didn’t answer his texts this morning when I woke. I decided to wait him out this morning, and he said when we were about to part ways “Same time, tomorrow?” I used it as an opening.

“Sure, bring a protein shake for afterward. You ok?” I said.
“uh…No…I did like you said and blocked my Mom. I feel weird like I’m letting her down. My cell feels dead in my hand. She would text me almost every hour I was awake.” He said.
I got out my cell, texted him quickly as he stood there, “You had a great workout today. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m right here.” He said defensively as he read.
“Would it be the same if I told it to you in person?” I asked.
“It means more in person.” He said. I'm not sure he understood the irony.
“I’m here in person, and the texts you sent me last night I didn’t answer,” I said.
“You read them this morning. Now, they don’t seem important.” He said.
“I’m proud of you. We are days in now. It would be a good idea monitor how much pain you feel after these workouts. Chart it every four hours, from one to ten with your workout log. “I said.
“I don’t understand. Chart my pain?” He asked.
“Yes, like right now I feel like a one since nothing is sore. If my muscles were sore the time and I hated moving, that would be a ten.” I said.
“I feel like a I guess. What’s wrong?” He asked as he looked at my face.
“I was aiming for a two for this week for you,” I said.
“The stuff we did Monday didn’t till yesterday. Yesterday’s muscles, I don’t feel anything, yet anyway.” He said.
“It’s ok, we’ll go lighter than I planned anyway just be sure. Small steps start.” I said.
He nodded and we went our cars. Once I was in my car I texted him as he drove away. “Hey, I farted. Good thing you are not riding work with .”

At lunchtime, I got a LOL response. I laughed, when I got my first cell phone decades ago, my ten-year-old explained what LOL meant. “Dad, everyone knows what that means.” She said. I miss that kind of pain too.

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