Hand jive

I met a guy. It is important to note that said guy was attractive, intelligent and, most importantly, witty. Humor goes a long way with me.

We hit it off immediately. There was even a bit of sexual chemistry between us.

So, imagine my surprise upon learning that he was an impotent sexual pervert.

Strong language? Yes. An exaggeration? No.

At our first attempt at intimacy, this guy had a really hard time keeping his soldier at attention. If his hand wasn't in the mix, flapping his boy around, then things got a little "doughy" - not completely soft but not fully baked, either.

To top it off, he talked a lot. Dirty talk. Nasty, filthy stuff that I will explore in detail later. With no breaks.

In short, I spent the evening - which would have marked an end to a very long sex drought - watching him jack off and listening to him talk. Not my idea of a good time.

Being the mature 33 year old woman I've just become, I actually tried to sit down with the guy. Tell him how cool I thought he was. I mentioned my concerns about our 'sexual chemistry' and wondered what we could do to fix it. I was assured that things would change.

Well, things did change. When I next saw his penis, he wasn't whacking it in his apartment. No, instead he was beating it in his car, in front of my parent's house.

Needless to say, I have spent the last several days screening my calls.

Another one bites the dust.

Man = 0; cat = 123,590,211