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Sunday, April 8, 2018

The Insightful Bachelor Joins The Klan

Sunday morning in the flat lands and I'm waking up alone again.  This is noteworthy because I had two women eager and willing for me to do very bad things to them, this weekend, and I bailed on both.  Each brought her own brand of lunacy to the table, and since they dropped in at the same time, I thought I'd share.  

The first woman was a previous float in my parade of loons.  We had traded notes a few months back, but not met.  She was the first woman who had 'scheduled' a sexting session.  Seriously, she told me that we would sext that evening and at the appointed time, began sending x-rated pictures and videos.  Perhaps I'm different from most guys, but I need a bit of warming up before such a stream of material excites me.  In any case, before I wander too far into the details, I blew her off because she was an oddball.  She was oddly self-absorbed and shared way too many details of her dysfunctional past with me.  Because she fancied herself as a writer, those details came in the form of epic length emails.  Ask her what time it was and she'd share interminable thoughts on time itself, as well as how it impacted her previous struggles with mental illness.  

This woman reappeared and wanted me to afford her another opportunity to date.  Having suffered her bullshit before, I told her I needed a fuck toy and she would come over Saturday (last) night to provide that service.  She readily agreed and the epic notes returned.  Fuck, I forgot what a whack job she was.  It was actually something relatively minor that caused her to be kicked to the curb again.  In the midst of the painfully long emails, she made the comment 'your such a good guy', or something to that effect.  I won't date a woman if her profile has that error and this woman constantly pats herself on the back for being an extraordinary writer.  Yet, she still can't get 'your' and 'you're' straight.  Granted, I would have finally skipped the encounter anyway, to escape the constant garbage coming from her mouth, not to mention, she had the strong aroma of a stalker, but the end result was the same.

The other woman, in some ways, was even more fucked up than the first one.  Like the first, she was smart, educated, and had something to say.  It didn't hurt she was gorgeous as well.  I'll also mention she was black; be very clear I have no feelings, one way or another, about dating a black woman; I'm mentioning it because it'll be important later.  Sandi was an interesting girl, in that she worked like crazy to maintain her tough, outer shell.  She also seemed to enjoy keeping me on my toes.  For those reasons, I took some of her demands with a grain of salt.  But she made demands that, in my mind, had her straddling the fence between high maintenance and manipulative.  For example, when we planned to talk on the phone for the first time, she got angry I wouldn't share my number as soon as the plans were made, even though we wouldn't be speaking for several hours.  

There were other things that rang some bells, such as her way of engaging her fwb's.  I'll stop for a moment and state that one of the other things I appreciated about Sandi was her sex drive and level of perversity similar to mine.  Back to her fwb's, she would fuck them, but refused to kiss them.  This, she told me, was in order to compartmentalize feelings versus sexual pleasure.  I found this to be rather odd, because I've kissed every one of my fwb's and they've eagerly reciprocated.  She also made it clear she was no one's sub; in fact, she told me I would be her's.  Also, she enjoyed having a man go down on her, but hadn't experienced that in years, due to the vulnerability involved in receiving oral.

We had planned to get together last night, but talked every evening this past week, almost always enjoying some phone dirtiness before hanging up.  Sometimes, the phone sex was the main event.  She slowly opened up to me and began to realize that I really wasn't just interested in fucking her.  That trust allowed her to share her deepest, darkest sexual fantasy with me.  I've done some very naughty, dirty things sexually, but what she shared shocked even me.  I was to secure a Klan robe / hood and put her in her place, treat her like a possession, rough her up / choke her, and degrade her without mercy.  I sort of said 'youwantmetodowhatnow?'  I find the Klan to be the worst of those with whom I share the planet and to have a strong, black woman want to bring them into the bedroom absolutely floored me.  It would have been difficult for me to put on a set of Klan robes.  That being said, within certain boundaries (i.e. no other species, football teams, scat, etc.) I'll do what it takes to take my partner to new levels of sexual pleasure.  So, that was the role play for that night's phone fun.  

But the demands / manipulation continued to where we'd talk in circles for an hour about the same topic, only to land back where we started; what was objectionable 30 minutes ago was suddenly a perfect idea.  The straw that broke it for me was she told me she wanted to hear me tell her I loved her.  (I'll remind readers I'd not met this woman)  Naturally, I told her that wouldn't happen for a bit, because, well, I'm emotionally healthy.  This hurt her feelings quite a bit.  She backpedaled to explain it was a sexual fantasy, although I knew she was full of shit.  Our last exchange of the night involved her demand for a certain dirty picture (btw, she's only the second woman I've encountered who likes dick pics).  I teased her and asked if she thought she deserved the picture.  'So much for making me happy.'  That was it; no dirty sex is worth the borderline tantrums and manipulation.  So, I woke up yesterday morning and called off our date.  

I've resisted the temptation to 'diagnose' this woman, although it's clear there are some serious intimacy issues present.  I'm just happy to have not had her over, because she also smelled of 'stalker'.

Those are the most recent women I've interacted with, beyond a note or two.  There have been a number of women who seem unable to hold a conversation, but that's a constant background noise.    

In closing, I will mention that finding KKK robes and hoods is pretty much impossible.  Neither Amazon nor eBay list them, and if those two don't offer something, it's likely not available to buy.  There's my tidbit of knowledge for the week.

Happy dating, readers.         


A Trip To The DMV - Kansas Finds More Ways To Suck

The DMV is never fun, regardless of where you live.  However, this week, Kansas took the experience to a new and painful level for me.  In this state, you must traverse a multi-stage process for titling / registering your vehicles, when you move from another state.  First, you must present the vehicle and title to the Kansas Highway Patrol for them to validate the VIN's match, then do the DMV purgatory.  I took both of my cars for the VIN check, a few weeks ago; each requiring over an hour of waiting and messing about with apathetic civil servants.  I didn't find time to complete the process until this past week.

Wednesday morning, I set out for the drivers license facility (different than the DMV) and managed to knock that out in about an hour.  Not bad for the typical government parade of sloths.  What made me chuckle is the temporary DL I received, which looks like a bar receipt; on thermal paper and everything.  This thing has to last 30-45 days; imagine trying to keep a receipt from Target that long (in your wallet).  Both PA and VA (the two other states in which I've lived) had facilities in which you walked out with a real license. 

Bar receipt in hand, I trekked to the DMV to finish the process.  After waiting the proper 25 minutes, I was called to window 12, where I presented my completed paperwork.  The drone behind the counter told me I must have handed her the wrong title, because the inspection sheet noted a KTM motorcycle.  I don't own a motorcycle which meant the damned inspection station screwed up.  Back in the car, I trudged to the KHP facility, where I was told to sign in and take a seat.   I responded 'I don't plan on being here long enough to need a seat.  You need to remedy this mixup and have me on my way.'  The woman manning the counter looked at me and, I swear on my grandmother's grave, said 'remedy?'  I stared at her and said 'fix'.  'Oh, okay; wait a minute.'  A few minutes later, I made the return trip back to the DMV.  I approached another counter, this time, and presented my now correct paperwork. 

'Do you have your VA registration?'
'Uh, no...it wasn't on the list of documents I was to provide, based upon your website.'
'Well, I need it to determine timing for your taxes.' 
It's obvious I had the registration for the vehicle I was driving, but the reg for my other car was, shocker, in my other car.

Thus, I found myself making another trek, still nowhere near completing my task.  After grabbing some lunch, kicking a few kittens, and otherwise releasing my frustrations, I returned to the DMV.  This time, I had everything I needed and was able to complete the full transaction.  Although, the final act was to pay KS property tax on my cars, which was 20% higher than what I paid in VA.  I pretty much said to the drone behind the counter 'you've got to be kidding! You charge more than a real state and still have shit roads and services.  How the hell do you charge this much?'  Not surprising I received no response on that one. 

In any case, I'm now legal in the state of...I can't even say it. 

How was your week?