I forgot to tell you about Billy the Bartender.
Now please note that this happened a few weeks before Samwise Gamgee (who, by the way, after refusing to leave my bed, making me give him my number and ringing my doorbell unannounced and insistently like a gentle stalker, has not called me)
So Billy works with my good friend NP. She doesn't get nearly enough coverage on this blog because frankly she is way more responsible and level headed than the rest of us. She still gets hers but she does it with way less drama. Anywho. Went to visit NP at work and spot this bartender.
Lets get one thing straight: I love bartenders.
You can take a decent looking guy and I'll let him by me a drink but stick him behind the bar and I will do all sorts of shameless things to get his attention. I have had my breasts pushed up to my clavicle, spilt drinks in opportune areas, left my number on a napkin... all shameless shameless devices. Because I love bartenders. (Case Study: Main Squeeze. Total douche but I was all about him for quite some time)
I also love tattoos.
And men who have muscles.
And who are cute.
Bonus points if they make me laugh.
Well Billy has tattoos.
Billy has muscles.
And Billy is cute. Short but cute.
(and who am I to judge short... I'm barely 5'2" and I need a full sized ladder to hang curtains)
So clearly I saw him and I set my mark.
Now usually I try to restrain myself with my friends coworker (sometimes it doesnt work so great but I do try) But with Billy I just went for it. It was the 4th of July so I pushed my boobies up in their american flag tank top and I batted my sparkle covered eyelashes at him and I ooh-ed and ahh-ed over his tattoos. To make a long... looooong wooing story short I ended up getting in a cab with him.
We live in the same direction so we were going to "split the cab"
And I was disappointed but hey, I had a vibrator waiting at home. No biggie.
But then he starts kissing me and kissing me good. And his beard is scratchy but not in that annoying Samwise Gamgee sort of way but in a sexy tattooed bartender sort of way.
So he stops and asks me if I'm going home.
I take that in and tell him NO. I am not. I am going to his house.
Take that world! Kitty still has a few lady balls left. Sometimes I feel like all the bits of me that were badass and fun and ballsy fell out of me somewhere between the first class I failed and graduation. But there I was telling this smoking guy that No I was not going home I was going home with him.
So we get in his house, we fool around. Theres a lot of touching and he's very... attentive. But then I'm like okay... ready for the main event! And he's like
"No."
so I'm like...
"No?..."
"Yeah... my dick doesn't get hard when I'm drunk."
Just like that. So cavalier. No shame. Just... my dick doesn't get hard. Like it's a totally okay fact. Most men would meet that fact with embarrassment or a sense of failure but this kid just dives back into his other means of satisfaction. Which was nice for a while.
But then his beard started to really scratch my... more sensitive areas... so I make the executive decision that I'm drunk and have had enough so I'm leaving.
But no... he wants to cuddle in bed and talk about our lives and where we are and what we want to do and his cats (did I mention the cats? They live under his bed and they smell like poo.) Honestly what is up with these men lately? I'm not prepared for men who have long conversations in bed and want to cuddle and sleep over.
In the talks he very casually slips in that he's green card married, he wants to move to Aruba with his cats and he sometimes has sex with men.
Now I'm not judging any of that information but it's a little heavy for a one night stand... And it's a little heavy for naked cuddling chit chat. And it's a little more information then I really wanted to know since... you know... it's.. well... awkward.
Anyways, he did not feel the same way. He thought it was great that we were sharing our deep dark secrets and it gave him a second wind.
A second very forceful wind.
He was still unable to.. you know... but he went at it with other means and I was like okay.. but I'm sort of tired. But he still keeps going and then it gets like... a lot rougher. And I don't know if he's also partially deaf or if he thought my "OW"s were "Ohhhhh"s but I ended up having to fake a very loud orgasm (Sorry Billy's Roommates) to get him to stop. Then, pleased with himself, he asked me to sleep over.
Okay...
Or at least it was okay until I woke up the next morning: he seemed to have very little recollection of who I was and was covered in my glitter, I seemed to need to throw up and it was about 10 mins post wake up that I was redressed and excusing myself so I could throw up with grace and dignity in my own apartment.
Get home, Vom, so much advil and more vomming. But then I realize that while the advil has made my hangover headache go away it has done nothing for the throbbing coming from my lady parts. Then I make the mistake of trying to pee.
So much pain. I didn't know that someone could manually break a vagina until Billy broke my vagina. I literally laid on my couch with an icepack strapped to my crotch for 2 days. I could barely walk and it was very uncomfortable. But hey... in hindsight it was funny. When I picture myself, begging MugWug to go buy me Jamba Juice with an icepack strapped to my vj with ace bandages I have to laugh. It was a pathetic and ridiculous sight. And it was a pathetic and ridiculous night.
So thank you Billy, for giving me a great story and trying your very best to make me happy but I think what would make me happier is to find a tattooed bartender who wasn't green card married, wasn't moving away in a month, preferably didn't occasionally have sex with men (because I don't like the competition, not because I have an issue with bisexuality.. or any sexuality) and who wanted to wake up to me every morning.. not just the hungover ones. Who wanted to go on dates and get to know me and won't break my vagina.
And who doesn't have cats.
One Kat is all a relationship can handle.
xxKK
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