Um, yeah… I’d Rather You Had Herpes… and I May Be a Prude

I thought I was pretty open-minded when it comes to sexuality.

But nooooooope, I’m a prude when it comes to some things.

And that’s a very weird feeling for me…

I mean, in my past I’ve been pretty wild and freeloving. And even if it wasn’t something I wasn’t into, I would accept it of people I knew. Hey, as long as you weren’t raping or molesting (and by the way, animals can’t say no you weirdos) and everything was consensual, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

I must be getting old.

Because there’s a guy that knowing his situation makes it very hard for me to look him in the eye. And he makes my skin crawl.

Funny that I had a crush on him some months ago.

See, here’s the deal. I had one of those random attractions that I didn’t want and was doing my best to get rid of. You know how it is, some dude or dudette is not your type, you’d kind of feel ashamed if anyone knew and you just wanted the horror of your brain/attraction factor going wonky to STOP. There must have been pheromones involved. Because I finally broke it, but there was still a weird flutter. Until… The yuckiness factor.

Having a conversation one day with Mr. Not My Type led to him expressing that he was not single (still probably under the assumption that I was attracted, ugh). Instead, he (drunkenly) decided to tell me about his girlfriend. And her husband. And his girlfriend. And how they pretty much lived together.

I did what I do when I have no choice but to deal with a small child’s puke. Blank your mind DT5, this is NOT happening.

My inside face was like this. JUST LIKE THIS.

I managed to get out:

“Well, whatever floats your boat. If you’re happy, then good for you.” I am lying out of my bunghole!!!

He says “But it’s not. I’m ashamed, and want something better.” Dude, you just made my brain hurt on a day I was supposed to be enjoying myself.

See, here’s the deal. This is where my line is drawn and then underlined:

1. Call me old-fashioned but I believe in the sanctity of marriage.

2. “Love as thou will” is a philosophy that I live by. That means, as long as you’re not hurting yourself or others mentally/physically/emotionally. I got it from the book series Kushiel’s Dart. I have it tattooed on me. I live it.

And this guy is involved in something that hurts him. He says so. He is ashamed of his relationship. If they were all involved and saw nothing wrong, nothing to hide, then whoop-dee-frackin-doo. But they’re not. They are empty souls filling themselves with behaviors that excite the body, but do nothing for their hearts and spirits.

And I believe consensual caring sex to be one of the most spiritual acts you have. Yes, you heard me, good sex is right up there with getting the holy ghost. *Looks up* if I’m wrong, don’t worry, someone will correct me one day.

Anyways, I’m a prude. And I don’t want to know this information that dude friend has heaped upon me. And my crush was already gone though I still found him somewhat physically attractive. Now… Now it’s like if he came up to me and decided to mention to me that he has multiple STDs. He is the kind of guy I would touch with a ten foot pole. Even if I was drowning and that was the only way to save me. Even if there were sharks and crocodiles and clowns in that treacherous water. I’d just have to fight until my last breath.

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I’m a Dating Alien… but not dating aliens

So I’ve been reading a lot, I mean A LOT of dating books. I tend to read the ones written by men, because seriously, another chick? She probably only THINKS she knows how men think. Just like the assumption I was under. I’ve realized after many of these books kept saying the same daggone thing, that I’ve been going about things 50% wrong. I wasn’t completely dense, but I was allowing my emotions to rule me.

Take the mistakes of the Sippy Cup situation (read here: http://wp.me/p2Jfjv-5p). That’s pretty much the last time I really wrote. And things went fine for a while. A very short while. But I made the mistake first of showing just how pretty Sippy Cup was to me. And then the second mistake was involving sensuality to early. Not to say that I went and had sex with him. But we started sexting pretty early on. Hey, my mind is in the gutter 24/7, and I tend to forget that not everyone lives there along with me. If they don’t, you just kind of come off as hard up and easy pickings apparently.

So he seemed to lose interest suddenly. And I made my 3rd mistake: asking about it. Doing the oh so girly lame “what did I doooooooo?” The “I really like yoooooou and I know I just met you but I’ve become an idiot and put all my eggs in one basket because you’re hot and funny.”

Slap yourself DT5. Slap yourself hard.

It wasn’t in those exactly, but I know I came off as a needy heffa, in texts no less. Sigh. Pffft. But you gotta move on. And I had to understand the basics of what I was doing wrong. I don’t want to play games, but I wanted to make sure I had clear in my mind when to put a chokehold on my impulse control and word vomit superpowers. With those great powers come great responsibility. And my responsibility is not to spit acid onto every possible relationship. Aw, look Ma, I’m learning!

I still feel somewhat of an alien though. Sippy Cup, although hot wasn’t what I wanted, he was the idea of what would be best for me. In reality… I’m always more turned on by the quirky underdog. The guy that may not be attractive in the general populace’s eyes. That’s when I’ve had the most fun, most comfortable relationships in the past. So no more being blinded by the num num men. Because as soon as the give me the confused dog look when I ask the meaning to “life, the universe, and everything” instead of just answering 42, I need to beat feet.

I’m back with some BS: Defamation of my Muthafrackin Character

So, work has been like insane asylum with the furlough situation. And on top of that, I haven’t felt my best. Maybe because we’ve been working with no air conditioning on and off during this stupid record heat. And now that it’s over, I can get back to the posting.

I was sick to my stomach about a month or so ago. But it wasn’t physical. It was straight up mental/emotional. And maybe I make too big of a deal with things, but I’m a overanalyzer. This is my sin.

Anyway, I’m minding my own business, having a meh week at work. Honestly it was crappy. I blame hormones and the AC being out. You’d think the military could get ish fixed in a sufficient amount of time, but no. So no sleep and no AC in 100 degree weather makes Dimensionthe5th a very grouchy kitty. And its Friday. All I want for Friday is Hector the couch and a bottle of Riesling. What do I get: gossip. Rumors. About me and my very married male boss.

I could care less about those that want to talk about me. People always want to talk about others, especially if you don’t share anything but the superficial. And military guys and gals gossip worse than a sewing circle in BumFrack, Nowheresville. But, I truly got upset about this.

Why? Because, for one thing, if someone thinks I’d mess with my supervisor who is very happily married that means they think I have no morals. What’s the icing on the cake is apparently they assumed this because we seemed very close and everyone knows I date only white guys.

Exqueeze me? No, I don’t. I date whatever race attracts me at the time. AND, since no one in that building has seen any of my ex boyfriends, where the frack do they get this nonsense from. Is it because of my anime/sci-fi/comic book hobbies? Not chocolatety enough for them right?

Or maybe it’s because I speak proper English, and don’t like BET and shows like Real Housewives of Atlanta and The Game. Heck, the only reason I know the names of the shows is because of friends/family members talking about it.

The other thing that punctures my frackin pickle is that this dude just had a child with his wife. A newborn. We’d have to be some pretty unsavory characters to do something like that. And yes, I know there are many that do. Heck my own aunt slept with my dad while my mom was pregnant with me and IN THE HOUSE. Said aunt shall now be known as Hobacca. But no matter how strongly Hobacca and I look-alike, I am not her. Sure, I did my stupid sleeping with the wrong guy when I was still a wet behind the ears/ not even legal drinking age hot pants hoochie mama. But guess what, I grew up, got out of my depression, worked on my self-worth, and became an adult. So no. I don’t feel like I’m overreacting to the rumor. I can’t find out who first said it and spread it, but I did tell the person who let me know about it just how angry I am. That if they have so many questions about my personal life and want to know who’s between my legs… That if inquiring minds want to frackin know, they know where to find me. Bastards.

First World Female Problems: Girls Don’t Poop

This is going to be a pretty “crappy” post… Hehe.

See, most guys are all fart jokes and poopy humor right? Or is that just mostly military guys? Anyway, women are opposite. Mostly, until we’re like old as dirt and smell like mothballs and baby powder anyway, we don’t want you to know we fart. Or have to poop. We don’t even want other women to hear us (unless we’re drunk. Whole new ballgame right). So, it’s an issue when the need comes and you work in a big office. It’s even more irritating as a teacher of adults. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t want to have to use a stall next to my students I was just teaching, especially if I have to number 2. And then see them as I come out to wash my hands. Huuuuumiliating!

So it becomes a search for the empty bathroom for ninja pooping. The bathroom that’s a little out-of-the-way, so usually it’s empty when you sneak in to do the business. Half the time the light is off when you walk in, which makes me a little paranoid that I’ll find a dead student sitting on the potty. Morbid, and weird, but you should know by now that there is no way I can control the wtf-ness that runs through my brain. I just tell my brain that I’ll sit back and let it go crazy… Because it’s just easier than arguing with that heffa.

Anyway, for the time I’ve worked in my office, when I’ve got the BG’s (bubble guts), I can always take care of my business quietly and with skill so no one knows that dimensionthe5th is having a craptastic day. But all things fall apart, and of course I had the most traumatic experience on a day where I shouldn’t have had dairy (lactose intolerant), shouldn’t have taken my fiber pills, and just should have held it in or something. But none of those things happened, and as I walked in, one of the nicest most well-known janitors was coming in to put up supplies. I said frack it because I think she’s going to be right in and out. But then, the senior enlisted servicemember, the boss of bosses walks in. I know because she greets the janitor. And they are talking happily… Until I can hold it back no more! I swear its like a sewage trumpet orchestra. It sounds like one of those situations where you’re not sure if someone had just pooped out their intestines, their soul, and maybe their brain too. Oh god. All I could do was sit there. No way in Hello was I leaving out that stall to see them looking at me like “You nasty mofo!”

So I waited until they left. And ninja-ed back to my office, hoping that somehow if I wasn’t seen for a few days the loud pooper in the bathroom would seep from their minds and be flushed. I’ve also made sure to start searching for a new “perfect” bathroom.

Of course, maybe it’s just all in my mind and no other woman goes through ninja pooping.

Your Eyebrows Bother Me… and Other Reasons Not to Date a Guy

So my mom the other day said I should really try dating again seriously, that everyone is not as crazy as some of my exes… That this time I’ll maybe avoid the guy that wants me to wear a strap-on or grow my toenails out super long  (so he can rub his body against them of course *shudder*).

So we’d all like to think that we aren’t superficial, or maybe that’s just me. I’d like to think that I’m not all about looks, until I just decided to join an online dating site the other day. And I now realize, I’m a very superficial bustard.

So, I filled out all my information, and thought “hey, my dating style in international and interracial so I should find lots of pretty men.” And I did get a lot of first 24 hour looks and emails, because hey, I’m a hot geek. But then… I started looking at the guys.

Eyebrows. I swear you can tell if you can trust a person by their eyebrows. There was a girl I used to work with, that as soon as I met her I didn’t trust her because her eyebrows looked like sideways commas. And I was right, because she faked cancer for 6 months.

So, I blocked some guys because of their eyebrows. Then there was the dude with no chin. He tried to cover up his chinless status with a goatee, but nope, it didn’t work. I thought about “can I kiss a guy with no chin?” *shudder* no.

Muscle bound men with no neck scare me. That’s just not natural. I remember breaking up with a guy in high school for just that fact. He was nice looking and funny, but he had no neck and I was afraid him and his no neck would accidentally crush me one day.

But you know, it not all the looks. I’ve blocked some guys because of the fact that they can’t spell to save their lives. I mean, this is your profile to show to women saying: pick me, I’m a great guy! But you spelled ambitious “imbitous”

No. Just no.

And no, if you use the word swag in everyday conversation, I do not want to know you, let alone have carnal knowledge of you. And who the frack references their twig and berries in their screen name and thinks a woman believes they want a serious relationship???

Oh well, this is what I get for trying to get back out in the dating field, after being absent for a couple of years. My friends and family have strongly suggested I do so, so I don’t become a crazy cat lady. But frack it, I’m going to continue to be picky as heck!