The RedHeaded Stepchild 09/17/2009
The Redheaded Stepchild has the honor of being quite possibly the worst lay in history. At least my history. And that’s saying a lot considering I’ve been around the block a few times. I didn’t technically meet the RHSC online but I’ve decided to mention him for two reasons. First being that despite having gone to high school with him it wasn’t until we really met “met” through Facebook. So, using that logic, we did sort of meet online. Second, he was the WORST. LAY. EVER. And who can resist talking about that? Certainly, not me. It was about a year ago that I was first contacted by the redhead. He added me on Facebook and I didn’t think much of it. We weren’t friends in high school but I knew who he was. He later confessed that he didn’t quite remember me from back in the day but that he certainly liked what he saw now. I was not quite as enamored with him but thought he looked like fun. He started instant messaging me here and there insisting on meeting for cocktails and weed. I wasn’t interested in him romantically. Until he told me what he did for a living and posted a picture of the house he lived in, in the Hollywood Hills. Me? Shallow? Abso-fucking-lutely. Looking for love hasn’t been working out so well. Why not try looking for a meal ticket? Keep your judgments to yourself…unless you agree with me, of course. After a few months of playing hard to get (according to him. Really, he wasn’t high enough on my radar to play anything) we finally decided to meet up for a drink. He was about 6’ tall, chubby and in case you weren’t quite sure, a redhead. Not attracted to him physically, I was definitely attracted to him personality wise. He was a go getter and the life of the party. Anybody that can make me laugh and tell me I’m pretty has a half decent chance of getting to see me naked. We had a lot of fun that first night and I knew I’d be seeing him again. A few nights later, I went over to his place. He was a little over the top with his wanting to touch and cuddle but throw in a few cocktails and some Family Guy and the good times were beginning to roll. I stayed over that night and thanks to Kettle One I didn’t quite remember him being the atrocious lover that he would turn out to be. It was a few weeks later that we reconnected and decided to meet up again. This time at my place. Due to my timing (ahem) we weren’t able to have sex but I did get a chance to check out the non-too-impressive goods. Of course I’ve been surprised in the past by “little” men so he wasn’t out for the count by a long shot. I still loved his sense of humor and it didn’t hurt that he looked at me the same way I look at pasta. A few weeks after that he was due to come back over. As my current job situation had still not improved and my funds were a thing of the past I was definitely looking to see if a little eyelash batting could allow me to borrow enough from him to squeak by for the month. All other resources had been tapped out already and I only needed $135 to keep afloat and my roommate from strangling me in my sleep. I was also starving. 99 cent store bologna and cheese had finally done me in. I wanted some pizza and beer…BAAAAD. I would have gone down on RuPaul had he shown up with Mexican food. While he was in Drag. So, as if RHSC read my mind I got this text: “I have no $ and I already ate. I have lots of beer tho. Am I a loser?” I should have seen that coming. The law no longer belongs to Murphy. It has become mine, all mine. By the time I got his text, he was already on the way. I made myself another bologna and cheese sandwich and braced myself for a night of beer and cuddling. The thought of jumping off my balcony crossed my mind until I remembered my newly acquired law and I was not about to mangle my beautifully sculpted face because Tubs didn’t have any money for me to borrow. That night we had tragic sex. Things started out okay as I put him to work massaging me. I was still angry with him for being broke. Not his fault I realize but mad at my unfaltering bad luck. I hadn’t even asked him for money…EVER! Yet, when I needed it the most, he just happened to have switched bank accounts over a holiday weekend and hadn’t pulled out enough before getting his new ATM card. JUST. MY. LUCK. The poor guy didn’t even know that deep down I was plotting his death. In my head I’m a really evil woman. This I know and I’m able to mask it but evil none the less. I made sure he hit it from behind because a) I have a great ass for doggy style and b) I was watching TV. However, with him going semi limp it was hard to concentrate on South Park when I felt like he was stabbing my clit with a pencil. Eventually, he finished and I left him to hog the covers and pass out so I could chat it up with a hot cop I had dated a few years back online. A few hours later I came back in to find sleeping beauty taking up ¾ of my bed and not wearing any covers. I was not impressed. Not sure where I get off thinking that I’m the only one allowed to carry a few extra pounds but I do. So fuck it. Realizing what a bitch I was and still holding on to the fact that the RHSC was really a decent and fun loving guy I decided not to write him off just yet. After all, he had to have access to his funds at some point, right? After a few 3am text messages from him asking me to come over for some “fun” I only felt it right that if he was trying to intentionally bruise my pussy I was going to try and intentionally bruise his wallet. Not sure what it was that made him think I liked having sex with a limp noodle but I must have had him fooled. Sad. So, officially having entered “survivor mode” I didn’t hesitate long when I got this last 3am text message from the redhead asking me to come over. Without me saying anything he was quick to mention that he would pay for my gas money and add to my scarf fund. He told me that he could make my “money troubles a thing of the past.” I could also have “whatever was in his wallet.” At that, my ears perked up and I became wide awake. If he wanted to be my sugardaddie and all I had to do was moan for a few minutes I was all over it. Playing hooker for my old high school friend was not beneath me at this point. And as I mentioned before, despite the fact that I didn’t feel we were sexually compatible he still really was a nice and fun guy. I was definitely willing to work on making this a mutually beneficial relationship. Please remember, at this point, I still hadn’t so much as asked him for a dime. He was the one doing all the offering. I got up, got dressed and headed over to Hollywood with my own dreams. Dreams of paying my cable bill. Dreams of making this months rent. Dreams of keeping my cell phone on. Dreams of eating! I got there and I got to work. It was horrible. It was like playing “Deepthroat” with Santa Clause. I also should have known that he’d already had a few beers so him getting off was not going to be easy. And it wasn’t. He kept losing his erection. We’d get on a roll and he’d slip out. All my hard work gone to waste and we’d have to start all over. Do you know how hard it is to get a good pace going with a 4” limp dick? Let me assure you, it isn’t fun. Finally, after I was dried up and sore from the pounding he finally popped. He passed out right away and it took me hours to get to sleep. That morning I got ready to leave. He slipped some money into my purse saying he didn’t forget he had offered to pay my gas. I left, got into my car and drove away. I opened up my purse expecting to find a little dough and immediately felt as though I had been kicked in the stomach. I couldn’t help but laugh when I noticed the $20 bill sitting in my purse. So typical. I didn’t know if I should feel insulted or if he really forgot offering me financial assistance. Considering I had just put $10 into my car for gas to get there, I basically sold my ass for the other $10. Nice. I think even Hunts Point girls make more than that. Looks like I won’t be turning Pro anytime soon. It appears as though my negotiating skills leave a lot to be desired… Comments Comments are closed. |