ADDED 12/5/12 4:28 PM MST
Matt Moves in with Model : Part Deaux
I was debating whether or not to write this part of the story because the first part was pretty long, but given the response I’ve gotten from friends - they want to hear more about my future wife. Since I was seriously lacking on New Orleans posts, damn you normal life, I will divulge. As it goes with most sequels, I encourage you to read the first one before this to gain perspective. To any family reading this I’ve toned down these blogs out of worrying what you will think. This will not be the case anymore, I’m going to write exactly what was happening/going through my mind. I love you all, but if you have an image of a sweet little boy I suggest you stop reading.
So as you might of imagined when WE woke up the next morning it wasn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles. First of all, when I woke up I was on my side and I shit you not, bat shit and I were almost touching noses. Mind you I fell asleep in that bed ALONE, and I wake up eskimo kissing this fucking nut. I jumped back so far I almost fell out of bed. She wakes up because it scared the shit out of me and I’m pretty sure I let out a yelp. So she starts the most overdramatic, trying to be sexy, sleepy sounds and stretching. “Mmmm whaat time is ittt?” “It’s still pretty dark, so early.” “Go baack to sleeeep.” Yah bitch, like that shit is going to happen. She was acting like we just had an amazing night of passion and now we were going to snuggle up close and worry about kissing with morning breathe. I am going over every single move I’ve learned in krav maga and BJJ waiting for her insane ass to pounce. I’m laying there wide eyed, staring at the ceiling fan being like “What the fuck I am going to do?” I am in a brand new city, I don’t know a single person, and I am laying next to someone who should be committed. Not to mention I already paid this chick rent for the three weeks. I’m just trying to figure out a schedule where I am in the house the least amount of time possible, or if there is anyway I can change my living situation. So about 20 minutes go by of me contemplating, and I can still tell she is awake next to me. She goes for the “sexy in the morning” act again and says “It’s hoottt” and kicks the covers off of her and takes off her shirt. She is now in a bra and panties. So my first thought is - nice body. Even in life and death situations, still a bro. My second thought is - here come the aftershocks from last night, brace for crazy. Not to mention, it was not hot in that room. The fan was on full blast, I have like 70lbs on this broad and was fine, it was not warm. But whatever.
So there she is half naked, knowing exactly what she is doing. Now I’m sure every guy reading this is like DUDE WTF, ARE YOU GAY?? WAX IT. And trust, that thought for sure crossed my mind. I was actually going over every scenario: Maybe I can fuck the crazy out of her? Maybe she can fuck the crazy into me? At least that way I can deal with her insanity for the next 3 weeks? But to anyone who hasn’t ever had sex with a truly crazy broad, it is more awkward and strange than it is hot. Referring back to the previous post, slightly crazy is perfect in the bedroom, bat shit not the case at all. They are convinced the harder it is, the hotter, so your dick ends up in a sling and you pretty much end up begging just to cuddle. As stated I have had my share of slightly crazy, and every once in a while a bat shit will sneak in there and before you know it they are screaming “CHOKE ME YOU PUSSY!”. Annnd I would bet any amount of money this broad has said that phrase a few dozen times in her lifetime.
Believe it or not while I am a complete dirt bag when it comes to some things, fucking around with girls is not one of them. Essentially every girl I’ve slept with has ended up in either a mutual “we are having fun together” situation or a dating situation. One night stands really aren't in my repertoire. This is probably because I have to chip away and wear them down and ultimately trick them into sleeping with me, oppose to me taking some moral high ground. That being said, I also don’t fuck around with super slutty girls, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t giving me her v card. The fact that I’m 95% positive that after her second mimosa I could have been like “Uhh soo I’m going to put it anywhere I want” and she would be totally down for it, gives me the impression that I would be lucky number 21,437. So taking all those things into account, any initial primal urges were suppressed.
So we are laying there and she keeps on tossing and turning, and every time she shuffles her body I want to kick her off the bed or smother her with her stupid fucking throw pillows. Maybe an hour and a half goes by, and she wakes up ready to start her day off with a full, hot cup of crazy.
“Where is my shirt?!?”
“Uhh on the side of the bed?”
"What the fuck?? How did it end up there??”
Really bitch? You are going to try and play this card? I’m positive you were fully coherent and aware of your actions when you woke up, you talked to me, then a few minutes later took your shirt off.
“You said you were hot.”
“Oh my God, I’m sucha slut when I’m drunk”.
No you weren’t drunk, that was this morning, you were sober, but yes you are a slut when you are drunk.
“I didn’t embarrass myself or do anything crazy last night did I?” Hmmm.
“Hah you were a little off the walls”
“Really?!? Oh my god, we didn’t hook up did we??”
“No, it was difficult, but I was a gentleman.”
“Yah right, I bet you were all over me.”
So she still was playing this ‘not in a million years’ shit with me and I almost went off on her. Be like I could of done any despicable thing that the darkest part of my conscious could come up with and you would of taken it with a smile, you fucking wacko - but cooler heads prevailed. She then talks about how her schedule is soo busy this week and blah blah blah, mind you we have now been talking for a solid 10 minutes and for being so shocked that her shirt was off, she still hasn’t put it back on. She then says the one thing that hasn’t made me want to put her through a wall in the past 12 hours: “I’m going to make us breakfast.” Hah. But before that, she has to do some morning stretches in front of the mirror. I was so over it at this point I barely glanced. Yes, you’re in a bra, yes you’re wearing a thong, yes you are a yoga instructor, good for you, make my breakfast.
After her completely necessary 5 minute stretching session, she scurries off to the kitchen and proceeds to make the LOUDEST breakfast known to man. Like I swear she was so desperate for attention that every 10-15 seconds some pan would crash or she would exclaim “OH NO!” or something of the sort. I am still just lying in bed loving the fact that I am alone, and hoping that my body is naturally producing enough anti venom to deal with the lethal amount of poison this broad is slipping into my food. So I hear “Readyyy”, and I come stumbling out.
The table was fully set, weird - with candles lit, fucking weird - and a cup of coffee, glass of mimosa, and red wine in a goblet - really fucking weird.
“Red wine?”
“Yah silly, you’ve never had red wine with eggs?”
No, I live in this dimension bat shit. I’ve been to thousands of brunches, one of my favorite things ever to do, and not once has a merlot been on the menu. This was not sangria, this was not a spritzer, it was a full bodied red at 9 am in the morning. Three weeks with this broad, fuck my life. So I sit at the table, and I must admit, she can cook a money breakfast. I’m enjoying that while she is typing furiously on her phone. “Hey my friend insert blonde, is going to come over is that cool?” I am overjoyed that there will be someone to buffer this psycho and be a witness. The girl lived across the complex and walked over. I see that she is carrying something in her hand and it looks like a big vase or something? So she walks in, super cute petite little thing, and no it wasn’t a vase, it was a massive bong. Not only was it massive, but it was a Roor, which is considered to be the Cadillac of bong makers. To say I’m surprised is an understatement, I mean the thing is half the size of her, equipped with all these filtration systems and stuff, wild. Her first words were, “So my doctor just refilled my prescription.” So not only did she have this ridiculous bong, but she was holding pharmaceutical grade weed - I’m talking so many crystals that Swarovski would be jealous.
Before some of you turn away in disgust, first off fuck you. Second, read a book. If you drink alcohol and look down on people who smoke weed you are a retard and should be treated as such. They’ve done countless studies about how much more damaging the effects of drinking are on your body oppose to marijuana and how it is essentially impossible to overdose on weed, and all the rest. Some people don’t like weed and I totally get it and that’s you’re prerogative, but I can’t stand people talking shit about pot as they drink a beer or sip some wine. I myself am a drinker, but I also on occasion love the reefer, all the fun with no hangover. I don’t do anything heavier and don’t plan on it, so the whole gateway drug is bullshit as well. I’ll get off my soapbox.
I have never smoked pharmaceutical grade weed before and it had been about three months since I had smoked anything. Not to mention I was really excited that bat shit was going to smoke and hopefully settle the fuck down. So we partake, and I only take one rip.
To the moooooon! Oh man, I was flying. It was the best weed I’ve ever had, I mean holy balls. It was like every positive thing you get from weed, and absolutely no paranoia, no uneasiness, just full on good. Giggling like shit, and can’t help but smile at everything. Cleary I was a light weight compared to these girls because they hit it a few more times. So I’m just sitting back, full stomach, and all the stress is just leaving my body. The roommate however seems unaffected by any of it and starts to clean, intensely. I mean no corner was missed, no surface with a speck of dust. Her friend and I are playing the celebrity game where you use the last letter in the name of the celebrity to be the first letter of a new celebrity. For instance - Nicholas Cage, Ewan McGregor (because Cage ends with "E"), Ron Paul (because McGregor ends with "R"), Leo DiCaprio, Oprah Winfrey, and so on. So we are playing this game and having a great time, giggling our asses off. The name Sean Connery, came up, so after a second I say, Yo-yo Ma, her friend thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard and can’t stop laughing. Then all I hear in the background is bat shit being yelling “Ohhh, drink! You made that up drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Her voice was like an ice pick to the brain, and I got real fed up and blurted out “HE’S A CELLIST YOU DUMB BITCH!”
Silence.
Oops. Probably should of toned that one down. But fuck it, I was so over her and this whole situation. So luckily her friend had never heard of this person either (oh Arizona State, what an institution of higher learning) and she looks it up on her phone and tehehe “Oh you’re right” tehehe. We then all decide to go in the pool. Of course them being from Scottsdale they only have the tiniest string bikinis known to man which was pretty sweet. So I’m in the pool chillin on a funoodle just basking in the sun and loving how good I feel. Bat shits phone rings and she hops out and answers it. She is trying to muffle the call and walk off, but of course she is one of the loudest people on this earth and you can hear her from a mile away. From what I could tell it was her roommate, and it seemed like she was just breaking the news to her that I was there. This psycho freakin chick! She totally booked her living room for THREE WEEKS without running it by her roommate?? Woww. So they are clearly arguing on the phone and I can hear her being like “HE’S REALLY NICE! IT WILL BE FINE! IT WILL BE FINE! STOP ACTING LIKE SUCH A BITCH!” Even though I’ve never met her roommate I was in love with her. This was my “get out of psycho chick that is probably going to murder you in your sleep free card”. So after her 15 minute discussion with her roommate, she comes moping back.
“Everything ok?”
“Yah my roommate is just being sucha bitch, ugh I can’t stand her.”
“Really? What’s up?”
“She is super pissed that you are staying here, but it’s like she hasn’t even met you.”
From here I just fuel the fire with everything I have – “Yah, but you have to live with her after I’m gone” “She is being a total bitch but I do see where she is coming from” “Trust me it will be terrible for all of us if your roommate is pissed” everything I could throw out I did. So I end up telling her why don’t I look up some other places and if I can find something, I will just do that and we can just hang out at night. Riiight. She reluctantly agrees that it is probably for the best and I hop out of the pool and dead sprint to the computer. Luckily I find the place I’m at now and booked it right then and there, and got my money back from psychopath. Double Phew!
I will leave you with the voice and conversation that I had to deal with for a few days, it is almost cartoonish. Keep in mind this conversation is after they had smoked a good amount and between the three of us polished off four bottles of wine/champagne, and her friend is about to go shooting with automatic weapons. Arizona. It's really short, and the audio is terrible so I did subtitles and you can sort of hear me giggling in the background at how ridiculous they are. I just had to get their voices on tape, so maybe after that some bros would be like "Oh yah, fuck that I would not of been able to deal with that either."
I was debating whether or not to write this part of the story because the first part was pretty long, but given the response I’ve gotten from friends - they want to hear more about my future wife. Since I was seriously lacking on New Orleans posts, damn you normal life, I will divulge. As it goes with most sequels, I encourage you to read the first one before this to gain perspective. To any family reading this I’ve toned down these blogs out of worrying what you will think. This will not be the case anymore, I’m going to write exactly what was happening/going through my mind. I love you all, but if you have an image of a sweet little boy I suggest you stop reading.
So as you might of imagined when WE woke up the next morning it wasn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles. First of all, when I woke up I was on my side and I shit you not, bat shit and I were almost touching noses. Mind you I fell asleep in that bed ALONE, and I wake up eskimo kissing this fucking nut. I jumped back so far I almost fell out of bed. She wakes up because it scared the shit out of me and I’m pretty sure I let out a yelp. So she starts the most overdramatic, trying to be sexy, sleepy sounds and stretching. “Mmmm whaat time is ittt?” “It’s still pretty dark, so early.” “Go baack to sleeeep.” Yah bitch, like that shit is going to happen. She was acting like we just had an amazing night of passion and now we were going to snuggle up close and worry about kissing with morning breathe. I am going over every single move I’ve learned in krav maga and BJJ waiting for her insane ass to pounce. I’m laying there wide eyed, staring at the ceiling fan being like “What the fuck I am going to do?” I am in a brand new city, I don’t know a single person, and I am laying next to someone who should be committed. Not to mention I already paid this chick rent for the three weeks. I’m just trying to figure out a schedule where I am in the house the least amount of time possible, or if there is anyway I can change my living situation. So about 20 minutes go by of me contemplating, and I can still tell she is awake next to me. She goes for the “sexy in the morning” act again and says “It’s hoottt” and kicks the covers off of her and takes off her shirt. She is now in a bra and panties. So my first thought is - nice body. Even in life and death situations, still a bro. My second thought is - here come the aftershocks from last night, brace for crazy. Not to mention, it was not hot in that room. The fan was on full blast, I have like 70lbs on this broad and was fine, it was not warm. But whatever.
So there she is half naked, knowing exactly what she is doing. Now I’m sure every guy reading this is like DUDE WTF, ARE YOU GAY?? WAX IT. And trust, that thought for sure crossed my mind. I was actually going over every scenario: Maybe I can fuck the crazy out of her? Maybe she can fuck the crazy into me? At least that way I can deal with her insanity for the next 3 weeks? But to anyone who hasn’t ever had sex with a truly crazy broad, it is more awkward and strange than it is hot. Referring back to the previous post, slightly crazy is perfect in the bedroom, bat shit not the case at all. They are convinced the harder it is, the hotter, so your dick ends up in a sling and you pretty much end up begging just to cuddle. As stated I have had my share of slightly crazy, and every once in a while a bat shit will sneak in there and before you know it they are screaming “CHOKE ME YOU PUSSY!”. Annnd I would bet any amount of money this broad has said that phrase a few dozen times in her lifetime.
Believe it or not while I am a complete dirt bag when it comes to some things, fucking around with girls is not one of them. Essentially every girl I’ve slept with has ended up in either a mutual “we are having fun together” situation or a dating situation. One night stands really aren't in my repertoire. This is probably because I have to chip away and wear them down and ultimately trick them into sleeping with me, oppose to me taking some moral high ground. That being said, I also don’t fuck around with super slutty girls, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t giving me her v card. The fact that I’m 95% positive that after her second mimosa I could have been like “Uhh soo I’m going to put it anywhere I want” and she would be totally down for it, gives me the impression that I would be lucky number 21,437. So taking all those things into account, any initial primal urges were suppressed.
So we are laying there and she keeps on tossing and turning, and every time she shuffles her body I want to kick her off the bed or smother her with her stupid fucking throw pillows. Maybe an hour and a half goes by, and she wakes up ready to start her day off with a full, hot cup of crazy.
“Where is my shirt?!?”
“Uhh on the side of the bed?”
"What the fuck?? How did it end up there??”
Really bitch? You are going to try and play this card? I’m positive you were fully coherent and aware of your actions when you woke up, you talked to me, then a few minutes later took your shirt off.
“You said you were hot.”
“Oh my God, I’m sucha slut when I’m drunk”.
No you weren’t drunk, that was this morning, you were sober, but yes you are a slut when you are drunk.
“I didn’t embarrass myself or do anything crazy last night did I?” Hmmm.
“Hah you were a little off the walls”
“Really?!? Oh my god, we didn’t hook up did we??”
“No, it was difficult, but I was a gentleman.”
“Yah right, I bet you were all over me.”
So she still was playing this ‘not in a million years’ shit with me and I almost went off on her. Be like I could of done any despicable thing that the darkest part of my conscious could come up with and you would of taken it with a smile, you fucking wacko - but cooler heads prevailed. She then talks about how her schedule is soo busy this week and blah blah blah, mind you we have now been talking for a solid 10 minutes and for being so shocked that her shirt was off, she still hasn’t put it back on. She then says the one thing that hasn’t made me want to put her through a wall in the past 12 hours: “I’m going to make us breakfast.” Hah. But before that, she has to do some morning stretches in front of the mirror. I was so over it at this point I barely glanced. Yes, you’re in a bra, yes you’re wearing a thong, yes you are a yoga instructor, good for you, make my breakfast.
After her completely necessary 5 minute stretching session, she scurries off to the kitchen and proceeds to make the LOUDEST breakfast known to man. Like I swear she was so desperate for attention that every 10-15 seconds some pan would crash or she would exclaim “OH NO!” or something of the sort. I am still just lying in bed loving the fact that I am alone, and hoping that my body is naturally producing enough anti venom to deal with the lethal amount of poison this broad is slipping into my food. So I hear “Readyyy”, and I come stumbling out.
The table was fully set, weird - with candles lit, fucking weird - and a cup of coffee, glass of mimosa, and red wine in a goblet - really fucking weird.
“Red wine?”
“Yah silly, you’ve never had red wine with eggs?”
No, I live in this dimension bat shit. I’ve been to thousands of brunches, one of my favorite things ever to do, and not once has a merlot been on the menu. This was not sangria, this was not a spritzer, it was a full bodied red at 9 am in the morning. Three weeks with this broad, fuck my life. So I sit at the table, and I must admit, she can cook a money breakfast. I’m enjoying that while she is typing furiously on her phone. “Hey my friend insert blonde, is going to come over is that cool?” I am overjoyed that there will be someone to buffer this psycho and be a witness. The girl lived across the complex and walked over. I see that she is carrying something in her hand and it looks like a big vase or something? So she walks in, super cute petite little thing, and no it wasn’t a vase, it was a massive bong. Not only was it massive, but it was a Roor, which is considered to be the Cadillac of bong makers. To say I’m surprised is an understatement, I mean the thing is half the size of her, equipped with all these filtration systems and stuff, wild. Her first words were, “So my doctor just refilled my prescription.” So not only did she have this ridiculous bong, but she was holding pharmaceutical grade weed - I’m talking so many crystals that Swarovski would be jealous.
Before some of you turn away in disgust, first off fuck you. Second, read a book. If you drink alcohol and look down on people who smoke weed you are a retard and should be treated as such. They’ve done countless studies about how much more damaging the effects of drinking are on your body oppose to marijuana and how it is essentially impossible to overdose on weed, and all the rest. Some people don’t like weed and I totally get it and that’s you’re prerogative, but I can’t stand people talking shit about pot as they drink a beer or sip some wine. I myself am a drinker, but I also on occasion love the reefer, all the fun with no hangover. I don’t do anything heavier and don’t plan on it, so the whole gateway drug is bullshit as well. I’ll get off my soapbox.
I have never smoked pharmaceutical grade weed before and it had been about three months since I had smoked anything. Not to mention I was really excited that bat shit was going to smoke and hopefully settle the fuck down. So we partake, and I only take one rip.
To the moooooon! Oh man, I was flying. It was the best weed I’ve ever had, I mean holy balls. It was like every positive thing you get from weed, and absolutely no paranoia, no uneasiness, just full on good. Giggling like shit, and can’t help but smile at everything. Cleary I was a light weight compared to these girls because they hit it a few more times. So I’m just sitting back, full stomach, and all the stress is just leaving my body. The roommate however seems unaffected by any of it and starts to clean, intensely. I mean no corner was missed, no surface with a speck of dust. Her friend and I are playing the celebrity game where you use the last letter in the name of the celebrity to be the first letter of a new celebrity. For instance - Nicholas Cage, Ewan McGregor (because Cage ends with "E"), Ron Paul (because McGregor ends with "R"), Leo DiCaprio, Oprah Winfrey, and so on. So we are playing this game and having a great time, giggling our asses off. The name Sean Connery, came up, so after a second I say, Yo-yo Ma, her friend thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard and can’t stop laughing. Then all I hear in the background is bat shit being yelling “Ohhh, drink! You made that up drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Her voice was like an ice pick to the brain, and I got real fed up and blurted out “HE’S A CELLIST YOU DUMB BITCH!”
Silence.
Oops. Probably should of toned that one down. But fuck it, I was so over her and this whole situation. So luckily her friend had never heard of this person either (oh Arizona State, what an institution of higher learning) and she looks it up on her phone and tehehe “Oh you’re right” tehehe. We then all decide to go in the pool. Of course them being from Scottsdale they only have the tiniest string bikinis known to man which was pretty sweet. So I’m in the pool chillin on a funoodle just basking in the sun and loving how good I feel. Bat shits phone rings and she hops out and answers it. She is trying to muffle the call and walk off, but of course she is one of the loudest people on this earth and you can hear her from a mile away. From what I could tell it was her roommate, and it seemed like she was just breaking the news to her that I was there. This psycho freakin chick! She totally booked her living room for THREE WEEKS without running it by her roommate?? Woww. So they are clearly arguing on the phone and I can hear her being like “HE’S REALLY NICE! IT WILL BE FINE! IT WILL BE FINE! STOP ACTING LIKE SUCH A BITCH!” Even though I’ve never met her roommate I was in love with her. This was my “get out of psycho chick that is probably going to murder you in your sleep free card”. So after her 15 minute discussion with her roommate, she comes moping back.
“Everything ok?”
“Yah my roommate is just being sucha bitch, ugh I can’t stand her.”
“Really? What’s up?”
“She is super pissed that you are staying here, but it’s like she hasn’t even met you.”
From here I just fuel the fire with everything I have – “Yah, but you have to live with her after I’m gone” “She is being a total bitch but I do see where she is coming from” “Trust me it will be terrible for all of us if your roommate is pissed” everything I could throw out I did. So I end up telling her why don’t I look up some other places and if I can find something, I will just do that and we can just hang out at night. Riiight. She reluctantly agrees that it is probably for the best and I hop out of the pool and dead sprint to the computer. Luckily I find the place I’m at now and booked it right then and there, and got my money back from psychopath. Double Phew!
I will leave you with the voice and conversation that I had to deal with for a few days, it is almost cartoonish. Keep in mind this conversation is after they had smoked a good amount and between the three of us polished off four bottles of wine/champagne, and her friend is about to go shooting with automatic weapons. Arizona. It's really short, and the audio is terrible so I did subtitles and you can sort of hear me giggling in the background at how ridiculous they are. I just had to get their voices on tape, so maybe after that some bros would be like "Oh yah, fuck that I would not of been able to deal with that either."
ADDED 12/4/12 11:46 AM MST
MATT MOVES IN WITH MODEL
I had been scoping out spots in Arizona for about two months. Originally, the plan was to go to Austin for December, but this changed for two reasons, one I would only be spending 3 weeks in whatever city I decided to stay in for December because I was flying back for xmas. Also, if I am able to, I really want to coincide my trip with either Austin City Limits (ACL) or South By South West (SXSW) because both are amazingly awesome. Since Scottsdale is the place I know the least about, and I really want to spend a full month in Austin, I decided that AZ would probably be the best decision for December.
I deduced that Scottsdale is the most sought after place to live/visit in Arizona, and if you’re able to, Old Town in Scottsdale is where you really want to be. So I’m searching and there is a place in the heart of Old Town in what seems like a really nice apartment complex with a pool and grills and all this cool other stuff. The apartment looks really nice, and is decorated well. On Airbnb every host has a little profile picture and a couple lines about them. Annd this hosts’ picture is pretty effin hot, bonus. The one thing that I am a little wary of is that the price is only $600 for the month. Comparatively, this is pretty low, but then again the apartment didn’t look huge, and some people make rents priced to sell so they always fill the room. She’s only had a few visitors write reviews and they were all positive and had positive things to say about the area and apartment. So I make contact, and tell her the dates I would be looking to live there. She is very bubbly and friendly with her responses and lets me know that the apartment is available during those times, however, it is her and her roommate living there and the guests that have stayed have been in the living room. Hmmm, that kind of sucks. So I tell her exactly that - thank you for the offer, but I am going to check out other places because 3 people in a two bedroom apartment sounds like a bit of a disaster. So a couple weeks go by and there’s no other places popping up that I would be interested in living in or were just extremely expensive. So the first week I’m in New Orleans I get back in touch with her and see if the apartment is still available. It turns out it is, and I tell her I would let her know soon.
So my mind starts to wander and wonder and I have two ideas/feelings going on in my head. One is that feeling like you had senior year summer before you moved into the dorms with a complete stranger. When this happened to me, I suppose I am an optimist, I had all these ideas that we were going to get along great and be best friends that would turn into a lifetime friendship where we would be each other’s Godfathers of our kids and so on. The other idea/feeling going through my head at the time was the one where you convince yourself that you would TOTALLY be able to hook up with the hot girl that sits next to you on the airplane if only given the chance. That there is no doubt that after the four hour flight she would be so impressed and turned on that you would head straight to the hotel room if not the lobby bathroom. But you’ve never been so lucky to have the chance and you always get stuck sitting next to some obese guy. So given the chance to spend 3 weeks with the hot girl you would definitely hook up with her. So both of these idea/feelings started to mesh together and became sort of a hybrid of both. I convinced myself of a few things: 1) that no matter what we would be cool with each other and become friends 2) given three weeks in close quarters with a single chick I like my odds at least getting a drunk make out 3) even if the hot chick blows me off, she has a roommate, I like my odds even more and 4) I convince myself that I can live anywhere for three weeks so being in a living room really won’t be that bad. I come to the conclusion that I’ll make her an offer for $500 and if she accepts, great I’ll do it, if not I’ll go elsewhere. I make the offer and she accepts.
So something to keep in mind is that this all happened the first week I was in New Orleans. The second week of New Orleans I started to hang out with this girl and it was awesome and we enjoyed each other’s company and all that. It was one of those, in my mind at least, that if I lived in New Orleans or if we lived in the same city, chances are we would start dating, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. So heading to Scottsdale, I’m really not looking to scope out and hook up with anyone. Given any other time that would be pretty high on the priority list, but flying in I could give a shit.
I arrive in Phoenix and when I land I have a text from my host saying something about how I need to pick up the keys from her and that she is at her office where she works for some marketing company. She also let’s me know that I will have the apartment to myself for the night because her roommate is out of town for the weekend and she has a photo shoot that night and then is driving out to some city in Arizona spending the night, and teaching yoga in the morning. Wait, what? Ohh so you’re a model AND a yoga instructor, ok I can deal with that. I get to her office, and am at the bottom of this long staircase, I let her know that I’m outside and she says she’ll be right out. So the only thing I’ve seen of her is her little profile picture where she looks stupid hot, but it’s in that artsy black and white shit. And I’ve just been hit with this news that not only is she a model, but she teaches yoga as well. Needless to say I was just a tad bit interested to see her walk down these stairs. Sure enough, out walks this SMOKING hot 5’10’’, thin as hell beauty. I believe the words that came out of my mouth were “Fuuuck me” (not in a sexual way, but in a astonished way). Haha I was blown away, things started to set in fast - holy shit, this is the chick I am going to be living with for three weeks. Whoa.
So as some of you know I’m near sighted like a mother fucker, and I don’t get a good look at her until she’s about 10 feet away from me. She has on massive sunglasses that all hot girls must have, but I can still tell that she has a bit of the “good from far” syndrome, and has caked on make up, but she still looks good and her body makes up for any flaws her face might have. So we start chatting and she is very, I guess we’ll call it jubilant? Extremely excited, pretty ditzy, pretty flighty, but an almost overwhelming sense of “nice”, almost fake. So during our five minute meeting, she’s SUPER flirty with me, like borderline too much. Laughing HYSTERICALLY at everything coming out of my mouth and was saying things like “OH MY GOD, I’M SO GLAD WE ARE LIVING TOGETHER! WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN!” and “The last guy that stayed with us was kind of a weirdo, my roommate is going to be excited that we have a cute boy finally” and shit like that. And casually, yet deliberately letting me know she just broke up with her boyfriend, and what a loser he was. I tried to act as cool as possible and give off a sort of vibe that says “yes models blatantly hitting on me is a constant occurrence in my life, get in line sweetheart”. Maybe I lack some type of uber confidence or something but the very few times in my life where chicks have unashamedly hit on me it has felt nothing but awkward and uncomfortable on my end - like get me out of this situation as soon as possible, this is weird - – and this time was no different. So after she told me I was the funniest kid she’s ever met for like the third time I say something like “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for stepping out of work so long?” She agrees that she has to get back and tells me to get in touch with her if I “need anything. No seriously, Matt anything, call or text me anytime”. Okkk will do. So walking back to her place I am trying to piece together what the fuck just happened. I considered one of two things must be the case: I am either totally this chicks type or she’s got a bit of crazy in her. I determined the latter was the likely culprit.
But this is fine, if there’s one thing Matty C can do well it is deal with crazy. Probably a character flaw, but especially in the past I dug/pursued girls with a little bit of crazy in them. The keyword being “little”. I can deal with you getting hammered and threatening to fight a chick, not actually breaking a bottle and lunging for her. There are definitive boundaries to the amount of crazy I can endure. I’ll admit it I enjoy a little extra drama in life, the little surprises that the slightly crazies bring to the table. And let’s be honest, the slightly crazies tend to be a bit more of a handful in the bedroom. But I digress. I took a four year sabbatical from the crazy train, and wasn’t sure if and when I should get back on. Once again though, I can’t deal with bat shit crazy at all, just a little crazy, and unfortunately my new roommate had some symptoms of bat shit.
So I get back to her apartment, which was nice and clean, and girlie. I throw my bags down and start to settle in. I then head out to explore Scottsdale. Not too much time goes by and I get these texts: (I'm in blue)
I had been scoping out spots in Arizona for about two months. Originally, the plan was to go to Austin for December, but this changed for two reasons, one I would only be spending 3 weeks in whatever city I decided to stay in for December because I was flying back for xmas. Also, if I am able to, I really want to coincide my trip with either Austin City Limits (ACL) or South By South West (SXSW) because both are amazingly awesome. Since Scottsdale is the place I know the least about, and I really want to spend a full month in Austin, I decided that AZ would probably be the best decision for December.
I deduced that Scottsdale is the most sought after place to live/visit in Arizona, and if you’re able to, Old Town in Scottsdale is where you really want to be. So I’m searching and there is a place in the heart of Old Town in what seems like a really nice apartment complex with a pool and grills and all this cool other stuff. The apartment looks really nice, and is decorated well. On Airbnb every host has a little profile picture and a couple lines about them. Annd this hosts’ picture is pretty effin hot, bonus. The one thing that I am a little wary of is that the price is only $600 for the month. Comparatively, this is pretty low, but then again the apartment didn’t look huge, and some people make rents priced to sell so they always fill the room. She’s only had a few visitors write reviews and they were all positive and had positive things to say about the area and apartment. So I make contact, and tell her the dates I would be looking to live there. She is very bubbly and friendly with her responses and lets me know that the apartment is available during those times, however, it is her and her roommate living there and the guests that have stayed have been in the living room. Hmmm, that kind of sucks. So I tell her exactly that - thank you for the offer, but I am going to check out other places because 3 people in a two bedroom apartment sounds like a bit of a disaster. So a couple weeks go by and there’s no other places popping up that I would be interested in living in or were just extremely expensive. So the first week I’m in New Orleans I get back in touch with her and see if the apartment is still available. It turns out it is, and I tell her I would let her know soon.
So my mind starts to wander and wonder and I have two ideas/feelings going on in my head. One is that feeling like you had senior year summer before you moved into the dorms with a complete stranger. When this happened to me, I suppose I am an optimist, I had all these ideas that we were going to get along great and be best friends that would turn into a lifetime friendship where we would be each other’s Godfathers of our kids and so on. The other idea/feeling going through my head at the time was the one where you convince yourself that you would TOTALLY be able to hook up with the hot girl that sits next to you on the airplane if only given the chance. That there is no doubt that after the four hour flight she would be so impressed and turned on that you would head straight to the hotel room if not the lobby bathroom. But you’ve never been so lucky to have the chance and you always get stuck sitting next to some obese guy. So given the chance to spend 3 weeks with the hot girl you would definitely hook up with her. So both of these idea/feelings started to mesh together and became sort of a hybrid of both. I convinced myself of a few things: 1) that no matter what we would be cool with each other and become friends 2) given three weeks in close quarters with a single chick I like my odds at least getting a drunk make out 3) even if the hot chick blows me off, she has a roommate, I like my odds even more and 4) I convince myself that I can live anywhere for three weeks so being in a living room really won’t be that bad. I come to the conclusion that I’ll make her an offer for $500 and if she accepts, great I’ll do it, if not I’ll go elsewhere. I make the offer and she accepts.
So something to keep in mind is that this all happened the first week I was in New Orleans. The second week of New Orleans I started to hang out with this girl and it was awesome and we enjoyed each other’s company and all that. It was one of those, in my mind at least, that if I lived in New Orleans or if we lived in the same city, chances are we would start dating, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. So heading to Scottsdale, I’m really not looking to scope out and hook up with anyone. Given any other time that would be pretty high on the priority list, but flying in I could give a shit.
I arrive in Phoenix and when I land I have a text from my host saying something about how I need to pick up the keys from her and that she is at her office where she works for some marketing company. She also let’s me know that I will have the apartment to myself for the night because her roommate is out of town for the weekend and she has a photo shoot that night and then is driving out to some city in Arizona spending the night, and teaching yoga in the morning. Wait, what? Ohh so you’re a model AND a yoga instructor, ok I can deal with that. I get to her office, and am at the bottom of this long staircase, I let her know that I’m outside and she says she’ll be right out. So the only thing I’ve seen of her is her little profile picture where she looks stupid hot, but it’s in that artsy black and white shit. And I’ve just been hit with this news that not only is she a model, but she teaches yoga as well. Needless to say I was just a tad bit interested to see her walk down these stairs. Sure enough, out walks this SMOKING hot 5’10’’, thin as hell beauty. I believe the words that came out of my mouth were “Fuuuck me” (not in a sexual way, but in a astonished way). Haha I was blown away, things started to set in fast - holy shit, this is the chick I am going to be living with for three weeks. Whoa.
So as some of you know I’m near sighted like a mother fucker, and I don’t get a good look at her until she’s about 10 feet away from me. She has on massive sunglasses that all hot girls must have, but I can still tell that she has a bit of the “good from far” syndrome, and has caked on make up, but she still looks good and her body makes up for any flaws her face might have. So we start chatting and she is very, I guess we’ll call it jubilant? Extremely excited, pretty ditzy, pretty flighty, but an almost overwhelming sense of “nice”, almost fake. So during our five minute meeting, she’s SUPER flirty with me, like borderline too much. Laughing HYSTERICALLY at everything coming out of my mouth and was saying things like “OH MY GOD, I’M SO GLAD WE ARE LIVING TOGETHER! WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN!” and “The last guy that stayed with us was kind of a weirdo, my roommate is going to be excited that we have a cute boy finally” and shit like that. And casually, yet deliberately letting me know she just broke up with her boyfriend, and what a loser he was. I tried to act as cool as possible and give off a sort of vibe that says “yes models blatantly hitting on me is a constant occurrence in my life, get in line sweetheart”. Maybe I lack some type of uber confidence or something but the very few times in my life where chicks have unashamedly hit on me it has felt nothing but awkward and uncomfortable on my end - like get me out of this situation as soon as possible, this is weird - – and this time was no different. So after she told me I was the funniest kid she’s ever met for like the third time I say something like “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for stepping out of work so long?” She agrees that she has to get back and tells me to get in touch with her if I “need anything. No seriously, Matt anything, call or text me anytime”. Okkk will do. So walking back to her place I am trying to piece together what the fuck just happened. I considered one of two things must be the case: I am either totally this chicks type or she’s got a bit of crazy in her. I determined the latter was the likely culprit.
But this is fine, if there’s one thing Matty C can do well it is deal with crazy. Probably a character flaw, but especially in the past I dug/pursued girls with a little bit of crazy in them. The keyword being “little”. I can deal with you getting hammered and threatening to fight a chick, not actually breaking a bottle and lunging for her. There are definitive boundaries to the amount of crazy I can endure. I’ll admit it I enjoy a little extra drama in life, the little surprises that the slightly crazies bring to the table. And let’s be honest, the slightly crazies tend to be a bit more of a handful in the bedroom. But I digress. I took a four year sabbatical from the crazy train, and wasn’t sure if and when I should get back on. Once again though, I can’t deal with bat shit crazy at all, just a little crazy, and unfortunately my new roommate had some symptoms of bat shit.
So I get back to her apartment, which was nice and clean, and girlie. I throw my bags down and start to settle in. I then head out to explore Scottsdale. Not too much time goes by and I get these texts: (I'm in blue)
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Now I’m no relationship expert but by the third exclamation mark and smiley face it’s pretty clear to me this broad is becoming a borderline lay up. Really? Does “Fun, fun, good luck with that” make you “laugh your ass off”? I’m guessing no. And then she sort of stakes her claim, in a friendly way. Don’t forget I’ve only talked to this person for 5 minutes and I’m being coached on how hard to party, to “be good”, and “hehe take care of myself”. I read this as, “don’t get too drunk tonight because I won’t be there and I don’t want you hooking up with some other girl. And make sure you hydrate because I come home tomorrow and don’t want you being hungover.” Now this may come off a bit narcissistic, but if you saw the dynamic of the 5 minute conversation we had you would see where I’m coming from. So that was decently early in the afternoon, she then calls me that night to check in and informs me to get ready because we are going to drink allll dayyy tomorrow. Fellas, if a girl ever says something like this to you I suggest you do some manscaping the night before because that chick wants to bang. However, call me a pussy, call me what you will, I really wasn’t feeling it. Maybe I was just turned off by her forwardness, or still thinking about the New Orleans girl, or not digging the model skinniness (it’s never fun being worried you are going to snap this broad in two, not to mention I like curves) or what. So where any other time I would be preparing for a full on onslaught of un-genuine compliments and preying on everyone of her insecurities and harsh feelings towards other guys to make her feel more comfortable with me (I might have problems, whatever I’m a bro) this was not the case. I really didn’t give her a second thought and just went about my night. The next morning I woke up and felt like a little bit of an asshole. Who was I to judge this person after meeting her for such a small amount of time? And why was I dismissing her? Because she was being extremely friendly and hospitable? So I scolded myself for being so quick to judge and sent a peace offering of mimosas to make myself feel better.
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Let’s not forget, I effing love day drinking outside with sunglasses, shorts and a tshirt on. It was a gorgeous day out, 76 in December, I can dig it, and she let me know that her “model friend” would be joining us. So it’s safe to say the guarantee of getting tipsy with two models by a pool in unbelievable weather doesn’t sound like a terrible Saturday. I must admit also that mimosa’s was also a preemptive strike, because on this trip I’m on a budget, like a generic brand everything, Ramen isn’t that bad, only go out during happy hour, BUDGET. So by offering mimosas I could get a gallon of shitty from concentrate OJ and three shitty $5 bottles of champagne and come off as a sweetheart while only spending $20. Not only does champagne get beautiful babies hammered but the carbonation tends to fill them up as well, so less inclined to drink a lot and get sloppy or more importantly run up my tab. I mean this isn’t my first rodeo, and it doesn’t take expert experience with women to know that these jezebels are not going to be ordering pitchers of Pabst. I was having future visions of many “Grey Goose and soda, splash of cranberry” and “can you get me a drink? I promise I’ll get you’re next one” in my immediate future. Fuck.
She pulls in around 1:30 and is in tiny booty jean shorts and a bikini top, with her first words being “Let’s pop some bottles!” Not a bad start. So we indulge in some mimosas and she proves her cooking prowess by making some weird salad that has every ingredient other than lettuce in it. She tells me that her friend is running a bit late, so we head down to her pool bottles and OJ in hand. The conversation is much more normal and she is way more calm, she’s still flirty but not annoyingly. We were just having a good time talking to eachother, taking in the sun, and had our feet in the pool. Fast forward almost two hours later and we’ve gone through two bottles (mainly me, but she was definitely tipsy) and her friend finally arrives. Her friends a 10, like straight up dime. And even though she was a model, she wasn’t a crazy skinny one, and I’m pretty positive had some fake boobs (which was later confirmed yes, they were fake, and D’s, whoa). So this Saturday was becoming pretty epic.
She has a mimosa and I’m glad she’s here to buffer the conversation because after two hours of talking non stop I was on empty. They say they are going to change and we are going to then head out. Change for day drinking? Alright. So I chill by the pool and pour another glass. After forever passes they finally come out of the apartment. My roommate is in a tiny form fitting dress that barely covers her ass, and her friend is in a thin hoody zipped down to completely show off her cleavage and a mini skirt. Clearly, I’ve shown up to a bar with worst. We hop in her friends car and head to some outdoor bar that is kind of divey, which was fine by me. $2.50 margaritas all day, and $8 pitchers of Miller Lite. Done. Two margs, and one pitcher, for $13, $16 with tip. Phew. We drink our drinks and as this is happening their bitchy modelness starts to reveal itself. I hear a lot of “Oh my god everyone here is so old” and “Look how gross that womans top is” and all of that. Whatever, after a pitcher to myself I’m feeling no pain and could give a shit how caddy they were being. She then gets a text from her other friend telling her to come over that they were having a viewing party for the Alabama vs. Georgia game. Sweet, I really wanted to watch that game and have some bro’s around to shoot the shit with, because I was getting hammered and getting tired of only hearing their voices. So once we finish our drinks we hop back in the car and head to her friends place. I was suddenly transported back to high school - windows rolled down, blasting rap, and the girls dancing in the front. The driver, her friend, was totally sober, only had two drinks in the past hour and half, but my roommate was wasted, if you can’t tell by the dancing. Through out the day I’ve been filling in my friends on my current situation and being typical dudes they are asking for me to send pictures or video so they can check out the girls. So this is my drunk attempt at trying to get video of them inconspicuously.
She pulls in around 1:30 and is in tiny booty jean shorts and a bikini top, with her first words being “Let’s pop some bottles!” Not a bad start. So we indulge in some mimosas and she proves her cooking prowess by making some weird salad that has every ingredient other than lettuce in it. She tells me that her friend is running a bit late, so we head down to her pool bottles and OJ in hand. The conversation is much more normal and she is way more calm, she’s still flirty but not annoyingly. We were just having a good time talking to eachother, taking in the sun, and had our feet in the pool. Fast forward almost two hours later and we’ve gone through two bottles (mainly me, but she was definitely tipsy) and her friend finally arrives. Her friends a 10, like straight up dime. And even though she was a model, she wasn’t a crazy skinny one, and I’m pretty positive had some fake boobs (which was later confirmed yes, they were fake, and D’s, whoa). So this Saturday was becoming pretty epic.
She has a mimosa and I’m glad she’s here to buffer the conversation because after two hours of talking non stop I was on empty. They say they are going to change and we are going to then head out. Change for day drinking? Alright. So I chill by the pool and pour another glass. After forever passes they finally come out of the apartment. My roommate is in a tiny form fitting dress that barely covers her ass, and her friend is in a thin hoody zipped down to completely show off her cleavage and a mini skirt. Clearly, I’ve shown up to a bar with worst. We hop in her friends car and head to some outdoor bar that is kind of divey, which was fine by me. $2.50 margaritas all day, and $8 pitchers of Miller Lite. Done. Two margs, and one pitcher, for $13, $16 with tip. Phew. We drink our drinks and as this is happening their bitchy modelness starts to reveal itself. I hear a lot of “Oh my god everyone here is so old” and “Look how gross that womans top is” and all of that. Whatever, after a pitcher to myself I’m feeling no pain and could give a shit how caddy they were being. She then gets a text from her other friend telling her to come over that they were having a viewing party for the Alabama vs. Georgia game. Sweet, I really wanted to watch that game and have some bro’s around to shoot the shit with, because I was getting hammered and getting tired of only hearing their voices. So once we finish our drinks we hop back in the car and head to her friends place. I was suddenly transported back to high school - windows rolled down, blasting rap, and the girls dancing in the front. The driver, her friend, was totally sober, only had two drinks in the past hour and half, but my roommate was wasted, if you can’t tell by the dancing. Through out the day I’ve been filling in my friends on my current situation and being typical dudes they are asking for me to send pictures or video so they can check out the girls. So this is my drunk attempt at trying to get video of them inconspicuously.
We arrive at this dudes apartment, and granted we are in Scottsdale which isn’t New York or DC real estate, but still it’s in the heart of Old Town, and it is the biggest apartment I’ve personally ever been in. The fucking thing was massive, went on for days. The hallways just kept going and going. So there’s probably 5 dudes there and 7 girls...and a mountain of coke on the coffee table. Alright, I am at a coke party. These things actually exist? I’ve lived in NYC for over four years and have never walked into a real life Scarface, lines cut on the mirror, everyone participating coke party. I say hello to everyone and head to the fridge and grab a beer. Score, this guy was clearly loaded, so the fridge was packed with premium beers. So it turns out coke parties are actually pretty fun. Everyone is REALLY into everything you say and I blew a few minds when I told them I was from New York, “That’s like across the entire country.” Indeed, it is. And minus them being a little on edge and jawing like mother fuckers they were friendly and accommodating. Granted all the dude’s were certifiable Scottsdale douche bags which is a complete breed of their own. The best way to describe it is a trashier and less sophisticated LA douche bag. Still equipped with tight designer t shirts, pre-made holey jeans, big gaudy necklaces and rings, and greasy hair slicked back. All they talked about was money, cars, and what they just bought. They were walking around with stacks of hundreds and making outrageous bets like “I bet you $100 the next play is a run” and shit like that. For sure not my type of crowd, but it was still fun because it was such an extreme of what I’m not used to, and when you’re in unfamiliar surroundings (i.e. Scottsdale in a strangers apartment) you just adapt and go with the flow. Keep in mind my roommate is already hammered drunk, and after she does a couple lines she is no longer on this planet, and the REAL crazy comes out. I would be sitting on the couch just making conversation with someone and she would come over and sit on my lap/lay on top of me and be like “So where are we going after this?” “Uhh I have no idea, where are we going after this?” And then she would like snuggle up close to me and then be like “Pshh, you wish Matt.” Riiight. I would laugh it off, and try to continue the conversation I was having. This happened like 3 or four times she would either sit on my lap, lay ontop of me, lay next to me with her head in my crotch, or come up behind me and wrap her arms around me, ask a couple stupid questions or say a couple stupid things, accuse ME of coming on to HER and then dismiss it immediately with a “In your dreams” or “You couldn’t handle me” comment and walk off. So it became an empirical truth this bitch is cray. Real cray.
After a couple hours the game ends, we hang out for a little bit and then decide to leave. Her friend and her are still determined to go out and party, I have had more than my fill of drinking and dealing with her and her friends so I just opt to walk home which I was sort of ecstatic about. I make it home and I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not done with this girl for the night. I plan ahead and crash in her roommates bed, and lock the door behind me. Once again, this isn’t my first rodeo dealing with a crazy.
Sure enough, a few hours later I hear the door slam, and hear a drunkenly “MAAAATTTTT!!” bellow. Fuuck. BANG, BANG, BANG. “WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” I try to play dumb, “It’s locked? Really?”
“Open it!”
“I’m so tired, I don’t want to get up”
“MAAATTTTT, OOPPEENN THE DOOOOR!”
Fuck.
“Whyyy?”
“Because I want to hang out”
“I’m sooo tired, we can hang out tomorrow”
“No open it, stop being a pussy it’s still early”
Knowing I have no choice I reluctantly unlock the door and she come bursting in and jumps into bed. It is safe to assume that at this point I am the furthest thing from attracted to her, like wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire. I try to convince her to go lay down in her own bed and she refuses, claiming that her bedroom is haunted. OK bat shit, I’ll go stay in your bed with the ghosts. So I head over to her bed and lay down, as if I didn’t already know what was going to happen next, I hear her sprint into the room and jump in bed. I’m not amused, this isn’t a cute game, this bitch is annoying the hell out of me. I go and lay on the couch, same thing, so I go back to the original room and lock the door behind me. Big mistake. She loses her fucking mind, “OPEN THIS DOOR YOU ASSHOLE! THIS IS MY APARTMENT AND YOU OPEN IT NOW!” Whelp, this is a terrible situation. So once again I have to unlock the door and she comes barreling in. I’m standing in the door way trying to think of what the fuck to do/how to deal with this psycho. I tell her she’s acting crazy. This is the best part, clearly I wasn’t the first male to let her in on that secret, because it seemed like she had answers in her mental arsenal that she just fired off. “What are you talking about? I’m just drunk, and you are acting like an asshole. Ohh yahh Matt, I’m totally trying to hook up with you, you caught me, I can’t get any other guy to hook up with me so you better pity me. Please, don’t flatter yourself.” So she goes on like this for a couple minutes, and ends it with “I just hate sleeping alone, just lay here in bed. Trust me Matt, I don’t want to hook up with you, gross.” Yes bitch I’m totally gross and beneath you, soooo get the fuck out of bed. No shot. I just cut my losses and crawl into bed, plastering myself in the corner against the wall. Thirty seconds goes by and I start feeling her hand rub through my hair which at the times is one of the creepiest things I’ve ever experienced. She would then become frustrated that I was not responding at all and start pulling my hair! What. The. Fuck. When that didn’t work she would try the beratating thing some more, “God you are such a pussy, you have a hot girl in your bed and you don’t know what to do with her. You probably can’t even get it up, no wonder your girlfriend broke up with you. Your just embarrassed that you have a tiny dick”. Haha I mean the chick was laying into me, and I am just relishing this moment, like “It has happened you have met the crazy that has surpassed all other crazies.” This lasts for another 10 minutes or so and she finally loses wind, slaps my back like a three year old who didn't get her toy, hurrumphs and rolls over. Fifteen minutes goes by of me just staring at the wall hating that my back is turned on this psycho, praying she goes to sleep. Let’s not forget I have been hanging out with this girl for a grand total of 6 maybe 7 hours. She’s breathing sort of heavy so I think she has passed out, I try slivering out of bed moving an inch at a time, and as soon as I’m at the foot of the bed she bursts up, “Where are you going?” “I’m going to grab a glass of water.” She jumps out of bed exclaims that she will get it for me and races to the kitchen. Fuck. I am sitting on the edge of the bed, she comes in with the water and hands it to me with the creepiest smile ever. And she just stands there, staring at me waiting for me to drink it. My mind is like “Holy shit, this bitch just poisoned my water.” I literally tip the glass to my mouth, give it some over exaggerated fake chugs, do a fake “Ahh” sound and hand it back to her. She rubs my head and says “Good boy”. Now I’m compeletly convinced this bat shit just either put cyanide or roofied my beverage and praising myself for not falling for it. I’m laying in bed trying to to fall asleep yet staying on my toes, and shes is just going on and on, “Ok just cuddle with me for 5 minutes, then I’ll leave you alone, Matt I swear I would not hook up with you.” I just keep telling her my arm hurts? And that I’m just so tired. She then progresses even further and has a pity party, of why won’t I touch her? "Ok let’s just make out for a little if you don’t like it we can stop". I start to have flashbacks of my younger years and thinking I'm pretty sure I have said that exact phrase to some chick. She is now demanding that I tell her why won’t I hook up with her, or else she won’t stop bothering me. Now what I wanted to say was “Well other than you being clinically insane, I’m 99% sure that you are the type of chick that either pokes holes in condoms or claims rape”. I decided to go an easier route and said I wasn’t over my ex girlfriend and I was still in such a fragile state and blah blah blah. FINALLY she shuts up, and falls asleep. I am able to sneak over to her room and fall asleep as well. However, when I wake up, guess who is laying next to me. WTF. Hah so yeah, I got the hell out and I am currently living in Tempe which is about 5 miles from Scottsdale, phew. Fun times!
After a couple hours the game ends, we hang out for a little bit and then decide to leave. Her friend and her are still determined to go out and party, I have had more than my fill of drinking and dealing with her and her friends so I just opt to walk home which I was sort of ecstatic about. I make it home and I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not done with this girl for the night. I plan ahead and crash in her roommates bed, and lock the door behind me. Once again, this isn’t my first rodeo dealing with a crazy.
Sure enough, a few hours later I hear the door slam, and hear a drunkenly “MAAAATTTTT!!” bellow. Fuuck. BANG, BANG, BANG. “WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” I try to play dumb, “It’s locked? Really?”
“Open it!”
“I’m so tired, I don’t want to get up”
“MAAATTTTT, OOPPEENN THE DOOOOR!”
Fuck.
“Whyyy?”
“Because I want to hang out”
“I’m sooo tired, we can hang out tomorrow”
“No open it, stop being a pussy it’s still early”
Knowing I have no choice I reluctantly unlock the door and she come bursting in and jumps into bed. It is safe to assume that at this point I am the furthest thing from attracted to her, like wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire. I try to convince her to go lay down in her own bed and she refuses, claiming that her bedroom is haunted. OK bat shit, I’ll go stay in your bed with the ghosts. So I head over to her bed and lay down, as if I didn’t already know what was going to happen next, I hear her sprint into the room and jump in bed. I’m not amused, this isn’t a cute game, this bitch is annoying the hell out of me. I go and lay on the couch, same thing, so I go back to the original room and lock the door behind me. Big mistake. She loses her fucking mind, “OPEN THIS DOOR YOU ASSHOLE! THIS IS MY APARTMENT AND YOU OPEN IT NOW!” Whelp, this is a terrible situation. So once again I have to unlock the door and she comes barreling in. I’m standing in the door way trying to think of what the fuck to do/how to deal with this psycho. I tell her she’s acting crazy. This is the best part, clearly I wasn’t the first male to let her in on that secret, because it seemed like she had answers in her mental arsenal that she just fired off. “What are you talking about? I’m just drunk, and you are acting like an asshole. Ohh yahh Matt, I’m totally trying to hook up with you, you caught me, I can’t get any other guy to hook up with me so you better pity me. Please, don’t flatter yourself.” So she goes on like this for a couple minutes, and ends it with “I just hate sleeping alone, just lay here in bed. Trust me Matt, I don’t want to hook up with you, gross.” Yes bitch I’m totally gross and beneath you, soooo get the fuck out of bed. No shot. I just cut my losses and crawl into bed, plastering myself in the corner against the wall. Thirty seconds goes by and I start feeling her hand rub through my hair which at the times is one of the creepiest things I’ve ever experienced. She would then become frustrated that I was not responding at all and start pulling my hair! What. The. Fuck. When that didn’t work she would try the beratating thing some more, “God you are such a pussy, you have a hot girl in your bed and you don’t know what to do with her. You probably can’t even get it up, no wonder your girlfriend broke up with you. Your just embarrassed that you have a tiny dick”. Haha I mean the chick was laying into me, and I am just relishing this moment, like “It has happened you have met the crazy that has surpassed all other crazies.” This lasts for another 10 minutes or so and she finally loses wind, slaps my back like a three year old who didn't get her toy, hurrumphs and rolls over. Fifteen minutes goes by of me just staring at the wall hating that my back is turned on this psycho, praying she goes to sleep. Let’s not forget I have been hanging out with this girl for a grand total of 6 maybe 7 hours. She’s breathing sort of heavy so I think she has passed out, I try slivering out of bed moving an inch at a time, and as soon as I’m at the foot of the bed she bursts up, “Where are you going?” “I’m going to grab a glass of water.” She jumps out of bed exclaims that she will get it for me and races to the kitchen. Fuck. I am sitting on the edge of the bed, she comes in with the water and hands it to me with the creepiest smile ever. And she just stands there, staring at me waiting for me to drink it. My mind is like “Holy shit, this bitch just poisoned my water.” I literally tip the glass to my mouth, give it some over exaggerated fake chugs, do a fake “Ahh” sound and hand it back to her. She rubs my head and says “Good boy”. Now I’m compeletly convinced this bat shit just either put cyanide or roofied my beverage and praising myself for not falling for it. I’m laying in bed trying to to fall asleep yet staying on my toes, and shes is just going on and on, “Ok just cuddle with me for 5 minutes, then I’ll leave you alone, Matt I swear I would not hook up with you.” I just keep telling her my arm hurts? And that I’m just so tired. She then progresses even further and has a pity party, of why won’t I touch her? "Ok let’s just make out for a little if you don’t like it we can stop". I start to have flashbacks of my younger years and thinking I'm pretty sure I have said that exact phrase to some chick. She is now demanding that I tell her why won’t I hook up with her, or else she won’t stop bothering me. Now what I wanted to say was “Well other than you being clinically insane, I’m 99% sure that you are the type of chick that either pokes holes in condoms or claims rape”. I decided to go an easier route and said I wasn’t over my ex girlfriend and I was still in such a fragile state and blah blah blah. FINALLY she shuts up, and falls asleep. I am able to sneak over to her room and fall asleep as well. However, when I wake up, guess who is laying next to me. WTF. Hah so yeah, I got the hell out and I am currently living in Tempe which is about 5 miles from Scottsdale, phew. Fun times!
