Dr. BS is very fortunate to still be alive, handsome and on-the-prowl right now. I came very close to being either hospitalized or embalmed the other day. You, the dear reader, came very close to never being enthralled online again. This is serious. Please allow me to explain…
Last week I received an AM collect message from a very good looking female in lingerie. She noticed my profile, liked what she saw and assumed I could be of some assistance in unhooking that stubborn, lacy bra strap of hers.
Problem was, she wanted to meet, and not in a coffeeshop, but straight at the hotel. Which meant one of three things:
1) my reputation precedes me: heading to a coffeeshop beforehand would simply be such cruel foreplay, working her up to boiling point in anticipation of what was about to happen as soon as we left the coffeeshop that she’d be afraid she might have an embarrassing Meg Ryan public orgasm.
2) Actually, now that I think of it, there’s no other possibility here. Thats it, she was afraid of publicly losing herself in rapturous ecstasy while merely in the presence of my charms, no doubt about it.
(but I was going to say she might have been afraid of being seen in public…perhaps she was afraid her boyfriend/husband/double-dealing-private-eye was following her, waiting for that perfect moment to bust her orgasming next to me in the coffeeshop.)
Now, as the readers of this blog are undoubtedly aware, I have a strict policy about meeting for sex without meeting in public first. For one, any girl could send me some model-esque pics, and it could even be her, that is, before she got that goiter on her thyroid which caused her to gain 300 lbs. Women have been known to transform from beauty into beast in three months or less. Disgusting as it is, I’d probably feel compelled to have sex with the 300 lb woman in my hotel room (only because I’m cheap and don’t want to waste all that money paying for a room for nothing). I can, however, walk away from $3 coffee without being compelled to make love (unless she slipped some Spanish Fly into my joe when I wasn’t looking, transforming from beast back into bangable beauty right before my eyes).
Besides, even if she is beautiful, I’m going to want to get to know her at least a little bit. There’s a reason strippers come out on stage clothed at first; everyone (even the horniest of men) enjoys the anticipation, imagination and build up.
So I told her we’d have to meet at a coffee shop first, but it’d be only a block from the hotel. She was hesitant, and really really horny, (yes, understandable) but finally relented and said that she’d meet me there tomorrow evening at 8.
I arrived promptly at 8:05 (tried getting there early, but it was downtown parking) but nobody there looked anything close to her pictures, or even the monstrous 300 lb criminology/artist’s rendition of her new appearance in my head, so I checked my email, and sure enough she wrote:
“Sorry, flat tire..I’m three or four blocks away in an alley behind Hut’s Hamburger’s. Can you hold up 30 minutes while I change it?”
To which I, of course, replied,
“30 minutes?? I’m ready to go now woman!! How about I walk over there and change the tire myself? Start unhooking your bra now, I’ll be done with the tire in 5, before you’re naked. ”
So I finished my coffee, got up, and got a refill. Something told me this girl really didn’t want to be seen in public with me. Was she being followed by a private eye? Was she onto him? Was he onto us?
Sometimes it’s better to wait another day, unsatisfied women aren’t a rare breed going extinct.
Besides, I take many precautions here, because I’m always paranoid my wife will hire a PI. For instance, when sitting at a coffeeshop with a lady, I never take the window seat. I never walk with her in public. These things are serious, and while it’s often seen only in movies, it is a reality in our world.
And call me lazy, but I consider it a form of groveling to change the tire of a woman you haven’t had sex with yet.
Then just yesterday, I received a panicked visit from Rachelle, whom I haven’t spoken to in several months. Turns out, Rachelle left her browser open with one tab on my blog, one tab on Ashley Madison, left her second email account open, etc. He figured out the Rachelle on this blog was his wife (and yes, I give everyone an alias to protect their identity, but still, it’s not hard to put 2 and 2 together) and read the very intimate descriptions of his wife in bed, displayed in this very public trophy case of mine. Then, as any diabolical husband would naturally do, he didn’t confront his wife, but instead created a fake Ashley Madison account (as a hot woman), tracked down yours truly, and contemplated beating the living shit out of me instead. He told his friend about it, who told his wife, who told Rachelle who was now telling me all this. She was really scared, not just for me, but because her husband knew and yet was acting completely normal around her, which yes, was very creepy.
Apparently he was waiting in his truck with a bat for me to walk into that alley. He knew exactly what I looked like, pimp-hat and all.
Well, needless to say, it’s a huge mess and it’s still going on. I wish I knew what to do here, but I do know one thing: as much as I value my teeth, I can’t say I blame the husband that much. It sounds bizarre to say this to a web of friends who are all cheaters, whom we all help, encourage and root for, but if any of you fuckers bangs my wife– prepare to die!!
I do know one thing: my Ashley Madison account has been discovered, and I can no longer trust it’s a woman and not the barrel of a gun on the other end of that computer screen. So as much as it pains me, I’m deleting my current Ashley Madison account and starting a new one as of today. All my reviews will be flushed down the memory hole, and I will no doubt go through a dry spell before I get those back. Yes, it’s going to be much harder to hook up online, at least for awhile, no doubt I’ll get more rejections, etc. but at least I won’t be morph into a thirty-something wheelchair bound, incontinent cheater with the face of hamburger meat rolling after a 300 lb. woman who is frantically trying to escape the coffeeshop after witnessing my hideous sight.
Well….at least not today.