Boobie Tassels For Buddha

If you drive about a mile or so from my yard, you'll pass the pleasant stench of a dairy farm. It's devastatingly rural in these here parts which makes it insanely hard to meet anyone. In fact, I'm having a sign made for me to wear when I venture into town for supplies. It's going to read:

I DO NOT HAVE LEPROSY. THESE ARE ONLY TATTOOS. I AM NOT INFECTIOUS AND THESE WILL NOT RUB OFF ON YOU. YES, THEY HURT.

(my tits are big enough that wearing such a long statement is, in fact, conceivable)

However, considering the small percentage of people who are actually literate around here, I don't really know how much good it's actually going to do me. What I'm left with then is the wonderful world of Internet dating. Men (and sometimes women) who would never dare talk to me in a public place will say any and every thing imaginable when able to hide behind a computer screen. All women who spend any time on the Internet know this. It's not news. However, I do manage to find a diamond in the rough from time to time, thank fuck. Usually between a couple messages and a bit of texting, I can figure out who's good to meet and who would be a waste of my time. Alas, I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination and so sometimes, I misjudge or perhaps my desire to get laid overrides my good sensibilities. It's highly likely that it's the latter. I'm an honest girl.

It's rare that I actually consider a whole Ted Bundy kind of deal. The actual occurrence of such a psychopath is really very rare. I travel long distances alone. I'm used to being on my own and I really don't pay attention to the fact that being female is supposed to make me more vulnerable. So, I meet whoever I see fit. eh.

I met Mike on an online dating sight. 99% of the people I end up meeting contact me first. Rarely do I actually read a profile or see someone and make the first move, but such was the case with this one. He was cute. He lived nearby in Tallahassee. He didn't seem too dim, so I wrote him a condescending email about the picture he had of his vehicle on his profile. He took it in stride and messaged me back. I gave him my number, we text over the weekend, and I asked him to meet me in a park that Monday evening.

He agreed. Smart boy.

We met up at the park as arranged. He looked like his pics. Even cuter I guess. He made me laugh some. We talked about tattoos and music since he plays the drums. Musicians are always wicked hot, no? He had shitty tattoos but fuck it. I got a rundown on the fact that he'd been in a motocross accident which almost ripped his arm off. nasty scars. discussion of pain treatment following description of the injuries started setting off red flags. but...what do i know about long term pain? i figured, for the time being, i'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

this very gorgeous park has a train trussel running right over the lake. i love it. rephrase: i love looking at it. the scenery is yay. however, this buffoon drags me up to said tracks and we cross over like something out of the fucking lost boys. i totally caved to the peer pressure and eased my way across holding onto him with one hand and carrying my heels in the other. not as romantic as it sounds. trust me. he did help me down the other side so i wouldn't bust my ass...hand on my waist and all that. somehow images of being squished by an oncoming train sort of ruined the warmth of the moment. i heard a car horn and nearly peed myself halfway over the fucker. i kid not. not quite a red flag...but certainly not helpful.

we sat in his truck and talked for a bit. i found out he'd just gotten out of REHAB when he moved to this area. he was living with his aunt. he bowled on a seniors league every wed night. i help death row offenders, you know, so rehab is not a big shocker. i try not to judge, but rehab and a senior bowling team? oh no. red flag 2.

we made a store run really quick for candy and drinks. then headed back to the park. we got out and headed back through a wooded area to a table. i caught up to him and pulled him in for a kiss. i have no shame. i mean, he was cute and my mood is always improved by candy. we went back to his truck for music and ahem talking.... now... during all the time we were texting and shit, we talked metal. i like metal. he text that he had no rap on his ipod like it was some sort of golden ticket. i start looking through said ipod. i'm sure you can guess what i found. lots of rap. no big deal if that's what you like... i'm not that sort of dickhead music nazi, but be honest about what you like, you know? so...red flag number 3.

we made out some more and he made a joke like a lot of guys do about serial killers on the internet and i joked back. i always do. it alleviates some of the tension that comes with meeting someone on the freako internet. unless you take the joke too far. he took the joke way too far and i sort of got this little naggy feeling saying 'hey, hey...wtf?' but he's also a splendid kisser so i ignored it. then that fucker put on a song--mid make out session--by eminem about strangling a girl and whatnot. he sort of sang along. it all made me quite uncomfortable and i just sort of looked at him oddly.

"i'm kidding! for real, j. kidding. seriously. i'm sorry if i took the joke too far, girl."

red flags were flying all around at that point.

okay so i blew him in the back of the truck anyway. i figured if i was going to die, i'd at least have some fun first.