Cookie Snookie, 33
6-1-18 “Hung over anyone?”
I’m totally hung over as I write this- lol. I had a pretty cool night last night, just not an awesome, hot night, because I had to get up and go to work this morning. ☹ Getting trashed on a Thursday night is NOT, I repeat, is NOT the way to go. As I write this with the regrets of a hungover person. I can honestly admit that the reason “Thirsty Thursdays” are so successful is because there’s just something appealing about doing something you shouldn’t be doing when you shouldn’t be doing it. I’m a prime example of that right now. Lol, there was some fun to be had last night though. Because, even though the night didn’t quite pan out the way I expected it to. Hubby prospect #3 was with me (I know I said I had two prospects at my beck and call, but I recently added a third to the prospect list). I met him online on one of those cheesy dating websites. I know what you’re thinking, “guys only do the online dating thing for sex right?” My response to that is, damned right they do! And so do us women if you really think about it. I mean, sex is what all this ish (dating, getting married, etc.) is about after all! If you ask me, sex and pussy are really what makes the world go round; not money. Anyways, I’ll talk more about sex, sexlessness, and just how thirsty I ended up feeling at the end of my little hungover story.
In the meantime, we’ll call hubby prospect #3 “Hunk,” for the sake of preserving his identity. I’ve been texting Hunk back and forth for a while, and this is our second outing. I was scared he’d turn out to be a fat, ugly, slob instead of the hottie on his profile when I met him. But he definitely is a Hunk in real life; let me tell you. He’s everything I’d want in a guy. Tall, dark, handsome, got a solid career going for himself, has a nice; fit body, etc. He’s super sweet, and when he asked me to go out with him on Wednesday, I jumped at the chance to get to know his sexy self-better. There was that niggling at the back of my mind though; that there had to be a catch to all this male perfection being interested in little ole me, but he was too hot to resist, so I went with things.
Hunk picked me up at around 7:30 ish. We went to a sports bar with his friends to watch the NBA finals. Since the Houston Rockets lost in the semis, I had no shame in going all out to root for Golden State- I’m not a rockets fan! But as golden state came out victorious during over time. It was fun, and I drank two glasses of red wine too many at the bar. I was initially going for a toned down night by choosing sexy jeans, heels, a casual work blouse with my sleeves folded up and two buttons undone; and my drink choice of red wine, but that sure as shit didn’t end up happening. I drank and drank at his insistence, and I’m pretty sure some of the red wine dribbled down my shirt at some point whilst I cheered for my team (luckily my blouse was navy blue). Even though red wine hangovers are the worst, I still had a blast watching my team win at the bar. Hunk was a perfect gentleman the whole night, and he was plenty flirtatious as he watched me root for his rival team. He asked me about my job. So, I asked him a little about his job (a girl needs to know), and I learned he’s an engineer (which by the way is one of the careers checked off in my little check box for careers dudes I date can have). I just love nerds! Hunk had also been in the military too; which delighted me because women love a man in uniform! It screams maturity.
Onto the juicy… When we made out at the end of the night, that is where my delight with my date ended. Something had told me it was too good to be true after all! All I remember is that I just had to stop trying at one point and let him continue to do whatever the fuck he was doing to my lips. I think our teeth even clanged a few times. *sigh.* As I gathered my purse to leave his car, I made a decision not to continue with him unless his dick had some real potential. I continued his poor imitation of kissing a bit longer, and as I feigned eagerness, I remember thinking how is it possible in the year 2018 for a man to kiss this damned badly? After I added in a few chest and back muscle rubs for good measure, I pulled away. I just couldn’t bare the kissing any longer. I forced a ridiculously fake girlish giggle, and said, “I gotta go to work in the morning,” then I slyly slid my gaze to his crotch as I gathered my bag once more, and made my exit. There was a nice solid outline there; so I decided he had a nice enough sized dick that I could entertain the shitty kissing; at least, for a while longer. Some men could be molded, maybe I could teach him how “I” liked to be kissed if we got more serious.
He had tried “hard as hell” to get into my apartment. Hard being the key word. I can’t say I blame him considering how “hard” his situation was.- lol, ok, ok, I’ll stop. After I politely turned Hunk down, and flattered him into complacency. I told him that helpless little ole me would text him as soon as I got into my apartment. When I got into my apartment, Hunk texted to ask me if I got in alright. I replied yes, and then he asked to go out with me on Friday. Guess he likes me. I thought. I hypocritically told him not to text and drive to stall for more time for my reply. In my apartment, I hurried to throw off my heels and drink some water. It was time to be responsible now and take the preventative measures necessary for me to get my ass up for work in the morning. Still, it was only 10:30 p.m., I wasn’t ready to go to bed just yet. The wine convinced me that the night was still young, and the right thing to do was text prospect #1. So, I did, and prospect #1 should definitely have the name “Charmer” because he always seems to find ways to charm my panties off. Charmer is the longest standing prospect out of the three in my repertoire. He’s been in my life for about a year now. I met him at a club, and that’s probably why he acts like such an ass at times. As I texted him, my conscience told me I was being a total slut, and yea, I probably was, but it seemed so damned justified in my drunken mind at the time to ask him over. I just needed company for the night because for some reason, being reminded of what real kissing felt like was important at the moment. Especially since Hunk had just brutalized my lips moments ago. Half an hour later, Charmer didn’t answer my text. Damned it! I thought. Like what the fuck! Why couldn’t dick just be on call and ready when I was ready? Disgusted, I set my phone aside and took a shower. As I bathed, I wondered how I’d do damage control if charmer ignored me for the rest of the night. I needed a scheme to brush shit off and make him feel like used underwear. I was the shit, and he was an irrelevant and undeserving loser for not doing what I wanted when I wanted it. Oh shit! The red wine had talked me into feeling like the baddest bitch even though my tipsy self was too far gone right now to come up with a valid scheme to make charmer feel like a loser, and me like a winner.
I stopped bathing, and hopped out of the shower. Like a desperate fiend/ fool for penis, I checked my phone once more. Hunk texted me saying he’d made it home, and then asked me again if I’d go out with him the next day. Feeling vengeful against Charmer, I told him yes even as I wondered how in the hell I would endure kissing him again the next night.
I toweled off and turned on the t.v. Steven Colbert had just come on. I chugged more water. Glug, glug, put on moisturizer, lotion, and took some purifying and even detox vitamins to try and thwart any hang overs. Next, I pondered my vibrator beneath my pillow briefly before my phone pinged again. Excitement filled my tummy as I checked my phone. I inwardly rolled my eyes as I saw it was only Hunk. We talked about flirty, cute things I didn’t want to talk about at the moment. What I wanted was the sexting of sexy things with Charmer; not cute innocent shit. Damned it! Neither me nor the wine induced hormonal surge wanted me to be cute and innocent with Hunk right now. It wanted me to be naughty and dirty with Charmer, but instead I had to keep things G rated, or Hunk would probably think I was a total slut bag and be scared away into a dark hidey hole. Sometimes I just wished I could skip to the real because in reality I felt like behaving like a total slut and nothing made me want to compromise that at the moment. It was truly ironic to be sitting in bed pinning to be the slut dudes like Charmer loved in pornos without the ability to be said slut in real life. Charmer you ass! Why do you have to be a douche bag!!! Don’t you realize I could be turning you out right now???? I continued to entertain myself in bed by asking Hunk how many girlfriends he had, and when his last relationship was. Hunk replied that his last relationship was six months earlier. I asked him why it ended, etc., and he said they were in a distance relationship and didn’t want to do it anymore…. Then he asked about my relationships, blah, blah, fucking blah…. I resigned myself to texting him half-heartedly late into the night. *Sigh*.
The next morning, I woke up hung over with a text from Charmer time stamped at 1:37 a.m. (clearly a booty call). Pity those detox vitamins didn’t work. Maybe it was just as well since my thoughts had been so dirty. As I rushed to work, I read the full text at a stop light. It asked, “you still up?” I fumed at the words. Did that mean I was a second choice or something? At least he responded though, I guess that counted for something. Damned it! Why didn’t he fucking jump and come over when I asked, and on my terms. That way, it would have at least still been my booty call instead of his! The selfish part of me was annoyed. Later that afternoon though, Hunk texted me to give me more details about that night’s adventures. Then Prospect #2 texted me saying “hi gorgeous! How’s your day going so far?” Ah, Prospect #2, where do I begin? A friend had introduced us at a wedding. He was sexy in a “White chocolate” kind of way (since he’s a white boy). He had asked to be introduced to me, and while I admit that I was reluctant to give White chocolate the time of day, there was just something about him. Despite the fact that I favored carmel, milk, and dark chocolate more than White chocolate, he had pleasantly surprised me. He was just so damned sweet and seemed to be all about me. He was smart A-F too; a big wig at an oil company in Houston. Needless to say, he was a busy bee who still made time to be interested in me. We hadn’t slept together, but there were still quite a few sparks between us. I was curious about how he would compare.
Like many black girls though, even though most of us generally think White chocolate (the candy) is fine and tasty; it can still be considered a cheap imitation of real chocolate (if you know what I mean). I was always reluctant with White chocolate due to my own inner conflicts about White chocolate in general. I simply always preferred and envisioned myself with real chocolate, and not some imitation of it. It’s only natural as a black woman myself. It just felt like I was cheating on or betraying black men with white men or something; which is a ridiculous concept in 2018; and especially since White chocolate happens to be a really good kisser. White chocolate is also surprisingly hung like a horse. Yea, I’d seen the goods; even though we hadn’t gone all the way. Even so, we’d practically done everything but the deed in the three months we’d been seeing one another. It was no wonder then that with my failures last night to get hung ole Charmer (the jerk) to come over to my apartment; I was now thinking of White chocolate’s spectacular genetic delights when it came to a certain piece of anatomy. A girl can dream or sit around in a literal hung over daze despite the fact that she failed to get someone hung over to her house last night (pun intended). It seems only fitting that I’m suffering from a hangover now.
Who says god doesn’t have a sense of humor. Inner laugh. As I write to you now, I’m thinking maybe I should give White chocolate a chance. After all, I can’t let Charmer do me like he did. F him! I’m a fucking goddess, and he damned well needs to recognize it! White chocolate was one of the best kisser’s I’d ever encountered if I’m being honest; so much better than last night’s shameful excuse for a kisser. That’s probably why White chocolate had nearly managed to kiss my panties off that last time we’d gone out. I’d skittishly backed off from White chocolate ever since (for about a week and a half now). I still texted him, but I was afraid of foreign objects, so I stayed away because White chocolate’s object was definitely a foreign one as far as I was concerned. Lol. Still, White Chocolate definitely had my attention by the figurative balls right now.
I texted Charmer back to let him know I’d fallen asleep on him because I had work this morning. I kept it nice and short, and vague as hell. I decided I’d be giving Charmer the silent treatment for a while. Charmer texted back a sad face. Eye roll! I decided I was heartless and immune to his charms. No matter how much it pained me to ignore him! I had to be the bitch and do it! He’d gotten his hand caught in my cookie snookie jar, and now I would decide whether I’d let him pull a chocolate chip cookie out or whether I’d let White chocolate have his turn instead. I didn’t know if it was god’s sense of humor at work again or what, but suddenly my hang over finally seemed to dissipate… But before I go, let me ask are Thursdays truly thirsty to you? Consider that I planned my entire weekend based on a Thursday’s findings…