I think that the hardest part about writing in this particular way is the honesty involved. Truthfully, I’m just not very good at lying, anyway. I, certainly, don’t make it a habit.
In my quest to teach my children the fundamentals of life so that they may get ahead and lead, only, the happiest of adult lives, I have imparted much advice regarding this issue.
Sure. Children lie, but teaching them the difference in the repercussions of such, in my opinion, makes the difference. They can, then, make their own decisions, and I don’t have to feel so guilty about them.
So, with this same sentiment in mind, I would like to share with you what happened on my recent birthday. Mind you, this is very difficult for me, but I do believe that honesty, although, often, the hardest of pills to swallow, is, indeed, the best medicine for what ails ya.
A good friend of mine offered to take me somewhere nice for my birthday. A sunny lunch, a delicious dinner, even, a small trip were all suggestions made by him. After much thought, I decided this the best possible time to begin my tour. Now, where to begin was definitely up for debate.
Okay. So, not really. I, pretty much, always knew that because of the overwhelming response from one particular area, I would begin in Destin, Fort Walton, or Panama City, Florida.
He offered to transport me there and rent a room for me for my very first night, then I would secure it for the rest of my stay. Sounded like the sweetest present I’d ever received for my birthday.
I ended up switching from one city to another, then to another right before leaving due to lack of interest. No one pre-booked in advance for the event, but I kept morale high. Indeed, if even a quarter of the people who had asked me to visit this area showed up, I would be busy enough to stay for quite a while.
Well, obviously, I wouldn’t be writing this had that happened. I can honestly say, though, the trouble began long before then.
I knew something was up as soon as we reached Destin. First off, my room had two queen-size beds in it. I’m not sure why he rented a room in that way, but, more so, I’m not sure why I allowed him to.
Needless to say, it wasn’t the only problem with the room, itself. There also was the absence of a tub. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but to a provider who enjoys Greek on a regular basis and has legs almost as long as the entire rest of her body, a tub is a must in ANY room.
But, truly… You should have seen my face when the front desk clerk told us where my room was located. As she put it, “Just behind the office.”
Thankfully, there was a laundry room between my room and the wall that hotel staff rented rooms in front of, but I was, certainly, the very first room in my hallway. Meaning, EVERY OTHER ROOM would have to pass directly in front of MY door to reach their own.
Mind you, I have been told that I am NOT at all quiet when I orgasm. (As if I’m, EVER, quiet.) Sorry. I just don’t give much of a fuck when I’m in O-Mode. However, I’m, pretty, sure that the other 15 rooms in my hallway did.
It was already evident that I wasn’t going to get much business in this town. My phone had been, pretty much, stagnant the entire drive there. By this time, I was confused. Greatly confused.
Just why had so many people asked me to visit their neck of the woods when they had no intention of seeing me at all? That is beyond me, even, now. At that time, I couldn’t comprehend it, so I just went about trying to enjoy my stay. Destin would not have been my ideal birthday location, so anxiety over not spending this date with my children began to creep in.
For my birthday meal, we visited a local Mexican restaurant. It was set up more like an Applebee’s, packed to the brim with people on a busy Friday night. What began as a wonderful birthday meal ended up a total fiasco.
To describe my waitress’s rude attitude towards me and her ignorance of proper customer service etiquette would just be a holier-than-thou statement from someone who waitressed for over 8 years of her life, so I’ll keep it to myself. (See how I did that?) I will say that she was probably the rudest person I’ve ever met in a restaurant, and I’ve known many insane back of the house workers, and one, plate of cheese sticks, throwing manager.
I was so upset that I just left the restaurant before finishing my meal. The manager had offered several different ways of making everything better. On my birthday, my date chose half taken off the meal he consumed all of, rather than a dessert in which to celebrate such an occasion. In fact, he didn’t, even, ask them to place my remaining food in a box to take home. My irritation grew.
The next day, I decided it best if I just wrote in my blog, my personal journal, of sorts. Unfortunately, my date refused to leave me any privacy. Every single time I walked out to the pool to smoke, he came with. I didn’t feel comfortable enough to call anyone or reach out to anyone I was close to while under such scrutiny.
Because I know him so well, I don’t think that he did any of this with ill will towards me or my celebration. I think he had only the best intentions in mind. However, it just seemed to be one stacked block falling upon another, until a mess of tumbling boulders were all I could feel.
I brought music to the pool and sat in the sun with my face raised into the full warmth of some much needed Vitamin D. I was struggling greatly. I couldn’t breathe as the pressure from everything, seemingly, going wrong, in and around me, became more than I could bare.
Most of you have never realized this about me, but I choose music depending on my mood. When I’m down, singing lifts me up. In fact, when I’m upset, I sing the loudest. I don’t know why, but it certainly changes the atmosphere in which breathing, for me, has become difficult.
Not so, on this day. At first, I played comedy rather than, actual, songs, thinking that he would enjoy that much, more than my chosen music. As he stared off into the sky, quite, obviously, bored out of his mind, my mood, indeed, did change.
The music began. At first, I shuffled a playlist I use every, single day to lift my spirits, but as I watched him shift uncomfortably under the umbrella, shying away from the Sun’s intense rays of heat, so, too, changed the music.
Notably, I must add. When I hear music playing, I always get a sense of the person playing it. I know that I’m an oddball, but I’ve gleaned quite a bit of information about people when trying to decipher the meaning behind the music they enjoy listening to with others.
Lots of tunes are just fun. They usually have a good beat or, maybe a decent rhythm that seems to elicit activity from the listener, without even trying. Some music is melodic or harmonic and enduces emotion and sensation and warmth. I love both.
Of course, there’s OTHER music. A few years ago, someone turned me on to a band called Die Antwoord. Their music is a melding of popular samplings, “next level beats and some gangsta (rap) skillz”. Additionally, I must add, they are definitely NOT everyone’s cup of tea.
Die Antwoord holds a special place in my heart, though. As I was adjusting to getting out of the hotel life and living a clean and sober one, they assisted me every step of the way preaching self-esteem and belief in each other with every nonsensical verse. It’s a type of camaraderie and self promotion I am so very unused to.
They got me through some difficult times by putting a smile on my face and a beat back in my heart when it had been trampled into silence. Some of their songs sound rather angry, pointing fingers to false icons so exhalted in American pop music, perhaps, just a bit hypocritical on their part, but it, usually, didn’t take very much of them before I felt able to face any challenge.
I expected him to hear me through my music. I know exactly what you’re thinking. Lol. I recall him saying something to the effect of him doing his best to block it out.
It’s not his fault, really. On previous occasions when we have gotten together, I felt awkwardly. Communication is often difficult with us, and we don’t always see eye-to-eye. However, that’s never stopped me from making friendships with such people before…
I guess, I already know. I know that he’s reading this now, and it’s time that I, finally, tell him so.
Sweetie, when I scheduled our initial date and then missed that appointment, I was overcum with great guilt. I had some personal issues that were going on at the time, that had nothing to do with you. When we did speak again, you did your very best to make me feel even worse. Not that I blame you.
I will say, though, it did have quite a lot to do with why I scheduled another date and, then ate the entire cost of that 24-hour date to show you that I meant no harm, and my rudeness was, certainly, never intentional. That was my very, first mistake. Athough, not my last.
Here I sit, claiming to be so honest, yet, there are times that I don’t speak up at all. These times are, obviously, the most important. I should have told you from the very beginning how you make me feel, and then I should have mentioned it again when, at the end of YOUR free birthday date, you still didn’t leave me a tip, as we had discussed.
Everyone knows how I feel about tips. They’re not necessary, at least not every time. They are, however, necessary if you want to show a female that you enjoy her company. A donation is just the minimum she will take for her time. A tip is a way of showing gratitude by someone who enjoys that she made that time special just for him.
I realize now this is something best said in private. I’m just not sure I’m quite capable, yet. My bad. Back to the birthday blowout.
As we’re sitting by the pool, him ignoring my music as best he can, my music reflecting my mood as best it can, and the sun shining, regardlessly, it all became clear. Every date we’d been on, up until this very moment, he was never really honest with me. His concern wasn’t for my special day. This man wanted some pussy.
Of course. Now, usually, this would be obvious to me. If only he hadn’t disguised it in the form of a birthday gift. Then, rather than making clear his intentions to me, he passive-aggressively just decided not to move until he garnered what he’d actually cum for.
I don’t drink often, but as realization set in, I said the most astounding thing anyone in the last few years has heard from me. “I need to get drunk.” And, I did.
His mood had not helped my situation, and, suddenly, I just wanted him gone. It was obvious that was not going to happen without some kind of fondling and a little lip play.
His suggestion, the liquor store across the street. Indeed, there was a Winn-Dixie liquor right in front of my eyes, just beyond the construction going on beside the pool. I was floored, to say the least, but unable to utter the truth of this. We went to the store and purchased a bottle of mudslides, because, of course, he intended to join in.
I began chugging the sticky stuff down with my back to the gently, lapping water’s edge of the hotel pool. Dehydration set in quickly, and I blindly wandered around trying to find a soda machine to purchase something colder and much, more wet.
I was out of ambition and hope, and I just wanted it all to end. When I felt I’d consumed enough rich, chocolatey syrup, we retreated inside to my (our?) room.
We laid around and watched part of a movie, and then I gave him some MasterHead. I knew he wanted more, but I was so distraught that he hadn’t just been straight with me in the beginning. Why did he allow the trip to continue on in such an awkward course, that I couldn’t muster up enough moisture to allow that to happen comfortably.
I’ll never forget this. One of the very last things he said to me was “I was hoping we would get a chance to play.” I was consumed with an urgent need to ask him, “What the fuck did I just do with your dick?”
Of course, that would have been rude, but this statement was, just about, more than I could bare. I was glad when he, finally, did leave, but I was left with great remorse over everything that happened. Most of it, because I’d allowed it to.
As much as I like to think I am maturing and becoming more wise with age, I repeatedly continue to make some of the same mistakes over and over again. It’s very disheartening.
My main fault with this particular relationship was not telling him from the very beginning how his statements made me feel. Truthfully, if I’d been honest, completely honest, on our very first visit together, we never would have made it to this point. That was the truth.
To make matters worse, as soon as I was left to my own devices… Those devices stopped working. What I’m trying to say is my phone went belly up not long after he drove out of the parking lot to head back home. It would cum on, lighting up and gaining all bars, but the touchscreen refused to work.
Not only were the many pictures I had just taken in the full length mirror of my room missing, I had just placed a BP ad in the hopes of turning my birthday around. Fear and uncertainty, now, took completely over all rational thinking. Thankfully, I had thought to bring my laptop, giving me the ability to make my very first date since arriving in the touristy town of Destin, Florida, where I had intentionally chosen to celebrate my birthday.
He was so very sensual and an amazing cuddler. Something I didn’t even realize I was desiring more than anything else at that moment. He listened to me, but, mostly, he just held me. That was all, and that was it, and it was more than I could have, even, asked for in my present state.
A few hours later and onto my second, and final, date of the trip. He was young and devilishly handsome and allowed me to play a beautiful tune on his handsome flute. My brain was temporarily washed free of all it’s excess bullshit, allowing me a few moments to bask in the sweet, sucking sounds made by my mouth as I enjoyed him. Such a charming man, and, more of what I was, greatly, in need of.
I’d managed to take the battery out of my phone and get it working for just a few moments right before my evening date had arrived, but after he’d left, it only resembled a communication device. I was completely unable to text and retrieving any of my known contacts, even making a simple phone call, were, now, completely impossible on that hunk of scrap metal. (Or whatever their made of!)
After much, hysterical searching of my laptop, I was, finally, able to locate a few of my older contacts. Thankfully, I quickly found a friend of mine I’ve known for quite a few years. In fact, to be honest, he’d planned on cummin up during my trip.
After many years as, just, “friends”, we’d finally cum to a place of true communication. I’ve always enjoyed his company, in the bed and ANYWHERE else, we just so happened to find ourselves. Actually, I, kinda, assumed we were both considering giving this thang a real shot. Of course, that is, certainly, in no way true, now.
When I’d originally mentioned my plans to stay in Destin for my birthday weekend and how nervous I was about being alone for three days or more in a strange city, where I, truly, didn’t know anyone, he mentioned the flexibility of his job as a driver for Lyft. He informed that he had the ability to work from any city of his choosing at any time.
What a brilliant idea! I suggested the possibility of him working in the daytime right here where I’d chosen to stay, transporting tourists to and from their beach destinations, while I was frolicking under the hotel sheets with a stiff member or two. You know… just fulfilling a few birthday wishes. (Wink. Wink.) When his work day was complete, he could, then, join me in the evenings for whatever type of escapades we preferred to celebrate my old age.
Despite popular belief, I am PHYSICALLY only able to see about two fellas a day, AT THE MOST. Look. Orgasming happens, quite, frequently for me these days (Thank you, Jesus!), and I’m, certainly, not complaining, but it definitely takes a lot out of me. I’m always left quite dehydrated from all the squirting and a bit weak from, just, the intensity of so many wonderful sensations coursing through my body all at the same time.
My point being, I wasn’t gonna be working all day and night, while in this beach town. There was plenty of free time with which we could get naked and “feel” each other out better. However, the chaos of everything fracturing around me had left me tongue tyed and, completely endiscive. To make matters even worse, my trembling fingers just couldn’t quite capture, even, the jyst of this confusion properly in my typed message to him. Thankfully, we’ve known each other so long now, he, totally, gets when I am down and in need of some affection.
At least, that was what I assumed. (I know. I know.) I suppose I should probably mention that on my birthday, as we drove down to the hotel, I received a text from him informing me of his hopeful plans to visit with me Sunday evening, completely circumventing our previously arranged agenda. I didn’t, even, comment at the time, because of my initial confusion at the change and the akwardness of the entire one and a half hour drive from my home to Destin, Florida.
Saturday, I was faced with the corpse of a phone that held, almost, everything I needed to be successful on this trip. Shit. I would have been fine with just a lil R & R. But, who can relax and unwind when they are faced with such a dilemma and are left with just an overwhelming since of dread and fear of what could possibly go wrong next. Oh, cum on. Isn’t it obvious? I was on a roll!
Honestly, I just needed a friend. Someone who would try to understand, or, just, listen as I rant and rave or weep or sigh. I just wanted to be with someone who cared just a bit for me. Of course, by that time, it was absolutely impossible for me relay this thought clearly, and, before I knew it, I no longer had a ride willing to transport me back home following day after checkout. Ho. Hum.
To his credit, he did ask me what he should do? Should he cum get me? Take me home? WHAT DID I WANT??
I couldn’t provide those answers for him. Nothing I had set out to do had been anywhere near successful, so, I had, absolutely, no clue what to tell him. I was terrified of making any further decisions on my part or for anyone else. Like a true woman, I just expected him to KNOW.
After the many years we’d spent building this friendship, I truly did think he knew me well enough to know or, even, guess what I was in need of. Look. I met him while still high as shit on drugs. He knows me better than most of my friends, but, somehow, his new employment had stolen, not only his attention, but his compassion for the person he’d claimed to care so deeply for.
I know it is insane for me to assume that ANYONE could descipher my mispelled, emotion filled, mumbo jumbo of a message. In spite of me being upset and so uncertain about how to change those circumstances that overwhelmed me so greatly, I was fully aware of what I needed, but I just didn’t have the courage to ask him for it.
I know. I’m a pussy. Right? I know. Truly, I get it. But, at that time, it didn’t seem so simple.
Can you not see how difficult it is to always be honest?? I claim it, only, because I do my very best to always try to live my life that way. Unfortunately, the fear of hurting someone’s feelings and the fear of getting hurt myself keeps me falling short of that goal. I’ve never stopped trying, though.
I, truly, believe that eliminating dishonesty from one’s life reduces feelings of guilt and remorse, and, even, shame. It, certainly, has for me.
In the midst of all this anguish and pure chaos and total resentment for my actions and my inability to change any of it, suddenly chimed a message from my Eccie inbox. It was a good “friend” I hadn’t seen in awhile, just touching base, to see when I’d be returning to Pensacola.
I relayed my current situation pitifully, not leaving out any of the mitigating details that had produced my, now, frenzied emotional state. I could just see him chuckling away. “That crazy azz Laney’s at it again!”
Instead, he immediately offered me the companionship I’d been so desperately craving, and, of course, a safe and secure ride home to the puppy I knew was behind, most of the pain. I MISSED MY FUCKIN DOG, PEOPLE. He’s my very best friend. How could I have ever convinced myself that I could survive, even a day, without his love and constant affection??
When I sent him the instructions necessary to locate my pitiful azz and realization set in that it was, all, almost, over, I, finally, fell face first into the pillow and let the tears flow freely. I was gonna be okay now. Everything was gonna be alright very soon,
Unfortunately, he, also, would experience the ill effects of this terrible vacation. You see, he drove, at least, 45 minutes, possibly, even an hour to cum rescue me, without even requesting compensation for his chivalry. Only to find I had cried myself right to sleep. I didn’t even hear him knocking on my door, therefore, I never opened it.
I woke up an hour or so after to find the many messages he’d sent in confusion, and, likely, frustration.
“He was on the way.”
“He was at my door.”
“He was knocking and contacted the front desk.”
“He was concerned, but was going to go back home.”
You will never understand the level of regret and complete humiliation I experienced at those words. He had offered to help me, out of the kindness of his heart, and in turn, was met with nothing but drama and bullshit.
That was never my intention, and he, certainly, didn’t deserve that shit! What had I done?? I weaped sorrowfully for the confusion and indignation, I knew he, must, now, be experiencing.
Thankfully, my laptop chimed, once again. Like a true friend, he had picked up on my distress and confusion and fear, sensing I was, certainly, in great need. Instead of heading back home, as his final message had implied, he had hit the Whataburger, just a stone’s throw from my hotel, and grabbed a breakfast sandwich for each of us, then took a snooze, right there in his car, hoping I would emerge from my slumber soon.
How could I thank him?? I cannot honestly relay the amount of respect and genuine appreciation I felt for this man. This TRUE GENTLEMAN… His kindness and sincerity nearly broke my heart. Seeing him made it all real.
He pulled me into a big bear hug until I had quit trembling, then, he allowed me to snuggle into the warmth of his body, and cuddled with me until the daylight came. I know he didn’t intend for me to offer any of myself in such a state, but this man was more man than just about ANY man I’ve ever met.
When I awoke that morning in the strength and safety of his strong arms, I, finally, realized the truth of it all. What I’d actually been yearning for… A sense of concern, a need to help me feel secure, and a sincere care and compassion for the utter devestation of what was supposed to be a, most, memorable day for me. The strength of his kindness overwhelmed me and flooded my heart.
As pathetic as I must have seemed to him in that moment… As desperate and needy and, downright, homely, I, surely, must have appeared… As embarrasing as it all, really was… He treated me no differently. The overwhelming urge to show him my immense appreciation, total respect and sincerest gratitude had me inching beneath the warm sheets and pouring out my affection all over his manhood. He did not object.
This “friend”, this man, someone I’d totally taken for granted before had just saved me when I was completely unable to save myself. He was my hero. I saw no path out of my chaotic situation, and, instead of making fun, he stepped up. I was humbled by the sincerity and genuine good nature that had led him here to rescue me with a cute grin that made me smile in return. Now, this was a TRUE GENTLEMAN.
The ride home seemed vastly different from the ride I’d taken only three days earlier. Suddenly the scenic drive was so much more peaceful and beautiful, something I had completely missed before. We talked about random things, slowly pulling away from the negativity that had enveloped me over the past weekend.
You know, you don’t have to always know just exactly what to say in such a situation. A true gentleman knows he doesn’t have to say anything at all. He listens. Even, when in complete silence. This “friend” had just become a close confidant in a very special way. Not because he helped, but, more so, just because HE TRIED.
Unfortunately, my arrival home was slightly dulled with the knowledge that Spaz had accompanied my neighbors, his weekend babysitters, on a camping trip and wouldn’t be returning until Wednesday. That was two whole days away. It would be just a bit longer before I could, finally, have my wee, wittle, bundle of puppy fur nestled under my chin, lovin me, as usual.
Wednesday finally arrived, and there he was. I, truly, would never have believed I could have grown so close to a furry fella, but I do so love that damn dog. My baby was finally home, with me. Where he belonged.
I’m not perfect, friends. If you’ve read any of this blog, then you’ve been made well aware of this by now. I am, however, completely human. Without the ability to drive, an unknown place can become a nightmare. Sadly, it was the only part of my intended tour that was not for my own benefit, but at the urgent requests of others. I, certainly, know better now. I cum first. Otherwise, chaos ensues.
If there’s a lesson to be learned, it is most certainly that I need to continue trying to be honest… IN ALL THINGS. Being truthful has garnered me much negative attention, but has, certainly, improved my life greatly. Truthfulness weeds out those people that spin tales to confuse, use, and abuse you. Unfortunately, I have yet to succeed in learning how to be kind and honest, simultaneously. That is my new goal.
So, there it is. The ugly, sordid truth about my trip to Destin for the worst birthday of my life. It certainly doesn’t paint me in a very pretty light, but it’s the truth. The whole truth. Honesty -raw and uncut. Oh… And rare.
Thank you for listening once, again, friends. That alone tells me more about your true character than anthing else.