sad lesbian rants, Word Vomit

Yes, I have breasts and I enjoy dick: Rant from a sad lesbian who isn’t a lesbian

Cock

Everyone loves cocked flavor

It’s funny when one is about 400 miles away everyone wants to see you, they miss you, they tell you stories and events that are going to happen upon your arrival. Vacation, visiting, these are the times when you get these thrills and the excitement. It’s come to my understanding with this that people suck. Now, that I am back home and people know there isn’t a time frame, I have been withdrawn the over joyous excitement.

I went out to a bar about a night ago with  4 other guys. For some odd reason it always ends up me in a group of dicks, literally. I only really talked to one of my friends that I was always in contact with, and the other ones, to my understanding, thought I was merely visiting. Once I told them I moved back I got the, “oh….” and felt them questioning them the invite. What the hell does that mean? Cock suckers!

Moving on…

I’m use to a lively bar and this was a hole in a wall and the only night life near our crappy city. Sadly, in So. Cal, when you don’t have a car, you don’t go anywhere. I don’t have a car. I drink. I would love to go to downtown L.A. and get drunk in a real bar, but I’m not driving.

By my third Stella I was scoping out the bar. Usual group of hot chicks to my right with one slutty asian girl, random mexican with cow-boy boots who looked like he stumbled in here by mistake, two awkward lanky guys trying to spit game at the slutty asian girl, hipsters with mustaches playing death metal in a bar, then myself observing the people while I drank.

I was in the middle of the guys with bottles in front of me. My back leaned all the way and my long legs were crossed. I tried to look attractive. I had a sleeveless leopard blouse. The only one who looked at me in that way I wanted to be looked at was by an overweight lesbian woman with a buzz cut. The realization that maybe, maybe everyone does think I’m a lesbian crossed my mind. Do I look like I don’t like dick? I’m not sure if there is a universal sign that only lesbians give out and only they can receive. Maybe I’ve been chosen. Should I use the force? All of this crossed my mind and I washed it away with a Newcastle.  I think I would make a good lesbian, comparing and contrasting to my

galore of homosexual friends, yet being me, I’d probably insult them if i was a lesbian. I have enough trouble being straight.

Then I burped.

I hardly burp.

Yet, I burped at the most inopportune time. Somewhere in the sea of ugly people, and cliché sluts, I found some eye candy. He had sculpted nice arms. The ones I thought of pinning me down because I’m a horrible person. I drank some more and gave him the look. The ” I am interested look and am checking you out.” He gave me the ” I acknowledged it, continue, sign.” As I undressed him with my eyes and formed a smile, a very manly burp erupted from the depths of my throat and fired my friends with immature chuckles.

His smile turned to disgust and he went back into the sea of the bar. My friends didn’t notice the overall picture. I can be in a group of guys half-naked and I end up just being, one of the guys. This has always been a problem and I have grown from my tom boy ways, but I digress. All they noticed was the slutty asian girl and some other random girls who couldn’t handle their liquor and were about to throw themselves on some guys in a ghetto ass bar.

Tried to bar hop again, searching for better fish in the crappy city and ended up eating wings. Gave up on looking for attractive men.

I of course had a giant glass of dark ale to wash away my wings and cheddar wedges because apparently I am manly. They call me John.

Too many beers in me to realize that I was at the same wing place where I sadly made an attempt to get the waiters number. I pretty much harassed him and gave him mine. Pretty smooth. He never called. Shot my self-esteem looow. A year eventually passed, and there I was, making eye contact with him and both of our pupils dilated and engulfed our heads. I chugged the remaining of my drink. I already screwed up the night with mr nice arms and they think I’m a lesbian, might as well, right? The one time I don’t want to be remembered.Oh, he remembered me.

Stumbled back to my house to sleep on my couch that churns my spine to a painful back the next day. No hangover. No bed. I only have a desk with a million of pens and countless rum bottles that coexist in my playful nature.

The next day I drank vodka and sprite with an old friend/lover who I think still hates me, and a very good friend. I drank the bottle and found myself kicking off my heels and checking him out. Noooo! I sat on his bed and messed with his guitar and may have blurted out interests and topics of Christian Grey. Cough, yes I have read the books.

I guess when I drink too much vodka my dominant and submissive side comes out and I ramble on about being butt naked and being slapped.

My God, just kill me then. I don’t throw up but I have the worst word vomit known to man. I made things awkward bringing up past “nicknames” like a horrible cheerleader looking for attention. Sadly, the sky vodka was empty. The only time I really showed emotions when I stare into the soul of an empty vodka bottle.

the only thing I learned from this is not to burp in front of hot guys, don’t go back to places you made an ass of yourself years ago, don’t spew the past on an ex, and don’t sit back with a group of guys as you try to pick up on other guys. You end up being a lesbian with an empty vodka bottle.

Have you ever spit out horrible “word vomit” that messed up an opportunity?

 

 

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