“Yeah, I’m married…. Does that mean you don’t want to {{{*}}}fuck me??” Seriously, that’s actually what some asshole said to me in a New York bar. It’s a very stylish supper club, known for the powerful, usually married, executive crowd it draws which seems to be accompanied by the designer escorts and gold-diggers looking for a free ride in life. But nothing in life is free. Every woman who becomes a mistress pays indirectly for her Prada shoes, Louis Vuitton bags and tropical vacations. She becomes a different class of hooker; one who sells her independence for the latest trends, goes to yoga daily and frequents spas weekly. But at the end of the day, once the guy is tired for her, she’s left alone and searching for a replacement who will still leave her feeling empty. Anyway, on with my story…
So, I’m at this supper club (Calli’s) and it’s a hot, happening Thursday night. You know the type of place as we’ve all been there….where you enter through the door (after dropping the name of the manager with the burly bouncer to escape paying the cover charge— and everyone seems to know Joe), and the atmosphere from the cold, blustery night changes as you enter into another zone. One of thick air, hot sweat, the latest track pounding through the room and the dimly lit lights make everyone look amazing, especially after a few drinks. The place is over-capacity, but that doesn’t seem to stop the girls scanning for Mr. Right- well at least for the night and a pair of shoes- and the guys are skulking out the “perfect” girl on the side- the kind that puts out as she has no self-confidence as she is willing to trade a blowjob and her dignity for that a pair of Valentinos.
Now, you’re probably wondering if I’m so opposed to this sort of atmosphere and these sorts of men, why the hell I was even there. Well, I was new to the city and heard this was a great place to meet men. I didn’t realize it was men that only wanted insecure women…who they could control like dogs on a short leash and have leverage over them. And women who they didn’t really want to engage in deep conversation, as they would prefer to have their faces in a pillow as they laid into them. It is what is it.
So, picture it. A confident, self-sufficient, career woman wearing a pair of sexy ripped jeans with tears in the right places, a low cut silk top and 5” Christian Louboutins. I didn’t want any man’s money, kids, or psycho wives intruding into my life. All I wanted was a Cosmo extra chilled and no one to fuck it up. I should have stayed home, but I was curious and looking for some fun. Men in Canali suits were rubbing up against me, rugged guys with perfectly tailored jeans were buying me drinks and I was having a great time. The air was filled with sex…..and anticipation, like the moment just before you’re about to orgasm and your toes tingle. And then it happened.
This guy who looked like he had just stepped out of an Esquire magazine, was suddenly in front of me. His 6’5” frame towered over me and his eyes penetrated mine. You know the look, ladies….when you begin to feel that deep, immense sexual presence as he looks at you with those “come fuck me eyes” and you just know that anything can happen that night. No inhibitions. The type that when asked if you want dessert after dinner, you’d rather pour chocolate syrup on him and give your tastebuds what they’re really craving.
So, he asked if he can buy me a drink. We shared stories and dirty martinis (as well as lusty glances) for about half an hour. His eyes were still penetrating mine and we were so in sync. Wow, I thought, I can’t believe I found such an amazing guy! The climax was rising in me. Then suddenly a woman walked into the club and he froze. He told me she was his wife’s best friend. I stepped back and said, “You’re married?” He then replied, with a smug look on his face along with a smirk, “Yeah, so? Does that me you don’t want to fuck me?”
Really??? Oh, my gawd! Are you fucking serious??? Who the hell says that?! And just like how an orgasm builds to a climax and abruptly ends, usually because the guy says something stupid like, “Ok, I’m close…. Don’t move!”, thus ended this encounter with Mr. Asshole.
But this guy is only one of sooooo many with their stupid comments and heads up their asses! And you wonder why we just wanna slap ya??!!
