This guy was in his late 30s and still lived in mommy’s basement. That should have been my first clue. He kept sticking his finger in my mouth or burying my face so I could barely breathe to keep me quiet. He was also much smaller than he claimed, and apparently masturbated too much, because he was impossible to get off and had to finish himself off each time.
I picked him up when we were both pretty hammered at the bar. I was new to town, had recently ended a long relationship, and this guy was really fun and hot. Unfortunately, I ignored the laundry list of issues he had including, but not limited to: 3 DUIs (later leading to an breathalyzer ignition switch), a dishonorable discharge from the Army (drugs), a much older, gay friend aka sugar daddy who bought him drinks, clothes, vacations, etc, and everyone’s favorite: he had been on Judge Judy with an ex seeking money he owed her. As if that wasn’t enough to send me running, we didn’t become exclusive until he came back from a Taiwan trip (so he could sleep around). Then he forgot my birthday because he was too drunk in Cancun with aforementioned sugar daddy. He couldn’t keep a job longer than a month, but I stupidly allowed him to basically move in with me because I felt bad for him. I thought I could help him. Boy was I wrong. We dated for about a year and a half during which he left me at the bar several times, would scream in my face in front of our friends until I cried, made innumerable empty promises, left piles of cigarette butts on my porch, ate my food, drank my booze, and broke off any hope I ever had of believing people can change. I’m still not sure whether to laugh or puke when I found out he sends naked pictures and videos of himself jacking off to his “friend.” Ew dude.
I met this weirdo through a co-worker because I needed men to pose nude for a photography project. She introduced us, we did the shoot, and because I was on the rebound we ended up sleeping together. In the 3 weeks we were messing around, the following things happened: 1) I discovered he only ate meat. We went out to eat and he substituted all the vegetable side dishes for other meat products. He was also nutritionally opposed to water, this stud only needed Dr Pepper to live. 2) He refused to take off his socks for anything. I had to bribe him to take off his socks for the nude photo shoot. He sunbathed with socks on, he showered with socks on, and oh yeah, he sure as hell had sex with his socks on. 3) He lied to me about being 18. My photography professor made all new models sign a waiver, but not show ID, so he was able to get away with it until one day i was looking at the pictures up on his walls and there was one of those picture wheel thingies that shows a picture of you from kindergarten to senior year in high school, and let’s just say there were a view pictures missing 4) He thought that Jon Ashcroft was the man who put warnings on his cigarettes (please don’t make me explain the difference between the former attorney general and the surgeon general) 5) after almost a month straight of decent enough sex, he told me he felt sorry for me because I was going to hell and handed me a religious tract assuring me that even though I was a whore by jesus’ standards, there was still time for me to be saved. EPIC FAIL.
Sorry Mom @ SXSW 2010 – post panel video
Since our poor inbox has been submission-free for the past few weeks (sorry!) we dug up some video footage from our visit to SXSW Interactive back in March. Here is the creator of Sorry-mom.com fielding some questions from the press and attendees of her panel “Airing out your dirty laundry online: Therapy or Revenge.” More footage to come soon, and more posts as they come in, I promise!
I met this guy when I went out drinking and ended up sleeping with him. Must have been the alcohol but he finished a little too quickly. We started fooling around for a while until I found out he was sleeping with someone else at the same time. He said he’d stop sleeping with her so I continued the relationship because he said all the right things. Then I found out he was still sleeping with the other girl. I confronted him about it and he admitted he was sleeping with 3 other girls and I finally left him. Went to the gyno and found out he did leave me a present which I’m currently taking medication for.
My ex really dug dirty talk when we were going at it and being open minded, I’d play along. But one day, as we were having sex, things took a terrible turn. “You’re such a slut. I can feel all the other dicks inside of you and I love it. I love to feel them!” And then he came. Yeah. I date the worst dudes.
The worst of the worst. I had moved to Lima, Peru and had been single for about a year at this point and desperately in search of man to bang. I meet this punk-haired, salsa-singing, tattoo-bearing, fashion-minded, graphic artist guy. I totally fell for his pathetic ass. We dated for a little over a year in which he confessed eternal love, a cute little orange house together, kids, a pretty cool wedding party, better love making sessions, blah, blah, blah, so I fell for it. But after a year he broke up with me over the phone and then said to my face two days later: “uhmm I don’t actually love you.” And so the story continues. I hacked his e-mail in search of another woman and found pictures of some woman’s ass opened up so I can see her butt hole, various e-mails in which he called other women beautiful, sexy, precious and chat sessions with his friends complaining I annoyed him. I had cried before, but never like this. I had dieted before, but never lost so much weight, I’d done voodoo before, but this low, lying, non-artistic graphic designer better start watching his back because he has never-ever felt needles in his lower groin and he is about to.
I met this super classy professional wrestler wanna-be on gothic social networking website. He actually looked decent in his photos, and I found out he lived close, as in down-the-street-from-me close. The first time we met he demanded I wear my Catholic school uniform, as I was 16 and still in high school. Did I mention that he was 23? He didn’t either. In real life he smelled like BO, and had a pot belly that made him look pregnant. We had sex in his car, and it was alright if brief. The next time we hung out he didn’t want to fuck because he had already had sex with someone earlier that day at work, Urban Outfitters of course. All he ever talked about was his “wrestling career” and his tattoos, including a grim reaper across his back speckled with bacne.
College senior who broke up with me so he could fuck as many girls as possible before he graduates. The sad thing is, he’s actually a great guy. Or was, until this.
I picked up this winner after stumbling into him a few times at frat parties where he was decked out in club clothes and surrounded by a posse of skanky girls. He quickly convinced me he was “different” from his other douche brothers when he came out to audition for my theater group to prove he was secretly deep and sensitive. We started hanging out and he immediately spilled dark personal secrets that left my mouth open in shock – which he wasted no time filling with his tongue. I probably should’ve listened to everyone around me when they told me I should get tested just from being on stage with him, but instead managed to convince myself that what we had was “different.” The bedroom activities were pretty fun, to be fair, but I probably should’ve realized things were a little off when he loved to ask “whatcha got there?” anytime his dick was in my mouth. This d-bag was as needy as a 5-year-old and pouted and whined anytime he didn’t have my full attention, even going as far as to ban me from my cellphone when we hung out. When I discovered his blog in which he described all his “options” for sex and his dirty weekend nights – I finally knew I had to cut it off. The only “option” left for him should be to get his ass out to Health Services and get tested – my appointment’s next week.
