Call On Me (Call Me)

There's a certain decorum that supposedly comes from a relationship that pertains to what is appropriate and what is not. There are certain rules that must be followed, and both RGB and myself have seemed to find men who were completely unaware, ignorant, or simply too dirty-minded to understand basic decency.

1. Text messages and/or emails describing your physical and/or emotional state that are sent during normal working hours are inappropriate. Not to mention, we have it in writing if we decide you are too stalkerish to continue contacting us unabated.

2. Gchat is definitely the wrong forum to begin a discussion on the hardness of your.... day. I cannot stress this enough. You DO realize the potential for coworkers or superiors to see your little conversation with yourself, don't you? And you also, I'm sure, are aware that google stores these chats?

3. Voicemails are equally distasteful. Fortunately, my voicemail cuts off after a few minutes and you better be done with your message. If the time before it takes the tone to sound is all you need to do what you need to do, there's a reason we didn't pick up anyway. These are, of course, general tips on how to NOT approach phone/text/email/chat sex with a girl.



RGB:

As I was walking to work one morning, my phone started going off. "Crap," I thought, "my boss must have broken the copy machine again."

But, as I dug my phone out of my purse, I saw that it was actually the Dud. I was a little confused as to why he was calling, but I answered.

"What are you wearing?"

"Oh, I'm wearing a black suit. Why? Do you see me? Are you here too?" I started looking around trying to find a doofy blond guy on a cell phone.

"What are you wearing under that?"

"Oh, dear lord. Dud, you realize that I am walking down K street right now? This conversation is not appropriate."

He then proceeded to whine. I'm not sure what he expected. It was 8:15am on a Tuesday. I was going to work. Apparently he did not understand that I did not want to have this conversation. His penchant for phone sex was really quite disturbing to me. But, even if I had been up for it, surely he could have chosen a better time to make these calls.

Apparently this concept was lost on him because the following several weekdays, I received similar calls. The time always varied with when he woke up. Sometimes the calls came on my way to work, sometimes while I was sitting at my desk, sometimes while I was out at lunch.

Of course, hanging up the phone was not enough to get him to calm down. He would then proceed to send lewd text messages describing the state of his genitals and his general level of excitement. He would send me about ten of these, all of which I would not respond to. He would then call in an attempt for there to be some sort of grand finale.

However, soon it became apparent that my response to this was not important. He seemd to get his jollies off sending me gross texts whether I responded to them or not. I must have had thousands of unanswered texts about his junk.

Obviously, I had nothing to say back to these messages, so I would ignore them, along with the phone calls. He did give up on the phone call segment of this routine, but he still kept sending texts months after we quit talking. I suppose the thought of me sitting at my desk, showing my coworkers the messages from my perverted stalker really did it for him.


BJA:

As a more broad hint, I would broach the subject with your girl before you attempt any of the above. Assuming she'll be into it or receptive is presumptuous, but there are some girls out there who might get just as many jollies from such antics. Just... not me or RGB.

Diego tried to... invite me to participate... multiple times, and, to his credit, not necessarily all the most innapropriate venues, but certainly after making it clear I was not into it, the subject should have been dropped. And no, switching forums from phone to online doesn't work either.

Yet, the most heinous of these offenses was a guy a did not date at all. I did not go on one date with Announcer Boy. Two of my friends did, however, at different times. The lesson that should be taken from this experience is that texting the same message to multiple people is for making movie or bar plans for a group of people - not phone sex.

One night, I was having a girls night with friends, of which Friend 1 and Friend 2 had dated Announcer Boy. Friend 3 also knew AB, yet Friend 4 had yet to make his acquaintence, which explains her being saved this experience.

My phone started ringing it's text message tone, followed immediately by Friend 1, Friend 2, and Friend 3's phones. Four phones all going off at the same time.

"What color "undergarments" are you wearing?" (undergarments replacing a word a bit more graphic.)

All four of us. Same message. From AB. So, brilliant ladies that we were, we all responded with a very graphic and specific description of our fictional undergarments. The catch - we used the exact same description. Something to the tune of polkadots and bows, a specific cut of undergarment, and a wonderful combination of greens, pinks, and blues.

Moments later, my phone rings. Only mine, none of the other girls. Rather quietly, perhaps even timidly is the best characterization of this approach, AB asked, "Are you with Friend 1, Friend 2 and Friend 3?"

"Why yes, AB. And we're having one big matching panty orgy without you."

Needless to say, his phone sex extravaganza did not work out the way he had hoped.

Since we all called him out on his antics, hopefully he has learned to stick with one-on-one text sex. But who am I kidding? He's on loserex, so obviously he just found a new crop of unsuspecting women to canoodle over time and space.

The bottom line is this: if you're the type of man who...enjoys certain types of phone conversations, try to do so with class (well, as much as you can really show in this situation). That means, call at an appropriate time, only call the person whom you are dating, only call someone who is receptive to this form of contact. If you can't follow these rules, then it might be time to suck it up and call a 900 number. Sure it's pricey, but I assure you, the $4.99 a minute is a bargain price to pay to maintain your dignity.

Why The Dud Cannot be Left Unattended, Part IV

I have some minor health issues that are not particularly life threatening, but are particularly painful. As a result, I have some very needed prescription painkillers.

The first time the Dud was over at my apartment, he was snooping through my stuff and came across my prescriptions. I explained to him why I have them and that they are very much needed. However, my explanation apparently went in one ear and out the other.

Over the next few weeks, I noticed that my pills started to disappear-- several at once. And usually after the Dud had spent the night. Seeing that he was stealing my medication, I started hiding them in my dresser, thinking that he would be less inclined to take them if they were not in plain sight.

That didn't stop him. I came out of the shower one morning to see him digging through my drawers. When I asked him what he was doing, he nonchalantly asked "Hey, where are your drugs?" as if this were a perfectly acceptable and legitimate thing for him to be doing.

While I do not condone taking a medication prescribed to another person, I would at least be able to understand where he was coming from had he been suffering from a kidney stone or something. But, no. He was in no pain whatsoever and was taking my painkillers recreationally.

I was livid that he honestly felt no shame in taking medication from a sick person. That's like stealing food from starving children in a third world country (I mean in concept, not in severity). Who the hell does that?

Why The Dud Cannot be Left Unattended, Part III

Once again, the Dud had spent a weekday night over and was getting in the way of me getting ready for work. I decided to lock him out of my bathroom so I could straighten my hair in peace.

That didn’t last long. Within seconds of turning the lock, I heard him opening my dresser then announcing that he was rummaging my underwear drawer. I calmly asked him to stop. He was quiet, so I assumed he had.

A minute later, he asked “If you came out here and I was masturbating with this blue and white lacy thong, would you be pissed?”

No, I am not making this up. I explained to him that I would be pissed and that when I came out, he better not have said undergarment.

A minute later, when I came out of the bathroom, he was in my bed, being intimate with my blue and white lacy thong. Gross. I immediately took it away from him and threw it in my hamper. I have washed it several times since, yet still feel too disgusted by it to ever wear it.

I'm sure there are people out there who would not find this offensive. I am sure there are even people who would be turned on by this. I am not one of those people. I find this incredibly offensive. Perhaps this makes me prude (and trust me, I've been called this many times before).

However, nasty or not, he did something that he knew I would find offensive and disgusting. In fact, he did it primarily for the purpose of ticking me off. While I am incredibly bothered by the nastiness of the situation, I am more bothered by the fact he had the audacity to come to my house and purposely try to do things that would be offensive to me after I specifically requested he not do those things. He honestly found it amusing to do things that were upsetting and offensive to me and expected me to just let it slide.

The way I see it, this is on par with me going to his house, taking a crap in his living room, then thinking it's funny that he is upset by that and expecting him to get over it. It just doesn't seem reasonable, does it?

Why The Dud Cannot be Left Unattended, Part II

The way I explain The Dud to my friends is that he is the type of guy I'd want to go to bed with, but not the type of guy I'd want to wake up with. In fact, waking up with him was quite an ordeal.

Aside from the usual 5 more minutes game, trying to convince me to call out of work and taking too long in the bathroom (therefore limiting my hair and make up time), I had to worry about him staying the hell out of my things.

One of the many items that he seemed to have a particularly strong interest in was my sorority t-shirts. For those of you who do not know me, I am not a particularly large girl. Most of my t-shirts from sorority date parties are youth sizes. The Dud wore a men's large in shirts. This means, that in order to find a t-shirt in my closet large enough for him, he would have to take several out and go through them.

He would try on several, stretching them all out in the process, until he finally would find a random hand-me-down shirt that was an adult small or medium that he was able to stretch enough to fit over his shoulders.

By the time I got out of the shower, there would be a big pile of t-shirts all over my bed, and The Dud would be proudly wearing a shirt that was entirely too small for him and asking if he could wear it home.

I know there is a bit of a double standard here. I love wearing clothes of the men I date. In fact, one of my dirty secrets is that I still keep (and wear) clothes of several of my exes. But the difference is this: I wear my exes' over-sized t-shirts and boxers in the comfort of my own home. The Dud wore my t-shirts out to run errands. I can't even imagine the looks he must have gotten from people. There was something truly disturbing about seeing a pink bid day shirt stretched across man-sized shoulders.

Why The Dud Cannot be Left Unattended, Part I

I absolutely hate babysitting. I used to watch two of the most unruly children imaginable. If I turned my back for one second to put in a movie, by the time I turned back around, they would have broken something. In addition, one had bladder control issues and once peed every single pair of pants he owned. Basically, I was scared out of ever wanting to have or be around kids at a very early age.

But as much as I hated babysitting two children under the age of 8, it was nowhere near as bad as having to babysit a 25 year old. In a lot of ways, the Dud was worse than the unruly children.

Once, his fumbling around in my kitchen woke me up around 4 in the morning (on a Tuesday), so I went to go see what he was up to. He was standing by the refrigerator with a large drink in his hand and some of it spilled on the floor. With a stupid grin on his face, he told me he just wanted an orange juice. I knew better. I took a sip of his drink and found that it was mostly vodka. Not only was I annoyed that he seemed to think it was acceptable to drink a ton of my vodka (I do not drink cheap alcohol), it was fricking 4 in the morning and I was sleeping. Why on Earth did he need a stiff drink at 4 in the fricking morning?

Not to mention, his late night shenanigans made him not want to get up when I was getting ready for work. I sure as hell wasn't going to let him stay in my apartment unattended after the fiasco from the night before, so i ended up practically dragging him to my porch and calling a cab to come get him.

Sadly, this is only one of several stories about why The Dud cannot be left unattended.

Who's There?

In response to BJA's unwelcome house guest at the wee hours of the morning...

For the most part, my stories are about incidents which took place several months or years ago, after I have detached myself from them enough to share them publicly. But, every now and then, I encounter such epic fail from a former fling, that it instantly earns a spot on Loser Ex. This post is about such epic fail.

The young man in this story is someone I dated casually for a few months, but things quickly died down once I realized I really did not like his personality at all. Having a conversation with this guy was painful. Really. I’ll always think of him as the kid who was popular in high school, but went downhill afterward. He was attractive and from a good family, but had zero ambition. I will refer to him as “The Dud,” because that is the name by which my friends know him. Aside from that, he had a lot of drama that I had no desire to deal with. But, that is neither here nor there. The only important thing to note here is that prior to this incident, we had not spoken in several weeks.

One recent Friday night, I was at WHG’s apartment. Around 2:30am, my phone started to ring. When I saw that it was The Dud, I let it roll to voicemail. The phone rang again. I let it roll to voicemail again. The phone rang a third time. Voicemail again. The phone then rang seven more times before I finally turned it off. At this point it was 2:50am. I should probably mention that I almost never turn my phone off. I am always paranoid that there will be some sort of emergency in the middle of the night and someone will need to get a hold of me.

The next morning, I turned my phone on as soon as I got up. It immediately started beeping like crazy from all the texts and voicemails I had received. First, I flipped through the text messages. They were all from The Dud. The first few were telling me that he was outside my apartment. The next few were telling me to come let him in because it is cold and rainy. The last few were telling me off for not letting him in. The voicemails followed the same pattern.

Now, let me point out a few factors that make this ridiculous. First of all, The Dud does not drive. There was some issue with his license a while ago, that I never really got the full story on (he tends to lie a lot). So, that means that despite not getting any sort of response from me, he decided it was a good idea to take a cab over to my apartment.

I should also note that cabs do not drive by my place. In order to get a cab at my place, one has to call a company. It usually takes at least 10 minutes for one to arrive. So, not only did The Dud come over to my place without having spoken with me, he also put himself in a situation from which it would be very difficult to get home.

Also, it was fricking cold. I really hope he had a nice warm coat and mittens on. It was rainy too. So, to recap, The Dud, not having spoken with me in several weeks, decided to cab it over to my place with no ride home so he could stand in the cold and rain and wait for me to come let him in. Then, he got pissed at me for not answering my phone at some odd hour of the morning.

I honestly expected there to be a brick through my window when I came back home.

Apparently he wasn't too upset though. He played the blow-up my phone game again a few nights later. I really don't know how many calls I have to ignore before he finally takes the hint.