This guy though. Man! He was way out of my league. Just look at any Abercrombie ad, if you dare, because you know...it's practically porn - that's him to a tee. Drop dead looks, killer body, tall, dark, well spoken, employed, no baggage. I thought about contacting him for a week before I came up with the courage to do so, expecting rejection. I hit "send" on the message, and waited. I saw him glance at my profile a day later. Then, success! A message back! I opened it, bracing for a "you're not really my type" kind of response and after I picked my jaw up off the floor, realized that he was asking me out!
You think I would've been excited about going on a date with Mr. Abercrombie, but no. I started thinking about it. And judging.
This guy obviously knew he was hot. According to his profile, his longest relationship was less than a year, probably because he's so god damned selfish that any woman in her right mind wouldn't put up with that shit for more than a couple of months. I was immediately thinking that this guy most definitely relies on his looks to get him through life. Even though he wrote well in chatting with me, he didn't really say all that much. His words seemed...empty - to the point and without much elaboration. In my head, I was thinking that he probably takes longer to get ready on a daily basis than I do, because I'm sure it takes a lot of effort to be that pretty. And product. I'm sure it takes a whole shit ton of bronzer, moisturizer, hair gel and cologne to pull the look off. Plus, hours of GTL.
As we were chatting, and I was growing more and more weary of meeting him, he let it drop that he had a 9-incher.
Let that sink in for a moment. A hot hunk with a huge penis? Yeah...not likely. In my experience, guys who have big members don't have to talk about how big their junk is. They like the "oh my god" reaction when disrobing in front of you for the first time. Mr. Abercrombie also wouldn't back up his grandiose statement with a picture, which I know is RULE 7, but like I said before, there isn't a rule I haven't broken (in triplicate at least). He did send a picture of this 12-pack abs. Not 6-pack, 12-pack. I counted after I wiped up the drool.
Date night came. I decided that I was going to put minimal effort into the whole process. Clean hair, natural make-up, nice jeans with a top that wasn't too revealing. I looked very girl next door, very...me. I knew that I wouldn't be uncomfortable or fidgety all night and looking like myself created an air of extreme confidence that I had no problem carrying on.
I arrived at our meeting spot exactly at our agreed upon meeting time. And waited. After 10 minutes, I got a text from him saying that he was around the corner and NOT TO LEAVE - in caps. (I was just going to pack it in and call it quits.) Just as he promised, he came into the bar looking like the most beautiful human on the planet. He spotted me, came over, put his hand on my back and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Oh! HELLO!!! Nice greeting. I immediately started to feel badly for pre-judging him. Don't worry, that feeling didn't last long. I mean, this is a blog about dating horror stories, right?!
Mr. Abercrombie took my drink order and headed to the bar. In a hot second he was back with two brews. Ahhh...liquid courage! How wonderful you taste! We started talking, and the conversation was great as long as it was all about him. It didn't take very long for me to realize that my 6th sense was right on the money. The guy was a self-absorbed asshole. I played along, and by the second drink found out that not only does he spend all of his free time working out (shocker!) but that he also still lives with his parents and tried out for the Jersey Shore! Bwhahahaha! I may have chuckled a little under my breath. Don't get me wrong, I like Jersey Shore, but who the fuck wants to be one of those little brats?! The women in bar had the same reaction to Mr. Abercrombie's beauty that I had. I can not explain what it was like to watch grown women of all ages take the long way to the bathroom so they could get a glance at him, or accidentally "bump" his shoulder when passing our table. All the while, he kept a hand on my knee and his eyes on my face while making overtly sexual comments about us going back to my place. I know this guy wasn't going to offer me a lifetime of happiness, but one night of thrills might be kind of fun.
I had a tough choice to make. Do I stand strong, and leave him at "goodnight" or do I take him home and show him that average girls rock in bed? As one of my friends texted (which I checked while he was in the restroom at the bar), "go for it girl...I'm living vicariously thru you!" So, I did.
Mr. Abercrombie was surprisingly overjoyed with the invitation and grabbed my hand, practically dragging me out of the bar to our cars. "Don't drive too fast and lose me" he said as he pulled me into him, kissing me on the mouth with some of the most passionate force I've felt in a long time. I drove slow. I used my blinkers. I forced myself not to chain smoke in the 10 minute drive to my place. And, then it hit me! I'm going to have to get naked in front of him! Ahhhhh!!!!! His perfect body will be rubbing up against my soft belly and ass...if I lean a little in one direction, a roll will pop out and highlight that last 10 pounds I've been *thinking* about working off. I know! I'll light some candles. That will ease the pain. We parked in my driveway and before I could even open my car door, Mr. Abercrombie was waiting with a smile that could charm the pants off anyone. I checked my watch. It was 10:19pm. We had until midnight before I turned into a pumpkin.
I let us in, found some matches, lite a couple of tea lights and got naked. He laid on the bed staring at me as I undressed in the candle light. I climbed in next to him and headed down south. I barely got my bearings about me before he grabbed my arms and pulled me up. He slid into a condom, then slid into me, got a good solid two strokes out and came. I was beyond stunned. Did that really just happen? Less than 30 seconds, start to finish?! What the fuckitty fuck?!?! Now, I have to add this loser onto my partner list...I mean it was barely sex. Can I get a pass on this one?
He excused himself to the bathroom to clean up (not that there was much to clean up), and before he got back I promptly got dressed and laid his clothes out for him. There would be no cuddling or small talk - just get the hell out of my house and let me call my friends, who must know about this night IMMEDIATELY. I made up some excuse about having to be at the office wicked early and handed him his pants. Luckily, he took the hint, got dressed and locked the front door behind him. Time he left...10:24pm. That's right, look back up a couple of paragraphs and do the math. Now think about the fact that he used a condom, which guys say numbs them down a little. Ha!
Poor Mr. Abercrombie. It may not have been the self-centered attitude, or the fact that there was no substance to his personality, or that he lived at home with mom and dad or tried out for Jersey Shore. All of those things a woman can overlook when extreme beauty is involved. (Kidding, I think.) But, 30-second sex? With no apology for being a two-pump chump? Get the fuck out! No woman is going to sacrifice her vagina's pleasure receptors just because you make good arm candy!
So, in closing I would just like to say...*I* am so way out of *his* league. Or I took his V-card.
(Miz Adventure's note after the post: Mr. Abercrombie has been lighting up my phone since the beginning of writing this blog post. In true asshole fashion, he would like me to "make some time to fit him in...my mouth." I guess handing him his clothes that night, not calling for weeks and blocking him from my profile didn't get the point across sufficiently. I wonder if telling him that his dick isn't anywhere close to 9 inches will do the trick? No wonder I didn't get that picture from him.)
BAWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
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