Always remember, You’re Just Part of the Pussy Collective

30 Jul
GUEST BLOGGER
 
I got involved with a player against my better judgment. I first observed him drunkenly stagger out of a bar with some girl he had just met. He took her home, and one-night standed her—then never called. He did that sort of thing routinely.
He chased me until I went out with him.  He was educated, funny and had a great job. Like most players, he was charming, and we had a blast together singing Elvis songs. From our first date, we were inseparable. We went everywhere together. I completely forgot about his being a player until….
We had been seeing each other for three months. We had pet nicknames, and had both said, “I love you.” We seemed to have a genuine connection—or so I thought. It was time to take our relationship to the next level.
We’re asleep in his bed, after a hot night of passionate first-time sex. I’m a light sleeper, so I instantly wake up when he slips out of bed. He doesn’t go to the bathroom or to get a drink of water. No. He gets up to call another woman.
While I’m laying in his bed in the pitch dark, I hear him say in a baby-talk voice, “I love you. I miss you, sweetheart. I wish I could be with you right now.”
I lay there, in his bed, stunned. I thought we had something special. I thought we loved each other. I had also asked him pointedly a few weeks prior if there was anyone else he was still interested him. He denied it. “No, baby, there’s no one but you.Why would you ask such a question?”
I didn’t confront him that night. I waited a couple weeks until his phone bill came in the mail. It was hard to pretend everything was okay during that time when all I wanted to do was scream at him. I used the bill to find the phone number, and searched through his address book until I matched it with her name.
I also discovered something else shocking from looking over his phone bill. He had several women he called regularly. In fact, the same exact minuteI left his house he would be on the phone to some other woman. He literally couldn’t wait 45 seconds for me to be out the door before he had to speak to another woman.
I wanted to see how much of a liar he was, so I set him up. Armed with my new information, I asked him again if there was anyone else. I hid how angry I was. I gently urged him to go ahead and tell me, that I would understand.
He lied his ass off, categorically denying it. It didn’t even register in his head that I might have overheard him talking to her. So, he was a liar and a dumbass.
Finally, I couldn’t take his lies anymore. I snarled, “I heard you call Ashley and tell her you loved her!! What was that about?!”
The Liar weakly sighed. Once he knew the gig was up, he freely spilled the truth. He showed me Ashley’s photo, and commented on what a “nice girl” she was. He’d met her over the summer on vacation, and they had a two week fling. It was winter when he made his infamous midnight call, and he hadn’t seen her since. He kept repeating how “nice” she was, as if I was somehow didn’t measure up. I dumped him right there.
Later on, I found out from mutual friends that The Liar had sex with a woman in a hot tub when he was on the phone to me. (I didn’t know this at the time he called, because he pretended he was alone and missing me.) Turns out she was a hooker his friends had bought him as a practical joke. I was lucky I didn’t get AIDS.
This is what you get when you become involved with a player—there’s always other women. You’re never going to be The Only One. Like the Borg from Star Trek, you’re just one of many. You’re part of The Pussy Collective. You’re nothing special. Your designation is Number 234 of 567 of The Unipussy Matrix 01.
I’m not sure how many readers would get the Borg reference. The final blog will have images to go along with the story, cause I love to do that.
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