#this game has absolutely beguilled me dude

[algrenion]

the way i finally got to the coast in Disco Elysium and every line spoken hence "the swing set" scene has me in a trance...

[le-petitmort]

Part II – This thing is about to be a thing

In one-point-four seconds I came to the realization that I am quite literally…the dumbest motherfucker ever. First, I never got her digits. Second…I never got her digits. Disgraceful. Where was my situational awareness? It was akin to a scrawny defender putting pressure up court on the opposing team’s guard, not paying attention and running smack dab into a pick set by a seven foot chiseled like a bronze formed by the hands of Donatello, NBA center. Basketball metaphors…get used to them.

Anyway, it knocked the wind out of my sails. The reason being is that I had formulated this grandiose plan for her to make the first move beyond the first move. To engage the conversation. Open the forum. Get the small talk out the way. Allowing me to pitter patter and tiptoe my way past the threshold of awkwardness and straight to the glory road of getting to know her intimately.

By intimately, I’m not talking about straight to boom, boom, out go the lights carnal skullduggery complete with passionate wet kisses, heavy petting and cock to pussy communication. I was angling for dinner first. Not wine, dine and sixty-nine dinner either. I had it built up in my head that I was going to treat this one like a lady. Later on, I could whisper filthy invitations in her ear that would make her coo, as my hand deftly slid up her thigh towards paradise. Getting to that point would be the hard part. Or maybe not.

Maybe, I had put this particular pussy on a pedestal. Perhaps she was a cum guzzling cock whore who jumped bed to bed trolling for fat cock in the ocean of fuckery that is Brooklyn?

Mayhap, she was one of those chicks who secretly delved into her passionate side by stroking the kitty by the light of her iPhone to kinky images on tumblr. Trolling for virtual cock with selfie side boob action, a toothy smile of seduction and a user name like…say…wantonbabygirldreamsandtequilamemories.

Perchance, all that was completely off base and she was raised right by her parents. A pristine catholic girl with of heart and mind of gold, devout in her love of our lord and savior Jesus Christ who would be spending good Friday getting ashes thumbed on her forehead…or whatever it is Catholics do on that religious day. I’m agnostic so, I have zero idea and I highly doubt she’s Ms. Goodytwoshoes since I had already noted in passing that she likes a smoke and a cocktail in the evening. Plus, she wears those fancy stocking that scream “unwrap me Daddy and see the present beneath”.

Let’s get back on point. This is how much I’ve thought into her. The epitome of pussy on a pedestal syndrome. Now, we’ve had an actual conversation. Albeit, a very short conversation. Brevity is sometimes good…except when you don’t get the digits.

The face to face was going to have to happen. Overcoming my fear of ineptitude and delving into my inner rico suave. A little more toned down though, than an unbuttoned white shirt to the navel, smooth talking lothario schtick. But, more than simply me. Yep, this girl has me all sorts of fucked up.

You’re probably wondering, “what’s with all the self-loathing, dude?”. I admit it’s got to be a bit of a turn off so, here’s the back story. No, I am not a virgin who sprawls across the couch in my jockey’s eating flamin’ hot Cheetos whilst penning dirty poems to lewd images on tumblr under a username such as…bigdongdaddysearchingforhootchiecocksluts. I’m also not the kind of man who walks into a room, drawing in beautiful, leggy, big busted vixens like steel to a magnet. I’m somewhere in the middle.

A relationship failure who gets too wrapped up in his work. Which can come off as neglectful to a significant other. But, I’ve had a plan since I was eighteen that I’d be retired on a beach in Mexico by the time I was forty, with my gorgeous wife and two adorable children playing in the sand as I sip a corona and reminisce about all the good times.

You see, I like plans. I don’t like flying by the seat of my pants. Life is analytical. Meant to be linear with a point A, B, C and onward. Peaks and valleys are for the weak. Which is why, when I first spied my dream girl promenading down the crooked sidewalks of Williamsburg, I stopped the initial urge to go in for the kill and went with formulation of a process. Fucking up in love multiple times will do such things to a man.

The plan was off though, for now. I wasn’t going to be able to slap another ”call me, maybe” note on her morning coffee to pique interest. That was already done. Mutual admiration and quite possibly mutual eye fucking were already in play. She had said it herself! Not so much in those words. But, I’d been noticed. How had I not noticed her noticing me? I really am daft at this shit…or maybe I need a lightning bolt of confidence in my life?

Is this moment it? Is that all I needed was the knowledge that there was a connection from across the room that I hadn’t felt? Was there truly distant simpatico? Was kismet closer than the vacuum of my unsure, fearful mind? Do we already have a thing for each other?! Holy fuck. These are the questions whirring in my head at 5 AM. Just like the ceiling fan spinning full speed above my bed. I’m one hundred twenty miles an hour of jubilation and angst. As much as I pride myself on a linear lifestyle, I climb to the mountain summit and hurl myself into a canyon of doubt with every passing second spent thinking about her.

I can hear the city coming to life. The traffic beginning to snarl. The metal clank of bodega doors rolling open. A single bird stationed on it’s perch singing.

I should be ambling into my office, coffee cup in hand starting my so-called work day. Instead I’m counting the minutes before I jump in the shower, clean up and go finish business with my future paramour. Yes sir, I’m forcing myself to project a dose of swagger. Laying here, mean mugging like an NBA power forward who just euro-stepped his way to a thundering game-changing dunk. I’m a winner, baby! Shelve that pitiful shit, bruh. You da man! Get fuckin’ fired up!

Which is why I basically pimp walked my way to the coffee shop when the time came for action. Outfit: casual. A hoodie from my alma mater, jeans with a strategic knee rip, green Nike air force ones on my feet. I popped straight through the shop door towards the familiar blonde at the counter like I owned the place. Ya boy iz in da house! Woof, woof, woof!

“Large straight black and a skinny latte, please.” I winked, expecting she’d question why I was getting two drinks instead of one.

She went straight to brewing and giving me the inflated total. “Twelve even. Name, please.” Ok, babe, maybe you don’t understand that lives are about to change in mere minutes. A whole cosmic galaxy is about to open up. Astronomers like Neil Degrasse Tyson will be talking about the cavalcade of stars falling out of the sky because two lips met at an overpriced local coffee shop in Brooklyn. Guess I’m getting ahead of myself there.

“Stephen…with a P.” I responded.

Apprehension and giddiness course through me. Giddiness seems unmanly but, my excitement isn’t. I’m bouncing heel to toe as our drinks magically appear before me. I check my phone one last time. Knowing her punctuality, we are currently at T minus 2 minutes and counting. Ps. I am not a stalker…to reiterate.

I grab the steaming drinks and fly towards the door, nearly tumbling over a shorty with her nose buried her phone. No time for apologies, I must nail down a cozy table on the sidewalk. I want this first meeting to be something the entire five boroughs of New York stops in awe to witness.

But, there she is coming through the door just as I reach for it. The coffees are in one hand and I can feel them about to crash right into her. I swivel my wrist, going for the save. No fucking way am I flinging a skinny latte across the object of my forever affections. Fuck no. Shit. There it goes. Whoa…steady as she goes. Eye widening panic! Boom goes the dynamite! My fingers grip the cups harder and safely held. Crisis averted.

Cool and casual like that. “Here you go Iona.” I handed over her drink with a smile.

“Iona?” She looked at me puzzled.

My eyes darted, alarmed. “Uh, yesterday…when you made your order here. Uh…you told the cashier your name was Iona?” Now it was time for my own quizzical. “Your name is Iona…right?”

She blew out a breath. The kind that shoots upward, blowing a dangling strand of her bangs from her rolling at being caught in a fib eyes. “That’s a thing I do. To sound exotic.” She gave a quick shake of the head and nodded to the counter. “I change it up every day. Glenda, Marion, Billie Jean...Iona. Whatever I’m feeling like that day.”

Her hand casually reached for a true introductory shake. “My real name is Tuesday…and I already know you’re Stephen…with a P.”

My smile was contemplatively wry. “Isn’t Tuesday an exotic enough name already? I mean…I’ve never met a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, a girl has to have many faces. One must stay intriguing and beguiling.”

“I’m intrigued and beguiled.” I shot back. Somehow feeling comfortable in my skin for a change.

The corners of her lips curved. “Mutual.”

Relaxation immediately struck. My entire being at ease. A wordless infinity.

“But, I’m sorry Stephen. Much as I’d like to sit down and get to know you, I have to be to work in five minutes. I’m all about a strict schedule.” Nice! She really is perfection.

“I completely understand that.”

Tuesday fished a hand into her oversized tote, withdrawing a business card which she handed over. “I neglected to leave you my number last night. I was a little jittery over it all…well...you know.” Our eyes locked. Mesmerizing. “Will you call me for dinner?” She questioned as if there was some sort of doubt.

“Absolutely.” I opened the door, leading her through. Two fingers steadied at the small of her back. Feeling a response as Tuesday’s back comfortably adjusted.

She turned to me on the street, one last parting moment.  Words breaking apart the sweetest lips I’d ever laid eyes on. “Thanks for latte. I like a man who gets me coffee in the morning…cliché, I know.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

Tuesday paused, giving thought to one last message. “Just so you know…I don’t do personal calls or texts during the work day. So, don’t bother. I’m married to my career. I have a plan.”

I gave the thumbs up. Fucking perfection.

-bart 4.20.2019

[piscesbag21-blog]

If She Cheats, Should You Absolutely Let Her Go?

The Dating Nerd is a shadowy figure whose whereabouts and identifying details remain unknown. What we do know is that he is really, really good at dating. He’s been on more dates than you can shake a lengthy bar tab at, and he’s here to help the average guy step his dating game up a notch — or several.

The Question

Hi Dating Nerd,

I had a tough conversation recently. My girlfriend admitted she cheated on me one time with an old friend of hers a few months ago. I broke things off immediately, but we kept on talking about it and the whole time she's been asking me to take her back and give things another shot. She's adamant she'll never do it again, but I don't know what to believe. What do I do?

- Cheat Confused

The Answer

Hi CC,

No. Do not take her back. 

I know this is hard to hear. Because she must be amazing — or must seem amazing, anyway — if you're considering this question at all. If she was a reasonably attractive, moderately interesting person, this wouldn't be an issue whatsoever. You'd just tell her to eff off, feel a very mild pain, make some regrettable sexual decisions, and continue living your life.

But this girl is different, for whatever reason. You just don't want to let her go, even though you feel terrifically humiliated, and your mind is filled with images of how, exactly, you would murder the dude in question (I'd go with suffocation by Silly String). Probably, there's a peculiar way she smiles at you that makes you forget that being alive was ever difficult. She probably knows how you like your coffee and she brings it to you every morning. You have so many little in-jokes and routines that you don't know how you would communicate with anyone else.

And she assures you that she's still that person — that this was just a one-time thing, a mistake. She swears, sincerely, that she didn't really want to cheat on you. The deception is temporary. It's not who she is, deep down. Maybe she used the classic phrase so often deployed in discussions of cheating, which is, "it just happened."

Unfortunately, that's not a real thing. That's not how cheating works. In fact, it's exactly backwards.

The truth about cheating is that we all want to do it, on some level, almost all the time, and we don't cheat by deciding not to, every single day.

Think about it. How many times, per day, do you mentally sort people into the categories of 'would touch naked' and 'would not touch naked'? It's probably a high number, unless you're an asexual living on an iceberg. (Respect to my arctic asexual readership.) Even if you know it's stupid, you can't help but wonder whether your neighbor is secretly your dream girl, even though you've never spoken — something about the way she styles her hair makes it seem like she'd really, like, understand you, right? Our minds have a really annoying way of constantly wondering whether there might be a better deal out there.

And there are much more serious manifestations of this tendency that I'm sure you know all about, as well. Like, chances are, there are between one and three women in your life who you just Don't Hang Out With. That pretty person you get along with just a little too well. Your attractive co-worker who always complains about how there aren't any interesting single men, right after lavishly complimenting your new haircut. Or your ex from far back enough that you can't remember why you ever broke up, whose new profile picture makes you breathe heavily.

Every day, you look in the mirror and you say, "Today I'm not going to hook up with any of those people." Congratulations! You're a good guy. Someone should give you a prize. You're really behaving tremendously well. Remember when that co-worker invited you out for beers, and you hesitated — she just seems like a total freak in the best way — but you said no? That was great! And when that ex started sending you funny Facebook messages late at night, but you shut it down? Bravo.

You avoided danger. You saw what was coming, and you said no. Even though there are days when your girlfriend is irritating the hell out of you, you keep it together. You realize that the short-term gratification of random female attention is less rewarding than sharing your world with somebody.

Like it or not, your girlfriend faces the same dilemma. She has the same temptations. That Junior VP in her office with a closet full of sharp bespoke suits and a beguiling sarcasm? She's thought about that, for sure. She sees hot guys coming and going, and briefly questions her commitment to monogamy. But, unlike you, she said "yes" to that very tempting train of thought. Whatever the circumstance was in which she met this guy, she knew she was tempting fate, and she did it anyway.

Again, I know it's hard to hear, but it's simply realistic to say that there were a million tiny moments of decision between the moment when she kissed you goodbye and she kissed that guy hello. At every step, she knew she was getting closer and closer to cheating on you. And, at each step, she was like, "Yeah, OK, that seems like a reasonable decision." She was like, "I'm going to wear this sexy outfit when I meet up with this random male friend, just because I like wearing sexy outfits, because that's totally normal." She was like, "I thought we were just getting coffee, but, really, what's the harm in a drink or two."

Maybe she never thought, "Oh boy, time to cheat on my perfect boyfriend." She just found this dude's attention flattering, and she found the whole thing exciting. So she ignored the voice of reason in her head — which was almost certainly there — telling her that this was a bad idea.

You may want to believe that this was her one moment of infidelity. And that's vaguely possible. But thrill-seeking, unconscientious people tend to remain that way. She'll see other guys, and feel the intoxication of flattery, and she'll probably be at least strongly tempted to screw you over again. She's just a human, unfortunately, and humans tend to change their behavior only when it's absolutely, totally necessary.

RELATED: Has She Slowly Been Losing Interest? Here's What Might Be Up

And, by the way, if you don't let her go, you won't tell her that it's absolutely necessary to change her behavior. You're telling her that if she cries, and says she regrets it, and reminds you of what you shared back when the relationship wasn't a 30-car pileup, you'll forgive her. That probably won't make her change. She might change someday, but unfortunately you can't control the circumstances that will bring that about.

This is going to be a hard talk. She'll probably tell you that she still loves you, over and over again, that she loves you more than ever. That may be true. But do you really need that kind of love?

Think you could use some dating help, too? Email the Dating Nerd at askus@askmen.com.

Source: https://www.askmen.com/dating/doclove_60/65_relationship_expert.html