This post is going to be in two parts. I know, I know I loath two parters too!! Ok never mind fuck that! One part! But warning it’s alittle lengthy, but you can do it, I have faith…I had wrote a packed down 5minute version of the story for Abiola’s Kiss and Tell Live, but I think it’s better with details and back-story. And thus you are stuck with a two parter long post.
SIDEBAR: This is also a story I’ve sat on for a while. I’ve struggled with on so many levels, but in the end putting it out there is always best, or not. But here we go *deep breath*
You, Me, and the Stump equals three! Part One and Two!
I had noticed Elevator-Hottie since I starting working in the building 5 months ago. Ok, I didn’t notice him I straight up stared and maybe drooled at him. This man was hot, and by hot I mean HAWT!
We always seemed to be stuck in the elevator together, most times alone no matter what time of the day.
I simply chalked this up to fate!
We had exchanged a few smiles back and forth (god he had great teeth) but other then that, he watched the elevator TV and I pretended to be doing something important on my phone while I checked out his hot ass in his nice suit!
I worked late that night and as I was leaving the office around 8pm, I clicked the down button.
The door opened and there stood his tall gorgeous frame. (If I were a guy I would’ve got an instant hard on)
He smiled. I quickly looked down at my phone.
Elevator-Hottie: Can I just say something?
I looked up, mouth open from shock and stared at his beautiful face. I did not say anything, I don’t think I even nodded, but may have turned bright red.
Elevator-Hottie: You’re gorgeous! I’d love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like and are available.
I keep staring, drool may or may not have fallen from my mouth.
“Ummmm…(What ever I said here was most definitely babble and I fear evening thinking about it. I’ve blocked it from my memory)”
Elevator-Hottie: Can I get your card?
“Umm…yeah…sure” I fumbled for a card.
Elevator-Hottie: “I always wondered what you did at ‘the magazine with boobies’……”
His voice trailed off as he got off the elevator. I was planted firmly in my place still in shock and awe from the fact he even talked to me. ME!?! Did he just ask me out? HE asked ME, (ME?!) out!?!
The elevator doors closed!
SIDEBAR: I am an idiot!
I press the button the doors open (as I am already on the first floor). I walk out he is gone and there is Tom my favorite of our night security desk guys. “Smooth, very smooth!” He says with a smile.
I blew it! I totally blew it! Oh well.
But I get a phone call that night, and it was Elevator-Hottie. Seriously, I was now staring to believe in this ‘fate’ stuff.
Our first date was to be an after work drink. Although in all honesty I didn’t go to work till the end of day cause I was picking out the perfect outfit, getting my hair just right, doing nails, and all the girl (yes sometimes I’m like that) stuff!
We had a seemingly perfect first date. We had great conversation, I didn’t get to drunk (a usual first date flaw on my part) we ended up grabbing dinner, all in all a great date. As we were saying our goodbyes he gave me a “had a great time” accompanied by a pat on the shoulder.
He hates me. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third drink, maybe I talked to much, I probably swore to much, maybe it’s cause I made fun of him…..urg such is my life!
But he called me. And he kept calling me.
Now Elevator-Hottie was everything you’d want in a man, especially in a Manhattan man. Tall, unbelievable handsome, very well educated, good family, owned his own apartment with a park view (and not stand on the toilet in the bathroom tilt your head kind of view, we’re talking a view!) He had great job, and he even a summer house.
Date number 12 rolls around and the most action I’ve gotten is a peck on the lips and a pat on the back hug. And a few flower arrangements sent to my office.
I mean come on, a girl cant wait forever. In my dating world 12 dates is pretty much an engagement! So you better pony up! I was so confused by the situation, and never been in one like this before. Plus, I like sex so I was alittle upset on that front too.
I was also struggling with him because as perfect on paper as he may have been. He really didn’t make me laugh. OK, I shouldn’t say that he was funny he would make any normal girl laugh alot. But I need and want a guy who makes me spit out my drink, maybe pee my pants just alittle bit laugh! (It’s a requirement)
My friends all pushed me towards the ‘perfect on paper’ and said to ignore the other details.
Oh right, I’m forgetting that one other detail. You see for all his great perfect on paper points, there’s one little thing he didn’t have.
One quality mister-perfect-elevator-hottie-on-paper was missing.
Actually, it was more of an appendage then a quality. You see Elevator-Hottie was missing his left leg below the knee. He had a prosthetic, no leg, a whatever you want to call it………There was no leg!
So I rationalized his lack of physical contact as a shyness of his stump.
Maybe it was all scared up and nasty! Maybe it was shaped funny. Maybe he was scared I’d want to lick it during foreplay.
All I knew was if he didn’t take my pants off on this our 14th date, it’s over.
Leg or no leg : Over!
I get a Text message: Instead, why don’t you come over and we’ll order in and watch a movie.
Thank you Jesus! Come over and watch a movie IS and has always been code for come over and have sex!
But now I was terrified. I frantically spent hours googling sex with one legged men, and so on. These results turned up nothing but scary porn, and creepy craigslist ads.
This was it. You see if the sex is amazing, I guess I can get over the lack of gut hurting laugher. Plus, I was starting to really like him. NowI was more nervous then excited.
I show up at his apartment. I walk in the door and he jumps me. Wow! Like throws me against the wall, jumps me.
Where did this guy come from?
Lips are intertwined, arms are throwing and ripping off clothes. This one legged Hottie was on a mission! And his mission was me!
We take this action into the bedroom. We’re doing it, and we’re doing it. Oh and we’re doing it! And it was really great. And did I mention the view of the park from the bedroom!? The whole thing was hot and amazing!
I’m in the moment. Really in the moment, and then he decides he wants to take a trip…downtown !
And as I lay there with my eyes closed enjoying his downtown adventure I hear a soft whisper in my ear.
“She’s good isn’t she.”
I look over. I look down. I look over. I look down. I look…I look DOWN!
And there between my legs is this mass of grey hair.
I jump back! So fast and hard I hit the headboard and the back of my head started to bleed.
There at the foot of the bed is this …..Old Lady.
Now not just old, we’re talking tales from the crept, old lady boobs to her knees, fucking Old Lady OLD!
As I’m picking up my stuff I’m speechless. More shocked then when he asked me out in the elevator. I kept looking at him and his perfect body his mouth was moving, something about it being ok, how he wants me to stay. I kept looking at her with her really not perfect body saying something about how he was right I am really pretty.
And I couldn’t say anything. Maybe it was just the surprise of it, maybe it was the feeling that I was pretty much just violated by an old woman, or maybe it’s because I hit my head so hard I was pretty sure I was dying of a brain bleed. I was shaking and in shock, and just wanting to leave.
As I ran out in my jacket, one shoe and holding everything else I came in with. I walked into the bar across the street asked where the bathroom was and said I was coming back for shots!
As I put my clothes on I held back tears. I don’t know why exactly, but I had never wanted to be more loved and cherished by a man then in that moment. It sounds odd I know, but all I could think was why couldn’t I meet a nice guy, why does every guy I meet need to be an asshole douchebag or a freak. Why won’t anyone ever just love me. What was wrong with me?
Because just when you think someone is perfect on paper you realize their grandmother is doing the book keeping from inside the closet, or under the bed, or wherever one hides a walking swinger of a corpse!
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