And not feeling a wit bad about it either.
It’s so much better to be single and enjoying the company of several men than not single but hanging with the wrong one.
Rex was DEFINITELY THE WRONG ONE.
Don’t get me wrong.
I wasn’t the only one who rejected someone the other night.
Yes, I may have said, “I understand why you’re still single,” but that was just in response to him asking me my bra size then brushing it off as “a sardonic sense of humor.”
It’s not so funny when the sardonic humor is directed at you, eh?
In any case, I’m quite sure he wasn’t taken by me.
He found my wild past just a little too wild (aka intimidating) for him, but of course felt compelled to admit to me he always wanted to be in a threesome with another man and a woman.
You’d be surprised how quickly a man starts to misbehave when he thinks you’re nothing but a slut – something the men I DO date can pretty much VOUCH that I am NOT.
And even if I was. . . it’s my life, right?
“I’ve got a hard on right now,” he told me while sitting across the table from me. “Are you turned on?”
“Uh. . . no,” I replied.
So to reiterate, yes, I’m still single. No, Rex was not The One.
And to quote the late great Carrie Fisher, “Fuck me twice and cover me in applesauce” I’d rather stay that way than share one more breath in the vicinity of Rex.