I Earned My Nickname.

Ms. EatsPlentyOfCheeseburgers asked me recently to provide the background for all of my nicknames for people. After thinking about this some more, I think this may benefit a few others as well.

***Warning: If you are a male and you know me, you may not want to read this. (Hint. Hint. Mr. Boxer STOP READING!)***

Angel–Ex-boyfriend’s lady friend. She was such a sweetheart.
Grace Kelly–He got his nickname from Mad TV’s “Can I have your number”
Graham Cracker Express–His first name was graham and it just kinda stuck.
Granny–My hateful grandmother on my mother’s side.
HairSwoop–He has this thing he does with his hair. It’s like the Richmond comb over. We call it the hairswoop. It’s just bad, bad, bad, and he’ll be rocking that hairstyle for the rest of his life. Think a toned back Justin Bieber.
Juliet–Her and her boyfriend, Romeo, are tied together at the hip.
Mr. 8.5–You got this one already. 8.5 inches.
Mr. Bear–He has chest fur, not hair, FUR! It’s that thick. Plus, we think that if he gets on all fours, his ass would be about the size of a bear’s ass.
Mr. Breadstick–We got this lovely little nickname from the lack of what he was packing. It was a thin breadstick. One of the biggest disappointments of my life.
Mr. Delicious—Oh sweet jesusssss!!! He is gorgeous. Enough said.
Mr. Greek–Not exciting. He is from a greek family.
Mr. Mosquito–Once again, lacking in the packing. I believe my exact quote to my cousin that earned him this nickname was “If this doesn’t work out, I won’t be disappointed. I was thinking WTF is that, a mosquito bite on your leg!”
Mr. Nelson–His middle name is Nelson. Also where I got my nickname from.
Mr. NotSoHotItalian–Never been more let down in my life. His background was italian, but nothing about the way he looked was. Sadness.
Mr. Slap–He hit me. Only guy who ever has and he’s lucky he’s not dead.
Mr. Soup–He is so hot but the LAX team tells me he is a soupy, old man ass. GAHHH!
Ms. Granny–This would be another girlfriend of an ex. She was 27 I believe. Not old at all, but her mannerisms were that of grandma, or that of a freshman in high school. Based on the way she dressed, it tipped the scales to call her Ms. Granny versus CrazyBitch.
Ms. INeedACheeseburger–She thin, thin, thinnnnn. One of Spangler’s runners. She needs to eat!
Pig–I have never seen someone eat so much food in my life and stay so thin. He literally ate everything. Leftovers. GONE.
Romeo–See Juliet.
Sunshine–That’d be my cousin.

And for the most recent one that I referenced specifically at the beginning of this post, Mr. Boxer. It’s what it sounds like. He’s a boxer, along with being an athlete in several other sports.

Boys, Boys, Boys. (Notice It’s Not Men, Men, Men.)

I’ll admit it. I must have a replacement man before I move on. If I think all the way back to my first boyfriend, Mr. Slap, I easily progress through the men to this point in my life and I’ve always had one before moving on to the next. For a quick progression, there was Mr. Slap first. We dated for a year. Puppy love, high-school bullshit. First man I loved. First man and only man to hit me (don’t worry I hit him back). First man to cheat on me. First man to break my heart. You get the point. Blinded by love, oh yes sweets I was!

After that nightmare of a relationship ended, I went off to a senior military college and fell for one of my corporals. He was a year ahead of me in school and I saw him every day of my life. He made it hell, but I was damned and determined to impress him. Which, by the way, I did. Grace Kelly and I are still friends to this day. More to come on Grace.

After Grace Kelly, I moved on to Mr. NotSoHotItalian. My first boyfriend since my first serious relationship. Yeah, he was a rebound, and I knew it. He didn’t. Dropped the L bomb after a month of dating. I panicked and ran into the arms of Pig. Oh, the pig. Pig became my second serious relationship.  I loved him with everything that I had for two years. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out. We realized that we didn’t need each other in the same ways as before. I do still love him for the record, and I truly do wish him the best. But as I said, we ended, and I snuggled down with Mr. Bear for round one of our notorious relationship. The I hopped on the Graham Cracker Express. Choo Choo! No, literally, I hopped on it and right into bed. Clearly, that ended. Then I bounced right back like the jack rabbit that I am to Mr. Bear for round two. Once again, not a very bright choice.

After Mr. Bear broke my heart (serious relationship number three for the record), I scooted my way right next door to Mr. 8.5. Yeah, everybody remember him…and the size of his wood.  After I was done being gagged by Mr. 8.5, I causally slipped on over to Mr. Breadstick. A serious down grade in the food chain, if I might add. Though I never shagged him, he sure had a hold on me. He broke my heart. Stomped all over it a few days before Christmas, but not to worry. I quickly skipped my way on over to Mr. Nelson (hence where I got my nickname from). After Mr. Nelson and I had our session in the back of his Jeep, and a few other places, I drove myself to Mr. Mosquito. Oh, how I feel about him cannot be put into words (both good and bad). But even as we are attempting to figure out life, I still have Mr. Greek in my back pocket, and I do adore him. He give me what I deserve and treats me well. I just can’t make up my mind about making the jump into a relationship.

Do you see my point? I’m all over the place (as usual). Oh what I am to do with my life?! Easy, stop looking for love. Be myself first! Never settle. BE FREE.

**This of course all inspired by Confessions of a Love Addict. Thank you!**

One of my best friends, R is having a hard time getting over her ex-boyfriend. For the sake of this blog, we’ll call him Mr. Bail. I was a big fan of Mr. Bail when R and him started dating. He was so incredibly in love with her, always supportive, and he broke her out of this protective shell she kept herself in. Generally speaking, even though he’s younger than me, he’s an attractive guy and most importantly, R was very happy and as long as she’ … Read More

via Confessions of a Love Addict

The Gift That Keeps On Giving: The Stage 5 Clinger

I am fairly predictable when it comes to men. If I think your hot and I’ve been drinking, I’ll probably do something sexual with you. However, if I actually like you I prefer to not give you the nookie. On the subject of dating, I don’t date often because well most of the men I meet I don’t think are worth my time, and when I do decided to date, I will only date a guy once. Well just like with most rules, I made an exception. Big mistake. I’ve only dated one guy twice, and it’s haunted me ever since.

Now lets back it up a step here and let me explain the background before we get too deep into the situation. The first time I dated Mr. Bear* he had just recently broken up with his girlfriend of four years. Now me, being no stranger to the situation, knew he was on a rebound. I knew what I should and should not expect. I am not a standard, irrationally behaved individual. Nevertheless, we began dating. Nothing that serious or anything. After about a month and a half of dating, he expressed to me that he was talking to his ex and he felt like he should give it another go with her. Since he told me this up front, I was ok with it. I understood that he was truly in love with her and I was not about the reason he had doubts later on. So, Mr. Bear dumped me and began dating her again. We were still friends. No big deal.

A few months went by and lo and behold, Mr. Bear dumped his ball and chain. And then I did the unspeakable in my book, I took him back after he broke up with her. I will say it now, and probably again later, I am an idiot, but digress. Mr. Bear and I went on in our happy-go-lucky world. I dropped the L-bomb, because I really did and do love him. May came, he graduated. Life was good. We planned a vacation to a far western state together where his parents owned a ranch. The vacation, by the way, was awesome. I loved every minute of it. Mr. Bear just being there was a plus. Once the week was over, I returned to Virginia. Mr. Bear stayed out west to work.

Over the next few weeks, our conversations became less and less frequent and 15 days after I left, he broke up with me out of the blue. Good thing he was not in Virginia because I lost my nugget that night. A few weeks later he came home for a weekend and we had “the talk”. You know, kiss and make up without the kiss and make up part. Closure for me. In a nut shell I told him that I was not got to sacrifice a four year friendship for a six month relationship. I also made it clear that I was not going to date him again. I should have include that I was not going to have sex with him as well, but that would have been a lie. So we continue as friends. Him with his new girlfriend, Ms. Granny, that he dumped me for when he was in that western state. Me with Mr. 8.5, as in 8.5 inches of a meat wall coming at my face. Score: Mr. Bear-zero; Me-one.

Eventually things between Mr. Bear and Ms. Granny did not work out as planned. We hooked up shortly after they broke up. Alcohol was not my friend that night and definitely impaired my judgement. About a month later, we see each other again on St. Patty’s (my third favorite holiday). We end up going home together, though not entirely by choice. What I thought was going to happen was a group of us were going back to his place. Plans changed at the last minute. So here we are in his room and he has his mojo going. Homegirl was no longer interested. I was sending off “No thanks mate” and “I’m not interested” vibes in the bed like it was my job. He didn’t get it. So I resorted to cuddling as a way to ward off his advances. Then he dropped the bomb. Picture it. It’s pitch black. It’s quiet. And bam…”I thought we had an understanding.” Awkward silence. “Righttttt.” Thank god he could not see the fucked up expression on my face. The conversation continued and I honestly began to reconsider who actually had the vagina in the room. Things progressed from that awkward conversation on St. Patty’s. Mr. Bear developed a relationship with a lovely young woman, Angel. I sincerely think that she was a keeper. But as it usually happens, he fucked it up, and he was back on my door step again.

So this brings us to the present day. I am going to be in his neck of the woods this weekend. He got wind of this and started to act like a doe in heat. He’s been barking up my tree for two weeks. My cousin, Sunshine, and I were discussing how Mr. Bear’s conversation with me this weekend would play out. It went a little something like this:
Me: “So I’m not really sure what you are looking for here. I mean, do you want a relationship or a fuck buddy? Because I’m not really interested in either option with you”
Mr. Bear: …silence…
Don’t get me wrong, I still love Mr. Bear, but I swear to you if he cockblocks me one more time we are going to brawl. There is a fine line between being a friend who looks out for you, and a friend that straight up cockblocks you. So, stay tuned for updates on my weekend adventure with Mr. Bear.

*I changed the names to protect myself and them.