How I Learned To Give Up Weed and Lap Dances In Order To Continue Sleeping With a Succubus (AKA: Ten Things 8/15/05)

Succubus (from the Latin succubare, "to lie under") : A female demon which comes to men in their dreams to seduce them and have sexual intercourse, drawing energy from the men to sustain themselves, until the point of the host's exhaustion or death.

The appearance of succubi varies greatly; there is no single definitive depiction. However, they are almost universally depicted as alluring women with unearthly beauty, often with demonic batlike wings; occasionally, they'll be given other demonic features (horns, a tail with a spaded tip, snakelike eyes and/or a Nordstrom's charge card). Though even more deceptive and cunning than a mortal woman, succubi are not immune to the vigilant feminine practice of ignoring anything resembling logic or forethought in order to impart true misery to any man attempting to achieve even relative understanding of the demon's thoughts and/or actions.

Hello all. I'm back. And as you may have guessed by now, i fear that i may have become entangled with a succubus. Now although i know very little about demons, demi-goddesses or any other mythological feminine powers prone to causing mass-destruction upon PMSing, i do suspect that recognizing the problem is the first step to solving it.

What am i talking about? Well, let's see if i can recap everything that happened over the last 2 weeks in 10 simple entries...

1.) I think I'll start with Thursday, August 4th. For those of you able to remember a time when i used to post every day of the week, you might recall that eleven days ago was my birthday. I was simply giddy. As i explained in my ambiguously-gay post that day, nearly every one of my friends and/or coworkers did something thoughtful or nice for me...aaaaand i got a new job. Yep, everything was going my way, everyone clearly understanding that it was my day! Well everyone, that is, except Miss Kitty. No, she didn't forget my b-day, she just forgot that it was supposed to be an enjoyable occasion. Despite the fact that i despise my job more than a sheep's ass hates a drunken farmboy and escaping said daily corporate ass-raping has been my top priority for the past 11 months or so, Miss Kitty couldn't find it in herself to be happy for me.
See, Miss Kitty and i live about 45 minutes apart. My current job is only about 20 minutes from her place, while my new job will be much closer to my place. Mistakenly thinking that the girl who is (as she says) in love with me would be pleased at the prospect of someone close to her heart suddenly being able to avoid an extra hour of traffic every day, i expressed excitement over my new prospects. 26 years on this earth should have taught me better. If the woman ain't happy, ain't nobody gonna be happy. But, as anyone who has previously read anything on this site will attest, my mental processes involve an unhealthy blend of slow learning and ferociously misguided optimism.
So i show up at Kitty's house beaming, excited about three things, 1. Starting my kick ass new job, 2. Seeing my wonderful girlfriend, and 3. Receiving my birthday lay. However, the instant that i arrive, i can tell something is wrong. "No, i'm just exhausted," she claims through a certainly tired-looking expression. Generally this response means that there actually is something wrong, however it also means that the problem is not large enough to produce a full-scale freak out...meaning that you may have a chance to avoid all out confrontation if you probe no deeper, avoid alcohol and make it an early evening...that way you can fight about it in the morning instead. Being that i was slated for an early morning departure, i decided to attempt the 'ignoring it' tact - hopefully she'd wind up taking her frustrations out on a coworker or a girlfriend instead.
So we go to dinner. I'm doing such a masterful job of ignoring that pouty look on her face that i've almost convinced myself that's she's just being quiet because she's bored. Perhaps this was how i allowed myself to slip up. We ordered drinks. Now, my liver already being in the initial stages of toxic shock, i have a rather stiff upper lip when it comes to alcohol. It is not uncommon for me to drink more than whomever i find in my company and still put on a far more sober appearance. Miss Kitty is the exact opposite. She turns from the most maddeningly non-confrontational person i have ever met ("he didn't mean to grab my ass honey, just calm down") into Mike Tyson without his meds in about 1.75 glasses of wine. The fact that she already makes little or no sense to me when she's sober does not help in the slightest. Another thing that doesn't help: once she gets fired up, i start reaching for round after round to quell the rugby game that has suddenly kicked up between my ears while she tries to match me. Any relief our next round brings me will be outdone tenfold by the added anger it brings her. So we get nice and intoxicated, still avoiding the all-out open fight as she stews just under the surface with her growing unseen frustration.
Finally, three sheets to the wind and apparently recalling how much i love to fight with her, i decide to ask what's wrong, again. And again. And again. Why do women do this? Why do they force you to ask 17 times before they say anything? Just tell me what the problem is or get the fuck over it!!! Even when they finally do start to spill details, they come forth as truncated statements, cryptic allusions and half-hearted hints that would do little to help even a telepathic. "You know what's wrong." "Yeah, but i enjoy asking anyway. You just get so eloquently inarticulate when you're mad, besides i miss seeing that little vein on your forehead." "I shouldn't have to tell you what's wrong." "And i shouldn't have to tell you to stop leaving the remote on top of the television, as that kind of defeats the purpose of having a remote to begin with, but life isn't tailored to our every desire, sometimes we must communicate." "You just don't understand things from my point of view." "That's because you speak in riddles, woman!!!"
If there is anything worse than fighting with your girlfriend on your birthday, it is not understanding why you are fighting with your girlfriend on your birthday. And if there is anything worse than that, it's pretending not to fight with your girlfriend over a fight that you still don't understand, in order to continue on with your plan for the evening. And if there is anything worse than that, it's not knowing what your girlfriend has planned and how those plans might affect the current oddness between you, especially when she has continually alluded to the upcoming activity as new, fun and unexpected.
When she walked me from the restaurant to the sex shop, i should have been happy. I should have been running wild under a blueberry-flavored condom sky, dancing joyously among all the happy little butt-plugs and penis pumps, as they whirred, wizzed and vibrated their immense pleasure to see me finally arrive at the promise land with Kitty in tow. I should have been in the preview booth, watching a Lanni Barbie porn, hanging from a sex swing with a blow-up doll and a dildo helmet. But no...i was wondering why my girlfriend was mad at me. While i must say that arguments are more enjoyable when you are surrounded by porn, the experience as a whole was still less than enjoyable.
Well, she bought me a couple of porns (and they were the super dirty kind that i don't normally watch with her), so the trip wasn't a total loss, but still... Long story a little less long, i wind up in her bed, with her bawling her eyes out over the fact that my new job will not allow us to see each other enough and we will inevitably break up as a result...all the while feeling just happy enough over the porn purchase to prevent getting too upset at her and at the same time too angry over the fact that she was mad about something good happening to me on my birthday to avoid being properly supportive. I couldn't help but think back to the three things that had, just hours earlier, wailed me with excitement and anticipation...but, alas, this was how i celebrated my kick ass new job with my wonderful girlfriend...by listening to her cry herself to sleep...and by not getting laid.

2.) I think i deal with stress and disappointment in my own way. Miss Kitty had to work the next morning, i did not. If there was any vestige of joy left in the shambles that had been my birthday, she obliterated it when she woke me up, thus ending my final big day wish of sleeping in. Ok, ok, i was grumpy, but i had a right to be. At least she woke me up to explain how sorry she was for "ruining" my birthday. She promised to make it up to me, vowing that the rest of my weekend would be unforgettable. She talked just long enough for me to be unable to fall back asleep when she left. So i opened one of the porns she had bought me, relieved some stress, showered and left.

3.) I think my father shows his happiness for me in his own way. No one wanted me to find a new job more than my dad. Yet somehow he managed come off sounding concerned, if not disappointed, by my choice despite the fact that it's a wonderful opportunity for me that will also enable me to escape a brutal commute. He seems to think that he can avoid anything he says being ill-received so long as he begins the statement with "I'm happy for you but..."

4.) I think it was simply idiotic to drink like i did on Friday knowing what was in store for me the following evening. Kitty and i went to the Giant's game that Friday and had a lot of fun. Afterward we picked up some of her friends that were visiting from out of town to give them a lift back to her place, where we were all staying. I thought it was bedtime...but that was before i realized that one of her friends was apparently visiting in lieu of attending his AA meetings. He scavenged through a cabinet of half empty liquor bottles and mixers, producing some god-awful creations which were promptly poured into shot glasses. It's tough to continue drinking the day after you make yourself nauseous over just about every alcohol in the book.

5.) I think i was 'sotally tober' Saturday night. The thing i was most excited about as far as my b-day weekend went was the anticipation of Saturday night. See, due to all the traveling that i do on a day-to-day basis, i have many different groups of friends around the bay area, most of whom had never met one another. At first i was thrilled to see so many friendly faces, before i realized something...when you hang out with one big group on your b-day, everyone takes turns buying you drinks, when you hang out with several segmented groups, persistently weaving your way between them and making sure to drop a hello on everyone, no one takes turns...each group buys you a shot as you walk by, which quickly leaves you with more drinks than hands (and twice as many party guests as you are quickly seeing double...this is why i think i am so popular when i drink). So i was wasted. And by wasted, of course i mean waaaaaaasted. At one point i was climbing the two or three steps to the bar, when my legs decided they were going to take a quick break. Yes, i fell. Yes, it was right in front of everyone. And yes, it was embarrassing. But i got up quickly and everyone applauded. I quickly forgot that i had done anything to be sheepish about and raised my hands to stir them on.
My favorite story from Saturday night actually took place a couple days later. I ran into a friend of mine who had promised to attend but had never turned up. "Oh, some friend you are," i chided her, "You don't even show up, just let all your friends haze the crap out of me and i don't even get so much as a happy b-day from you!" She scowled at me. "What are you talking about? I was there! I bought you a shot, we talked for at least 10 minutes!" Uh...

6.) I think i have now had 2 utterly unenjoyable lap dances in my life. Four score and about 4 weeks ago, several of my guy friends approached me with their intentions to take me to a strip club on my birthday. Ever the considerate boyfriend, i told them that i would definitely be with Kitty that evening, so i'd either have to ensure that she was comfortable with it or we'd have to do it some other time. So, three f'n weeks ahead of time, i broach the subject with her. To my amazement, she is totally cool with it (she has never much cared about me going to strip clubs, as i only do it about twice a year, if that, but she had previously informed me that although she has been to clubs before, she would be too uncomfortable to go with me). I think, "Wow, what a girl i have. What a lucky guy i am. This will be so much fun!" Aaaa-wrong!!!
About a week later (approximately 2 days after i send out an evite to everyone, of course mentioning the strip club as part of the plan for the evening), Kitty starts acting strange. So i ask her what's wrong (several times, see item #1) and finally she comes forth with this: "I just don't understand why you need to go to strip clubs when you have me. It didn't occur to me previously that other women may be touching you while you are there and i'm just not comfortable with that." This kind of thing makes my head spin. Not that it was an unfair request, maybe conservative by my mind, but not unfair and certainly not something i would fail to respect, especially since Kitty seems to see attending strip clubs as a sexual, rather than social, event. My issue was the timing. Why did she wait a week to address her concerns, especially when i tried to provide as open of a forum as i could for her to voice them? Additionally, what is this crap about it not occurring to her that women may touch me? She has friends that are strippers, she's been to more of the clubs in the city than i have for christ's sake! How can she claim ignorance?
So, I made it clear that i would respect her wishes, but i was disappointed by the way her request came about. I would now be in an awkward position when the boys and girls started hollering for us to leave the bar for the strip club and i'd have to explain why i wasn't going after including it on the invite. But fine, whatever, deal.
Miss Kitty then uses the remaining week and a half to capitalize on any situation where strippers may be brought into the conversation. Not to bash on them, mind you, but to talk about how fun Saturday is going to be. Um, did i miss something? Didn't we agree not to go? Well, apparently she had another change of heart and suddenly felt guilty for putting me in an awkward position. "We can still go. I can be comfortable in a big group. You can't be having girls all over you though, i won't like that." "Nope, no way. After all the flip-flopping you've done these past couple of weeks, there is no way i am taking you to a strip club." "Why not? I told you i'd be cool with it." "Because, regardless of what you say, it's obvious that you aren't 100% comfortable with it. And it'll be my birthday and we'll be drunk, who knows what my friends may try to pull. As excited as i was with the prospect of this to begin with, the way you've acted recently just doesn't give me the confidence i would need to take that leap with you."
But, her incessant innuendos, combined with a all the drinking i mentioned previously, finally broke me down. When the moment of truth came, she insisted that we go and, since i was far too drunk to realize that she was already uncomfortable, i relented. About 10 of us cruised into the club and found seating together. For a good while, i honestly couldn't have told you that we were at a strip club. We were talking (drinking? i don't remember...) and had sat nowhere near the stage - i hardly recall seeing a stripper for much of the time we were there. Then comes a patch of time where i don't remember much. Apparently, one of my guests attempted to purchase me a lap dance. I refused to participate in anything unless Kitty was involved, this being my sharpest drunken attempt to avoid the discomfort that she was, unbeknownst to me, already neck-deep in. The next thing i remember was sitting down in a chair, Miss Kitty sliding into my lap, and some chick started dancing a pretty standard, if not a vanilla, lap dance. Miss Kitty stayed on my lap the entire time, there was no Cowboy to stripper contact. Everything seemed ok...
That is, until we left and Miss Kitty threw a shit fit. She said she felt disgusting for being put through that and was angry at me for being "turned on" by another girl. Even after i had slipped us away from the rest of the group, the situation somehow still managed to get worse. She plops herself down on the curb (in the middle of the red light district), throws her head into her hands and refuses to walk anywhere or speak to me. Now you all may be siding with her right now, but i feel that i had been pretty accommodating to this point - at least in regards to the things that i could have possibly known about, but enough was enough. I flagged down a cab and opened the door. "I'm getting in this cab," I told her. "And if you don't get up right now, i'm going to leave you, drunk and crying on the curb in the middle of pasty-central!!!" To her credit, she did get up and get in the car. She didn't talk much, other than to babble something awful about me from time to time. I carried her up to her apartment and laid her out on her bathroom floor, too angry to babysit.

7.) I think Miss Kitty may have missed high school graduation. At some point in the course of the maturation process we all go through, we learn how to best deal with disagreements with those that we care about. We learn that our friends and family will still be there tomorrow when the anger is not. Fail to realize that and eventually you will find yourself accountable for things you said in anger but now regret, especially when what you said was particularly harsh or just flatly untrue. I'm not an aggressive or loud arguer by nature, but i can remember the last time that i truly flew off the handle in anger at a girlfriend and said some stuff that i shouldn't have. I can vividly recall exactly how that felt the next day and perhaps that's why i learned that lesson...in high school, 10 years ago! Miss Kitty is apparently not as far along in the maturation process as i would have hoped... A few minutes after leaving her on her bathroom floor and excusing myself to the living room to chat with her friends, she burst from her bedroom door, charging into the living room and flinging herself on the couch, all the while screaming this: "I hate you, Matty, i never want to see you again! You were turned on by other girls tonight and i know that you are cheating on me! I hate you and i never want to see you again! Get out!" I calmly requested that we continue the conversation in private. She refused. So i left.

8.) I think i'm lucky i'm not dead. Then i drove over to a buddy's house to spend the night. Yes, i said drove. No i am not proud, no, i do not know what i was thinking and, no, it isn't a regular habit of mine. Kitty had me waaaaay off-kilter at this point, i guess.

9.) I think women can smell blood. So that just about covers the three day debacle that was my birthday celebration. You would think that the two of us had gotten all the fighting out of our system. You would be wrong. We kept it up throughout the balance of the following week, with my one and only request being that she just warn me before the eruption point when stuff is bothering her. This seems to be more difficult than it sounds, but perhaps the problem is common sense. As proof, consider this nugget from last weekend and then understand why it is difficult at times to keep from drowning myself in the toilet when i attempt to understand her.
Miss Kitty broke up with her last boyfriend because he was a major pothead and she got tired of him being stoned 100% of the time. Now, i know what you are thinking, but i have only been stoned in front of Kitty 2 or 3 times. She knows that i smoke, but i agreed not to do it in front of her at her request early on in our relationship. Recently, she has relented a bit, agreeing that since nearly all of her friends and all of my friends do it at some point or another and i always turn it down on account of her, that it would probably be ok for me to do it in her company from time to time. (after the stripper story, can you guess how often i have tested her on this declaration? not often) However, she has always held the strong line that even if she could cope with me being high, she would never smoke again herself - she just had too many issues with it in the past.
Fast forward to this past Saturday night. We're at the Dave Matthews concert and literally every person around us is puffing on a joint. She suddenly turns to me and asks, "Do you have any weed?" Now, i am aware that i have put some of you under the impression that i am perma-stoned, but i am honestly not in the habit of carrying it on me, not to mention it was just a strange question coming from her. "Uh, no." "Do you have any at home?" "Why are you asking me this?" "I think we should smoke together." I'm always excited when it appears that she has shaken off another hang-up, but i have also learned to be cautious as she tends to be a poor judge of when the hang-up is actually gone in its entirety. "Um..what?" "I think we should smoke together." "Ok, but with the crap you have put me through in regards to weed during this relationship, i should let you know that i will never suggest that. If you want to smoke with me, you're going to have to bring it up." "Ok, let's do it next weekend," she said, referring to our upcoming outing to Shoreline for the Coldplay concert. I let the notion sink in as she kept talking. Some of it i heard, some of it i didn't, you know, typical masculine listening, that is until suddenly i heard something that hit pretty hard. "Yada yada, blah blah blah...and the last time i smoked was in Boston..." "Wait, Boston? You mean when you went out there three weeks ago?" "Yeah." "Are you kidding me?" "What?" "Do you know how much shit you have given me about weed? Do you know how many times you have sworn to me that you would never do it again? Do you realize that just last weekend, you were bawling your eyes out over the differences between us, one key one mentioned being the fact that i smoke and you never will? And do you have any idea how strange it is that not only do you suddenly change field, but you fail to mention it for an entire month, and then you bring it up as casually as if we were discussing the weather!"
Say whatever you want about pot, but does her logic make sense to anyone here? As far as the evening went, we welcomed back our good friends odd feelings and protracted silence. Oh, and i guess she has some sort of ongoing problem with fun b-day celebrations...the tickets to the concert we were at had been a b-day present to her from me.

10.) I think i'm tired of talking about Miss Kitty. So how about an update on Smokey and the famed big-busted brit with her freedom-loving chest. Well, i almost had a great story for you but, sadly, i must instead report that Smokey is actually a closet homosexual. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it just comes as a bit of a shock. Here's the situation: aforementioned busty single mom calls Smokey on Thursday and tells him that her ex will have her daughter on Saturday and she'd like him to come over and have dinner. Now, i dunno about you other heterosexuals out there, but when i have previously explained that i am not interested in a relationship to a thirty-something single mom whose breasts i have already seen, then she calls me up anyway, tells me she ditched the kid and wants me to come over, i hear one thing: She needs some dick. Well, i thought Smokey had heard the same thing when he told me that he planned on going. However, when Frodo showed up unexpectedly, Smokey cancelled on the boobies in favor of hanging with the boys. Hmm...free pussy when you haven't been laid in months (if not years) vs. hanging with the same dudes you chill with every weekend? ...i dunno, maybe he's not gay, maybe i have just provided far too much porn to that house for him to have adequate motivation. Ok, it's a stretch, but damn...