Dirtbags And The Blues

Mom, god alone knows that my stubborn belief in brighter days is all I have left. Frigid cold, the world a blanket of snow, and sunshine a rare commodity, I suppose it’s those winter blues again. Since Tim died this time of year always seems to get me down.

So, here goes. In a fit of boredom and itching to do something different, I ventured forth last Sunday afternoon to the Blues gig they have across the way. I’ve wanted to go for ages, but I’ve in the past had to work Monday morn too bright and early to risk it. Seemed like a fine idea, so I did some dancing, and it was a pleasure to see and hear an old songster from my Port days in the GTA. Actually, the fact he was featured was the other reason I went.

Yeah, em, so…I’m shaking my head right now, and frankly I’ve been stewing with this one all week-long.

Let me give you a little background. There is this older guy who hangs out at the bar, he’s a regular, and he’s almost always there when I am. Kinda short, probably pushing 60, salt and pepper grey hair, glasses, sort of squeaky/geeky type. Nice enough, and I always say hiya, and I’ll often chat with him for a bit. Seemed like a nice sort. The word harmless comes to mind.

So this blues gig runs till 8pm, and afterwards he asked if I wanted to go to another place to get some grub, as neither of us had eaten, and the place was clearing out, and frankly I’m always up for something different. I could really use some friends, which btw, I said to him not once, but MULTIPLE times. I’m abit lonely you know, and I got the impression so was he.

The other place was rather quiet, so after we’d ate he asked if I wanted to hang out at his place – you know, have a few beers, listen to tunes. He lives somewhat nearish the village, so hey Why Not? He’s harmless.

Yeah, well, wake up to the little bastard trying to push his little ding-dong into me. I’m half asleep still, when I hear him mumble something about having to get some viagra…wooh nelly…back that fucken dick up. WHAT?

I fly up out of what turns out to be his bed, grab my jeans, furious as a hellcat. I scream and yell at him about how I WANT A FRIEND. Asked him, rather loudly, WAS THAT NOT FUCKEN CLEAR? Did I not say this, um, REPEATEDLY???

You know Mom, I think some men are alittle sketchy about the word FRIEND. Of course under slightly different circumstances, but Mr.Blue.Eyes seemed to suffer from this confusion, and he’s certainly not a rarity – as I’ve unfortunately discovered.

When a woman tells a guy she just wants to be friends, there are some fairly clear rules that accompany that pronouncement – no nooky dude. HOWEVER, when a guy says that, well, that just means he doesn’t want a commitment, but he’ll still do ya, given half a chance. FRIEND to them I believe is just some temporary term they bandy about, and it can mean pretty much anything they want it to mean.

This explains why some men are homophobic I think, it’s got to be. Cause some men know THEY’D stick it in if THEY found you half attractive, whether you were interested in them or not. Even if that “friend” boundary line has been CLEARLY defined, even if THEY were the ones making the pronouncement…oh yeah, they’d do ya, drunk or not, so why not other men? Yup. Gotta be it.

Some men are confused on this little thing CALLED CONSENT…ASSHOLES!!! One is not in any condition to CONSENT to sex if they’re drunk. Yet, some men seem to think this just changes the rules of play; friend boundary or not.

So the old asshole texts me the next day, something about being sorry, and if I’d forgive him, or atleast be civil…that he still would like to see me.


Dirt bag.

I think my problem is I’m naïve. I think just because he’s some weaselly lonely guy that he’s harmless. I guess that because he seems like he’s just a nice guy who’s also alittle lonely that he will respect these boundaries. Stupid. Rapists come in all shapes and sizes – they’re weasels, and geeks, they’re brawny, they’re stringbeans, they’re ugly and gorgeous. They’re old, they’re young, they’re in college, they’re retired, they’re nice on the outside, but selfish and ugly as hell on the inside.

Lesson learned. And, I DO NOT have any intention of being civil, nor do I have ANY intention of answering his calls, or responding to one single text, heck, I’m not even going to listen to the message he left. I give ZERO FUCKS…and in this particular instance, I mean that LITERALLY.

So, that’s my news for the week Mom. Dad’s birthday is today, and I’m going out to the homestead to drink some beers and watch some NASCAR, and revel in the arms of people who love me. I miss you SOOOO much. It’s times like this I really wish you were going to be there too, cause I could really use a hug. Men can be such dicks.


7 thoughts on “Dirtbags And The Blues

  1. Hitting like doesn’t seem right here, so I’ll just say it should always be obvious what is in play, and comatose and snoring is not a good place to start from is it.


    Liked by 1 person

    • No…it is not a good place to start from. It is unfortunate that some are doomed to never experience the pleasure that comes with sharing. They have been lead to believe that satisfying their selfish desires are enough.


  2. Humans are an odd bunch of tangled assumptions and emotions. As a wise singer-philosopher once said: We hear what we want to hear and disregard the rest.

    I extend that into “we assume what we want it to be and disregard the rest.”

    Me I am rather old-school in that I think a loud, enthusiastic “YES” is so much sexier then a silent comatose partner. I hear one can buy blow-up dolls that offer about the same level of silent consent.


  3. Oh ick. Your words make me ill since the physical description is me “Kinda short, probably pushing 60, salt and pepper grey hair, glasses, sort of squeaky/geeky type.” Mostly harmless.Rather lonely.

    I hope\think\pray the similarity ends there.It theoretically could be me, or a version of me. So far it never has been – and I like to think that is true for most males.

    For one I don’t hang out in bars. So I could never use the “but I was sooo drunk” excuse that he seems to need. I had a young lady pass out at my place once. And we had been kissing and fondling earlier – so odds were good for some full frontal nudity later on…

    But she passed out. And so I placed her on my couch and covered her with a blanket. Left the light on in the bathroom so she wouldn’t wake up in the dark and panic. Then I went to my bed and slept.

    I heard her wake up in the early morning and slip out my door. She left a note apologizing for “being so tired”. And this was the odd part – she apologized for throwing herself at me when it was now clear to her that I “just wasn’t into her at all.”

    I ran into her a few weeks later on a street. She turned away but I said hello anyway and I told her I was disappointed she had left without saying good-bye or leaving me her number. She looked utterly puzzled at me – “but you left me alone on the couch…” was all she could say. Then a man she was waiting to meet came out and she was gone.

    Yet that phrase has always struck me as the saddest comment on our society I have ever heard.


    • Which is exactly why I decided to write about the experience. Its sometimes a slippery slope…but what you did was the right thing. Women are just as confused as men…and we fall into that trap of believing that if the guy doesn’t jump all over us, that he’s not interested. However, I say its better to err on the side of caution. I guess with women (and men) it does come down to self-esteem…and how much we value ourselves. A good guy will do what you did. 🙂 No one likes being taken advantage of…and its very refreshing to know you can trust someone, regardless of how much you’ve had to drink.


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