This is why you don’t fuck with me.
I went on a date with another man a few nights ago. So, um yeah.
So, my husband and I have hit a little bit of a “rocky patch”, so to speak. I decided that I actually have not forgiven him quite yet for his past indiscretions (see the last post). To make a long-story short, I end up (seemingly) hitting it off with this guy at the Starbucks a few blocks away. A corporate lawyer – just like Harold – but this guy is taller, younger, and actually in decent shape (still a bit soft-looking for my liking, but I can attribute some of that to his relative youth).
So, he’s 31 and going through a fairly rough divorce…honestly it kind of put things into perspective. I actually had to coax him into the date, actually. Not for a lack of desire on his end (of course), but because he’s still technically married, and it could negatively affect the terms of the divorce if he’s perceived to be dating behind his wife’s back. I told him it’s just a technicality (I’m sure his wife’s livin’ it up herself, LOL) and while there’s nothing wrong with going on an innocent date, I would be totally discrete. So, we have a nice dinner (all the while Hubby won’t leave me the fuck alone – see the screencap pic of his texts, LOL).
Afterwards, we go back to his place as things get kinda hot-and-heavy, and you know what happens? This fucking loser has the GALL to ask me if I “brought protection.” Like, literally – he REFUSED to go any further, claiming that he wouldn’t do so without “protection.” I am so fucking sick of this always being the woman’s responsibility, because you know what? It’s a double-edged sword that CUTS us every fucking time. Here’s why:
a) First scenario: The woman has condoms available. She’s a skank! Pump and dump her and move on!
b) Second scenario: The woman doesn’t have condoms, so she must not use them. She’s a skank! Pump and dump her and move on!
Wow. Just wow. So yeah…I’m not about to start playing that game. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, I check his phone, fine his wife’s number in like seven seconds, and put it into mine. We got dressed, I left. He texted me a couple hours later, and I sent THIS:
Enjoy the divorce, loser.
So, um, yeah. That’s why you don’t fuck with me.
This isn’t about sticking it to the manosphere – this is about being a body-positive role model for larger girls EVERYWHERE.
But now, I fly free – affirmed; strong…TLW. The Larger Woman.
I am majestic.