Posts Tagged ‘crazy women stories’

Written By: The Unsung Romantic (Continued from Episode 2)

Her Codename: Little Miss Manners

Category: Multiple Personalities, Control Freak

I call her Little Miss Manners (She’s a loaded cannon of fucktarded contradictions and will come up in future episodes). I based her name after those Little Miss books from the ’80s my sister would collect – I now associate a lot of them with grown women who carry the same peculiar traits.

What still leaves me bereft of comprehension is how well groomed her public performances, I mean appearances, were and yet how unabashedly filthy this girl was under the sheets, behind closed doors … in the back of a cab. This one was (is) a special kind of crazy and I think she represents more than a justifiable amount of women out there who believe that decorum isn’t only exercised on the floors of military galas, but in every fucking aspect of her life. That is, for everything except the bedroom. She abides by that age old sports locker room, military barracks meets Catholic church policy also known as the “don’t ask, don’t tell” motto.

Let me help you understand to what level of “don’t ask, don’t tell” Little Miss Manners executed this bipolar mantra:

The Action: Post-dinner at one of the wonderful gastronomic spots in Tribeca, we dart over to the piers to meet friends for more drinks. I’m suited up, she’s looking remarkably perfect and everyone we are schmoozing with admires no more than an occasional peck on her cheek from me. Little do they know what comes next in our timeline will deliver several sexual health violations. The cab ride to her place of work turned into a ride through Times Square where I found myself pants off, ass up and her heels in the air while Mr. Cabby thought it would be a benefit to him and the innocent tourists in the city to experience what all New Yorkers do in cabs regularly – fuck. This led to her office that officially reinforced my belief in a greater being and that porn does exist in real life … She asked for a “pearl necklace” on her office floor.

The Reaction: Jump to a couple of days later where I now feel as if I have reached a much deeper understanding of who this woman is, what she likes and how we conduct our business.

Phone call from me to her – Me:  “Hey babe. How are you? I can no longer look at a cab in the same way.”    Her: “What are you talking about?” Me: “I wonder who’s vacation photos we will end up in after the trip down great white way. Anyway, you looked beautiful the other night. And I feel bad for wrecking the office.”   Her: “Um, what are you talking about. What happened in the cab? Please don’t address my office as if it is a free for all …”  Me: “Uh, I’m just saying it was a great evening. Pearls and all.” Her: “I have a client coming in, but let’s grab dinner later! muah. bye!” 

I spent the rest of the day wondering if I dreamed the entire night. Were we that wasted? Did she not remember? Shit, maybe she didn’t like one bit of it. I was baffled. And then the craziness ensued. After multiple months of dating, intimacy and continuous porn sex, the aftermath that ensued when I casually offered a wink or at times abruptly stated my dirty approval was always received by the same amnesiatic responses:

“What do you mean?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Excuse me?”

I came to the self-conclusion that it’s possible I was either hallucinating, blacking out or simply losing my mind. That was until this convoluted illuminating sentence came out of her mouth while sitting on the couch after I gently whispered in her ear some not for Sunday school thoughts, “Shhhhhhhhhh. Stop it. Do you not understand? Don’t ask me, don’t tell me. I don’t do those things. They don’t happen. You have me confused for someone else. ” 

What came after was another fine romp in the sack and a morning break-up by me.

The question for you is this: Why? Why would I give up someone who was a lamb by day, wolf by night? Or is it lady by day, whore by night? You get the drift. We fellas spend all of our waking hours dreaming of a woman you can bring home to mom, marry and still have the ability to make YouPorn with, but is there is a limit to that multiverse. Is Little Miss Manners an example of that limit? For me, yes, but if a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy is your style then my advice is to make sure you have at least one good “girl”of a friend in life that is your acting dirty-story soundboard advocate to spill all of your guts to after the act.

Background Check: After further investigation, it was discovered that Little Miss Manners wasn’t so button-lipped after all. Thanks to her best friend (girls are so loyal), it was noted that not only were the sexcapades shared, but they were full-detailed monologues … delivered in public spaces.

Do you have a That Kind of Crazy story to share? Tell us and we’ll make you one of our next episodes.

Cheers,

The Unsung Romantic

 

 

 


Check out “Sex Diaries” in New York Magazine, real life sex stories from New Yorkers.

Written By: The Unsung Romantic (Continued from Episode 1)

Her Codename: Kinky Double-Lover

Category: Polyamorous (See Polymory)

Maybe this is the kind of crazy you want? A girl who is admittedly convinced that it is possible to be in love with more than one guy at a time – or more. Before we summarize the story of Kinky Double-Lover (KDL), let’s always remember our task at hand with each episode: To find out what kind of crazy is just the right amount to make you want to lose your mind for her, forever. I’m not quite there yet.

So I met KDL online under the masquerade that is Match.com. I’ll be honest, online dating is a shitload of fun, if only for the sole reason that the majority of women and men patrolling the menu pages of specimens already have severe issues dating in a traditional, conventional way. I also have an underlying theory that many of the people on Match.com have severe sexual fantasies, repressions and primal needs they mask with the task of meeting your perfect match to live happily forever after with … It is possible.

The thing with a polymorous individual is that there is a constant need for attention (sexual and emotional). Most of the time, if the male grants her with both of these stimulus packages she is unable to handle what she states she wants. So, for you as the guy, you either have to be the one to fuck her or not-to-fuck her. Unless you can find the ability to role play every couple of months into both male figures.

How did it play out with Kinky Double-Lover? Within the span of a year, we met online, went on our first date and decided it be prudent to go on a second date where the inevitable happened – We had sex. Not just any sex, but the kind of sex that automatically brands this new relationship as we are only here to fuck. Then the ultimate-inevitable thing happened – she said after texting away furiously on her phone by our fourth date, “So I just broke up with my ex-boyfriend … ” “What do you think?” This is where I first thought as the alpha-male that I was so damn good I made this girl break up with her boyfriend, which was instantly followed by me saying, “What boyfriend?” and “So, what do you want me to do now?” What I learned was that apparently she loved the way we fuck and the taste of my dick so much more than anyone before (a line she had rehearsed very well, with very many).

But here is the real truth as we fast forward one year into the future …

Over the span of twelve months, KDL broke up with me twice, said she loved me twice, got back together with me twice and at the 10th month anniversary, broke up with me a third time after an impromptu trip to Italy just after Christmas all because she was now madly in love with my Italian counterpart who had a similar name, similar job, similar age, was an ex-boyfriend and best of all – had a similar fucking-style. So similar that in a surprise email via Facebook from my arch nemesis, I found out that she had professed her love for him and me in a very convoluted double-life she was living by telling us exactly word for word these beautifully recited lines, “No one fucks my ass like you. No one. God, I love you. I could marry you.” Here is the best thing we found out after joining forces in a cooperative investigation – When KDL was saying I love you to him, she was asking me to throw her against the wall and (fill in the blank). When that got old, she would swap our roles and we’d be the fun-loving just hang out, cuddle team who would speak of a future together while she was sex-skyping Mr. Italy.

When either one of us reminded her that we could fulfill her need to be loved and be fucked like a loveless creature at the same time (gasp), she exploded into a violent storm of denial telling the other that we did not fulfill one of those elements. So in the end, she broke up with him and then, I broke up with her, leaving her to create another paradox relationship of two guys and a girl in a galaxy far-far-away.

The thing is, KDL is the polyamorous fantasy of a girl every guy sometimes dreams of. The one that wants to just be cuddly and leave you to fucking others one month, while the next she is begging for you to fuck her until she bleeds (literally) and no one else. And the best thing is, she never, ever asked me, nor him if we had other affairs going on.

The question for you is this:  Do you have what it takes to tell your ego that cuddle-fucker is most likely now and forever in search of filling continuous separate voids of sex and love? And that no matter how good you are in bed, or how much love you profess, it will never be enough for her. She will always somehow and somewhere have another kinky double-lover hidden under the sheets. If that’s your crazy, my advice is to check your emotions at the door as hard as it may be and keep your #2, #3 and more on speed-text up until the ripe age of death.

Background Check: After further investigation, it was also revealed that polyamorous KDL is a Korean-Adoptee.  We will cover the particulars of adoptees, Korean girls and Asian girls as a whole in future stories.

Do you have a story about what your “That Kind of Crazy” is? Spill it, brother.

Cheers,

The Unsung Romantic