Posts Tagged ‘dick lambert’

Written By: Dick Lambert

Sorry, I haven’t been posting my adventures recently. I am going to catch you all up and also say goodbye, as this will be Dick’s last post.

I recently, had a house guest for a few weeks. A friend of mine from high school is getting divorced and he needed some time to recharge his testosterone at my man cave. Nothing cures a discouraged heart better than getting right back on top of or behind another woman, so we set out with Operation Wingman.

Operation Wingman has a few key ingredients: one is a dive bar where the drinks are good n cheap, two the women are plentiful, and three a friend who knows the fine art of wingmanship. I was looking forward to helping Ned out because he was going through a tough time, while he is handsome, Ned is an awful closer. Plus Ned hadn’t really seen the full Dick in action so I was going to show off a bit.

We hit the bar at 11:30 pm enough time for anyone there to have already gotten a buzz on. Ned eyed two women he was interested in and in a brazen move walked right up one and started chatting her up. Ned was just plowing through trying to be bold. I had to rescue him as he was like a bull in a fine china shop. Once I reared him in and helped him get his drink on we casually saddled up next to his second pick, let the games begin!

I wish I had a good name for this particular wingman technique, your suggestions are welcome. I played to perfection the role of funny but obnoxious friend that goes a little to far. I started the ice breaker off by talking about an unusual viewpoint on the movie Forrest Gump. I then poll those around us, lo and behold the woman Ned is interested in. No matter what her opinion I tease her, disagree, and bust her as much as possible in a playful manner. The wingman is great because you are loose and on your game because you don’t care, there is no pressure for yourself. I say playing the wingman role is great practice in general for picking up woman. Now, here comes the tricky part, you want to make Ned seem smarter, funnier, and a better choice. You do not want to flip her to yourself that usually causes problems between you and Ned. I make sure this doesn’t happen by occasionally pushing things in the kidding around a little to far and there is Ned to rescue her, offer her a smoke outside, another drink, and a dance all to rescue her from my sinister clutches.

Ned is such a bad closer that he goes outside for a smoke without her. I tell her straight out look what you have done. My good friend from way back is outside by himself, smoking while you are in here being made fun of by me. I think there has to be some sort of rule that you aren’t following, do you leave your girlfriends alone to brave the women’s room alone? Im pretty sure you aren’t suppose to leave Ned alone. She complies because by this time she knows the dynamics of our group, I’m the funny but obnoxious one, Ned is the very funny (laugh extra hard when you are the wingman), employed traveler.

By the end of the evening I invite all to the diner for some grease to settle stomachs. I of course make up some outlandish reason my car is full and I have to stop home so Ned and her will have to ride together. They never make it to the diner and Ned gets his freak on at her place for the next three days; my man cave is mine alone!

I have also been hard at work breaking into an ex’s new circle of friends at belly dancing class. I have met the women after class at the local bar on two occasions. I have shown I am funny, smart, tall, handsome, man of means who can thrive in a pack of sexually aggressive liberated belly dancing women. My X is doing her part of the wingman by downplaying we use to go out ages and ages ago. I’m torn between two of her friends. The belly dancing instructor herself or the young Latin gal. I even come to the performance showcase and afterwards close the dance floor with them. By the way this is the best advice about dancing with a woman I have ever seen.

I start a little dance circle, a little conga line, and just have silly fun. The young Latin girl is into me and the belly dancing instructor takes every opportunity to check me out, impressed I can have fun dancing. I eventually choose the young Latin woman, Marisa.
I figure I can always come back to the dance instructor.

I bring all the A game to my first date with Marisa. Our first date is the gun range and drinks or what I like to call Shooting and Shots (in that order always!). If you have never shot a rifle or pistol before you should go with some of your friends. It makes for a fun first date because its exciting, you can show off a little, on a primal level guns are sexy, men who can handle themselves with a firearm is sexy, and a woman with a gun is sexy, its win-win. I also like the gun range because you can have a lot of fun with body language and some non-creepy touching. Help her grip the pistol, help her spread her legs even with her shoulders, shift her hips to the side, look down sight, control your breathing, and lean into the recoil. Afterwards we are doing shots high on the excitement from the range and then down the street from her parents’ house, making out in my car.

Here comes the part where I explain why this is my last post. I got a lot of high fives from Ned, my other friends, and some great feedback from our readers, and of course Miss Singlefied herself. Meanwhile, through this I started dating this one woman who I met online. I’m not going to even make up a name for her here. We have been on three dates and haven’t even hooked up yet. Out of all the ladies: Marisa, belly dancing instructor, and the others along the way I’m more myself around her, I make all the mistakes I implore you not to make in my previous posts. I think I have reached a time where I find if I play the game too well I outplay the organic development of any real connection or feelings. Marisa and I played a perfect game but it wasn’t much of a challenge, I wasn’t being myself, I was really just Dick Lambert looking to win and score, somehow more and more it feels unnatural and I feel alone. By playing the game too much and too well you play yourself out of romance and love, like the difference between a delicious homemade cherry pie and a diet artificial supermarket cherry pie if there was such a thing.

Playing the game is fun, but with the girl who really matters, you just have to play yourself. Gentlemen, it has been an absolute pleasure.

Happy New Year.

I love sharing my illicit experiences with you guys. I hope they titillate and inspire you to new levels of lewd and crude ways to get off with those heavenly creatures we call women. I have a lot of success without a doubt but sometimes I feel like the Anti-Dick when I fail. When I do fail it is in spectacular fashion, so without further ado let me share with you the last two weeks.

I hang out with this one female and it is obvious to all that she worships and is completely intimidated by me. Let’s not mince words, she is obsessed with me and would do anything for me. Sounds great right? She is marrying material except I don’t want to get married. She is also a tad below my high standards for looks. Lets face it, I love having some nice arm candy wrapped around me that others covet and do a double take while thinking how does a guy like that get a girl like that. Otherwise, she is pretty damn awesome; smart, witty, sweet, shares some of the same hobbies I enjoy. But there is no chase, no pull of chemistry, it just seems too damn easy for me. I know what would happen: I would take her for granted and a few weeks from now write about how I hooked up with her cousin or mother. Meanwhile, we go on these “NoDates” together, you know dinner and a movie but no affection. Today she jumped into my car for another “NoDate” and had a gift bag of a bunch of cute thoughtful gifts. I’m tempted but I don’t want to run over her heart.

Meanwhile, on top of my plethora of “NoDates” I have this young female friend on XBox Live. We met playing Team Fortress 2 together. She is sweet but awfully young like just now she is legal. She is a good player though, so we chat on our mics from our separate lives but we have been playing together for so long inevitably we became Facebook friends. Well, this week she admitted in a tirade of heartfelt messages that she wants me to marry her non-English speaking mother so one they get their green card, two so her mom doesn’t grow old alone, and three because it would be nice to have a father figure around like me since I don’t talk down to her when I give her good fatherly advice. The messages were so serious and desperate they pulled at my few heart strings. The next morning was a final message from her saying her mom said we should all go to the zoo together.

Am I getting soft?

Then finally my one good friend calls me up saying he has found the perfect girl for me. She is this cute hard edge death metal chic who is Jewish and harbors some dark Nazi sexual fantasies she hasn’t found anyone to fulfill with. Now, I am perverted and twisted but Nazis? I always say try it once for it’s better regret something you have done then regret something you haven’t done but how down the rabbit hole would this take me? None of this stopped me from looking her up on Facebook. She is skinny, tough, but soft, Israeli woman, who defiantly loves Death Metal. Speaking further with my friend, apparently he and four other friends had a conference with her at the local bar to sell her on me. Now, I know all about her and I could see us getting together and all that implies but again not only is that some dark twisted shit but it just seems too easy.

The last weeks were just a slew of belt notches in the waiting from the friend willing and waiting to be sacrificed on the penis alter of Dick Lambert, the desperate illegal non-English speaking mom of a video game teammate, to the sick little songbird that wants me to break her further. Aren’t there any normal women out there? Anyone up for a good ole fashioned chase?

Even I know the exquisite pain of the guy who goes home alone because without the bitter baby, the sweet ain’t as sweet.

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I will admit things had slowed down somewhat for me between work and real life drama lately. I had been hanging out with a woman more and more and somehow I just couldn’t close the deal and was going to end up in just friends land. This past weekend changed it for me.

Every Fourth of July I play paintball for a number of years. I have been playing paintball off and on for awhile so I am pretty good at it. Fuck it why be modest? I am great at it and I’ve been featured in a paintball magazine or two.

Since it was Fourth of July, the paintball matches were war themed. Our referee, this cute short college sorority “I just wanna be treated like one of the guys” firecracker took us on the D-Day field. Half of us are Americans storming up this hill against the other half in four bunkers as the Germans. I am on the bottom right with three other guys. She blows the whistle and we storm Normandy. Paintballs are flying all around us, teammates are going down, and we are pinned behind cover, paralyzed in the moment of faux warfare.

I yell to the younger guys to cover me so I can get to the next part of cover. They cover me laying down a flurry of paintballs. I make it and manage to take out one enemy. I then yell to the guys to flood this side and cover one another on three. Ready! For America! 1! 2! 3! We storm the shit out of the other team wiping out all the remaining enemies. High fives and fist bumps all around. My cadre of players is formed for the day and I lead them from win to win.

The ref pulls me aside later on when we break for lunch by the equipment rentals and gives me her phone number and kisses me full court press. After my testosterone soaked gamer day of paintball, I am late and unshowered to meet my soon to become girl who is a friend. I am feeling super ballsy and confident that when we are told dinner will be an hour and and half wait at the restaurant, I make another bold move as we are leaving in possible defeat.

I jump the fence for the outdoor dining section and ask another couple if we could join them as my friend needs to eat she isn’t feeling so well. They agree and we are nom nom on some good chow without an ungodly wait. I am telling my story of p-ball glory to my girl soon to be just friends when I see it. That moment on a woman’s face when you can see she has decided she is going to fuck you. I speed through dinner and get her home in time for our own fireworks.

I’d give details but its 7:21 am and we just finished our second marathon session of sex and I have to meet this blog deadline. Plus, I might just make this one an actual girlfriend.

Who am I kidding I’m still a dick.

Written By: Dick Lambert

The saying is “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” unless you did what I did in Vegas and it was so terrible you just have to hear it.

My first mistake was going to Vegas for two weeks with then girlfriend Mirna. When traveling to Vegas never import your own chica. Vegas is the land of lust and honey if you have the money and should be traversed with your amigos. I had visited the city of sin numerous times, this was the first with girlfriend in tow.

Here I was with Mirna in Vegas at the Flamingo Hotel, which by the way is a great cheap hotel in the middle of everything and has one of the best pools on the strip. Mirna was without a doubt one of the most beautiful exotic dick holsters I have ever claimed repeatedly as my own. Peruvian but that not so pure Peruvian, more mixed with a little Indian. She had to one of the darkest, luscious manes of hair adorning that empty vapid creature’s head. I took every opportunity to wrap my cock up in her hair and cum all over it, not because I had some strange hair fetish but because her hair was just so stunning, she was a bit of a haughtiness to her that I liked to reduce, and I told her it was great for her hair. Mirna was beautiful like I said but she was also so very very dumb. Once, she asked with all the seriousness a four year old musters when asking daddy a question, “Dick, why do they call them buffalo wings? Buffaloes don’t have wings right?” Three things about beautiful vapid vacuous women: they love to get fucked, they will always take you back, and you will take them for granted.

The second week I was very bored of Mirna and if I cared to notice she may have been tired of my particular line of bullshit also. One night she turned in early and I hit the strip clubs. I ended up in one of my favorites off the beaten path and found Amber, a regular dancer who remembered me from previous visits. Three hundred dollars later, I am naked with Amber re-familiarizing myself with her degrees of flexibility. An hour or two later after many gin and tonics, I am back at our hotel lobby and I have the stripper stank about me. Strippers wear an obnoxious amount of perfume to mask any BO they may have, mask your disgusting scent, and lure you to lead with your cock. I needed a shower before I climbed back in bed with Mirna.

I looked for the hotel’s gym and instead locked eyes with a Lynn. Lynn was a blond soft skin doe-eyed prostitute with cold eyes that told a different style of her mercenary occupation. She says in a fake southern accent, “I saw you looking and it’s alright as long as you’re buying me (long pause) a drink.”  I asked her if she had a shower and she said no and it would have to be my room. I slur “alright.”

I quietly open the door to our hotel room and duck into the bathroom with Lynn without turning on a light. I tell Lynn we have to be quiet, my girlfriend is asleep. Lynn laughs and says if it ain’t the girlfriend or the wife then it has even been a cousin once or twice. We hurriedly disrobe and step into the shower. Lynn obliges and actually washes me and herself quickly and playfully. I struggle to get the condom on and Lynn offers her professional one handed assistance. We are intertwined in one another’s arms, our eyes locked, and it is far more intimate a scene then I am used to, even with Mirna of late. She holds my gaze and makes me pick up the pace until I cum. She cleans me off and I shut off the shower. I hear Mirna ask what I am doing right as I am about to sneak out of the shower with Lynn. Mirna asks who is it and I tell her I had to shower, I took a walk on the beach and room service brought up some towels. Lynn says in Spanish, “Thank you Mr. Lambert, have a nice evening.” I get in bed with Mirna and she comments how nice the hotel staff is. My heart is racing and Mirna notices and I tell her how much she excites me. I finish the triathlon half-assed limp, spent and exhausted clinging to Mirna.

Viva Las Vegas!

Written By: Dick Lambert

I am torn at times between the sentimental notions of romance put forth by today’s romcoms, my insatiable lust to fuck like a rabbit, and the stark realization that sometimes I find women too much trouble to deal with on a romantic or even lustful level. Guys, let’s all admit right here right now if there did not exist the slightest hope of fucking any woman in our deranged mind, would we actually bother speaking with them? I sometimes more than others think the answer is no.

That very reason is what has at times led me to taking part the oldest profession in the world and I am not talking about politics. Yes, there certainly is a stigma around prostitution but I don’t think it really has impacted the business, no matter the economy, men still need to get their drink on and whores.

A friend and I were going to a strip club together around Christmas. Oddly enough my friend was married at the time to a stripper. Go figure. We really have no limit to our debauchery. We stopped at a nearby ATM when two blonde Brazilian women pulled up next to us in a black open top Jeep. Using very poor broken English they asked us where the club was we were about to head to. Patricia (her real name because really who gives a fuck, she is a whore) and her friend whose name escapes me as I didn’t fuck that particular whore, both followed us.

After the club closed we followed the girls and their pimp to their brothel apartment in a convoy of sin. I got Patricia because she spoke a little broken English and the other whore only spoke Portuguese. Patricia was young, with that amazing natural tan Brazilian skin that you want to run miles on with your hands, tongue, and dick. She was petite with small tits but an amazing Brazilian ass hung on that tiny fuckable frame like a masterpiece by Gauguin.

Same quick words of wisdom on whore fucking;

1) Trust your instinct if you think she is a diseased skank, she is.

2) Don’t be afraid to slow her down and take control as it’s on your dime. She just wants to get it over with. Slow her down, it’s your hour and it’s an hour, not a race, to make you cum.

3) This is your chance to get some freak on. She likely won’t say no, at worse charge you a little more. Gain some real world fucking experience and practice on that whore.

I slowed Patricia down and put her in doggie happily slapping that delicious rotund ass around. I was fucking like Santa Claus jingling this Latina ass like the dirty little reindeer she was, too much Christmas reference? One of the best things to do with a whore is to figure her out like a the puzzle all woman are and get her to cum. You do have an hour. Patricia started moaning and I started moaning. I heard my friend in the room next to me and his girl. I also heard the pimp probably in the living room getting his lemon squeezed by some other girl. Soon enough it became a symphony of moaning, then it became a competition between the three of us, and then finally it just became comedic to us all.

I heard my friend laugh and turned to see him and his girl standing there naked making moaning sounds. He suggested she help me and Patricia out. She got on the bed and started licking my balls as I continued to pound Patricia. The pimp walked through the room, smiled at us, and grabbed a towel, completely naked, so surreal. I tried to get my hours worth but with the frantic ball licking, Patricia’s perfect ass slamming into me, the natural warmth her body gave off, and my desire to end this weird situation brought me to a satisfying climax. I got my money’s worth, all of it BS free, no drama, no craziness and maybe Patricia one day bought a house or at least got herself some English lessons.

Singlefied does not advocate prostitution and asks you to respect your state laws.

Written By: Dick Lambert

Roxy had an annoying roommate who was always home and I had at the time a roommate who smelled like cheese. The roommate dilemma left Roxy and me with romps around the office in the copy room, on the conference table, in the break room, and after happy hour we would rent a hotel room for sex. One night, though, our usual fuck session went a little different.

Roxy was riding the red tide, had her friend, the curse, Aunt Flo was visiting, yes, she had her period. This wouldn’t stop our weekly ritual of fornicating on the sheets of the local hotel. Roxy was a lusty and sultry Latin woman who had this delicious tanned olive skin and hips that had to be the most dangerous curves I had ever driven upon.

She had complained about not feeling very well. I knew something wasn’t right when I was taking her from behind on the bed and instead of the usual flesh slapping noises, I heard a more squish squish sounding noise. My cock also felt like a thermometer in the mouth of someone with a 110 fever. I looked down at what is usually one of my most favorite sights, Roxy’s ass cheeks backing up into me while minute ripples play across her skin. I instead saw a lot of blood on my cock and all around me.

I paused for a moment and pulled out. This made a pretty sickening sound that would have given a lesser man pause. The biggest, deepest red blood clot followed after my cock and plopped onto the mattress. Roxy urged me to continue as it was making her feel better.

I, of course, always the gentlemen continued with much earnest. The more I pumped Roxy the more blood that gushed everywhere, on me, on her, and on the sheets. My knees now were covered in blood as it just pooled on the over-soaked sheets. Finally she came. She was still bleeding and now I was a little worried. We used up all the extra sheets, blankets, and towels in the room. The room looked like a crime scene from CSI.

Roxy wanted nothing more then to get out of there so we split leaving behind this destroyed pile of linen and towels for the poor maid to clean up. I left a big tip for the maid and scribbled “Sorry!” on some paper. I fully expected at some time to either get a dry cleaners bill from the hotel or a call from a detective asking me to come down to the station for some questioning.

Written By: Dick Lambert

I was at a local club for an early morning DJ set from one of my favorite DJs.  There was immediately one woman who caught my attention. She had short brown hair in a cute bob style, a pacifier, little daisy duke shorts, and a spaghetti tank top with a unicorn on it. Filling the tank top were wonderfully small tits and perky nipples looking to escape. Susan was her name and she was certainly enjoying the moment as she was sitting on a big woofer speaker. Usually, when I go dancing it is for the music and to dance, not so much to pick anyone up. This time was different.

I approached Susan and offered her a bottle of cold water. The cold water offer is an awesome ice breaker because it’s not alcohol and doesn’t scream I want to get you sloppy drunk and do unspeakable things to your hot tight lithe body. The water bottle move says “hey it’s hot in here and I thought you might like something refreshing, aren’t I a swell guy.”

She readily accepted the water bottle and signed to me “thank you.” I don’t know sign language but I figured she said thanks. I made a cute little bow to her and said how much I love this club. She nodded and pointed at the DJ and said she was a huge fan of his. I agreed and also learned she could read lips, which was great because she was literally sitting on the woofer speaker and all the bass was being channeled through her body and into my ears.

We ended up dancing for the entire DJ set, getting ourselves worked up. She told me she loved anything techno because she could feel the music. I took her to her apartment and that’s when we got freaky.

Susan kept the music on loud and blindfolded me. She wanted me to experience a heightened sense of touch without my eyesight. She loved rubbing my dick all over her and I’d have to guess what part she was rubbing my dick on. If I guessed right, she rewarded me a lick on my dick’s head or a quick slip into her warm pussy. This carried on for as long as I could take it, until I took the blindfold off and picked her up and backed her against the wall. I tried to keep a good rhythm to the music. I’m not sure what got into me, maybe the naughtiness of her sensory deprivation game, but I started talking really dirty to her.

Usually when you are first with someone, you slowly test the waters and gradually escalate the dirty pillow talk, until you reach their acceptable raunch level. I was really into it, saying all sort of nearly vulgar things, like “can you hear me pounding your pussy?  I can hear how wet your pussy is, you whore.” Then suddenly, she slapped me hard in the face! This wasn’t a playful slap, this was a slap that brought me to a stop. She then said, “hey dummy I may be deaf but I can still read your lips, and hear most of what you are saying, so roll it back a little.”

I did as I was told and we finished together on the next song.

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Written By: Dick Lambert

“Every dog has his day” is an old saying originating from Shakespeare’s Hamlet “Let Hercules himself do what he may; The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.” Now, never say you didn’t learn anything reading my posts.

One particular day I was bringing around my trophy girlfriend Christina to watch football with my friends. I had no other motive than to show her off. Christina was a wonderfully vapid, voluptuous and wonderful tart. Long curly springy blond hair that seemed to dance teasingly around her plunging neckline. She had two wonderfully full scoops of vanilla ice cream breasts that she adored showing off. Yes, and for once they were real! Nice long legs sculptured from time at the gym and an outrageously black short skirt which she would happily have to maintain throughout our stay a dollop of demureness. Please do note that I flaunted Christina around not out of arrogance but to inspire.

Just as I was putting ass to seat, cracking open my first beer, and completely prepared to watch some football and my friends drool over Christina, in comes my friend’s huge akido dog named Hiro. Christina is bending down to reach her drink on the coffee table, more a curtsy bow than anything. Hiro without missing a mark bounds into the living room and knocks Christina on all fours and mounts her.

Hiro goes from zero to sixty in milliseconds and is madly humping away on my date. Christina at first is dumbfounded, then she yells to get him off of her. Only, we can’t as we are paralyzed by the shocking sight of Hiro humping Christina with total abandonment. Then collectively we realize the dog is in such throes of ecstasy that to interrupt could risk one pulling back a stump instead of a hand. Christina is trying to crawl away but Hiro is secured fast around her hips going to town. I can’t do anything but laugh and luckily Hiro’s owner quickly regains perspective and rips Hiro away from his passionate lovemaking.

Christina, embarrassed, pulls down her skirt and as red as I have ever seen anyone, commands me to take her home. I comply of course, missing the game. Christina breaks up with me because I didn’t do anything but laugh.

We at Singlefied do not condone bestiality; we do believe that if you keep reading Singlefied you will have your day and hopefully days, you dog!

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Written By: Dick Lambert

Heather was a beautiful auburn hair, dark eyes, athletic type with all the prerequisite curves. My friend who served in the Navy with her introduced us when she was on leave.  He had a crush on her but was never able to seal the deal. She was also tough as nails as she was an arc welder. Heather was an outrageous flirt. Soon though we would all learn that Heather was all sailor and we were all just ships for her to jump from one to the other.

Heather and I fucked around in my dorm room often. I did notice even when my friend had introduced her to me that she was a flirt and she continued to be around any guy friends I introduced her to. Things were going pretty well until one day when I saw her on campus with one of my friends I had introduced her to. This lone ship passed the USS Heather and in tow the USS My Friend Who Could Just Shrug at Me. I was a little wounded. We weren’t exclusive and I couldn’t really blame my friend or Heather for that matter either.

A few days passed and any prideful wounds were quickly healed up when Heather came by to visit seemingly just to blow me. There was teeth involved and it was pretty rough, but enjoyable. I was feeling pretty good one day until I walked into our bathroom to take a piss. I immediately heard her moaning in our bathroom shower during a dorm party. Our bathroom served me and my roommate and our adjoining two roommates on the other side of the bathroom.

There was ice all over the floor, and our beer balls strewn about the bathroom floor as we usually packed our shower with ice and beer for the party. There was Heather in the shower with my other roommate. He had her bent over with her arms against the wall, suds and water everywhere. She saw me and smiled and said to me in her husky sexy voice “fuck me.” Threesome in the shower. I got another great wet blow job where my roommates thrusts were what was moving her mouth back and forth on my dick. We both came at the same time and yes, in a moment of sheer locker room joy, high-fived each other.

We learned later on that Heather had worked her way throughout our dorm room floor onto the the next one. We figured that out when we all met accidentally at the local clinic to get checked out just to be sure. She did return after another leave and once again it was Fleet Week on campus.  All ahoy the USS Heather!

Written By: Dick Lambert

We have spent some time together now and I think I owe it to you, my readers, to tell you a little bit about me. You can learn a lot from someone’s success but you can learn a lot about someone by their failure also. Yes, it’s true even Dick fails from time to time and here is one of those times.

I lived with two women in a fantastic rented house. My one roommate Erin was a bartender and my other roommate Susan was a college student. The setup was awesome because Erin could hook me up at a bar and Susan exposed all her friends to the power of Dick. One day, I rode my motorcycle to Erin’s bar and as I pulled in, some douchebag in a Porsche pulled out without looking, almost clipping my motorcycle. I entered the bar a little frazzled and saw Erin serving two women. One of them was absolutely stunning – Leyla. I won’t even waste your time and mine with details about her other unremarkable friend.

Leyla was an arresting Eastern European, taller then me without my motorcycle boots on; flawless complexion, a healthy sculptured ass, a gravity defying perky rack, stunning almost supernatural eyes, and that wonderful aloof frosty way about her that I so adore in Eastern European women.  A weakness of mine is Eastern European women, as they are either dumb as a bag of hammers or Physics 172 smart. Leyla was Physics 172 smart.

I sat down next to Leyla’s friend and said hello to Erin. Erin placed my drink in front of me without me ordering anything. Leyla’s unremarkable friend said the only thing I would listen to, “Leyla, you should break up with that asshole.”  I quickly chimed in, “Especially if he drives a gray Porsche, that idiot almost hit me.” Leyla’s boyfriend was indeed that guy. The evening goes on and I supply them both with a steady amount of drinks from Erin. I learn that Leyla’s boyfriend is better looking than me and owns a few dry cleaners, but is a complete tool.  A few times when Leyla speaks, I feign that I can’t hear her so she draws in closer. I quickly figure out that Leyla is very smart so we start talking physics. Now, with any subject you will run into someone who either is enamored by the classical school of thought or dazzled by the possibilities of new school thinking. Leyla mentions a new book on String Theory and I tell her that it is the physics book I have on my very nightstand. You should always have some trendy or classic books on your nightstand. I also tell her she should come validate my claim. The discussion continues into all sorts of theoretical astro physics and luckily I do read the books on my nightstand. I feign again that I can’t hear her and her friend gives up her spot so Leyla and I can continue our postulating on what happens to matter when it hits a black holes singularity.

I then get to the crucial round of drinks called the “send off drink.” Leyla didn’t drive here but her unremarkable friend did. The unremarkable friend has a hard stop on drinking after a certain number. The goal is to get her there after physically and conversationally isolating her. The magic number is usually four.  Bye bye unremarkable friend. Leyla sends her off and we continue our conversation, now peppered with plenty of witty innuendo and bar foreplay in the manner of meaningful but innocent touching.

Leyla reveals to me her magnificent tattoo of her dead pet iguana on her back. Leyla loved this iguana and they got on very well and thus she was crushed when he died. I touch the nape of her neck and run my hand down to the iguana immortalized on her otherwise unmarred marble skin. She shudders a little. I invite Leyla back to my place but now the cat is out of the bag that I live with two females, Erin and Susan. Leyla declines and we have a kiss before she gets into a taxi. The kiss is bitter sweet because even though she gave me her number, the chance is gone as her boyfriend will be the one to call her tomorrow.

Even amongst my own triumphs I still think about Leyla and her iguana tattoo. Look, I am just a regular looking guy who creates his own luck, has more balls than most, goes after what he wants, and sometimes still goes home alone.