Objectifying Men: My Attractive Neighbor

My Attractive Neighbor

2 Comments

It all started with me getting (very) drunk at Olive Garden. I’m not proud of that, but it happened.

Actually, it all started about a month prior, with very intentional flirting (on my part) with a particularly hot cop who just happened to be my neighbor. In retrospect, dating (or fucking) a neighbor seems like an obvious misstep, but anyway…

I should mention that, not only was he a cop, he was also in the Army Reserves (or National Guard or something) that involved a lot of working out and a sexy uniform. Needless-to-say, I was really looking forward to seeing him naked. And then fucking him.

He finally invited me out to dinner, which I countered with dinner and “watching a movie” at his place (which was 12 stairs away from my place). It seemed perfect… until it was terrible.

He picked me up and announced that he would take me to Olive Garden (which I don’t like, but seem to keep going to somehow). Once there, it quickly became obvious that he was the most boring man in the world. It was almost as though he had frontal lobe damage or something.

So I decided to get through it with two long island iced teas. Both were surprisingly strong. Disclaimer: I had also had a shot (or three) beforehand. I’m not an alcoholic. I think it was reasonable for me to ask my liver to take one for the team. Team Vagina.

Even as drunk as I was, his small talk (about his jogging routine and the trials and tribulations of potty-training his dog) was unbearable. I insisted we skip dessert, which was fine, since apparently he only ate Paleo or something. I’m not sure that sub-par chicken parm and unlimited breadsticks were Paleo… but whatever.

When we finally got back to his place to “watch a movie,” I was instantly struck by how scary clean it was. Like institution-clean. Like I wasn’t even sure he actually lived there. Whatever, he may have been crazy, but he was also crazy-hot.

He put the movie in and we started to make out on his couch. Unfortunately, he was a terrible kisser, which was a horrible shame since I don't even like kissing. So, naturally, I reached down to grab his cock to speed things past the making-out stage. I grabbed around for a minute before I finally felt it. And it was small. Like really small. It wasn’t comically small, but it was close.

Since I obviously was no longer interested in sleeping with him, I decided to play it like I really wanted to watch the movie and “wasn’t that kind of girl.” (For the record, I am totally that kind of girl.)

I pushed him away gently and told him I wanted to watch the movie. This didn’t really dissuade him. We repeated the process twice more before he got an (awful) idea:

“Oh, I know what you want,” he said, smug about his supposed revelation.

“To watch the movie?” I asked rhetorically, unamused.

“You want this,” he said as he moved his face down toward my crotch.

“No thank you,” I said, as politely as I could. Since he was an atrocious kisser, there was absolutely no way I was going to let him try on my vagina.

“I know what you want,” he repeated as he dipped down once more.

“Let’s just watch the movie,” I said, still trying to be nice about diffusing the situation, but definitely getting irritated with his pushiness.

“No, I know what you want.” And he put his head down in my lap.

No means no. And unfortunately for him, I had had enough of his shenanigans. I grabbed him by both ears, pulled his face up to an inch away from mine, and screamed in his face:

“What about ‘I don’t want your tongue in my twat’ do you not understand??”

He definitely looked horrified. I definitely looked like a crazy person. And I was ok with that. I then got up silently and walked out with him shouting after me, begging me to stay.

He texted me to apologize the next day, which was nice. And then he asked me out again....

I declined.

Suffice it to say, running into him weekly at our apartment complex was a treat.

And that’s how I learned my lesson about not sleeping with my neighbors.