I made this woman cry at the grocery store the other day, but I’m not a monster

Off for a weekend of fun, sleep, food and drinks – but “never too sloppy for sex” – with a girl I was introduced too that I finally had a chance to meet just after new years. Had a great time on a very creative date. We hit it off nicely, and I wanted to see her again. Humor and looks are great girl game.

So we’re doing a fly-in weekend date this weekend to log more time together and see how things work with us, I’m looking forward to it. It’s like way too much way too fast, and for some reason it totally works for me. It seems like the right thing to do.

In preparation for the trip I realize condoms are in order. This is new territory for me, not much of a condom guy, but I totally get it, no problem, but this is going to be interesting – even more so now. But I don’t have any. So onto the packing list they go.

I’m doing my last minute prepping around town late Wednesday afternoon, and I hit the grocery store for just enough veggies for dinner since I’m going to be on the road for awhile, so no cart/trolley needed. I figure I’ll kill 2 birds here as I saunter over to the “Health and Beauty” isle since it’s right in front of me as I walk in the front door and condom myself up.

All sorts of new things that I’d never seen before on the shelf, I’m kinda mesmerized for a few minutes looking at all the packaging. And sexy lube too, oh my. I make my selections, and now I’m the tall handsome silver fox guy who is walking the rest of the store towards the produce section holding only a box of condoms and a box of lube.

I walk tall and own the moment. I get the the odd smile/grin here and there as I look people in the eye as we pass. Yes, I think, I’m that guy. I grab my veggies and head to checkout.

Quick scan of the open checkout lines and I make my choice.

Shorter middle aged woman, attractive enough, which is unusual in my town is in front of me. Jeans, sweatshirt, clearly dressing to avoid any attention, not on her A game but would probably clean up really nicely I’m thinking. And she is definitely a shorty, fun sized, kind of a fetish that I’ve always had. Put a short girl in a turtleneck and I melt. The visions just took over there, mmmm, anyhow…

She looks back at me , I can tell by her face that she is clearly not having a good day, very sad eyes, not angry, just sort of a forlorn, sad look. The single 6 pack of Lagunitas beer that is her purchase is sitting lonely by itself on the conveyor belt that confirms my initial read on her. She looks up and smiles at me quickly through the sad eyes and she goes back up into her head, lost in her moment, face down and looking at the floor. The belt moves forward and now there is room for my things on the belt.

I throw the box of condoms, the box of lube, and the bag of veggies I bought for dinner onto the conveyor belt, putting the bar between the purchases.

She glances up absentmindedly noting that something has gone on near her, and takes a quick glance at what I’m buying.

Does a double take, but doesn’t look at me

I can hear the sharp intake of breath, and the beginnings of a sob. Both hands go to her face and cover her eyes. I can see the wedding ring on her finger. I can hear her begin to softly cry, trying desperately not to, not to lose her shit in the middle of the store.

She works to regain her composure, quickly wiping her face off with both hands. Twice. I’m struck with the realization that I’m not exactly sure what you are supposed to say in this particular moment, so I say nothing. But I feel horrible inside knowing in some way what must be going on inside of her, and that I set all this in motion because I chose this line.

The person in front of her finishes up paying the teller this, and like it’s been perfectly choreographed, she steps up in front of the teller. The teller greets her without really looking up and asks nonchalantly, like they all do all day long: “hi, how are you” her: <voice cracks> hi. At the sound of her voice he looks up with a concerned look on his face but says nothing.

She pays for her beer, and I move up in line in our choreographed checkout dance. I look at the teller as he is saying hello to me, he is looking his customer in the eyes this time, won’t make that mistake again, and I respond. I look back to the doorway of the store in the direction she headed, but by that moment she is already gone.

My purchase takes all of 20 seconds, and I walk to the door. I scan the lot as I walk towards my car, but I don’t see her. I

dark out now, the light changing from the time I entered. I have no idea what I might have said to her if I did run across her, but I hope that she can be happy again soon and that her man is buying condoms because of her.

…In which our hero gives Mother of the Year her Indian name

Been threatening to write this for awhile, timeframe is Super Bowl Sunday 2019, so another blast from the long ago past

So giving a girl an “Indian name” is something I picked up a many years ago. It is a playful dig at something she did that went really south and was horribly managed, or something that she should be improving or is being a dummy about. ie “I’m teasing you about this in good fun because I care enough about you to want to see you improve in some area. I’m not going to call you a dummy, even though it would probably work. And “such a stupid cunt” and “goofy hole” are terms of endearment in my world. But calling you a dummy is cruel and low value, so instead I’ll tease you about a name we can both laugh about, but it’ll let you know that you need to improve”.

Examples? Sure. At the stovetop, distracted from being pawed at, spanked, and then have all that attention suddenly removed as I walk away her brain turns to mush, and she accidentally burns something on the stove: Indian name: Tries to cook pots.

She tries to suck my cock from the side and her teeth tear me up since she can’t open wide enough at that angle and I have to pull her off to keep the skin attached, feels like being attacked by a shark with those teeth — and then becomes a total bed pig as she hogs the entire bed after she passes out in place after sex. Indian name: Shark Piggy. You get the idea

I’d dated R for the first time right after the 2019 new year . We met for tapas and a bottle of wine, my online dating profile is both fun and revealing in my kinks if you know the clues to look for. Her original opener message to me “your confidence matched with mine will make us a great couple”. Red head, pretty, full body shot in her profile sealed the deal. Great opener, miles ahead of the usual “Hi” that girls send – save that weak shit for someone else love, I’m ride or die, get in or get out.

So sure, I liked that, I’m in. Memorable moments that stand out to me now are/were – wore a tight dress (+5), ordered the first bottle of wine (Malbec, good girl) while I was still enroute (+5), was really nervous (+2, but where was all that advertised confidence?) which is always a good sign that I can tease her about to get her to settle down. Things settle in after a few glasses, and now she knows that I’m not planning on murdering her in the middle of the bar in the restaurant. She didn’t want to eat when I ordered a steak after awhile, but ate bites here and there off my plate. So, kind of a fun girl.

First bottle of wine is going down nicely and she starts to loosen up a little, but then the red flags start seeping out slowly as she overshares on a first date… Drip, drip, drip… Divorced 3x, in the middle of the 4th divorce. Her bio kids are grown BUT she’s adopted a child outta foster care who was 14yrs old at the time, now 16. Of course she does this just prior to making the split with her current hubs official. Because she was a foster child herself… She is clearly very familiar with how a bottle of wine works, and raises rabbits. Cat ladies everywhere need to raise their game vs this one, right?. Hrrrm… ok. Now who doesn’t like a bit of crazy right? Guilty. Turk’s hamster is furiously spinning in his head: “But we’re just going to date her right? So this is all fine, nothing to see here! All good, full steam ahead!!

Banging little body on her for a 40 something. We bounce to a 2nd venue across the street for drinks after closing out the tab at the first place, and as we walk in she starts making squealing noises for no apparent reason as she excitedly spots the pool table. “Let’s play!” Ok, sure. She’s horrible at the game, but manages to put on a nice show of leaning over the table showing the girls off while looking up to make sure I see what she is doing with a twinkle in her eye, molesting me while i’m trying to make shots – all great girl game that I always enjoy. She looses all 3 games but fun was had. I walk her to her car and turns out she’s a fantastic kisser which is a must for me. Great night, but clearly already going for the lock down.

For the life of me I can’t remember why I felt I needed to ghost her, but I did. Clearly big brain took over. And then one night a month or so later while having a drink at the hotel bar in the wine town across the river I decided to try to put her back into the rotation, little brain combined with scarcity and all that — we’ve all been there so dont @ me tough guy — and I sent a Hail Mary text that I was pretty damn proud of:

The whole thread is here:

The funny part at the time now that I look back on it was that I was wondering if she was going to bite on it or not… Idiot…

So, let’s get to it then. I’m running a 5k Super Bowl morning, but I make plans to see her in the afternoon, watch the game, have some fun and then see where things go. I figured that with the bad logistics going for the lay was kinda of a stupid expectation, so instead let’s just go have fun and build some rapport and get into trouble together somehow.

I drive the 50 minutes and pick her up at her place rolling in about 2p. She’s alone in the house as I roll up, and after a lip lock and a hug she informs me that her adopted kid is away at a church event that is going to last well into the evening. Me: hmmmm, ok, noted. She tells me that the bar at the bowling alley around the corner is kinda fun with all sorts of things to do. The close proximity is a win since I don’t like to drive with a load on, and sure, we’re on her turf so I agree. Bowling alley it is, I love me a good dive bar.

Big place inside, ton of TV’s and a huge 40’x60′ or so big screen on the back wall, a few open seats at the bar. I’m happy, the place is dive-y enough but still sports bar oriented – she gets a “good job” which makes her beam. Tight tight jeans, heels, top showing the twins off being held back in a fancy black bra. She’s set the trap well today.

We sit down and order, and I get 2 tequila shots with a soda water back, to which I get an “uh oh” and a laugh outta her. Me: “trouble? These make your clothes fall off?” Laughing she explains that she doesn’t drink much tequila, makes her “too hammered”. Ok, we’ll go easy, cause “never too sloppy for sex” is a rule from a long ago GF that I’ve carried forward. She needs training wheels on her shot (lime and salt) but muscles it down like a champ. “Good girl, you ok with 1 more?” Her: WTF, why not, let’s go. Atta girl. Shots go down, I grab a couple of beers, and we roll off the bar to go find a table.

Of course she wants to play pool again, and there are the electronic dart boards and other bar games. We play a few games of darts, by the third game I know I’m in trouble as she is having a hard time hitting the dart board and sitting down correctly into her chair, I’m laughing and telling her to slow down on the beer. We haven’t logged a lot of time together, but I’ve got a new clue on how to help her with drinking, and I tuck the clue away.

She decides that this would be the perfect time to play pool. She whips out with cocky/funny: “But I don’t like playing without a bet, it’s so much better when you have a bet on the game to make it interesting”

Hmmm, ok, me: “So what do you want to bet”

Her: “you decide <sly grin>”

I mull that face, more than half drunk, knowing that no matter what happens here I’m going to get a repeat of the sexy pool game show and some mutual groping. So I decide to go all in on the bet.

“Ok, if I win then I want to be serviced and then hard use…” You can almost see the panties soaking in the glare of the fluorescent lights.

Her, nervous giggling “…ok” Me: “and you, what is your bet if you win?” Her, perfectly, looking me dead in the eyes: “…service and hard use”

Me, instantly: “we’re outta here, I’ll come back later to grab my CC that I left to keep the tab open. we’re going to your place. Now.” A happy giggling girl gets up and I walk her to the car, toss her in, and we head for her place about 5 minutes away.

Me, driving at max speed limit: you sure your kid won’t be back till late?

She reassures me, his church stuff always runs late she says. You can probably see where this is going…

Quick version of an already long story. Into the house, drags me into the bedroom just off the front door, her:”gotta pee, brb”, I look at the rabbit cage WITH 2 full grown rabbits inside at the foot of the bed – huh…, clothes onto the floor, “I never do this”, service and hard use, we get 10 minutes into 2 hours of fun, and the sound of a 16 year old kid flying into and through the front door <slam> “HEY MOM!” while the bedroom door is wide open…

Her eyes get real wide real quick, she removes the obstacle from her mouth that is currently preventing speech. “Hi son, I’ll be out in a minute” as she flies off the bed to close the door. My car in the driveway should be a clue that mom is being railed out in the bedroom, even for a 16 year old boy.

Lots of “oh shit shit shit shit” from her as I throw on my clothes and do the male version of the walk of shame trying to get out of the house “undetected”. To her credit she walked me out, with her face a mess, lip gloss ruined, hair going in all diff directions, embarrassed and scared. I drive away quickly, and only after I round the corner do I start laughing.

I get an “I’m just mortified, if my husband finds out…” text an hour or 2 later, turns out in the end the kid makes no mention of it, and nothing comes out of it. Her the next day: “It’s been quiet on the home front, but I’m not sure I can still see you, that was too much, I’m so embarrassed, I need to figure this out” me: “I understand, you have my number. I had fun, hope things work for you”. A week later from her: “I might have spoke too soon, come over for a drink? I start to tease her calling her mother of the year, it sticks.

We see each other for a few months until it’s not working well, and it’s time for asshole breakup

Flipping the script…

Iron Rule of Tomassi #1

Frame is everything. Always be aware of the subconscious balance of whose frame in which you are operating. Always control the Frame, but resist giving the impression that you are.

My long ago ex who I have coffee with now and again is aware of my immediate past, and I’ve found it really interesting that during these times of struggle and difficulty that you find out who your friends really are.

She says “maybe you might want to just talk to someone, this is the name of a therapist who comes recommended, she’s just starting out so her pricing is “very competitive”” and hands me a business card. Me: “I’m in a phase of life that I am open to everything and anything, so sure”. I give the doctor lady a call to set up an appointment, but really, I’m not all that fucked up… But if someone is interested in listening to my act who am I to hold back, right?

She’s in a later phase of life, late 60’s, tiny little thing that is really noticeable when I walk in for the first appointment. Second career trying to help people, my read is that she’s good people. Turns out the reason her pricing is very competitive is that she is still not officially a therapist for reasons I don’t understand or care about. But she will be soon as she gains more experience, and she is willing to listen to my act, which if she can handle this then she’s got a great career in her future. Full steam ahead.

So I meet with her in early Dec 2019 for the first time, and we get through the initial meeting fine, she is busy making notes and I’m doing my best to not go in a million different directions as I fill her in on “what’s been going on”. During the course of the discussion we get into the fact that I’m into “the lifestyle” Her: “lifestyle?” Me: “mmm, that’s a quaint way of indicating to people that someone is into alternative types of romantic relationships, like Dominant and submissive, Master and slave, Daddy Dom and baby girl – you might know it from the book 50 Shades of Grey? What to me are more natural male and female relationship styles that work best for both.” Her: “No, I’ve never read that book, wasn’t there a movie? I don’t know much about that world at all”. So we get into vanilla vs lifestyle and we briefly go down that rabbit hole. I notice that the note taking has gotten much more frantic.

A few more appointments go by and the subject is coming up much more, justifiably so since this is who I’ve become over the years. Each appointment she seems to be able to factor in the lifestyle into the past relationship dynamics more and more.

I meet with her this morning and we do a catch up since it’s been 2 weeks given the holidays. Talk goes in all kinda different directions, she’s reading JPeterson, lots of references from her about “unfucking yourself”, we get into my recent deep dive into David Goggins and my need for a more solid mindset, and things are chugging along.

As we wrap up the goodness gets laid on the table…

Talk moves to setting the next appointment, and she mentions kind of out of the blue that because of our sessions she’s been looking into “the lifestyle” online, doing a lot of reading so that she can understand how who I’ve become over the years affects relationship dynamics so she can help me better. Me: “nice, what did you discover?” She has become very interested in it as she learns more, has found it very… enlightening. To the point that she has begun to incorporate it into her marriage. Oh my…

Me: “really…. That’s fantastic, I really believe that women are much happier when the man… ” and I go down the rabbit hole that I love talking about, the sexual marketplace, men leading, women submitting, how this makes everybody happier, that women should shit test and that men should pass that shit like a boss, trust being built. I’m on my A game as this big train is rolling. She is nodding away and I’m running my mouth, and it dawns on me that, damn I’m pretty far down the garden path here, perhaps checking in would be a good thing. So I pull up.

Me: “so if you’re ok with this, can I ask what side you orient to? Dom? sub?” Her: “Oh, I’m definitely on the Dom side. I’ve never been able to talk to my husband about my fantasies, I just wasn’t able to let that out, but now… It feels great, we’ve come to agreements and our marriage is so much better just over the last few weeks, it’s been amazing. I feel so much more trusting, so important”

Felt like that dog in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoon that is running hard towards the chicken and then hits the end of the leash – I didn’t expect this at all…

her:”I already do all the planning, I tell him what to do. But if he has an opinion then he voices it and I listen” Me: “so if he is in charge then you hear a lot of ‘I don’t know what do you want to do?’ yea?” Her: “I know, but I figure all that stuff out, it just works better between us, it’s actually been like this for years but now I can let myself feel free around it”

So I’ve FemDom’d red pilled my therapist. Smile on my face as I exited the door, can’t wait to see what next week’s appointment will bring.

Revenge is a dish best served balls deep in your ex wife who you still have a thing for

A quick hitter since I’m struggling to come up with anything new to write, all work and no play is making Turk a dull boy.

Today is International Leg Day 2 on the bodybuilding program I’m working, and I decide that since I can actually sleep – thank god – that I’ll sleep in for awhile and hit the gym later in the morning.

11a rolls around and I roll out of the house, beautiful day. I roll through my routine crushing it feeling strong as an ox at 6’3 and a very rock solid 240.

I’m almost all done hanging on the leg press doing my ramp up sets, and this bearded bald fat tub of 30 something rolls in and decides he wants to deadlift in the middle of the goddamned floor. Big gauges in his ears, black horn rimmed glasses, tattoo’s, driving a thousand dollar hoopty that is dirty and peeling paint. A millineal child.

Now this gym is a bit of a shitbox, the carpet on the floor is a threadbare green left behind from the biz that folded up prior to the gym taking over. Owners give fuck all for the condition of the place, but sure do love posting 8.5 x 11 printed signs that are amusingly misspelled about “don’t do <thing> or we’ll cancel your membership”, where thing is deadlift, use the corner of the wall to setup a barbell row, drop the weights, don’t let people in the front door, etc. You get the idea.

So not 10′ from lardo is a set of horse stall rubber mats laid out on the floor so that people can deadlift without tearing the carpet and the concrete underneath all up. Reasonable middle ground achieved, for all but lardo, the special little snowflake.

He starts in with sets of 5 at 135 dropping the 45# plates onto the floor pretty hard as he reps out. Bang, bang, bang – the weights are rattling the floor and the bar pretty loud as he just drops the loaded bar onto the floor. For the non lifters reading, some perspective – this is a deadlift. On one hand with a large amount of weight on the bar when you are doing 5 repetitions of the lift it can be tough to just touch the floor and lift right away. But my 9 year old grandson can deadlift 135, and lardo is a lard ass so it’s just a warm up weight, but he’s clanging it off the floor like its 600#. Summary: Kind of a dick move.

I get out of the leg press (475# baby, beast mode) and pull a headphone out and walk over.

“hey, they’ve got a mat setup (points) just over here (10′ away), they don’t want you deadlifting on the floor since it fucks their equipment and the floor up, signs (points) all over the place”

Lardo: “Don’t care. Not moving.” Throwing me a fuck ton of shade, like dafuq you going to do about it. I’m thinking zounds, that is a way disproportionate response to the situation, he wants to make this go time. Alright asshole…

Now my testosterone levels are fairly artificially high, I’m prob up above the 3k stratosphere right now, not anywhere near the 10k that some meatheads run, but I’ve got a good case of god mode going on and I feel it immed spike into a “rrrraaaRRRRWWW” inside me but I catch it right away. Straight into the eyes “whatever, you’re fucking it up for everybody else” and I turn and walk back. There aren’t 15′ between my leg press and his shitshow in the middle of the floor, I get about 5′

“hey, you work here, is this your place, you own it?” me, turning: you know I don’t, no. “Then you should mind your own fucking business” The red mist begins to settle in as I stand in place and consider the moment. I have a sense I know this piece of shit from somewhere but I’m kinda smoked in the moment, and anger breeds stupidity as we all know. <big breath> “yea, go fuck yourself” and I turn away. I don’t need this shit right now but fuck me if I’m not willing to bleed a bit if this is on.

3 min later I have to walk past him to the next tower of weights to grab three 45# plates and he starts to rise like I’m coming at him as I pass in front of him. I’m thinking not today asshole, but I fucking know this guy from somewhere.

Knock my first set of 3 x 8 out and it hits me. I know this cunt, from a bday party, with the ex’s family. He rolls with her kids. And the light bulb hits me. You fucking white knight, I get the attitude now. He knows who I am.

I laugh now, out loud. The plan hits me immediately.

I know his ex-wife who he still pines for. We’ve flirted together at her place of work more than a few times in the past. Last time was about what I was buying and how it beat McDonalds to shit but that there are those days that you still can’t beat a happy meal. Plus the toy. It was a great opener from me. She made it clear that she’d be up for a happy meal with me. Me: over cocktails of course… Her: smile, of course. McDonalds and cocktails, never in a million years. I am nothing if not brilliant, plus I’m clearly a fun date.

I leave the gym smiling thinking that I want to acknowledge that I know him, “dude, why so angry today?” and get all zen like with him, but I decide that this is a dish best served cold as ice. I fucking hate white knights, they are a notch well below “nice guys” in my book.

So lard ass, I’m on the hunt now to pickup your ex wife at her place of work, then drop her in my fine ass German made man machine and turn the seat warmers on to get those holes all warmed up and ready to be used hard, take your wife out for McDonalds since I am by all accounts a fantastic and fun date. Ply her with drinks in the place on the sly, adventure! mystery! Who is this wild guy?! I know she doesn’t go much for wine, so I’m pegging her as a vodka girl. We can mix that into her Sprite right there at the shitty plastic tables on the sly. Then after a hearty supply of kino and escalation over McNuggets, a dash of some push and pull, I’m going to bring her back to Casa Tranquilo and put a wicked never to be forgotten by her fuck your ex wife. Then I’d love to show up with her when you go to exchange the 3 kids just to smile and say hello while you try to connect the dots for those few seconds before it dawns on you who I am and where I’ve been. I’ve been balls deep

Challenge accepted.

Exaholics book

I’m loathe to admit it, but I bought the audio book. And it’s been kinda helpful in some way. While it’s clearly written for women – the direction of dealing with pain, reality, separation, and having a plan to move forward applies to all. So it’s like a book of empathy in a way, which helps to keep from feeling alone, a good addition to the toolbox for now.

Run the audio at about 1.45 and it moves along, first sections are the empathy and “you’ll live” parts, which are more girl oriented but it’s nice to listen to, just know the messages are clearly femcentric. Then we get into the actionable stuff late in the book which is where tool building stuff goes on. I’d recommend it if nothing more than to keep your brain at bay and deal with reality

https://www.audible.com/pd/Exaholics-Audiobook/163015122X

+1 Finally…

The long dry spell is over, finally got the American flag lol…

While I might have stuck my dick in crazy just now, it wouldn’t be the first time, important to thank god for girls with no gag reflex.

Weathered major shit tests from this one for at least a week trying to get me to fold, ultimatums met by me with “OK, no problem” cause I really didn’t give 2 shits. Wasn’t going to happen. *Very* clear on expectations, just barely FWB (“for now…”).

Not sure I want to be seen in town with her, would lower my SMV. But seems to have some submissive wiring in her that is starting to get exposed. Tightest hole I’ve ever fucked, ever, like fucking a 7 year old, not that I know what that feels like but if one was to imagine.  Couldn’t take but about half of me, and I don’t do bad but I’m not even John Holmes. 

The smoking hot latina flies out on her own dime from TX next weekend for a week of fun, 56 and an N count of 3 of which I am 3.

Finally in a reasonably good mood, just kicked her out and am back to working on my mission. Plate #1 in the rotation. Slump buster

Sitting still

Couple of weeks in to the break up with the subbie ex, like a frog being boiled I got “got” slowly over time through decisions that *I* made. I’m in a real uncomfortable place by the virtue of just having to sit still for awhile till this passes, get all these brain chemicals cleared out of my head. I got in deeper than I wanted to, there were reasons why boundaries were not kept, but there is no reason why I shouldn’t have put the boundaries back in place. That is on me.

Lots of post-mortem, trying to figure things out, why it went down the way it did. Girl had everything she needed, yet her innate female nature causes her to blow the things in her life up. Happy, well fucked constantly, trained, led, protected, provisioned for. But still, in the midst, something went south.

Part of me wants to lunge into something to fill the space now left in my life, but not now. I need to sit with this one for awhile. Was thinking this morning that she was right there when I left my oneitis, and while I held her at bay for about 5 months after I’ve had the realization that I haven’t logged any real alone time since… a very long time ago.

It’s not going to kill me but it does make living life much more difficult. But it will pass, I’m willing to give it the time this time.

Still going to be working on game and working on myself, I’m hard at it in the gym but not getting out enough to be interacting with people regularly, so that’s the first step in the plan:

  • grocery store for food that I like and stock up for just a few days at a time (helps me get out more often if I don’t pile food up)
  • continue to avoid alcohol, a pop now and then isn’t bad but nothing good can come of more
  • avoid sappy music
  • do what I can to get better sleep
  • avoid online dating sites like the plague and I’ve already deleted a bunch of accounts that I’d setup earlier in the year, don’t want that garbage.
  • Sell all my shit off, too much stuff is owning me right now, I need to thin out drastically.
  • Get on top of finances again.
  • And that’s good for now, as my brain heals up I can add more in then, but until then I’m taking great care of me as best I can.

Doing the work