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

+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

Epic Fail Report

From May 15 of this year, as part of going through the archive of shit I write about from time to time in other places…

Had a epic big failure, the kind of which I’ve never had happen to me before, on a date on Sunday night.

I turned a “hell yes!” girl into a no girl by being well off my A game and being around her at the time.

Cute, much younger, tits on a stick (now code named “TOAS”), athletic, mildly crazy which is like crack to me. “I am so going to fuck the shit out of you” and “I love sucking cock, and I do it well, I’ll wake you up with it every morning” coming out of her mouth.

But… <sigh> I lost my frame via a day of drinking wine and being exhausted, and got honest about things I should have held in for a few more dates when asked about things a few moments later.

Went from hearing “I tell myself, TOAS, don’t fuck this one up, this guy is a keeper” to “I’m not the girl for you” in the matter of about 20 minutes. And then I fucking argued with her that she was!! lol, idiot!

Ego is stinging hard right now 3 days later, but I learned a lot and this will help me focus in on the next yes girl, they’re out there in spades, reminder that I need to keep an abundance mentality.

It happens to the best of us, I just need to keep grinding on my mission and open everyone in town, and as Dante Nero says work on “laying the 5 bricks every day”.

Felt like I needed to come clean as part of getting this out of my system. They are not all wins even when they should be.

It’s 3 months later and rereading this I can feel the sting of it still.. Clearly I need more rejection, and while it’s not up to me, it would be great if the rejection came a bit earlier on in the seduction phase vs 10 seconds from heading out the door to go to my house. <chuckles>

Asshole Breakup Game

This happened in late March of this year, I’ve been so distracted with work and the mistake of allowing the prev girl back in that I’ve avoided writing. Work is still great, but I’ve got more idle time on my hands now (know what I mean?? ) so I’ve been wanting to get back to writing more.

If you want to be a total asshole when you break up with a girl, here is your strategy. I’ve been wanting to post this for awhile. Working on a write up about the naming of “mother of the year” that she got during an epic fail. I give all the girls I date nicknames or Indian names as a way to tease them or neg them about weaknesses that they should be doing better at.

So MOTY catches feelings after about 3 months of dating, and gets into tears after making me dinner at my house one night (horrible cook, but appreciated the effort) admitting that she is attached.

Over dinner she tells me that she knows I’m fucking others and is ok with it, but she wants only me, pledges me her commitment (…right now) etc. I just want to date, she knows this.

Weekend before I’d had a fuck buddy over, Latina, big ass. MOTY has a banging thin body on her with that young boy ass. No gym, but a surprisingly great body for late 40’s. The extra stuff from being a wine girl. I wasn’t planning on banging the Latina that night, but I’d run across her in a bar well hammered at the hotel in the wine town across the river, and since I know the Latina can’t drive so I drag her home expecting her to just pass out because she is hammered. My buddy is with me, and I’d been trying to line up the 3 way/train.

But no, after I roll her into my bed figuring she’ll be gone in a few seconds it turns out in her drunken state she wants the D. Meh, don’t like fucking drunk girls. She wakes up in the am and leaves her bejeweled panties at the foot of my bed before I drive her back to the hotel and her truck. I have no clue. Couple of days later the dinner incident happens.

So after getting the “I got feelz” conversation trying to lock me down, I think about what I want to do with MOTY, and I decide I don’t want to deal with the hurt feelings she’ll get if I keep her but keep fucking my others. Low drama for me, alway. She’s left a dress at my house. Girls do this shit.

So I call her to talk with her about her desire for commitment, and I explain that I can’t do this, that I’ll hurt her and I don’t want to do that. She immediately launches into the “I’m breaking up with you before you can break up with me” script and all the you can fuck whoever you want goes right out the window during the conversation – I need commitment, I want someone monogamous, and I laugh inside at the irony of “right now”.

So I tell her I’ll return the dress by mail to her, you can prob see where this is going. So I hunt around my room, find the dress in the closet but I look for other stuff that she might have left lying around and I find the Latina’s chonies laying just under the bed. Honest mistake, I put both the chonies and the dress into a mailer package and mail them back thinking this is all done with.

2 days later when my package arrives at her house my phone gets lit up with texts from her. “whose big ass panties are these? they are not mine”. me, thinking: “dafuq? …. oh… shit, the Latina’s” I put MOTY on ignore as things turn spiteful. Turns out via text that she’s actually tried them on, I was dying.

So if you want to fuck with them in a breakup then return a set of unknown sexy panties with any clothing you return to her when you drop her, this is major asshole game.

Give her the gift of never forgetting you.