MY NAME IS BECKY, AND I HAVE PROBLEMS

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  • Becky

Crooked Dicks, Crooked Lives

Updated: Jan 31, 2019

Shortly before I ended things with King Psycho, I was hosting a charity function was reaching out

to local vendors, business, and community leaders to support and provide raffle prizes. I decided to go to this new celebrity ballroom dance studio that opened up. I went in to talk to the manager and see how I could hustle them for some dance lesson vouchers. Well it was easier than I thought. He gave me a giant stack of dance lessons in pretty gold envelopes and gave me his contact info so we could discuss using their venue to host my event, and possibly have some of the instructors perform...unfortunately corporate doesn't like to support charities so all of that fell through.

Fast forward to my event, the manager shows up to the event just to buy raffle tickets and support the organization. *Attention grabbed*. Fast forward further, I go back to the studio to start taking classes. I used to compete in Latin and was missing the old dancing days. Throughout this time, we were exchanging messages over facebook, but nothing serious. Mostly just cat memes and other stupid stuff. Then this clown says how if I ever break up with my shit boyfriend, he'd like to take me to dinner sometime. (FYI THIS IS A RED FLAG. This is some fuck boy shit in disguise as white knighting! I didn't know that at the time because I hadn't been in any kind of dating scene for like 3 years).

Anyway, this moment stuck with me. I have to give him credit because this really did help me finally leave that bad relationship. It wasn't a "I'm leaving my boyfriend for you" soap opera nonsense. It was more of a "I don't have to stay with my boyfriend because other people can actually be interested in me, despite how many times my boyfriend says no one but him will ever love me and if I leave I'll be alone forever". This was literal fucking proof for me that his shit wasn't true! Yeah, that should be an obvious revelation to the normal human, but when you hear that stuff for long enough, you get lost in the toxicity.

A few weeks after my boyfriend and I split up, we decided to go out. It was a dress up date (DOPE). So I got myself a new, sexy, purple (because it was his favorite color and this is the type of nonsense I was doing to look interesting. I'm rolling my eyes at myself already) dress and looked fierce. We went to this ritzy ass lounge on the top floor of this glamorous hotel, and had cocktails and bites, while overlooking an amazing view of the city. Like wow, right? Then we hopped over to this Kiss (the band) themed mini golf place, went to a pool hall, and bounced around to a bunch of other places just continuing to be drunk...because how else do you deal with your first date on the loose? The night was coming to an end so we went back to the dance studio (that's where I parked and met up with him so we could carpool) and had this crazy, movie like, sexy, ballroom dancing thing. Hindsight, kinda hilarious but in the moment, nobody was putting baby in a corner. Things started to escalate but I wasn't gonna take him home to my place because I had just left my ex and was temporarily living with my mom. Why didn't we go to his place? That's another story. So we ended up getting a hotel room and champagne and planned on having some big sexy time...but from here it only gets weird.

It was a holiday weekend so the rooms were sold out. The room we got had no bed...it was a table, a couch, and yeah. That's it. It was like a hospitality room? No idea, but it sucked. So we call down and ask them to bring up a rollaway bed. In the mean time, we're doing the thing on the couch and his peen was SO CROOKED! It was like it was dabbing his balls. I mean, full 90 degree left turn. Am I complaining? No. He knew how to use the thing so it was good enough, just don't make eye contact with it if you ever come across one so you don't make a crazy face. At this point, housekeeping brings up a bed...but there were no pillows, no blankets, no anything. He proceeds to loose his fuckin shit. Calls down to the front desk, shouting at them for the poor service and starts smashing the phone on the counter. Now I'm watching this like WHAT THE FUCK DID I GET MYSELF IN TO?! HOW DO I ESCAPE!? But I'm good in these situations. I've been training for shit like this for years. I told him we should just get dressed and go to the desk to ask for a manager. We acted like we were a couple trying to celebrate an anniversary and how disappointed we were...ended up getting a full refund for the room. So free hotel sex? I'll allow it.

We make our way back to our cars, head home and call it all a night. What sucked about all of this? He immediately stops messaging me. I wait a couple days and I call him out because wtf. He then proceeds to send me the gif of Stewie from Family Guy rocking back and forth in a straight jacket. Of course I'm offended because I'm not freaking out, I'm just confused why after such a lavish night, he isn't talking to me anymore. I got served a big, hot, crooked, cup of fuckboy. So wouldn't it be great if I just cut him off, said fuck this guy and move on to the next prospect? Yeah. Yeah it would... but we all know that's not my style.

 
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