Dumped at the Dance Club

I went through a really rough divorce a while back; my ego got beat up pretty badly, but now I’ve stopped whining about it. You know, shit happens, sometimes stuff doesn’t work out, you pick up your life and get on with it. I dated quite a few times, but my heart really wasn’t in it so maybe that’s why it didn’t turn out very well. I’ve dated four women since the divorce and going by the first three, a very small sample I grant you, things aren’t like they were when I was last in the dating pool eight or ten years ago. I’ll give you a good example. I was feeling sort of back to normal, with regard to the divorce, like maybe it was a good thing for me. I met a nice woman on line, nice looking lots of laughter, great in bed. We had been screwing for several months when we went to a dance club, were having a good time, drinking and dancing, the place was getting hot. There were flashes of tit and butt cheeks galore.

We were out on the floor for over an hour before we crawled off to get a couple of beers and some water. We collapsed at a table as Coleen kicked her shoes off because her feet Yalova Escort hurt, when moments later, some guy came over and hit on her. Hmmh! Hope springs eternal; I thought the guy must be practicing to learn how to take rejection. To my surprise, without a word to me, Coleen got up, put her shoes on the table, asked me to watch her purse, and pranced barefoot out onto the floor with him. I did a slow burn while I drank my beer…then finished hers. I had to piss so I asked a red haired girl at the next table to watch her stuff for a few minutes, and on my way to the bathroom I went looking for them. They were writhing together rubbing bodies, hands…masturbating each other mostly through their clothing. Not the most lurid couple out there, but in that little part of the floor, they were the entertainment. I figured she had found herself a ride home so I stopped at the bathroom on my way out the door.

She called me at 11:30 the next morning mad as hell.

“Jason you fucking bastard, I’m coming over to get my shoes and purse. Why did you leave me there?”

“Oh, Yalova Escort Bayan good morning to you too, Coleen! After you disappeared onto the dance floor for the better part of an hour and I saw you dirty dancing with the guy that picked you up, I figured you found yourself another ride home so I asked the red haired woman at the next table to watch your stuff and left.”

“What! No way! No fucking way, you’re bullshitting. Look asshole, I’m coming over to pick them up.”

“I’m not ‘shitting you, last time I saw your stuff it was on the table in the club. I don’t have ’em.”

“You fucking cocksucker! You let somebody steal my purse! What did I do to deserve that?”

“I just told you. We arrived at the club as a couple, without a word you went off with another guy, I saw you were enjoying him fondling your tits and cunt on the dance floor, and after waiting nearly an hour, I figured you changed horses and therefore my obligation to you was over so I left. How was the stallion, by the way?”

“Jesus, dude! That didn’t mean nothing, that was just Escort Yalova fooling around! “

“Caller ID says Dwayne Arnold, that the guy you were messing around with?”

“Look, what was I to do? I was barefoot, no money, no phone, he was nice enough to give me a ride home. Look, really it’s a big deal, this, the shoes were $150, and phone’s $400. That’s $550 you owe me.

So Dwayne spent the night with her. Good for him, he got lucky, and if that’s the kind of girl she is, so did I.

“Hey Coleen, gimme a break, I didn’t turn my phone off, you didn’t call me, or apparently anyone else to get you home. I took you there, paid the cover, some drinks…you dumped me, so don’t worry about it, you can get a phone for like $20, and the shoes didn’t fit you anyway, remember they hurt your feet. When you get a cell phone, give me a call, maybe we can hang out some time.”

“Dude, you lost my shit! Look I’m not being a hard ass here, forget about the shoes, but I need the fucking phone! Three hundred bucks, dude, you need to make me right!”

It crossed my mind to offer to pay on the installment plan, I mean, what’s a good fuck session worth, $100? But I would be wasting my time and hers.

“Look, I don’t want you running up Dwayne’s phone bill; I got another call I have to take. Keep in touch,” and I hung up. Damn, I don’t need that.