The Problems With Having Zero Self Control

I always knew I had zero self control.

I never have to re-cork a bottle of wine because I will polish it off.
I never have any chocolate on hand because I scarf it as soon as it enters the house.
I never get anything done on my days off because I spend the whole time with my hands between my legs.
And the list goes on.

This weekend was an excellent example of my terrible control. I knew I was going to get laid on Saturday night by a guy I kind of liked and yet I went out and fucked a different guy on Friday night. And then I had another guy over on Monday night. And I tried to get laid again on Wednesday night.

Monday night:

After my marathon weekend of sex I had Guy#2 come over Monday evening after work.

Why? Because I could. And because I knew he would show up and get me off.

This makes me look gluttonous, which I am. I won't deny this fact. But i am also callous.

I hurt Guy#2's feelings and I knew I would. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Here is what went down:

I was sitting on my front stairs having a cigarette when he walked up. He sat down next to me and we chatted for a bit.

I had my cell phone next to me but I thought I had put my pack of cigarettes on top of it so the screen was covered. I had been texting Hot Air Balloon and I didn't really need Guy#2 to know. All of a sudden Guy#2 asks me if I am seeing anyone else, and I was honest and replied that I had been kind of seeing someone and things had escalated quickly but that he had moved away.

I later realized that he had asked me this because I he had seen that I got a text from Hot Air Balloon. Way to go, Muffy.

While catching up with Guy#2 I found out that his nephew died this weekend and that he had been kicked out of his brother's house, where he had been living. So he was obviously not well from the get go, and I did nothing to improve his state.

We went up to my room and fucked and it was alright. Not as good as before.

Afterwards we were lying in bed and he told me that he had never had a just sex thing before. He only had sex with girls he had dated and he seemed to feel a little weird about it. He made a joke about it being sinful.

I told him that this was all I did, that I have not had a boyfriend before.

And then he told me why that is. He broke it down exactly. He told me I have a severe fear of commitment. True. That I have seen so many relationships close to me fall apart. True. That I have trust issues. True. And that I have built walls around myself to protect myself from getting hurt and that some guy is going to fall in love with me and have to break these down. True.

I told him that I feel sorry for that poor bastard, whoever he may be.

And then we had an awkward moment of eye contact and he looked sad.

He asked me about Hot Air Balloon and how serious we were. I said not very as it had only been a week and a half. He asked if I had wanted to get serious with him and I said that yeah, I think it would have happened if he hadn't left.

Then there was silence. I wanted to tell him that if this was hurting him then we should stop. I wanted to be upfront and tell him to stop texting me because it is not good for him.

But I didn't say anything.

Then he went on about how his wisdom teeth hurt and he was going to go for a walk to get painkillers and a coffee. I asked if he wanted me to come and he said no but asked if I wanted anything.

As soon as we walked out of my room neither of us said anything to the other.

He walked out my front door and we didn't kiss, hug, or say goodbye. Nothing.

After he left I was kind of confused about it he was coming back or not. He didn't. I don't blame him.

Wednesday Night:

After I left work yesterday I noticed none other than Old Guy sitting on the pub patio across the street. I stopped dead in my tracks. I creamed my pants. I started to quiver. I almost lost my shit.

He looked FINE. Perfect. Pure sex. It was insane. His hair was amazingly coiffed. His jeans cuffed just so. And his tattoos just peeking out from the collar and cuffs of his shirt.

I needed to take action. Do something. BUT WHAT.

I crossed the street a little further down. Took off my sweater, fluffed my hair, tightened the belt cinching my waist, and I pulled all my swagger from within. And I STRUT my shit for all I was worth. I STRUT right past him and his buddies. I held my head high, stuck out my tits and ass, swayed my hips, and shook out my hair.

I probably looked ridiculous, but I didn't give a shit. I looked cute and I knew it. I had been getting compliments all day on my hair and outfit, and I know I looked hot. And I know he saw me. And I know my ass caught his attention.

Then I walked the rest of the way home, vibrating from being so close to him.

When I got home I frantically tried to find someone to go for a beer with me at the same pub. No one was available. I didn't know what to do to establish contact with him again.

So I picked up my phone. I couldn't remember if I still had his number or not.

I DID!

I WOULD TEXT HIM!

What to say?! Something smart, cute, funny, sexy....

What did I send?

"Hey it's *******, I just saw you at the Toad and had to come home to change my panties. Are you up to anything later?"

Not quite the work of art I had planned.... but it was sent.

I didn't hear back until this morning. "I looked like pooo"

I didn't respond. I think he wanted me to fan his ego, but I refused. I figure, I am just going to own the text I sent him. If it comes up I will not be ashamed of the fact that he turns me on.

What I am kind of hoping will happen is that now he knows I am still interested in his cock so maybe he will suggest a meet up. I am not going to suggest anything. Imma leave the ball in his court and if he is interested then great. Otherwise, whatever.