See You In The Funny Papers

Recently, Mulder and I took a drive to go to dinner on the east side of town.

During the ride, we passed the home of a guy I met a while ago. This guy reminded me of the ever hapless, baseball manager, Charlie Brown.

My dating profile was very clear as to what type of man I was looking for. I wrote that I wanted a strong, dynamic, decisive, competent guy. A man that could be in charge and take control. Since I’m going with comic analogies, a Dick Tracy, sort of man. Dick Tracy has a definite persona. His personality is crystal clear, don’tcha think? Whereas Charlie Brown, not so much. Ol’ CB has always been described as, wishy-washy.

Charlie was articulate and funny during our email “chats.” He was new to the area and was looking to met women that might have an inclination towards some spanking and restraint play. He liked biking. He also was into geocaching. This was something that I’d read about and it piqued my interest even if it was a wee bit nerdy. After a couple of weeks of emails and phone conversations, we decided to meet.

He was living down by the intracoastal in a temporary trailer park. (Stop laughing, right now!) We met in an actual park by the water. Pictures had been exchanged so we recognized each other. He was about 6’ tall, slim with brownish hair. Charlie wasn’t anything to write home about, he was an average guy. He was like the neighbor you’d describe as, “A nice man. ” When you got interviewed on TV after the cops dug up 30 bodies in his back yard. You know, THAT type of guy.

We sat for a while, talking, as the sun set. Charlie told me he’d moved down state earlier in the year. He was starting a new technology business and was enjoying riding his bike around. He said he missed the bike club he belonged to up north. When the sun was down, he asked if I’d like to go for dinner. He mentioned he was a vegetarian and wondered if I knew of any restaurants around that would suit him. This puzzled me as I’d told him that I lived and worked on the west side of town and that I didn’t frequent this side. In addition, he’d been there over 6 months, wasn’t he exploring? He admitted he didn’t eat out much due to financial constraints. We decided to drive closer to the beach (in my car) to look for a suitable place to eat.

Strike one.

During dinner at a Mexican restaurant, Charlie told me he and his fiancé decided to move to this area to start a business. While he stayed north to tie up loose ends, she came down to get things going here. Apparently, the only thing she got going was a relationship with another man. Charlie was left with no job, his trailer (caravan), no fiancé and not much money. He decided to come down anyway since he didn’t have any real reason to stay where he was. (I’m thinking Charlie was going to try to win the fiancé back with his stellar character and personality.) He further went on that it was his fiancé who got him into the bike club and the geocaching. She was very athletic and she loved outdoor activities. He was lonely down here because she was the one that managed their social life. This was my first re al inkling that Charlie was the one who wanted to be spanked and restrained. He wanted to be dominated, not be a dominant. Charlie wasn’t sure about how aggressive he should be in his business approach and was looking into maybe getting active in a bike club here but hadn’t made much headway. *sigh*

Strike two.

Usually, I’m a "two strike, you’re out", kinda gal but Charlie was nice to an extent. I knew that I wouldn’t be coming back to play again but wanted to make the best of things since I’d driven all the way over to meet him. There was the possibility that he was a demon in bed. Hope springs eternal.

We returned to his trailer for a drink. Sitting on the couch, we talked a little more then he kissed me. He was a good kisser. His lips were soft, he had good pressure and didn’t give too much tongue. He slipped his hands under my shirt, caressing my back then moving to my breasts. His touch was gentle yet firm. Things were looking up! After some more kissing and touching, we made our way to his bed. continued on, removing our clothes but Charlie didn’t seem like he was really getting turned-on. Needless to say, my self-esteem was falling. I started to apply more pressure on his cock, squeezing his shaft tighter – pulling, pushing more forcibly. I slid my body closer to him, digging the fingers of my free hand into his butt cheek. My being more aggressive was what Charlie wanted, he whispered, “Do you want to spank me?” Here’s where I started to think that maybe I typed my profile in Greek without knowing it. I mean, English did appear to be his first language and all. WTF? As graciously as possible under the circumstances, I passed on being a spanker.

Strike three came up fairly soon. Charlie’s strike three was a bottom-of- the-ninth-bases-loaded, World Series strike three.

We’d been fucking. (Hey! I need something out of this fiasco!) He was on top, my legs wrapped around his waist when all of sudden, he stopped, flopped over on his back and said, “You’re turn to do the work!”

At that moment, I felt like Lucy pulling the football away from Charlie Brown when I looked him in the eye and told him if he considered fucking “work” that he was too lazy to do then he had the wrong woman. Game OVER!

As I dressed, he made some half-hearted, wishy-washy attempts at an apology. It was too little, too late. Good Grief! What a blockhead!

(Mike Rowe is pretty hot, though! ;)