Disclaimer:  Any facts recounted here are as the author recalled them at the time of writing; any opinions based on those facts expressed herein are the opinion of the author.

Facebook now has suggestions for whom to follow.  I’ve noticed the suggestions for me tend to be people in San Francisco who went to some of the same schools as I, or who are friends of friends. A lot of the people I actually know but have NO interest in “friending” on Facebook or anywhere else.

One such person is BB.  His Facebook photo is that of a hardcore dork.  He’s showing off his closely-cropped yet shitty haircut and he has his hand to his chin so his watch is in full view.  The pose is redolent of a high school senior portrait.  The look on his face simultaneously says, “This is me looking contemplative,” and “You think I’m sexy, don’t you?” and “Isn’t my watch cool?” and “Oh, the camera’s over there?”  Also, his hand appears to be almost as large as his pin-ish head.

[When I originally wrote that last paragraph I was planning to not post the photo of BB.  I do have a conscience.  For example, I did not post the photo of Donkey Dick‘s face because he had emailed it to me, not posted it on the internetweb.  Well, BB posted his photo online, so I’m merely reposting a photo that is already there for anyone with internet access to see anyway.  Yes, I’m a bitch, but really, posting the photo here only serves to embarrass me, because …]

Sadly, I fucked this guy.  A lot.

It wasn’t my fault though.  I blame a former friend, CK, and my weakened emotional state.

The Ex had just left me; my dog, Otter, was old (15 years) and sick; my mother had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease and subsequently kicked out of her home; my step-brother had been in and out of jail and diagnosed with bipolar disorder; my brother-in-law had died a tragic death in his early 20s, etc.  I was not handling very well all the bullshit that the universe was piling on me. (And there was a lot more to come, though of course I didn’t know it at the time.)

CK was a good friend of mine with whom I had attended law school.  CK’s friends, a heterosexual couple, were in town from Portland, Oregon, to attend the Treasure Island Music Festival (2007) so the four of us hung out on Friday night before the show.  We went to some local dive bars where everyone proceeded to get drunk and stupid.

We went back to my place to drink some more.  I also made everyone BLTs, one of my specialties when the tomatoes are in season (it was September).  We were all drunk and goofing around.

Living alone means I leave my email and other computer applications open at all times.  CK began reading some emails, with my full approval, and asked me who this BB guy was.

I explained how we had initially, and subsequently, met.  Several months–and possibly as long as a year–before, when the Ex and I still thought we were in a workable marriage, we went out with a large group of friends for someone’s birthday.  The Ex and I socialized with an extended circle of people, mostly couples.  That night we went out to Thai food and then walked to the W Hotel to have a couple of drinks in the bar.

Our group colonized the upholstered furniture just inside the revolving doors that face the Moscone Center.  The Ex was at the bar getting some drinks when a guy who was not in our group began chatting me up.  He offered to buy me a drink.  I told him that my husband was getting me a drink at that moment, but that he could buy me my next one.  The Ex certainly did not begrudge me a free drink so long as I didn’t unnecessarily lead anyone on.

The guy and I talked.  Apparently his friends had dared him to talk to me because he had been admiring me from afar.  That was certainly flattering, and because I found him unattractive I felt completely safe flirting with him just a bit, and was not concerned that I did so in front of my husband and our friends.

Eventually our group got its fill of $10 drinks and we moved on.  I gave the guy my business card.  BB began emailing me.  He wrote very long emails.

Eventually I told him, via email, that he was devoting far too much energy into me considering I was married and certainly not looking to cheat on my husband (with a guy I found dorky and unappealing).  That was the end of that.

Fast forward several months.  I was freshly single and horny so I perused Craig’s List.  I responded to an ad that had reasonably intelligent copy and included a photo of a woman tied up on her knees.  I received a response from a familiar email address.  It was the same guy I’d met at the W way back when.

We exchanged several emails.  I revealed pretty quickly that we had met previously.  I remembered that the guy in no way appealed to me so I rebuffed his several requests to meet.

The night the four of us were drunkenly snacking at my place, CK read the emails from BB and–without my knowledge–responded that she, posing as me, wanted him to come over that night.

It wasn’t until he was at my building’s front door and the buzzer was ringing that CK told me she had invited him over.  Fuck.  I felt bad that this guy thought I wanted to see him and had come over pretty late, even for a Friday night.

The five of us hung out–until CK quite suddenly left.  She should not have been driving in her state of intoxication but she slipped out past all of us.  She left her friends at my place.  Uh, ok.  I got the Aero bed and bedding for them. While they inflated the bed and settled in downstairs, BB and I went upstairs to my bedroom.

I live in a loft.  There is no privacy except in the bathrooms.  I was drunk.  This guy was really into me, which I needed at the time.  With little regard for my house guests, whom I had only invited under duress, BB and I fucked.  He left before the rest of us woke up.

I don’t know why, but he quickly fell into the rotation; I was fucking a total of four men at the time.  As this was very shortly after my husband had moved out I was still getting my sexual sea legs; I was rediscovering casual sex.

BB and I had decent sex.  We had more anal sex than I’d ever had before or since.  He would fuck my ass five times in a night.  Oh, yeah, he was 24 so he had a lot of stamina.  This was before I got into the habit of having condoms and lube in my house at all times, so he brought the supplies.  I am now convinced he used numbing lube–something that at the time I did not know existed–on my ass without consulting me.  NOT cool.

He was a bit odd in bed too.  He refused to take off his tank top undershirt whenever we fucked.  When I suggested he actually get naked he whined that it was difficult for him to take all his clothes off because he had body image issues.  Boo.  Being that self-conscious during sex makes for some lame fucking.  It’s always the ones who can totally let go and get into the fucking who are best in bed.  If he couldn’t even take his tank top off then he definitely wasn’t into the sex enough.

He wore large-sized condoms for some inexplicable reason.  His penis was incredibly average so I didn’t understand why he used the larger condoms.  I asked him as much.  His explanation was a sheepish, “Because that’s what I wear.”  I informed him that he didn’t need to, and that when they’re too big they fall off.

He wanted a relationship.  I was a mess and knew for sure that a relationship was most definitely not what I wanted or needed.  He was too fucking chipper and nice–he was always trying to cheer me up and take me out.  I eventually just stopped responding to his calls, texts, and emails.

I swear.  True story.