Like every woman out there, I’ve fallen prey to players. Those smooth talking silver tongued lads who you want to believe because it feels good or its a happier picture. The guys who can cancel or make plans last minute and convince you that its for legitimate reasons. They convince you that you are in fact the most important and beautiful person in the world, and if they could they’d be with you 24/7. And we believe it, because we want to.
I’ve been there. Done that. And sometimes willingly got the t-shirt. (Don’t judge me. Sometimes good sex and a guy who makes you feel like a million bucks is pretty darn awesome, even if you know he’s lying)
And (as the Texans say it..) “Bless his little heart” Hock is trying to be one of these guys. I’ll give him some props for effort, but he’s got a whole lot to learn. Aka he’s a massive idiot.
1. If you’re trying to be a playa, make sure your “excuses” can’t be easily disproven by your Twitter or Facebook updates, especially if said media is one of the ways you two communicate.
2. If you don’t want to burn bridges, never leave a girl waiting without any kind of word. Always keep her informed on your availability even if it changes last minute. Real playas don’t want to put the effort into making up for things later and understand the longer you let a girl fester, the less likely you’ll talk your way back into her pants. The less misunderstandings, the better your chances of getting laid.
And as such, Hock is no more. I’m actually thinking he may get physically hurt next I see him, but that will probably pass. In the meantime, let me tell you the story of how Hock went from sexy to deserving a ball-kicking (or more).
As you all know, Hock and I went to a hockey game and “made up” after his 3 am booty-texting faux-pas (which btw girls any time a guy does this to you, save yourself some time and just write him off completely). I hadn’t forgiven him completely but was willing to give him a second chance.
So anyway, I’d seen on Twitter that he was getting some friends together for a UFC watching party, and I had other plans with Getty to cheer her up after a horrid week. Getty wanted to get drunk and I promised to be her designated driver. Being the great friend that I am, I used my media savvy to invite others to our party. I also sent Hock a special invite letting him know that when the UFC thing was over if he was bored he was welcome to join us.
Around midnight, Hock texted me and asked if we were still out. I said we were. He said he was on his way. Getty and I were about 15 minutes from leaving and picking another locale so I stalled so we could wait for Hock. Courtesy.
45 minutes go by. I text Hock.
“How close are ya?”
H – “I was actually there for about 10 mins looking around. Sorry I missed you.”
(Oh bullshit asshole)
M – “Why didn’t you txt me?”
(Seriously if you’re looking for someone at a place, and can’t find them, you call or text them to see where they are, especially if they knew you were coming.)
H – “Sorry I thought you were out. I went ahead and started getting home. I gotta get the house prepped for my mom coming tomorrow.”
(BULLSHIT.. but whatever)
M – “Well the place here is pretty empty and we were waiting. You should have courtesy txtd me. Have fun prepping”
So I’m ticked, and I’m “done” with him after this alone. Not going to badmouth him or beat him up.. he’s just obviously a jerkoff and not worth my effort.
Then Getty and I go to another spot and I see my Twitter. Hock is not home. Not even close. He’s actually still out drinking with the same people that he watched the UFC. They’re tweeting about how much fun they’re having with him.. he’s tweeting about how much fun he’s having with them.
Now I’m really done. Obviously the “message” I got by his 3 am booty-text was the right one and I shouldn’t have questioned it. However, this last infraction earns him “ball-kicking” status.
For starters, using your mother as an excuse to ease over a “sex partner” so you can work on getting laid by someone else, on the night before Mother’s Day.. you should be roasted in hell.
Second, he lied with every sentence. He wasn’t on his way EVER (no one would go across town to where I was, only to go back to where he was. He never left.). Meaning he never arrived to even be looking for me, and he never went home to prepare for his mother’s visit. He probably lied about his mother visiting as well.
Had he said other plans came up, I could have at least understood and probably would have rolled with it (he did say he was just out for fun at the start).. Instead he tried to keep me on the bench by lying a mega asinine lie. What a freaking moron.
Oh and if anyone in Austin wants his number to go kick his ass, I’ll happily give it.
I do walk away from this learning something though.
1. Sports aren’t bad. Its all about the company.
2. Not everyone deserves a second chance.
PS girls.. do take away from this one thing.. No matter how slick and sweet he talks, if he walks like an ass, you can be sure he is one.