Shut up and listen dumbass…

As men, we have the Peter Pan complex, hence we never want to grow up. But here is the deal.

I know I’m going to get old, piss my pants and gaggle like a baby, but if I ever catch you treating me like an asshole I will make sure that someone fucks you up. I used to do back flips off the bar on three pills you pimple headed little bitch! I deserve respect!

The venues may have changed, but nothing else has. Old people have the exact same stories that we have. OK, so we meet most of out girls in nightclubs. BIG fucking deal! Your grandfather used to bang the chic next door, or up the street in his little village in Romania.

Our grandparents might seem like conservative, old assholes. They may piss their pants when we walk in to the hospital room, but guess what? When they were young, they lived EXACTLY the same crazy life that we live. Where do you think that your personality came from douche bag? It’s right from them…

Aside: There are benefits to doing back flips in bars. You will not live as long as the ones who never did back flips and you don’t really have to worry about that many people talking around you. It’s the unlucky ones who live long that get fucked. Hopefully this chapter clears some of that shit up.

This shit sounds sweet fifty years later. How many times have you heard old people say, “yes, she was engaged to be married to someone else and then we met and fell in love…” You know what really happened? He was fucking a girl who was engaged and and he told her, “fuck him, you’re coming with me,” and that was that.

Advice: Don’t talk around old people man. They deserve the respect that they have earned.

But this does not go for all old people. You have to do some research and make sure that they have truly earned it. Then when they tell stories about the old days, you sit and you fucking listen because that old fuck was doing the same back flips that you are doing today. The only difference is that motherfucker did it before you and he has seniority.

Who knows, you may learn something…

Gym Etiquette…

The rule, not the exception.

For those of us that actually make the time to hit the weights and stare at chics asses,  I think you would agree there are a few things that need to be addressed in every gym;

Spandex is a privilege not a right.
Wear a fucking sports bra.
Granny panties are not acceptable gym wear.
It’s not a fashion show.
If fat and overweight (you know who you are), go to Curves.
Coming to sweat doesn’t mean no deodorant.
If ugly, no matter how tight your body, I will not fuck you.

Aside from being a great pick up spot, I prefer to use the gym as a way to unwind from a long day and find my center/inner peace. Fuck that, who am I kidding? I like breaking shit and lifting is the next best thing.

New address, same smut…

New look, new feel, new domain; misadventuresindating.net

Cheers
-CD

The girl from Ipanema…

Spot: Churrascaria Porcao
Chic: 28/Brazilian
Body type: Brazilian
Occupation: Doctor

I won’t hit on a chic at the gym unless she’s in tight tights, bent over on a leg machine with a phenomenal ass staring up at me. With that said, this beauty from Ipanema had all of the above and well, she was nothing short of amazing.

I made my way through every leg machine in her sight line (good thing I planned on working back that day) I threw gym etiquette to the wind by asking her out. I wish I can tell you I came up with some great line, but in simplicity there is beauty… And nothing as simply beautiful as the “yes” that rolled off her tongue.

Seeing as Sunday was too short a notice, and we both had plans, the next day would have to do.

Side note: Typically the easiest way to have a chic feel comfortable with you in the blink of an eye is to take her somewhere indicative of her culture/upbringing. In most cases, after religion, Brazilians love their food.

We met at Churrascaria Porcao, on Park Ave. Turns out we had a lot in common, we are both aggressive type A’s that need to get what we want and it turns out she is a Doctor, jokingly I said you aren’t a Chiropractor are you? I hear they aren’t really doctors… Apparently she found that funny and moved closer to me (I wouldn’t date a chiro, they are just average).

Through conversation, she said if I thought I was getting lucky tonight, I was sorely mistaken. Nonchalantly I said, “what makes you think I would sleep with you?” If she was anything that resembled a type A, her ego would parlay my rebuttal into a challenge.

Either way I win! No?

Being the chosen one that I am, we ended up at my place. Now I can go into details about the mind blowing sex I had with her, but the crux of the story is what happened in the morning while I was getting ready for work.

Side note 2: Brazilians, tend to be very religious (except we used a condom or 6) and respectful to older people. Plus they are the most beautiful women in the world!

My day usually begins at 5:30 in the AM, TV comes on with financial news, all the speakers throughout are a buzz with whatever the TV is spitting out.

I invite her to come shower with me and I even offered her  a toothbrush (we know it was going straight into the bin after she left, after all this was to be a one time appearance) to go with the shower. She declined saying she needed a few more minutes in bed.

OK, I had morning wood and had to basically pee upside down, I took a shower and got ready for work.

House Keeper: My house keeper is the shit, after my mother there is my house keeper and my secretary, no other women will ever come close. She has been with me for 4-5 years. She makes my breakfast, freshly squeezed OJ everyday, keeps my place clean, does my laundry and if she finds lingering thongs strewn about, she throws them away, never to be found.

I gently nudged Ipanema to get dressed and she said it;

“It’s OK, I can stay here and leave after you go to work.”

In my mind I’m like fuck no, so I did what any smart man would do. I told her to listen carefully, to which she heard my housekeeper setting my breakfast up. She asked who was that since I told her I lived alone.

I looked her square in the eye and said, “It’s my mom, she came to make me breakfast today.”

With the a look of fright and embarrassment she threw her clothes on and “convinced” me to sneak her out of my place.

Smiling I sat at the counter about to dig into my breakfast when my housekeeper bursts out laughing and says, “let me guess, I’m your mother?”

To which I said yes….

It’s now about 9:30 in the AM and I have already received 2 text messages from my Ipanema asking when we are going out again.

I think not….

Game, set and match? Me!

Ciao

Downward Douche…

Downward dog you say?

Even if you are 100% interested in actually taking yoga, you will just look like the creepy guy in the back of class who might just be staring at every woman’s backside. Again, it could also be genius. I’ll let you know my findings after my next session.

The Argument Against Yoga…

Here is what I picked up in the class (taken from here http://yoga.about.com/od/yogaposes/a/downdog.htm)

Also known as: Downward Dog, Down Dog

Type of pose: Standing, Mild Inversion, Resting

Benefits: Stretches and strengthens the whole body. Can help relieve back pain.

Downward facing dog is done many times during most yoga classes. It is a transitional pose, a resting pose and a great strengthener in its own right. It may be the first yoga pose you encounter as you begin a yoga practice. Downward dog is so prevalent, even people who have never done yoga have probably heard of it.

Instructions:

1. Come to your hands and knees with the wrists underneath the shoulders and the knees underneath the hips.

2. Curl the toes under and push back raising the hips and straightening the legs.

3. Spread the fingers and ground down from the forearms into the fingertips.

4. Outwardly rotate the upper arms broadening the collarbones.

5. Let the head hang, move the shoulder blades away from the ears towards the hips.

6. Engage the quadriceps strongly to take the weight off the arms, making this a resting pose.

7. Rotate the thighs inward, keep the tail high and sink your heels to the floor.

8. Check that the distance between your hands and feet is correct by coming forward to a plank position. The distance between the hands and feet should be the same in these two poses. Do not step the feet toward the hands in Down Dog in order the get the heels to the floor. This will happen eventually as the muscles lengthen.

Beginners: Try bending your knees, coming up onto the balls of your feet, bringing the belly to rest on the thighs and the sit bones up high. Then sink your heels, straightening the legs keeping the high upward rotation of the sit bones. Also try bending the arms slightly out to the side, drawing the chest towards the thighs. Then restraighten the arms.

Advanced: If you are very flexible, try not to let the rib cage sink towards the floor creating a sinking spine. Draw the ribs in to maintain a flat back. Try holding the pose for five minutes, placing a block under your head for support

Sober, are you kidding man???

Originally written a while back…

How could sobriety be fun?

I’ve been sober for the last two weeks and I can’t remember the last time I was so fucking bored. Wait, I remember it was when I was in jail! Now that I think about it, I was hung over in jail and I think that I actually might have had more fun in jail than I’ve had in the last two weeks.

Side note: Truth be told, Neither have I been in jail nor has it been two weeks. It has only been one week, but I am so fucking bored that it feels like two. This is a fact of sobriety. Time passes slowly.

Imagine not drinking and partying anymore. You have two choices: exercise, or eat like a fucking pig and get fat. That is precisely what happens to married men who stop going out. Everyone says booze makes you fat but actually, all the meals you miss when you’re a boozer more than balances that out.

Married men don’t really booze anymore because they know that if they have a cocktail or two before they get home, she will piss on his character for the rest of the evening and maybe tomorrow, too. There is only one thing left to do…EAT! Being fat is just no fun. Especially because you will now be a hypocrite for making fun of fat people.

The other side of the spectrum is exercise, which is what I have been trying lately. Yes, you start to feel good and all that shit and you get fit, but you instantly become the boring prick who always talks about his exercise routine. Do you really think that there is a single person out there who really wants to hear about how many fucking minutes you jump rope? No man, I am embarrassed to say that I have fallen into this trap. I feel like jumping off a building because in my boozing days (which I intend to bring back very, very soon, like maybe right now) I would laugh and make fun of people like me.

Advice: Sobriety sucks and you will find yourself in a black and white life like “Leave it to Beaver” if you do not keep a check on yourself.

There is a reason why there are so many bars and clubs out there… People love to booze, do drugs and get laid, as they should! Don’t let the others fool you into believing that boozing is wrong. As long as you don’t turn into slurring, spitting and molesting Joe when you are wasted, it is even OK to get belligerently, black out drunk.

FUCK EM! Who the fuck are they anyway?

Happy Boozing!

The Lawyer, The Voyeur…

Spot: Brandy Library
Chic: 28/German
Body type: Fit
Occupation: Lawyer

Usually my friends and I do brunch once a week, seeing as this weekend one of our friends was going to commit social suicide (get married to a magnificent cunt), we decided on drinks at Brandy Library to celebrate his demise and keep the tradition of our weekly gathering.

Despite not having any strippers there, the place was filled with whores, perhaps not professionals, but gold diggers alike.

I was the last to join the group as I was kept back at work for an extra hour. By the time I got there, my buddies were multiple drinks in and slurring, a pleasant surprise was the grouping of what seemed to be a pack of Jersey girls (easy ass) seated a few tables over, complete with the big noses and overdone makeup. As I settled into my seat, drink in hand and being caught up on the conversations gone by, I noticed her, behind the gaggle Bon Jovi fans.

There she stood, I would venture to say she was 5’10, long legs that could probably be wrapped around you twice and subtle breasts that would convert any ass man. Utterly confused, not knowing what I should do, I made my way over to the bar and asked if she were hungry.

I assume she was taken back, we were at a bar and I asked if she were hungry instead of asking if she wanted a drink. In what I think was interest to see where I was going with this she said yes. I closed out my tab and left for Benihana.

Side note: Now I know what you are thinking. Why Benihana? Any douche could have taken her to Gyu-Kaku or something of the like. But I figured she had the world and more offered to her more times than I care to count and she is probably sick of it.

Stunned that I would take her from Brandy Library to a run of the mill hibachi spot, pleasantly surprised, she said she was relieved that I wasn’t taking her to Bond Street or Cipriani’s like all the other Bankers and Lawyers that pursued her.

If you have ever been, this place is for the masses, nothing special about it, other than the teppanyaki. A few bottles of saki, some fried rice and meat, we were laughing our asses off when we glanced over the subject of sex.

Obviously I perked up when she said she always wanted to be watched but didn’t think she could have a third person in the room watching her.

With that these simple words rolled out of my mouth, “Would you say you’re adventurous?”

Taking a moment to deliberate over her answer she asked what I had in mind. And again I repeated myself this time gently squeezing the inside of her thigh. Where she said yes, but she still couldn’t deal with a third person.

I told her not to worry, there are multiple ways to get your fantasy.

Having done this before I called ahead to the Hilton Times Square for a room on the 4th floor, while watching her smile with the street lights glistening through the cabs window onto her lips, neck and chest. Inhibitions out the window we started making out in the cab, my hands running the course of her incredibly long legs and squeezing her ass.

Barely able to keep my hands off of her while we checked in, we finally made it to the room, the foreplay was on the walls, the bed and even in the shower. But the main event took center stage at the window facing Times Square, her nipples pressed up against the glass, with one leg raised onto the sill with me taking her from behind. I could see her reflection and she smiled more and more when she noticed people noticing her.

After a few more positions with her trying to dig her fingers into the window, my favorite being her facing the window with both legs spread open up on the sill reaching over her head holding onto mine (no pun intended) and me sliding in and out of her with varying tempo and direction, we took it to the bed where she continued to orgasm after orgasm.

She could definitely move. Dare I say she may have even taught me a few things.

The next morning, I awoke to her bringing in breakfast from outside, which I actually liked. We got dressed and went our separate ways.

After putting her into a cab and waiting for mine, I realized I failed to ask for her number. With regret, I hopped into a cab headed home to get ready for work.

It wasn’t until I took cash out of my pocket to pay, when I noticed a key card and a slip of paper that read, “9P.M. same room, Rahel – (917)XXX-XXXX.”

I assume when she went out for breakfast she got the room for another day.

Looks like I will be having some evening delight later on tonight.

My name is Babbette…

Spot: Hudson Bar
Chic: 26/Cuban
Body type: Fit with long flowing hair
Occupation: Bartender

The night started off with what some would call a boring uneventful dinner with clients and their wives. As if having my mother constantly nagging as to when and/or if I would ever get married, I had to put up with a barrage of questions form my clients wives as they tried to pry into my social life. One went so far as to be willing to set me up with her daughter. To which I politely declined. After all fucking a co-worker is perfectly acceptable, on the other hand fucking your clients daughter when said client knows what you are due to his many nights out sans wife, is generally not a way to make your career.

Side note: This is one of my oldest clients, When I moved from my last company to their competitor he came without a question asked.

As the dinner wound down, picking up a scent that the gentlemen weren’t quite ready to go back to the hotel, but they didn’t want their wives to come out, I mentioned my analysts had just finished the proposal and we should stop by the office to hammer out the details. Reluctantly the ladies agreed as we had the car take them back to the hotel.

When the car cracked the corner, cigars were lit and the pats on my shoulder began. Now these guys were in their late 50′s and desperate for a night out on the town. Knowing they had a penchant for the 22-25 year old women, I decided there was only one place to take them to have their ego’s stroked. Hudson Bar.

Usually no one gets a table here, but I couldn’t have then standing like a bunch of schlubs waiting on the little pixies to wander over. So I did what I had to, a bottle of single malt scotch, a bottle of vodka and 3 bottles of champagne. Don’t worry they will be billed back for all this at some point I’m sure.

As the waitress was bringing the mixers to our table I slipped her a couple bills and asked she send over some women who weren’t put off by older men. So said so done. Within minutes the waitress was bringing chic after chic. When the guys got settled in with their lady friends I decided to set up position at the bar and perhaps find a warm body for the night.

True to form I gave the bartenders the once over and set up shop so to speak at the hottest ones station. Her body was ridiculous, not an ounce of fat, an ass you could eat all night and the right amount of perky tits for her 5’2″ frame. I leaned over ordered my drink and turned away to wait for my drink.

As expected she tried to get my attention to give me the drink, but I waiting till she leaned over to tap my shoulder. Turning around I said “sorry I couldn’t hear you” with my fathers sly smile half cocked.

We spent the next couple hours talking, flirting and probing for a little background on each other.

As the minutes turned to hours it was time for me to put my clients into a car and send them home. Good timing to, as she was closing out her shift.

After my clients were gone, I headed back upstairs, asked her for a piece of paper, I wrote down the name of a diner and I told her there would be a car waiting downstairs to bring her for breakfast in about 30 minutes and I walked away.

While I was walking away, she said “you don’t know my name, you haven’t asked for my number and what if I don’t show?” Turning around I said nothing ventured nothing gained and left.

Well I’m happy to blog she showed up at the diner and we had breakfast, it was here we introduced ourselves and exchanged names and numbers. I’m still trying to get over the fact that her name is Babbette. Deciding that I had to slow play her to get her in bed I dropped her home after breakfast and waited a few days to call her.

Now here is the thing about bartenders, they hear it all. So you have to make some form of effort.

Eventually Friday rolled around and I had taken the day off when I called her and asked for her address, initially she asked why and I said I needed to know where to pick her up.

When I picked her up. She kept asking where we were going, all I told her was to pack a bag in case we got wet. About an hour and half later we got to a vineyard on Long Island, not too far from a great hotel ;).

We spent a few hours on the tour and sampling different wines when I threw it out there. “We can stay for the night or we can go back to the city.”

Without any hesitation she agreed, we were both having a great time and decided to venture out of the area for dinner. Found a great hole in the wall restaurant where we shared stories and gained a bit of insight into each other.

After dinner we went back to the jacuzzi in our room. Now I don’t know about you but, Hot tub + wine + 2 horny people = A GREAT FUCKING TIME!

The sex was nothing short of great. I would even give her an A+.

We ended up making a weekend out of it and we still hook up every couple days. Maybe I can get her to do a 3 way with the Indian.

By the way she was Cuban, strike off number 4…

Cry baby…

Spot: Cavo
Chic: 34/Spaniard
Body type: Fit
Occupation: Dentist

Admittedly, this one was hard to find, so I decided to use good old faithful, to find some authentic Spaniard ass (as in  directly from Spain). Match.com. After spending the better part of 2 days to find and chat with this one online, we decided to meet close to her. She lives in Astoria, known for its ambiance and great food I chose Cavo.

Getting there early to set up for my encounter, I had a couple drinks with the bartender. Let me tell you , this breathtaking Moldavian beauty made me want to ditch my date, but she had to work the bar so I had to settle for  the Spaniard.

My date, now 15 minutes late arrives, after giving her the once over I opted for drinks over dinner, still  thinking of my bar maid, plus she looked a lot better in her pictures. In person I’d give her a sober 7 out of 10. But she was a means to an end, after all her purpose was to help me strike number 3 off of the list.

Sitting at the bar, force to feign some degree of interest I started self medicating. Goose and Red Bull, one after the other. Just as I was approaching a zen state of buzz, she did it. She started playing with her hair.

Was this a sign from the gods? Could I start making my move to go back to her place? Turning on whatever charm I had left in me, I seduced her within minutes.

Deciding to kill 2 birds with one stone, I let her touch me and try to make out with me (obviously to see if the bartender was interested). I slid my fingers up along the seem of her jeans to what I would  assume to be  a rather moist and hopefully delectable pussy. Not sensing any resistance from her I threw some cash on the the bar and led her out.

Side note: She lived 2 blocks away.

My blood pressure starting to build with the anticipation of the kill, I put my arm around her waist sliding  one of my fingers under the waistband of her jeans while walking to her place, gently squeezing from time to time to keep her in the mood.

From the moment we got back to her place we were naked and and I was going for the gold. There was nothing I wouldn’t try to do with her, afterall it wasn’t like I was going to see her again, well not intentionally anyway.

After fucking her a couple times (she gets a B- for the sex), I got up and got dressed.

Chic: What are you doing? Where are you going?
Me: I’m going home.
Chic: You can stay for the night.
Me: No, I already did what I had to do.

Chic starts crying and cursing saying she feels used.

While walking out of her room, I tossed a card that simply read “casualdater.net” told her to check out the website in a week or two and it will explain everything.

Adios…