I went out with a pot SD for the second time on Sunday night and had a rather scandalist evening!
I try to remain friendly with most of my ex-SDs, I keep them at arm’s length anyway, so if I happen to run into one whilst out with another, nothing gets too uncomfortable. It’s proven to be a smart move thus far because some long-past SDs have seen me out with another SD, then called me to go out soon after. Seeing me had reminded them how cool they thought I was…
Clean breaks, no hard feelings, everyone wins– right?
Sunday night was the exception. So this newer pot SD took me to dinner…
Side Note: This man is still just a pot because while we’ve discussed that we want similar things from an arrangement, he hasn’t quite committed, though a handbag was bought by way of his cc as a sort of sugar-baby retainer.
…Yes, dinner. A great little place in downtown Phx…
Hefty bill taken care of by SD?
Done and done (thank you very much)
So, this SD (we’ll dub him Z until he makes an impression) kept telling me he had a surprise after dinner. Post vino and eats, we got into his classic Merc in mint condition (I absolutely luve cars like that!!), and he whisked me off to the next unknown destination!
Apparently this SD listens—because the surprise destination was to see a show, a band I’ve really been into! I don’t even think he’d ever listened to their music! Woo-hoo!
Upon arrival, getting out of the merc in my adorable little outfit, there in my periphery I saw my last crazy SD—the one exception to the rule of staying on good terms! Yikes—luckily, Z loves the school marm look, so as I was sporting my new Persols, I could fuss with them enough to give the illusion of not making eye contact or seeing my crazy ex-SD.
So this last SD, the dentist, is a weirdo with a capital C (the creepster, I’ll tell you more about him at a later date)!
There the dentist was, eerily close to us as we tried to enjoy the show, I didn’t want to leave my date alone! But before my bladder was about to explode, (not a good impression), I excused myself to the restroom and the dentist followed me.
Just as I was about to lock the one-stall bathroom, he barged through, pressed me up against the cold tile like he was either going to fuck or kill me, and asked me what I was thinking by being there! Eww yuck, he smelled like sweat as I remembered he did.
I found that with the dentist, I have to remain calm and silent—no response, and he usually walks away angry, but I walk away unscathed.
So I didn’t respond (or even think about how he smelled so I wouldn’t lose my meal) he gave my throat a good squeeze and left the bathroom.
I exited the water closet and joined Z for the rest of the amazing, albeit my mind was elsewhere, show… The dentist had, lucky for me, left before I returned to Z so I didn’t have the look of fear about me.
I’ve dealt with the dentist before, and had to wear scarves after close encounters with his grip so I know the drill. Z never questioned my stall adventure and I never let on, the pot SD would think I was the problem for sure! Charlie Sheen and his goddesses are a great example of a scandalous arrangement, full of crazy and blame.
I have another date with Z this week for a “talk” (why do they always have to preface uncomfortable talks as “talks”) to discuss our future arrangement. Stupid dentists.