Phil the Gorilla, Part 2

He felt the need to tell me how much he knew about sex, but I sure couldn't tell by his actions. Things progressed very slowly, which was fine, but I also felt like he wasn't particularly attracted to me. But there was another thing I noticed, too. We never went anywhere. We went to a nice restaurant once, when I took him out for his birthday. A couple of times we went to a local sports bar to meet his friends, and one time we went to the race track with his family. Never did he want to spend time with my friends or family (although he knew my dad and oldest brother and thought they were great. After the end of our relationship, I found they did not feel the same and were hoping things would end between us.)

And he really thought he was a good looking guy. He would always tell me how cute he was and that he could have been a leading man in Hollywood and I was lucky to have such a catch.

Now you tell me, is this the next George Clooney? Ed Harris? Johnny Depp?



I mean, he isn't bad looking, but he used to say stuff like, "I'm too cute to go to jail!" and "Do you tell your friends what a handsome guy you have?"

Our dates, though, mainly consisted of hanging out at his house and either watching movies, or helping him with one of his household projects, such as tearing up his kitchen floor or watching him make a workbench. I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed to be seen with me, or if he was just that cheap.

It was at this time I realized that the only compliment ever paid to me by Phildo was that he could never tell when I had PMS or didn't, because I never got overly emotional, mean, or anything else. I mean, as a woman that is a good compliment, but really...hearing I look nice would be nice. Especially since I would compliment him.

He was shocked when the topic of politics came up, and I said I was a democrat. The look on his face was like I had slapped him. Everyone in his circle were devote republicans, except for the wife of one of his friends--and they all treated her like dirt--but she held her own beautifully.

So, I shouldn't have been surprised when one night at his house, as I was sitting on the sofa watching the Matrix 2, minding my own business when 3 of his friends stood over me shouting and point and cursing about democrats, that Phildo didn't come to my rescue. I was in shock. I felt threatened, even though intellectually I knew I was not in harm's way. Later he was all, "They were drunk! It is no big deal!"

We had sort of progressed in the physical sense, in that we would, ummm...explore oral pleasures. But after a few weeks of that, and the first time he took me to his bedroom for this act, I made an assumption things were going to go further. I asked if he had any protection. He said, "no" in a very cold tone. I felt uncomfortable and didn't mention that I had some in my purse.

After we had had our fun, he turned away from me and crossed his arms on his chest again. I snuggled up behind him to spoon. He pulled away and said, "God! Now my ass is all wet!" And went to the bathroom. Charming. And believe me, I could not have gotten him THAT wet, even if I dumped the glass of water on the night stand on him, which in hind sight, I wish I would have done.

He threw a big Halloween party, as he did every year. At this point, I noticed that he was drinking more and more. Not that he was drunk, but he would definitely be tipsy more often than necessary. The night of the party he drank quite a bit. In his drunkenness, he was feeling amorous. He wanted me to kick his friends out of the house. Now, admittedly, I wanted to do just that, however, I was not about to kick anyone from his house when I was already a bit of a pariah. He pouted. I left around 2:30am, and he was still trying to get me to get people to leave, but they were also intoxicated, and there was no way I would have wanted any of them to drive in their conditions.

Still, I continued to date him, and was euphoric when he asked me to go on the annual camping trip that he and his buddies and siblings went on every year. Unfortunately, he always felt the need to tell me the best time camping was the year that only he and his fiance and his buddy and his buddy's girlfriend went there together. The fiance was awesome--he had managed to brainwash her to be a republican. She even read Rush Limbaugh's books, and couldn't understand why I wasn't interested in reading it. Of course, he wasn't willing to read Hilary's book for me.

By I digress...

The camping trip was the weekend of Thanksgiving. We would leave Friday morning and comeback Sunday. We had food, alcohol, and I had a three sets of cami/boy short ensembles ready to look cute, yet as though I had nothing more than more than sleeping on my mind.

He drank a lot, he took up smoking, but tried to hide it. As if I couldn't smell it, or taste it when we kissed. When I finally busted him, he copped an attitude on me. When it was time to sleep, in a room with 5 other couples, he was frisky. In our sleeping bag, he started putting the moves on me. I think this was when he decided to have sex. He was shocked when I said our first time was not going to be in a sleep bag, with all of his buddies around, and trying to be sneaky and quiet. He just didn't get it.
Figuratively, and literally.

And he was ornery as a drunk. He was even annoying his friends. And he became even more arrogant. His sisters were apologetic to me. Then the night came, and he was frisky. Even though I had gone to bed an hour before hand because I was so tired. After enough prodding, though, by juices were flowing, but then he decided he was too tired and turned away.

And still, things got worse.