Mr. and Mrs. Shameless watch the game

“Do we have plans for next weekend yet, Daddy?”

Mr. Shameless was sitting naked on their leather sofa with his legs spread apart. The game had just resumed after intermission, during which his wife had secured his own emission. She was still sitting on the floor in front of him, absent-mindedly stroking the hair on his inner thighs with her fingers while her cheek rested on his thigh.

“No, pumpkin. Not that I can think of.” He looked over at Bradley sitting on the other side of the sofa and winked.

“Nothing at all?” she asked. Her voice had gone soft and she shifted her weight to turn her head so she could look up at him.

Mr. Shameless kept his eyes focused on the game and shrugged. “Nah. Nothing much going on next weekend.” He picked up the remote and pulsed the volume up two notches.

Mrs. Shameless’ eyes narrowed.

“Daddy.”

“What, pumpkin?”

She dug her fingernails gently into his thigh. “Did you see that?” he commented to Bradley as the referee made a questionable call on the field.

Bradley chuckled, “It was a good call.”

Mr. Shameless shook his head, “You’re only saying that because it’s in your team’s favor.”

Bradley smiled and adjusted his own balls.

“DADDY!” her fingernails jammed into his thigh and he crouched over, pulling her back by the hair. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, pumpkin! I know next weekend is your birthday!”

At that moment, the opposing team scored again and Bradley cheered then cleared his throat and started stroking his cock in preparation.

With a little flick on her nose, he pushed her toward the far end of the couch where Bradley sat waiting. “At least that will keep you quiet for the next ten minutes. Get to it. You better be done before my team scores again.”

Mrs. Shameless stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose, but satisfied that her husband had something up his sleeve for her birthday, crawled over and got to work.

What? No.

I have this ex. I had just turned 19 when I met him. He dumped me on Valentine’s Day after seven or eight months together.

Over the phone.

While I was shopping on 3rd Street in Santa Monica with my mother.

I guess actually receiving a phone call these days would be huge. My last two dumpings were via text message.

Last year he found me on facebook. Then he found me on OKCupid.

I haven’t seen him since we were together. That was eighteen years ago. Our breakup is nearly old enough to vote.

Every so often, (like this morning) I get a message from him asking for a ride somewhere or if I want to hang out sometime.

What? No.

There was this guy, Joe. He was hot. He fucked like a jackrabbit (that’s not a good thing) but he was hot. And his dick was nice. I was 23 or 24 at the time. Every time we had a date planned that included daylight hours or weekends, *something* would come up and he’d cancel. He was always available after dinner time on the weekdays, though.

He’d come over and we’d fuck. Several times. Jackrabbit or no, he could go several times in a night and that’s to be commended.

After another weekend date was cancelled, I called him out on the pattern. I told him I felt strung along and that being a booty call wasn’t what I’d signed up for.

He apologized. He said, “I’m really sorry. I just think you’re the type of girl I’ll eventually want to marry but I’m not ready for that yet, and I thought I could just keep you around until I was.”

I never saw him again, but a year later, he emailed me out of the blue. Looks like he was ready.

What? No.

And so it goes. Those aren’t the only two, nor the most recent.

Now, I’m not actively looking for any sort of relationship. My life is full. I don’t have everything I want from it but I have enough to keep me sated and happy. Sure, there are a few things that I miss doing – but nothing so badly that I’m going to go barking up an already dead and fallen tree to get it. (And if you heard my big announcement on last week’s podcast, then you know there are *other* ways for me to get what I’m missing).

Should the right guy come along that fits right and feels right as part of my life, I’m not gonna shut it down. But it’s gonna take some pretty spectacular mojo to make me want to give up my existing playmates or time in my schedule to make space for him.

If he’s spectacular enough, he’ll be worth it. I know I am.

The thing is – he’ll know I am, too.

Or else he’ll be hearing, “What? No.”