Adventures with Mr. Micro-Peen

Adventures with Mr. Micro-Peen

I made the terrible mistake of losing my virginity to Mr. Micro-Peen.  The thing was that having no experience I did not know that his size was abnormally small, I thought it was normal.  Till I met the other one…but that’s another blog post.

The thing with Mr. Micro-Peen was that he was possessive and controlling, on top of having a micro-peen.  Again being inexperienced and naive I let him control me.  He told me what to wear, who I could be friends with and I needed to tell him of all my whereabouts and movements.  In the back of my mind, I knew all along that this was not right, but I went right along with it because I loved him…or I thought I did.
One day my eyes were open wide when Ms. Plus-Size a friend of a friend came to see me with a guilty look on her face.  I knew something was wrong, and I asked her what’s going on.  I thought for sure she was going to off-load some drama on me.  Little did I know that the drama would involve me.  
Ms. Plus-Size told me that she had also been seeing Mr. Micro-Peen.  My stomach flipped, then I started laughing maniacally and grabbed her by the hand to discuss in one of the empty corners of the cafeteria.  I didn’t want my drama to play out for the amusement of everyone in the cafeteria.
Although my heart was breaking I was also thoroughly amused by this recent turn of event, because I wondered who else was putting up with my Prince Charming.  So we started talking and shared stories of our boyfriend.  At the end of our conversation, we concluded that surely enough we were seeing the same guy.  The determinant factor happened when we compared penis stories.  When I asked Ms. Plus-Size to demonstrate the size of his penis, she used half of her pinky as a comparison.  It was right then and there that I had no doubt that she was telling the truth.
At the end of our heart to heart talk, we both laughed at the predicament that we had found ourselves in and preceded to make a plan to confront Mr. Micro-Peen.  
The face on Mr. Micro-Peen when we walked in together to a college event he was attending was precious!  His mouth dropped, and his eyes bugged out, and I had the biggest smile on my face.  ‘Gotcha!’ I thought.
After a few stuttering starts, he was able to get his wits about him and proceeded to tell us that he did not care about Ms. Plus-size and that, he made a mistake.  His unkind words to her upset me to the core, and I knew right away that although I had my puppy love feelings going on for him, that he was not the man for me and never will be.  
In a few days after that, he won me over with several gifts and sweet empty words.  I never heard again from Ms. Plus-Size, but I would see her around campus every once in a while.  By this time Mr. Micro-Peen had an even stronger hold on me and made sure that I did not socialize with any friends connected to Ms. Plus-Size.  Again none of this felt right, and I developed a plan to leave him a few days after getting back with him.  See, the problem with Mr. Micro-Peen was not so much that he had a micro-peen but that he was dishonest, controlling and had a double standard, and that was not going to fly with me.
I finished my freshmen year, left strict instructions to my family to not pass my whereabouts to this individual, left and never looked back.  
MC the Comet

MC the Comet

You know that saying “when it’s good, is real good and when its bad, it’s the pits” or something along those lines…Well, that’s how I could describe my last relationship.  MC and I were real good when all the stars aligned, but it seemed as if there were more misalignment than alignments in our short interaction.


It was like watching the aftermath of a comet.  All you could see is the beautiful trail of dust but don’t remember well the comet flying through the sky.  MC became my flying comet, just leaving a trail of dust behind and not much else.  

I’m at a loss for words on this relationship, and all I can say is that maybe it was just not meant to be.  We tried very hard but at every angle, we just didn’t click, something about me would tick him off, and something about him would tick me off.  In the end, we weren’t able to compromise or change to appease the other.

This relationship by far has been the most incompatible, and bizarre I’ve experience ever.  

I don’t know why this relationship feels so different from the others.  

I do know that when I turned thirty I made two changes: 

a. I opened myself to other types of guys.  I noticed I had been following a trend, and I wanted to see if maybe it was me choosing the same man over and over that gave me the same results; heartbreak.

b. I stopped putting up with shit.  I stopped saying maybe, possibly or I think once I reached thirty.  It’s either a yes or no now.  I am sure of my answers, and my decision and I am unwilling to go back to them.

Don’t know which one of these is the reason this relationship and breakup were so different. The relationship was short, and the breakup was anti-climatic, but I do have to say, I love my 30’s and dating while older has been a complete blast.

The good news is, that is not yet over, and there are way more frogs out there to kiss.  Off to the next one I say!


XOXO Johanny
You Broke My Heart PB&J

You Broke My Heart PB&J

Going down memory lane…..
I feel like it was just yesterday that I was at the hair salon trying to do a complete makeover on my curly do.  
Two days ago, I had been dumped by Mr. PB&J, and I needed a makeover stat!  
Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw the girl who had fallen in love with him, and I didn’t want to be reminded it off that.  I needed a new me to look back in the mirror.
Ultimately empowered and determined, I went to the hair salon without an appointment hoping and praying that I can get into a chair.  
Holding tightly in my right hand a bottle of keratin treatment; the miracle potion that would turn my naturally curly hair into a Selena Gomez-after-a-$500-blowout-mane, I walked through the door. 
After a ten minute conversation, the stylist welcomed me into her fold, and I get in!!! 
At first, the stylist was a little apprehensive and gave my keratin bottle a look of disdain.  “People kill for your curls,” she told me.  
“We are just putting these curls in a comma; we are not killing them just yet” I sarcastically replied.  
She didn’t a laugh, not even a little bit.  
I guess my sarcastic wit was not going to be a hit with her that day.  But that was ok, all she needed to do was put the keratin treatment on my hair, follow the directions, and give me an amazing flat iron straightening at the end.  
My makeover plans also consisted of letting my eyebrows grow so that I can have the Cara Delevingne thick dark eyebrows framing my eyes. 
So far, the plan was working.  
I looked in the mirror, as the stylist was performing step two of four and I started getting a little bit of my happy back.  I began to get a bit of that ‘fuck you PB&J I’m going to be alright!’ feeling.  
But this wouldn’t  be my life if it wasn’t a little messy and broken…
In walks, this tall bleach blond with boy-short haircut woman into the shop.  As she walks closer to my field of vision, I notice that she’s quite older than me because of the wrinkles located on the corner of her eyes which deepened each time she laughs.  She’s followed in by her also bleach blond with boy-short haircut friend.  Two peas in a pod I thought.  
Amongst them, they have a vodka bottle and red plastic cups.  I thought, ‘this is a unique way to pass the time while waiting on a stylist.’  I usually go for magazines or bring a book to pass the time, but silly me I should have been carrying liquor into the salon. 
Bleach-Blond sits next to me and starts having a conversation with her friend and tries very hard to bring me in it.  But I am focused on my makeover and in no mood to chat.  I am putting all my attention into getting my happy back.
After avoiding her not so subtle entry requests, I start to eavesdrop instead.  Sometimes I find that it is much more fun to observe and hear than to talk and be part of a conversation.
After putting two and two together (it took me a few minutes), I come to find out that the great boyfriend she’s gushing about to her friend is my PB&J!  Or more like my ex-PB&J who had dumped me two days ago!  
According to her, they are deep in love with one another and are planning a great holiday party in which he will do all the cooking and a holiday ski trip after the party and hangover, in which he will be doing all the paying.
The realization that this was the same man that had told me he loved me a week ago and who had dumped me just two days before was too hard to handle.  My eyes betrayed me, and I felt a tear coming through the corner of my right eye.  I immediately picked it up with my index finger, flicked it away and blamed the chemicals for my red eyes.  “These fumes are strong,” I tell the stylist, and try my best to give her a smile, but what comes out is a sheepish and awkward half grin when I say this.
I’m sure no one noticed the sound that the pieces of my heart made as they shattered on the salon floor.  Only I could hear that.  Nor did anyone see the profound sadness that engulfed what was left of my heart, much the same way that the moon covers the sun and darkens the earth during an eclipse.  Only I could see that.  
No one in the shop noticed because all of my feelings stayed inside.  My eyes made contact with my reflection in the mirror, and I challenged myself not to show what I felt at the moment.  
Finding strength from a place I did not know existed, I did just that and stayed glued to my seat as I listened to all the fairytale plans that involved Bleach-Blond and my ex.
Finally, step three came in and then step four; the final step!  I was ready to get out and be able to breathe and cry.  Once the last swipe from the straightening iron had run its course, and the stylist gave a thorough inspection of her handy work,  I quickly and profusely thanked her and rushed to the register.
I could not believe that my ex’s new girlfriend and myself were sitting next to each other and that my keratin treatment and her bleaching would take the same amount of time!  What are the odds of that shit happening?! 
But again it wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t just a tad bit messy and broken, I thought.  It goes with the territory.
As I leave the register and go to collect my bags, I notice a familiar white Volkswagen Golf parking in front of the shop, and I thought, ‘there’s no way!’
As if my heart is not broken enough, as if the wound is not deep enough, there’s more for me to feel.
A set of long, strong legs step out of the car, and the noticeable bow-legged walk approaches the shop.  I turn to my bag on the floor and try quickly to put everything together, but I realize that if I leave now, I will pass him, and I did not want to pass him, I did not want to see him.  
I decide to keep my gaze down while slowly getting my bag ready and wait till he’s inside and distracted by Bleach-Blond to leave.  I thought ‘this will be the best way to leave.’
 But, I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his car, Bleach-Blond had seen him too.  When she sees him, she tells her friend that she needs to put lipstick on and rushes off to the bathroom to put on her face for her man.
The bell rings alerting the shop that someone new has walked in, but I already knew who it was.  I did not have to look up.  
I keep my face down and my gaze averted to the floor focused on heading towards the door and leaving quietly.
But Bleach-Blond exits the bathroom with a lot of fanfare and squeals loudly at the sight of him.  
As a masochist for pain would do, I turned my head to look at the commotion, knowing exactly how much it will hurt.  
Bleach Blond had painted her pale lips scandalous red and had jumped up on PB&J to surprise him.
Something must have told him to look because his eyes met mine for a few seconds and quickly he dropped his gaze in embarrassment.  
He let go of Bleach-Blond and gave her the excuse of not wanting to ruin her lipstick for not kissing her.  
His gaze said it all.  He was ashamed, and just like me, he quickly masked his face thus hiding his emotions.  He then moves to the cash register to stand and wait for his new beloved who was gathering her things.  
At that moment, I was thankful to have already paid and could leave now.  
As the stylist yells “Goodbye Johanny,” he looks at me once again, having been reminded of my name, but Bleach-Blond says she’s ready, and he turns his head to look at her instead.  His focus has changed I thought.  He looks at her the way he used to look at me.

I raise my head and let my bone straight hair move with every bold step I take towards the door.  I wanted to cry so bad, but I was determined to stay tough all the way to my car and never look back.



XOXO Johanny 
I was happily dumped

I was happily dumped

           

I have been the culprit and the victim of many bad breakups in my life, so when Mr. JC broke up with me a few weeks ago, it was so perfect that I wanted to kiss him, go out with him again, so he can break up with me once more…..It was that well done!

After a short span of two months of dating and getting to know one another, with quite a few exciting outings under our belt, Mr. JC sent me the ‘Dear Jane’ text.

Where the signs there? Sure! Absolutely! There was zero chemistry going on.  But I’m a determined soul who sometimes think that maybe, just maybe things will work themselves out in the end.

If you may, I was going through the relationship flow with Mr. JC because I had nothing better to do.  No prospect on the horizon and quite honestly I enjoyed our outings, conversation and occasional free dinners and cups of coffee.

I could equate this relationship to a loveless marriage that had gone on for too long, but neither one of us had the guts to break it off or were holding on for the kids.  But we were not married, we did not have children together, and we had not been together that long.

I assume that Mr. JC had his ‘aha’ moment, and he noticed the same thing that I had noticed but was too chickenshit to say out loud, and that was that JC and I were not meant to be.

One morning, he texts “I don’t think we are compatible.  If you wish, we can meet again so we can discuss in person.  I wish you the best in your search for your guy”.   When I read that text, I was floored!  The biggest smile inched across my face much like the one from the Grinch, who stole Christmas, and I kissed my iPhone screen.  At that moment, I could of tongue Mr. JC and knocked his tonsils out!

With that text, Mr. JC gave me two gifts: The gift of an awesome, clean break up and the gift of not having to do it myself.  You see, usually, the breakups that I go through consists of awkward, nasty, and tactless messages or conversations from someone who had thrown my love away.  Not this matured and kind soul!  He was ready to take me out one last time and have a conversation about it like mature adults.  I texted him right back “This is perfect! No discussion needed, wish you the best as well, XOXO.”