Love Spell No More

As those of you who check this blog on a regular basis can tell, I haven't been really updating lately. And, I have to say, I don't think I really am going to be any time soon. I am tired of telling these stories. I have told them so many times now that I am bored. So, at least for now, I am done with Love Spell. If I get any new, interesting stories in the future, I may decide to post again. Until then.....

Stripper Boy!

First, let me apologize for not posting in so long! I can't believe I have let almost all of September pass without another post. But, since I have made you wait so long for an update, I will put my best story out there and tell you about Stripper Boy.

I originally met Stripper Boy at a training class we had together in December, 2001 in Atlanta. It was a week long class, and we hung out a little bit. We talked enough that I knew he was engaged, and therefore, off limits in my book. Skip ahead to July, 2002 and my first trip to Chicago with my job--also my first experience with Love Spell. I had just recently been promoted to the position I hold now, and I had to go to a bunch of training immediately after taking the job. This trip was for two one-week classes, back to back, so I stayed over the weekend between the two. Yes, that becomes important to know later in the story.

Anyways, I get to class and sitting behind me is Mike--he hadn't earned the nickname Stripper Boy yet. Since this was my first trip to Chicago, I was so happy to see a familiar face. A group of us hung out all week, going to lunch together and such. The evening before the last day of class, Mike decided to become the "party-planner" of the class and arranged for a large group of us to go out to a club together. We partied hard all night and into the wee hours of the morning, so much so that we ended up going to class the next day still drunk. Was this a smart thing to do, no. But, some of our instructors were with us that evening, so they weren't feeling so hot themselves on that last day.

Mike and I were cracking the next morning, shocked that we were still as drunk as we were. As the day passed, the inevitable happened, and soberness started setting in. I have never been one to have a hangover, thank goodness, so I was fine as I sobered up. Mike on the other hand did not sober up so well. By lunch time, he was green in the face and he was having to run to the bathroom every few minutes.

Since this was the last day of class, Mike was headed home that evening, but his flight wasn't until 8:00 or 9:00 pm. He had checked out of his room that morning, so he had no place to go to try to recover. Here is where me staying the weekend becomes important. I still had my room. Being the sweet, naive person that I was, I offered to let him come crash at my place for a couple of hours before he had to head to the airport. I had a huge place, more of an apartment than a hotel room, with a full kitchen and living room, and two separate bedrooms. You would have thought I had just offered to give him a million dollars! He immediately accepted and even talked the instructor into letting us cut out of class early.

My hotel was only a little over a mile away, and he was too sick to get in a shuttle bus, so we walked it. I guess the fresh air and exercise sobered him up, because he was feeling more than okay by the time we got to my room.

I let us in and showed him to his room and sat down in the living room to watch some television. He came out and asked it if was okay if he slept in his boxers. I told him it was no problem--he had his own room, so I didn't really care what he did. With that he told me that he really slept better when he was completely naked. And then he proceeded to take off his clothes. It was at that moment that he was cursed with the name Stripper Boy for the rest of his days. Now, this was a bit shocking to me, as I am sure you would guess. I just sat there, dumbfounded, wondering to myself, "What is he doing???"

It didn't take long to figure that one out. He went to his room, but he sucked me into coming in there by asking for a glass of water. Now, for those of you who know me, you know I strive to be the perfect hostess, so I of course obliged. And that was when things started getting interesting. As though having a naked man standing in my hotel room wasn't interesting. But, I digress.

He began to beg for sex. I am not talking just trying to coax me into having sex. I am talking "Please, oh please!" I couldn't help but laugh, because I kept thinking these things don't happen to real people, especially not me. I turned him down, pointing out that I was sure his fiancee wouldn't approve. He kept begging, telling me that he just wanted one last fling before he tied the knot. And I kept telling him no, it wasn't going to happen.

If a guy can't get sex, what is the next best thing? A blow-job! He finally accepted that he wasn't going to get sex, so he downgraded to just wanting a blow job. Still a big fat no from me. I actually did feel for the guy. To put it nicely, you could see that he was very frustrated. Not enough to give in though. "What about just one little kiss?" Nope.

We talked for a little while then, and I thought he had given up. I was wrong--he just needed time to think up his next proposition. This quote stands out as one of my all time favorites: "How about, you show me yours, I'll show you mine?" I am not kidding, he actually tried that line. I had no choice but to bust up laughing and replied to him, "What good will that do me? I can already see yours!" If I hadn't decided the guy was pathetic before that point, then at that moment I did. I still kept thinking to myself, this can't be happening! This really doesn't happen to real people--only in the movies!

By this time, he had not got any sleep, and there was only about an hour before he needed to head to the airport. He asked is he could take a shower. Again, being the perfect little hostess, I said yes. "Join me?" I told him to get his ass in there and shower and to give it up already.

I had been swimming all week during the evenings, so my bathing suits were hanging in the bathroom to dry. I went in and got them out, gave him some towels, and left him to his shower. He left the door open, pointing out that the offer stood, just in case I changed my mind.

Now comes the most pathetic part of the evening. He got out of the shower, thankfully with a towel around him, and come into my bedroom and got my bikini. He then pleaded with me, " Will you at least put on your bathing suit for me? If I can't see you naked, can't I at least see you in your bikini?" Of course, I said no.

I do feel kind of bad for the guy. He really tried hard, and all he got out of his efforts was a hug before he left on the shuttle to the airport. Was the whole evening a loss for me? No, I had a blast. I have a great memory from that trip; a story that has been told many, many times now. One that had led to other interesting stories, but I will get to those later. Oh, and one thing I have failed to mention: Stripper Boy is an absolute hottie. I would be lying if I tried to say I didn't enjoy the show. :) Hottie or not though, he was taken, and I behaved myself.

Pre-college days

I was only seventeen the first time that a married man hit on me. It was a guy that I worked with who had a beautiful wife and two adorable children. He occasionally said flirty things to me, but all of the guys at work did, so I never paid any attention to it. One day I came in to work in a really bad mood. He told me that I needed a good roll in the hay. Like always, I just laughed it off. He then turned dead serious with me and told me that he was serious and that if I was interested, he was willing. I told him thanks, but no thanks, that I was not interested, and then asked what his wife would think of that. He hem hawed around a bit and changed the subject and it was never spoke of again. What was really funny was a few weeks later when he learned that I was just seventeen. At that point he had to face the fact that not only was he a jerk for trying to cheat on his wife; he tried to do it with a girl barely more than a child—I wasn’t even out of high school. I still remember it clearly. He was leaning against a table talking and the subject of my age came up. When I told, he literally fell. It was so funny! He later apologized to me for “behaving inappropriately,” to which I replied it was his wife, not me, which he needed to apologize to.

A few months later I started going only a half-day to high school, taking college classes in the evenings. I didn’t have a car, so my dad would drop me off and pick me up each day. A guy in class noticed me waiting every evening to be picked up, so he offered to give me a lift. This worked out well because he passed my street on his way home each evening. He had pictures of his kids hanging of his visor in his truck, so we talked some about his family. He had been married for five years, and had two kids. Things went well for a few weeks and then he started getting flirty with me. I was so naïve that I didn’t think this married college guy could possibly be interested in me, so I didn’t think anything of it. The day of our final we hopped in his truck for the ride home and he told me he needed to make a stop on the way home. We went to a gas station where he picked up a case of beer. Then as we were driving home, he passed by my house and told me that he wasn’t ready for the evening to end—he wanted to celebrate class being over. Remember, I was a high school kid at the time—I still had parents who expected me home at a certain time. I protested, but he kept driving anyways. He took me to this little spot on the river, put on some music, and popped open a couple of beers. He handed me one, but I didn’t actually drink at the time, so I only took a couple of sips. He then told me that he had a confession to make. He started with how I caught his attention the first day of class, and how beautiful he thought I was, even more so since he had got to know me. Then his confession was that he was very attracted to me and would like to keep seeing me even though class was over. I was dumbfounded! When I didn’t immediately reply anything he asked if I would care if he kissed me. Luckily at this point my senses came back to me and I told him no way—he needed to take me home, NOW. I questioned what happened to his wife, and he said that things weren’t going well with her and that he didn’t see them staying together much longer. I wished him the best of luck with her, and told him again to take me home. He finally gave in after being turned down again when he asked me to reconsider his offer. It was one of the most uncomfortable rides of my life, but I did finally get home, and I thankfully haven’t seen him again to this day.

The story behind the name

You may wonder why I chose to call this “Love Spell.” And you may not, but you get to hear the story anyways. :)

The name came about from a perfume that I wear. There is truth to that name Love Spell. When you wear it, men seem to lose all inhibitions around you, and it really seems that you have caste a spell upon them. I originally bought it because I liked the smell, but I continue buying it because men love it.

The first time I wore it was on my first trip to Chicago, and I had men falling over each other trying to talk to me. It was like a scene from junior high and college, rolled into one. Men were “fighting” to sit next to me, go to lunch with me, buy me drinks—you name it, they wanted to be the one to do it with me. I even had one guy dragging complete strangers over to me so they could smell me!

I would like to say that I am so attractive and have such a great personality that they were drawn to me solely because of who I am, but I am more realistic than that. I kept getting compliments on how [insert adjective here, i.e. great, wonderful, delicious, sexy] I smelled. So, I like to think that the perfume got me noticed and the winning personality kept them coming back. ;)

I decided to test my theory that the perfume had something to do with the attraction and it is a definite--when I wear the perfume, men notice me more often. Unfortunately though, it attracts the taken men at a higher rate than the single men. So, I wear it a little more sparingly these days, and not at all on business trips any longer—too many lonely, married men looking for a warm body to share their bed. I usually only wear it now when I am out with friends, actively looking to meet someone.

When my friends and I started seriously discussing the idea of me writing a book, someone suggested naming it after the perfume. And since many of the most recent stories happened while I was wearing it, I saw it as a fitting tribute.

The story behind the story

I have known for a long time that taken men are attracted to me. The first time that one approached me I was only seventeen. As the years have gone by, the attraction has gotten worse, to the point that one of the first things I ask when a guy starts hitting on me is, “Are you married, engaged, or in any other way seriously committed to someone else?” Far too often, the answer is that they are married. The question, “Are you single?” doesn’t cut it with these men. Too many see themselves as single if there is not a wedding band on their finger. Others, I know up front that they are married, and they just don’t care. In some cases, I have even known their wives/girlfriends!

The things that happen to me are things that I truly thought only happened to people in the movies or in books. Same with a lot of my friends—they likely wouldn’t believe these things if they hadn’t seen how taken men react to me, firsthand.

I travel quite a bit with my job, and I always return with at least one story of some guy making a fool of himself. The more I tell my friends, the more they keep telling me that I need to write it down, put it in a book, something. So, with lack of time to concentrate on writing a book at the moment, I am going to write everything here. If one of these days I have some spare time (yeah, right) and feel the need to get published, everything will be here, with all the sordid details, waiting to be arranged into book format.

Okay, now I will take comments...

Okay, so things got a little ugly on the comment board for the last post--some anonymous person making some rude comments. So, those are gone. But, you may start commenting on here now. Just remember, "anonymous," I have control and can delete you again.

Welcome!

Welcome to my second blog, Love Spell. On here you will get to read about all of the experiences I have with taken men. By taken, I mean married, engaged, or seriously dating someone. Up front, I would like to say that I do not condone infidelity; in fact, it disgusts me. I have always and will always turn these men down. For some reason though, these men are very attracted to me, something that I have tried to figure out unsuccessfully over the years. It has led to some pretty funny experiences, which is the reason for this blog. Sit back, read, and enjoy. And remember, I always appreciate comments!