Sex or sushi? A moral dilemma…

I met with Dog-Guy the other morning and he was doing surprisingly well considering first undergoing a vivisection, then a steam-rolling due to last Wednesdays's break-up. They had  been living together for just 2 months . He had moved 6 hours south to be with her and spent over 3000 euros in equipment in order to continue his pedigree breeding business. She was 43, had a 7 year old child, looked like Glenn Close with a bad haircut, and spent 2 thousand euros-a-month of his money on shopping, all the while simultaneously receiving texts on her cel. from, not just one - but several men she was trolling via Facebook (exactly where she trolled my friend about a year ago).  He confessed he had been suspicious and had had several opportunities where he could have read her texts - but never did. Until one night after midnight he got out of bed to use the bathroom and heard an incoming text message alert... And the rest was literally 'history.'

We spent the morning together in Salerno - him running his errands, and helping me run mine, while we justifiably slammed our exes  (his ex with her lies and insane spending, and of course mine - his childish mocking and crucifixion of me over the last banana) then praised our breakups as divine blessings in disguise. He kept a smile consistently painted across his face which I am sure wasn't easy. Then, as he was speaking of dog show event this weekend in a city 6 hours away, he asked me out of the blue if I wanted to join him. Weekend event = 24/7 kinda-togetherness? Back-up! How could he be so casual? What are we talking here? Hotel room? Seperate beds? Male-friend in post break-up funk plus ME (already sexless for 2 months and RWA) equals possibility of getting naked and vertical in a shared hotel room.

I tried to convince myself...  COME ON! Lighten up! Sex with no strings, a decent looking guy that isn't insane. It's like the universe putting you infront of a buffet table and telling you: "You now have Angelina Jolie's body circa Tomb Raider, and you never have to diet ever again...  EAT DAMMIT, EAT!"

 

Sucker!
 

Maybe I could get away with it (a one-nighter) but I had to ask my self again why HE was calling me in the first place (other than the fact he probably needed to vent). And it was different now, 3 years ago I was jonesing to hang out with him. He had asked me to go and stay some weekend at his place an hour away, when his daughter was there, and I was so good to go. But a few days later when I sent him a text: "Hey, How is this weekend for you, is that cool?" He never got back to me, and I never saw him after that, except on FB -then later him and her together polluting cyberspace with their highschool, coffee-mug-photo-embossed love.

What was so great about Glenn Close anyways? A muck-love skank with a crack-whore haircut who spends his cash while love-mucking other dudes on the internet. Was I going to play second fiddle to THAT? Incidentally why don't I end up with guys that let ME spend 2-grand a month? Why do I always end up with the cheapskates that don't even want to acknowledge Valentines Day (like my last 3 boyfriends), or even take me out for a classy meal? If they do, they play it like Roberto - asking me for 10 euros to help pay for the dinner (as he said he didn't have enough gas to get home), or The Englishman who would simply opt to stay in and watch boring vintage BBC documentaries he downloaded for free on his f'cking laptop. Ya right, wankers.  No more!

But I give Dog-guy credit - he didn't grope my ass,  feed me any cheesy lines, or mock me at any point in time. He had mentioned earlier that he lost 2 kg since the break-up, so I thought - what is the second favourite thing red-blooded Italian boys love most, second to their mammas,  and sex? FOOD! So I led him to the sushi-bar lunch buffet. As he was a virgin to the sushi bar, I saw his eyes grow to the size of salad plates as he watched the sashimi and california rolls pass by like happy little Japanese tourists.

Thereafter I have never seen a man eat so much or forget a woman so fast, and like a straight shooter - he insisted on paying for lunch, with a big smile.

Despite the previous dis, I decided to let it all go, be his plutonic pal with baggage, and took the moral high road on the weekender by  telling him it was too short notice to get my regular dogsitter.  Maybe I am a sucker for passing up on the 'All you can grand-slam sex-buffet' with a (more than likely) eager participant,  but sometimes it's just better to stay friends (and hit the lunch buffet instead).

 

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