About this Choad

The Meeting: I met Tom at a Lesbian night club in Saint Louis. He
was wearing hair extension. I was pretty drunk. He came up to me
an put his hand on my ass. I told him to go away and that I liked
Facebook better. Then he kissed me. I put my hand on his back to
break the news
to him easily and noticed that he still on the tag on his shirt. I
belittled him for the next 30 minutes. “Tom, how dumb do you
have to be to forget to take the tag of your shirt?” He asked me if
he was my type….my default answer to this question is “of course”
then he asked if he could be my boyfriend. I told him we should
head over to The Penthouse. When we got their he gave the
doorman a handjob so we got in free. After a couple of rounds of
Jagerbombs I hit Tom with my smile and the next thing I know he
was sitting on my lap with his shirt off, his hand down my pants,
and then he started making out with some Asian kid sitting next
to me. I asked him if he was afraid of sharks. “See these scars?” I
exclaimed. It was getting late. I told Tom that I would take his
phone number and call him in the morning. He asked me if I was
into “Donkey Punching”…Red Flag!
The Date: The next morning when I woke up I had 1,230 new text
messages from Tom telling me how hot and funny I was last night.
I ignored him. Just then there is a knock at the door and to my
surprise Tom is standing there asking if I’m ready to take him out
to dinner and for some drinks. Tom has bangs...I fucking hate
bangs. I reach in my pocket and dial 9-1 just in case. He asks if I
know any nice places where he can throw peanuts on the floor.
Tom is not attractive…but I was in the midst of a dry spell and my
CPS (Cost per Sex) was around $740. I needed to do something
about it. At dinner Tom’s body language was all wrong. He sat
with his arms and legs crossed out to the side and his fly was
undone exposing one of his testicles. For a man in his young 30s I
wasn’t expecting his testicle to hang so low. I drove Tom back to
my place and on the drive he blurted out no stop racial epithets
the whole way home. When we got inside Tom leaped into the air,
wrapped his legs around me and dug all of his nails into the back
of my neck. I tied Tom up with his belt and proceed to beat him
with it. He was into it. I wanted this night to be over.

The Epilouge: Tom left the next morning and texted me 300 times
a day. I didn’t respond to a single one. After a week I received a
package in the mail. The letter in the box stated. “I’ve been trying
to text you…apparently your phone is not working” Inside the box
was a brand new Helio phone with an unlimited text message
plan. I never heard from Tom again until a week later. He sent me
one final text that said.

“Is it because I wasn’t a good fuck? Is that why you don’t talk to
me anymore?”
After that Tom vowed to delete me from Myspace every chance he
had!
Tom…if you’re reading this…I’m sorry and quit FUCKING deleting
my Myspace page.