Death of a Tax Man

The tax man was supposed to be here today. Actually, he was supposed to head this way when he left work last night or yesterday evening, but I sent him a text on Thursday morning telling him not to come. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, I was really trying to save him some time and money. I mentioned in my earlier blog that I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to come because he’s not very into conversation, to put it lightly. He did that really sweet “good morning, beautiful,” thing and every afternoon he asked how my day had been, but I wanted more. I needed more. Even if I wasn’t trying to build a relationship…. let me rephrase….. even if I wasn’t trying to build a serious monogamous marriage inducing relationship with him, I still like to have some sort of rapport with the person who is driving 200 miles and dropping probably $200 on a hotel room for two nights. And we didn’t. It was strained and awkward for me. Even when we met in person the first time, we just didn’t “click” and I thought maybe he was just shy or something, but he sent me numerous dick pics so he couldn’t be that shy. And then I thought, maybe he didn’t feel like he needed to have conversation because he was packing a big gun and he was just used to women dropping their panties at the sight of it. I’m not sure. And those of you who are regular readers know that I am a fan of getting me some, but as it turns out, I do have some sort of compass. Even my two night stands in Florida had more interest and knew more about me than this guy who had been “getting to know me” for over a month. It’s like all of a sudden, I gave a shit. Not necessarily about him, but just about his lack of interest.  I think that even though I’m not super crazy about the idea of someone wanting me to be their one and only, I’m selfishly OK with wanting them to learn enough about me to entertain the idea of at least giving them a reason to want me to be their one and only. I mean this in the most non-arrogant way possible, I think I’m pretty awesome. I’m funny. I’m fun to be around usually. I’m honest, brutally at times. I’m loyal. I’m friendly. I’m adventurous. I’m sweet. I’m caring. I can be nurturing if needed (as long as it’s not needed that often). I’m good in bed. I give a great massage. Seriously, if I put that list on plenty of fish or match, I probably wouldn’t even need a photo. I guess what I’m saying is that I know what I have to offer even if I haven’t found anyone to offer it to for a lifetime, but damn, at least try to scratch the surface of getting to know me. So I basically told him that in a short, but very sweet text message. And his reply was, “OK, Wow.” That was it. I kind of thought he might fight a little harder. Maybe a “I didn’t realize I wasn’t getting to know you” or a “I want to know so much about you, I’m just really awkward and shy and it’s been an issue” or “I figured we were just fucking so there was no reason for me to learn shit about you.” I would have at least respected that answer, but none of those, just “OK, Wow.”  I waited and waited for more, but that was it. I halfheartedly expected some text message cussing me out. Or for him to show up in Knoxville and hunt me down and go crazy on me. But I guess I’m safe and that’s not happening. I guess he really did mean “OK.” And I felt really bad at first because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but then I figured that he is a grown ass man and I’m not the first girl who’s blown him off probably. I’ve been blown off by guys numerous times and I’m still standing.  Needless to say, I didn’t get a “Good morning, beautiful” text message from him this morning. And I didn’t even miss it like I kind of thought I would. I just walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror and said it to myself, “Good Morning, Beautiful!” And went on with my day.

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One thought on “Death of a Tax Man

  1. Somebody I know just left the job she worked at for several years, and was handed a note by one of the more quiet members of staff as she left. It was the hand-written lyrics to the song “A Million Years” by Christina Perry. I’m still not sure if I would be bowled over, or creeped out if that happened to me.

    Liked by 1 person

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