Past Research that Should Have Been Added Months Ago: The Evangelical Addict

7 long months, 39 days, and 16 hours ago I met the Evangelical Addict.

I take lessons to become more skilled at billiards. Guess what. . . they work. Any hobby worth having is worth practice, education, and fun. They worked so well that I found myself engaged in play with complete strangers which included one night, the opportunity for more research, as well as a bit of folding money when I bet the poor suckers that think "She is just some stupid bitch" and then I take their money. Twisted feminism at its best.

Again, I remind you dear reader, that all men gave me full permission as I gave them full disclosure of my intentions in my research. And again I remind you that many were offended & chose not to participate, others though it was an opportunity for casual sex (um thanks, but no, my vag is in fact off limits unless you and I have a connection, you are worth sleeping with & you kiss me all over, softly, no biting hard!), but the rest were curious & willing to share, to teach, and to maybe to learn a thing or two about the feminine sex.

Sitting at the bar waiting for a pool table to become free, I spy him out of the corner of my eye. Research of not, I was going to talk to this man before the evening was over. A scar causally sat under his eye, in the shape of little horns, as if it was the little devil that causes one to make a specific type of choices. In the famous words of Lance Murdock, "Chicks, dig scars." A ball cap on his head set askew, western shirt, wallet chain, facial piercings, tats on the visible parts of his hands and arms, a hint of a wrinkle or two on his face, reddish blond eyelashes & brows, chucks, a backpack (giveaway of ol' sckool '90s hip hop/graffiti street kid thing) and a wickedly sensuous Cheshire grin.

If its not the car guys that get me it is the guys with the fucking Cheshire grin. There is no holding back because that means fun. So the research begins with unintentional organic "chase me, chase me" maneuver that I realized recently is the only game I play. I plant myself on a bar stool a few seats away, and casually cock my shoulder towards him, as I text my whiskey friend who embarked on a similar journey not too long ago, that I may have found another one. He can see, if he happens, by chance, to glance over, the bit of tattoo that is trying unsuccessfully to hide behind my cutoff t-shirt. 

Ok, I am actually nervous, there is a 50/50 chance he will look or not look. There is a 50/50 chance he will approach. There is a 50/50 chance he is straight. There is a 50/50 chance he has a girlie that is amazind & he loves to the moon and back.

And he looks. And I'm drinking a Manhatten, heavy on the red vermouth, texting my whiskey friend. I followed the rules, black eyeliner & red lip stick, just me, clothed in me garb, smelling of honeysuckle perfume from Egypt. Just me, not dressed up, not minding my manners, just me, me, me.

So he inquires about my tattoos & I share the following few pieces of information:
1) they are the story of my life
2) there is one I just had touched up mid back, it is bothering me at the moment (and no, Evang Addict, you can't see it because it would mean I would have to flash the entire pool hall!)
3) and that yes, I would indeed like to play some pool, so I can kick his ass (moment of ill advised cockiness)


He is confident, transparent, shares my love of whiskey & De La's intro on the Lyricist Lounge compilation. We relate, we share, we laugh & the energy is amazing. Decision time: do I go the experiment route? Do I actually give him the real once over and agree to go on a real date?

Ugh- kink in the plan, until he starts talking about him up-coming military commitment. I want to either conduct research or have a relationship, not to see one of our country's finest off to battle. It might have been a noble gesture in the past, but I'm just not that kind of girl. Many whiskeys later, I have to hale a cab to get me home & he asks if he can get my number & see me again.
I'm not sure what to do because I am genuinely interested in who this person is, not what I can learn from him. So I tell him that I am at this same place on the same day every week, at about this time & that if he wanted to see me again, all he had to do was show up.

And he did. Our evening turned into a razzing convo & as it turns out he was born again, or maybe born the first time according to him. He worked at a local soup kitchen and ran part of a drug treatment program. Hmmmm, heart of a freakin' saint. And that he also preached and was living the pure life. Hmmmmm, soul of a freakin' saint.  And that he owned no car, and only purchased necessary items at a second hand stores because of the environmental impact things like that have on the earth. Hmmmm, is he going for the "Perfect Man" award? Until way later that night the double edged sword is unsheathed when he asks if he can blow lines of cocaine off of my stomach. Hmmmm, addiction much? Reasearch route it is!

What I learned from the Evangelical Addict is the duality of human knows no bounds. I also learned that the energy created or that exists between two people is only related to that space & time. It may never exist again, it is finite, but it is so freaking worth the rush. The energy I am attracted to evokes a reaction in me that makes me feel like I am the sexy creature a man has always desired but never been able to find despite all of his efforts. It evokes a feeling of purity, of connection. I feel like I am the most amazing, perfectly flawed female. I learned from the Evang Addict that I fall in love with men who make me feel like a woman in every sense of the word, by the way the touch my body, the way they do chivalrous things like hold a door open, kiss my neck, kiss my hands and wrap their arms around my hips & waist. I love the way they walk up behind me and genlty press their junk into the small of my back when giving a hug from behind. I love the men who push me off when I am half way through pleasuring them because they feverishly want to return the gesture. The Evang Addict did all of those things in a manner of 4 dates, it can be done, he is out there, where there is just an organic combo of the right attitude & moves & the right match to my attitude & moves.

So Evang Addict, I hope you get to accomplish your goal of seeing God on your battle field. I hope you survive your deployment. I hope that you realize that getting rid of "All is choice" does not make it go away, because all truly is choice and there is nothing we can do about it. But thank you for being an addict. I can hang with the uber christian thing, but not the addict thing. If you weren't an addict, I would have been sitting here crying in my coffee asking why, why, why because I would have fallen hard, fallen fast, fallen in love with you. Xoxoxoxo Evang. Good luck Addict.