Oh, the crime scene

It is every woman's nightmare. Elisa stays in touch with the dark haired hottie she met on the slopes months before. She finds herself in his city, and they make a date to meet up. He takes her for a drink and dinner at his friends new hot spot. They have great conversation and flirtation. As they leave the restaurant, there is that element of ambiguity. Do they end the date, does he invite her up, does she go, do they dive into the moment? He invites her up. She goes because she is feeling carefree, and she knows this will not be a long term relationship of any kind, so what the hell? Soon enough, they end up in the bedroom. Elisa sits on the bed, trying to figure out what position she should be in? Should she sit, lay down, or recline half way? Soon enough, they reach the point of no return. Do they have sex or just call it a night and leave while the mystery is still intact? In her state of mind, Elisa goes for the sex. He was hot, and this night was going well. Suddenly, she realize that there may be a bit too much moisture in the passion zone. She realizes that her worst nightmare is coming true here and now, with this guy she barely knows on his crisp white sheets! Her wonderful new birth control pills, Yasmin, just were not working with her body and boom, out of nowhere she had found herself in a blood bath as she is trying to have hot sex with this new guy. Its one of those moments, you want to push a button and get spit out somewhere else. Anywhere else....like in the middle of a park in the winter, or even in the ghetto somewhere in some scary city, but that button is no where to be found. Elisa has to think quickly, compose herself and try not to jump out of the 6th story window. He pulls off the bloody sheets, and throws them in the shower. She helps re-sheet the bed, and settle in to attempt to sleep. While all the while, she is totally dying. In the morning, he showers for work, and Elisa sneaks out to the living room. She rips the subscription information from a magazine she spied on the coffee table. Her idea: try to make the blood bath somehow better by sending him brand new white sheets. Its the only respectable thing to do, right? So she does, and he thanks her via text when he gets them, and thats the end of that. They never communicate again.

Monique and the 2 pump chump

Sometimes the way you imagine someone to be may not turn out quite so perfectly. Especially when the outcomes involve wet pants. Monique thought Frank was a hottie, and was excited when he was interested in hanging out. She was excited when he called. She also liked the idea of hanging out in a group first so that it would be more comfortable and fun. So one evening, her friends invited them both over to watch the game and have some beers. The evening went well. Soon after, Frank called to take Monique out again. They had a few drinks and went back to her place. While on the couch, relaxing together swiftly moved into a make out session and soon enough he was on top of her. As they made out, she noticed him making a few barely audible sounds. They could be described as grunts or sighs of passion perhaps? Naturally, as their bodies got into the rhythm, the make out session really soared. Abruptly, Frank jumped up and ran to the bathroom. Monique lay there on the couch wondering what the hell happened? 5 minutes later he returned in a different pair of pants. She tried to figure out why he would change mid-make out session?

The answer:

Not wanting to pre-judge, she gave him another shot, and this time, he changed mid make out to pajama pants to be "more comfortable". Yikes! Twice in a row was enough for Monique to properly name him the Enough said.