fuckboy tales: dirty dan the gamblin’ man

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we didn't just hook up. we planned this shit. boston. la. nyc and that insane comped room in manhattan. conventions. jill watching like this was some fucked up reality show.



dirty dan would only come to my shoebox apartment - three roommates, zero privacy. so we got creative. fur coat rooms. casino bathroom stalls. everywhere but somewhere respectable. his game was all sketchy. silent treatments. random-ass text messages at 3 am. i figured, he’s a gambler. fine. i was getting played harder than his poker hands.


kiss for "good luck" before his game. poker chips clanking. staff could've walked in any moment. the risk was half the thrill. his wife* was at mommy and me while i'm getting motorboated in a bathroom at Foxwoods… 🎶 for the wonder of it all! 🎶 klassy-with-a-k klassy.


but here's the real tea: i learned i wasn’t his only… and did something about it… ghosted him as soon as i found out. xd this queen refuses - i mean refuses - to be some side piece. no more mysterious bullshit. no more late-night sketchy hookups.



royal. bitch. treatment.

even so... i'm an adventurous sort of bitch XD



*just to be clear - i had zero idea he was married w/ a kid, dumped him when i found out. that shit is wrong af.

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