When Archer and I initially started playing shows we welcomed any crowd we could get and slowly but surely our crowds got a little bigger but at this point we were still playing the smaller venues and I loved it. We'd hang out with the fans, even get the occasional beer and pizza with some of the cool ones. The Attached Groupie was someone who really loved the music, and it was refreshing. She came up to talk to Archer and I and was very casual about the whole thing, giving off the 'I don't give a shit that you just played a show and kicked its ass' vibe but more like old buddies hanging out. She was the one that asked if we had any plans for later, and I looked over at Archer who looked back over at me and I was basically giving him the I've got dibs look while he seemed fine with it. She and a friend came in the car with us and we headed to the first bar she suggested.

There was a lot of dancing and drinking and it was all good times for a few hours. As the bar owner started kicking people out, she was leaning in against me and then moved in to whisper in my ear. "I'll let you fuck me however you want to." Now, how could a sane man ignore such a proposition? He would be insane to do such a thing. In fact, it would be a disservice to the United States of America to not fuck a girl who is down for anything. So I took her hand and made my way out of the bar with her. It was some random city I've never been to and Archer and I were resorting to sleeping in the van or shitty motels at this point but she kept on suggesting her apartment because it was so close and she needed to have me. At this point I wasn't smart enough to make sure the girl didn't have anything wrong with her before heading back to her place and my dick was doing all the talking and so I was all for it.

We got to her place and the minute the door was closed we were fumbling around while taking off each other's clothes in a hurry. She wasn't kidding about letting me do whatever I wanted, the girl was a nymph with her excitement and it made for one hell of a tiring night. In the best of ways.

When we were done, I took a few minutes to collect myself and that's when I heard the door open and a man's voice yelling out, "Babe, I'm home." Holy. Fucking. Shit. I was about ready to leap out of bed and throw my stuff on but all she did was grab my hand and keep me in bed. "Stay here." She commanded and patted my shoulder as though I'd be rewarded for it. I could already tell this was obviously going to get weird.

A tall guy we will call Hulk Boyfriend because of all his muscles walked into the room casually and was all smiles, as though he'd won the lottery. The Attached Groupie got out of bed, completely naked, and waltzed over to him, threw her arms around him and then they started making out. There I was, naked and confused as fuck and wondering how the fuck I could make my exit slowly because I sure as shit was not down for a threesome with this freaky duo. While they were doing their thing, I quietly put on my boxers and jeans and realized there was no way of getting out of the room without being noticed so I just cleared my throat to catch their attention and told them I was gonna head out.

"Hey, dude." Hulk Boyfriend walked over to me and that is when I started praying for my life. Instead of punching me in the face for fucking his girlfriend, he went in for the high five. "Nice job fucking my girl, man. She's a real crazy bitch in the sack, right?" He laughed and I kind of laughed nervously because it's not every day this kind of situation happens. "Hey, we're really big fans of your band. I think you'll be up there with the top 10 awesome musicians she fucked. Might have even made top 5 if you were Archer." So he let his girlfriend fuck musicians. Alright. Weird. But, I guess whatever works.

"You guys look so good together." The Attached Groupie stood next to Hulk Boyfriend and kissed his arm, nudging him closer to me. "I'd love to watch you fuck him."

"Yeah, It's going to be a pass on that one. Cya." AAAAAAAAAND that was more than enough for me so with lightning speed I put my shirt on, pretty sure I left my jacket there but I wasn't about to be ass-fucked by The Hulk so I needed to get the fuck out of there as fast as possible and I did. That was some freaky fucked up weird shitty shit and nope. Nope. NO. NO THANKS.

She was at the show and then found out where we were going afterwards so she and her two girlfriends made their way over. She was convinced that she and I were meant to be, because apparently the fact that I had replied to her tweet that one time and how we both posted weird pictures on Instagram meant that we were soul mates. The bar was a hometown one, small in size and large in the community-feel of the place so she had no problem sidling up to me as I went over to grab myself a beer. We started talking, her approach was confidence, and who am I to say no to a pretty girl with legs for days? We had a few common interests that many people share: love for good friends, alcohol and music but all of this, in The Stage Five Clinger’s mind, meant that I was marriage material.

We ended up making out a few minutes later. She mumbled something about a dinner party she was going to the next day but I shrugged it off and shut her up by making out with her some more. Eventually we went our separate ways to our respective friends, she was gushing to some girlfriends and I was back with Archer and the crew. A few hours later I was chatting up some blue-eyed ditzy blonde who was eating up my every word and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s The Stage Five Clinger. She’s staring down the blonde and without a moment’s hesitation she speaks up. “Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Boyfriend. You. Dirty. Slut.” Her boa constrictor death grip tightened on my shoulder and the blonde hurried off. I turned around, and partially because I was drunk but partially because I’m an asshole I yelled out, “I’m not your boyfriend, we just made out, calm the fuck down.” I expected a glare, a yell, maybe a slap but no. No. She started crying. Not just little fake sniffs but full on, awkward sobbing in the middle of a bar. This girl was certifiable.

You would have thought this chick was my girlfriend and I just told her I cheated on her or something with the way she was crying. “WE HAD A CONNECTION. I saw you looking at me on that stage!!” What the fuck do you even say in this kind of situation? And I can barely see shit when I’m onstage. She wasn’t done just yet. “My mom was excited to meet you and if you wouldn’t have been such a colossal dick I would have let you finger fuck me under the table!!” More sobs. When the fuck did she have time to talk to her mom? Was she planning on letting me finger fuck her at family dinner? Appealing, but no.

We had gotten some unwanted attention from various people at the bar. I could see Archer and the rest of the crew struggling not to break out in loud laughter meanwhile Friend #1 of hers looked disgusted while Friend #2 looked a weird mix of turned on and confused. Would it be really bad to get Friend #2’s phone number? I thought about it for a minute before tuning back to the situation and before I could say anything else she hit me with her purse and then stormed out, her friends following close by.

Every girl that has wanted to call me Daddy has been insane. This is just in my experience. If you’ve managed to find a hot girl who calls you daddy without the likelihood that she ends up curled up into a ball, crying about how her dad didn’t hold her enough as a kid, then I truly salute you. It’s not really my favorite thing to do but I’m not really going to start making an issue out of it when my dick’s inside a girl.

I hooked up with The Girl With Daddy Issues once before she showed her true kinks and we find ourselves in a familiar place once again. She’s busy riding me like a champ and then she says it. “Faster, Daddy.” I comply. In these situations it’s best to just shrug off the shit you don’t want to deal with because, hello, you’re still fucking a hot girl, and then hope that it just won’t catch on or it’s a fluke. That wasn’t the case. We went on for a little while longer, switching up positions, and now she’s on her knees begging for more. “Give it to me, Daddy. Tell me I’m your favorite little princess.” Hm. I looked down at her as though maybe this was some sick joke, but nope, she’s just looking up at me expectantly. I was horny and kind of drunk and whatever, shit happens, so I say it half-assedly. “You’re…myfavoriteandstuffokay.”

She pulls back, shaking her head. “No, Daddy. Say I’m your favorite little princess.” Now shit was getting weird and the moment was ruined. Maybe she’ll take the aggressive approach. “You gonna suck my dick or what?” Bad idea. This caused her to gasp. She’s kneeling there, completely naked, and she folds her arms over her chest and starts pouting. In a baby voice, she continues. “Daddy you are not bein vewy nice to me and I don’t wike it. Bad Daddy.” Yep, boner was officially gone. I was bored and annoyed so I told her to leave. She didn’t seem all that phased, but she kept up with her pouting and baby voice. “Daddy, am I a bad girl in timeout? Pwease, no, don't punish me." As i rolled my eyes and started putting on my boxers, she finally got the memo and got up to grab her clothes. Before she left she exclaimed, “BAD. DADDY.” Very loudly and then stormed off and out the door.

Months later I found out that she married a 45-year old business tycoon and then cheated on him with a 55 year old father of two. Makes you wonder...

I had been seeing this chick for, I don’t know, a month, and I knew she liked me more than I liked her but I didn’t pay a lot of attention to that because she was a good fuck and pretty arm candy who didn’t ask a lot of intruding questions. She was a good time girl, really. Always ready and available when I needed her and pretty chill to hang out with. A good, non-dramatic mix…or so I thought. We had just played a show in New York and I told her to meet me at my apartment at around 11:00. Shit got a little crazy and I ended up at my apartment at 11:30. She was nowhere to be found and I looked down at my texts so see one text from her asking where I was but that was it. Maybe she decided to wait in her car or was hanging out in front of the door. I texted her back that I just got in and then made my way to my apartment, with her nowhere to be seen, and once I got inside I was met with a mix of different shuffling sounds.

My first instinct was to think that I was getting robbed. No one else had my key. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and made my way over slowly, hearing the noises more clearly as I kept on walking until finally I noticed the brown hair. It was The Psychopath. I was relieved...until I noticed her cutting up my shirts and how my room was practically turned upside down. “PSYCHOPATH?” I yelled loudly. No, I didn’t really call her that. I called her name but to protect her identity (and because I think if I say her name out loud she is going to find me and cut my balls off) we’re rolling with this. She turned around and threw one of my belts at me. She was a good shot and the buckle whipped at my arm, causing an instant bruise.

“You said you would be here at ELEVEN. I was here at TEN THIRTY. WAITING FOR YOU. Then It was eleven. You never came. YOUNEVERFUCKINGCAME.” She continued cutting up my shirts as though this was completely normal behavior. That was when she noticed the knife in my hand and started shrieking. I totally forgot I had it in my hand so I was quick to put it aside and reassured her that I was not, in fact, trying to kill her, but I just thought she might have been an axe-murderer and also I asked how the hell she got into my apartment but she ignored me.

“You were late! You are a liar and you were late and I fucking hate you and everything you stand for!” She then decided to take some of those shirts and throw them out the window. I ran after her trying to figure out how the fuck to get her out of here. "You are being fucking psychotic." I realize now that calling a psycho girl psychotic probably was not the best idea, as shown by how she charged at me and started punching me in the chest. I managed to lead her near the front door, open it, and then as she yelled at me she walked out to try and prove a point that I could never get her back (thank god) and then as I double locked the door she started pounding on it loudly to try and get me to open again. Hell to the no. John, the landlord, and all around fixer upper got complaints of all the commotion and had to physically pick her up and escort her out the building.

This is what my texts from her looked like after that encounter.

When I asked what kind of music she listens to, without missing a beat she smiles and responds with, “Switchfoot. My Pastor told me to listen to them.” Welp, it was going to be a long night. Shots on shots on shots kinda night. I ask if she wants anything to drink, she says that she’s fine with her water, and as I walk away I fully expect her to not be there when I get back because we are from two entirely different worlds, no scratch that, two entirely different planets, but she’s still there. The bar was filled with stuffy dudes in tuxes and women who tried to hide their age with multiple plastic surgeries so why not engage in this conversation with the chick that seemed a little zany, but was still the prettiest little thing in the bar.

She’s deep in conversation with me except the conversation is all her and I’m just nodding along saying ‘Yeah, for sure’ every few minutes while attempting to drink my weight in tequila. Apparently this is enough to get her going, and she starts kissing my cheek. My hand that was on her knee starts traveling up her skirt and she’s quick to stop it from going any further, putting her hand on mine, but she gives me a mischievous grin and a wink. “We’re going to go to my house.” She tells me firmly, and I’m all for it.

We get to her house and the minute I’m in there I’m met with a ton of historically Christian paintings on the wall and lots of decorative crosses hung up everywhere. Maybe this girl is freakier than I thought and gets off on being the good girl? I don’t know, I’m getting laid, I don’t really care. She tells me to hang out in her room and so I do and I take off my jeans and hang out in my boxers, expecting her to show up in a sexy little number but nope, she walks in fully dressed and seems horrified to see me sitting there half naked. “What are you doing???” She lifts up the pamphlets in her hands and I can read one clearly that says Heaven or Hell – Which one will you choose?

Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, I pick the Jesus-lover who doesn’t put out. Or so I think. She sits down beside me, places her hand on my leg, and starts reading from the pamphlet. As she reads through it, putting emphasis on certain bible passages, her hand moves up, up, up until it reaches in my boxers and she wraps her hand around my dick. She turns to me when it happens. "We're not going to make love, but I can give you a handjob." I want to tell her that Jesus is a made up piece of fiction and I'm not down with the picture on the wall of the Virgin Mary giving me the stink eye but then she sticks her tongue down my throat and starts making out with me. Word to the wise: bible thumpers are usually the sluttiest, right along with the vegetarians and the artsy chicks.

She went back on her word and we fucked. Obviously. Apparently she found it too sexy to handle that I remembered and could recite all the books of the Old Testament. Yes, I realize that I'm really really really going to hell. You don't gotta tell me twice. I guess her idea of praying isn't just at church but it's also yelling 'Oh, God' while underneath me.

I gave her my number because I was getting a new one in a week but in that time she sent me her favorite bible verses. One a day. Followed by a winky face emoji after every single one.