Help!

Arghhh.

I'm pretty sure all the agents here are familiar with the car accident that is my lovelife but for those of you who need updating, here is the back story:

Ok so for over two years now I've been lusting after this guy who is completely inappropriate but who really spins my wheels. Your classic bad boy. Let's call him Bad Bee.

Now, the major problem with Bad Bee (aside from the fact he's an alcoholic, workaholic, womanising insane person) was that he had this girlfriend with whom he lived and was never going to leave. But that didn't stop him from pursuing me. He would tell me he didn't love her, he didn't like her, he didn't find her attractive, he couldn't talk to her, he didn't find her interesting, he hated her taste in music and he thought she was a bit of a dumb bimbo, and yet he would pay her phone bills, uni bills, rent, etc while she remained convinced that they were going to get married so she could quit working altogether and sponge off him for the rest of her cushy days. Now I didn't lose much sleep over the whole 'him cheating on her' factor, but what really gave me the poos was that he always had to go home to her, I couldn't call him when I wanted and we always had to act like we were doing something wrong. (Which in terms of the sex meant it was always AMAZING). So anyway after two long years off this on again, off again bullshit I had finally had enough and told him to piss off. I listened to The Cure, I cried, I ate noodle sandwiches and I made a concerted effort to Move On. So I did.

Enter: The Nice Guy. Let's call him Nice Bee.

Nice Bee is great. He is considerate, generous, kind, caring. He sent me flowers at work. He gives a great neck rub. His mum likes me and makes me pancakes and smoothies whenever I come over. His cats like me and my cat likes him (and considering my cat is a snooty princess that's saying something). And best of all he's more than happy to tie me up for hours at a time. (Where else will I meet such a lovely guy who also owns real handcuffs??) BUT. I'm just not feeling it. I mean, I like seeing him, I enjoy his company, I particularly enjoy the handcuffs, but on an emotional level - not doing it for me. And even though the BDSM is fantastic, the sex itself is terrible. And by terrible I mean it lasts maybe three minutes or it doesn't happen at all. (You know when you just want them to Stick It In You for crying out loud?? There is no sexy way to request that someone bend you over and have their way with you - they're supposed to take the initiative on that.) And he's a bad kisser. Think, lovey dovey, smoochy smoochy. About as interesting as brushing my teeth. Sigh.

So anyway, I'd decided to overlook the lack of passion with Nice Bee, hoping that it would sort of just happen somewhere down the track. And, I was actually sort of happy. We could talk all night, we could sleep next to each other. It was all feeling ok. Peaceful, you know?

AND THEN.

(Can you see what's coming?)

Phone call. Bad Bee. Bad Bee is drunk. Bad Bee is drunk and SINGLE. Bad Bee is drunk and single and not living with his girlfriend. Bad Bee wants me to know that he loves me, he wants to put his (generously proportioned) cock inside me, he wants to marry me and he wants to have kids with me. (I'm serious! He asked me what we would call our kids! To which I replied: "Football Head 1 and Football Head 2"). I tell Bad Bee that I'd like to see him in daylight and sober to discuss this. Bad Bee mumbles incoherently for a while and then we sort of agree to meet up possibly today.

Second phone call. Nice Bee. Nice Bee and I chatter mindlessly for a while, like we always do. Nice Bee asks me if something is wrong. I mumble something about feeling tired. Nice Bee, ever the gentleman, tells me to get some sleep and that he'll call me the next day.

Third phone call. I call my sister for advice. Sister can only tell me that she's playing The Sims in her underpants and that she doesn't have any advice but that she'd like to know what happens. Sister is amused by my romantic antics. I would be too if it wasn't me.

Anyway. Gaaaah. What do I do? Help me, Agents! I told a lady at my work and she told me to just see both of them. Which I'm actually considering. The only problem is the whole 'guilt' factor. Cos I tend to get strangely guilty about these things.

Ra ra ra. I'm at work and everyone thinks I'm in early to work but in reality I'm blogging, lol.