Mr. Water Bottle was one of my first dates off CL’s Casual Encounters section.  He is Mr. Water Bottle because he always brought a mini bottled water to our dates.  He would politely decline all my offers of alcohol, soda, marijuana.  He would, however, always accept my shecock into his mouth. 

He’d just say,

No, thank you Cassandra.

 I’m fine.

I got my water bottle. 

Although I don’t recall ever seeing him actually sip from the bottle while he’s here.  And nine times out of ten, he’d forget about it and leave it behind.

Mr. Water Bottle and I still keep in touch through text messages, especially on Cal football game days.  If it’s a home game at Memorial Stadium but not televized, Mr. Water Bottle would text me the scores and update me on the big plays.  This season has turned out to be a major disappointment — to me, at least.  Yet Mr. Water Bottle still goes back, home game after home game.  I don’t know how he does it.  That walk from the stadium to the BART station must be pretty chilly and depressing after humiliating losses like the one to USC.  We played so poorly we beat ourselves.

We played like shit, pure shit, he agreed.

Yet he’s still a believer.  The last game against Oregon State I told him to “stick a fork in it we’re done for the season” after Jhavid Best was carried out on a stretcher.  He texted back: “stop being negative, poopy pants.” 

It was a much better mood in the beginning of the season, when we were outscoring Maryland and Eastern Washington by an average of 40-plus points.  After our win against Minnesota, which Mr. Water Bottle bet on and beat the spread, I told him to come spend his winnings on a hot date with Cassandra.

He told me his girlfriend wouldn’t like it so much.

Mr. Water Bottle is an optimist not only for our perpetually baffling football team, but also for romance.  I distinctly remember once asking him about his experiences with Tgirls.  He said with a wry smile, all the pretty Tgirls are either crazy or hookers.

I guess he’s decided to cast his lot with the crazies. 

My recent posts about meeting guys off of casual encounters got me reminiscing about the good ole days.  It was always a lot more work to “solicit” a paying date off casual encounters.  There were countless emails back and forth and I generally had to be all shady and deceptive with less-than-noble intentions. 

With Erotic Services ads you just have to name your price. 

Nevertheless, I have nothing but fond memories of Casual Encounters.  I was just getting introduced to the Tgirl scene and I met really nice and decent people.  Like Mr. Water Bottle, who indulged me.  Bought me lots of dresses.

When I decided to ”retire” the first time around Mr. Water Bottle was the only one who wished me well:

GOOD FOR YOU!  he wrote (in all caps).

As good as you were, I never thought that line of work suited you.

And then he proceeded to lay out how he could help me with a career outside of Cassandra. 

So… thank you, Mr. Water Bottle.  I wish you best luck with the crazy tranny girlfriend.  If you can always be an optimist for our insufferable football team then you must not give up hope there’s the right tranny for you.  Or, at the very least, a tranny with an *acceptable* level of crazy.

GO BEARS!

 Print This Post

Tags: intro