I guess the theory on friendship is that ideally it should be mutually beneficial to both parties. Having said that I think I'm a pretty decent friend. I'm still learning that there are different levels of friendship that range from work friends to casual friends to friends you consider family. And sometimes I fumble, okay more often then most people.
At the ripe old age of thirty I have gained a perspective I didn't have for a good portion of my twenties.
Discovery #1: Not taking it as a personal assault when someone doesn't want to hang out with me. There are 1001 reasons why someone may say "no" to an invite of mine or not invite me to one of their things. Some of the reasons may directly have to do with me, some may not. The point is friendship doesn't mean someone is required to hang with someone for certain events or on certain days. So ease up little lady!
Discovery #2: Some personalities aren't going to mesh and that's just the way it is. This doesn't mean person A is an asshole or Person B is an asshole. What it means is that all of us grew up in different families, neighborhoods, different religions, ethnicity, experiences, ect. Differences can make things very interesting because often they open your eyes to see things in a new light you may have not previously considered. Other times differences can cause friction. Reference all the stupid wars going on around the world. The opposite end of the spectrum is being too similar. Similarities are a great way to relate to one another, but certain extreme personalities can cause explosive arguments. Two people that are both stubborn, or overly sensitive, or self involved. It's just not going to work out.
Discovery #3: This is my most recent discovery and a painful one at that. Just because you care about someone doesn't mean they should be in your life.
I don't know if any of you remember the blog I posted back in October about the "friend" that blew me off while I was sick in the hospital, but I gave her a second chance. She apologized profusely and said it would never happen again. I believed her. We had a mature discussion about how we both contributed to the fall out and agreed to work on our issues. Well I did and she didn't.
Since this has proved therapeutic for me in the past I thought I would once again write a mock letter to her that I will never send saying all the things I wish I had said. The problem is you can't have a mature discussion with her without it turning into a screaming match. I'll provide examples below.
Dear ____,
Back in October you told me the reason you blew me off while I was sick and in the hospital was because I had a negative attitude. This is unacceptable behavior when you claim you care about someone. Clearly your personal comfort was far more important than my health. This is why I ended the friendship the first time around. It also took you two weeks to recognize what you did was 100% certifiably shitty and apologize.
My family and my friends told me to walk away and NOT give you a second chance because you were a "callous and selfish bitch". Yet I believe people make mistakes and I believed you when you said things would be different this time around.
Unfortunately the hypocrisy continued. When you opened up to me about being lonely for the holidays and being upset about not being close to your family I listened and comforted. When I told you I was lonely and missed my family you accused me of being ungrateful for what I had and depressing you with my negative attitude.
When you continued to talk EVERY day about a guy you dated for a few weeks over the summer MONTHS after the relationship ended I listened and advised where I could. Eventually I told you I would prefer not to talk about him anymore. I felt four months on one topic was sufficient enough. Your response was "Why do you think your life is a million times more important than everyone elses." You contined to explain that all conversations always have to revolve around me and real friends don't limit topics of discussion. I made one polite request and it turned into ripping me a new asshole. An interesting side note is that you claimed I was the ONLY one of your friends that felt you talked about him too much, but when I met another one of your friends and you mentioned his name this friend's eyes rolled so far back in her head I thought she was having a seizure. And when I met someone I was interested in it only took two weeks (verses your four months) for you to tell me you were sick of hearing about him. So it's okay when you obsess over someone for MONTHS but I didn't even get two weeks before you told me to stop. And I though you said friends don't limit topics of conversations. Clearly you are the one that makes all the rules in this friendship.
This leads me onto my other point. You continually tell me I have a negative attitude. Well I agree I used to be a very negative person I don't see myself that way anymore. I thank God everyday for all I have. I go out of my way to make people around me laugh and smile. And my parents who have know me much longer than you and talk to me EVERYDAY have repeatedly complimented me on my new found POSITIVE attitude. Oddly enough both co-workers and friends tell me pretty much a daily basis what a pleasure I am to be around. But you complain on a fairly regular basis about the following: your finances, your landlord/apartment issues, the way you look, your horrible love life, your friends (I don't think there is one friend you have told me about where you haven't bitched about them), your job. Oddly enough you nearly lost your job for creating a negative atmosphere, several of your co-workers filed complaints about you. And this wasn't the first time that's happened to you either. I would choose to focus on all the good things you had going for you, how much I believed in you, and how change can be an exciting and positive thing. Yet you claim I have this overbearing negative attitude.
My recent complaints: my health (I was recently hospitalized and have had complications since then), missing my family (they live over 1000 miles away and I only see them twice a year), and being single for the first time in about nine years (divorce is a big deal). Most of my complaints were brushed off by you or met with a "suck it up" attitude because there are people with far worse issues than my own. Obviously this wasn't the kind of support I was hoping for.
I think a big difference between you and me is that I actively tried to change the things in my life I was unhappy about. You hated how much weight you had gained, but wouldn't change your eating or exercise habits. And once again this was something that wasn't your fault. It was meds, or IBS, or stress. You can't even take responsibility for gaining fifty pounds! And when you complained about finances you would still go to the movies or out to eat or buy jewlery. Or when you complained about how much your ex hurt you and how he wasn't the right guy for you, you kept holding on to the possibility of getting back together with him and even tried twice. Whenever people tried to give you advice: me, your other friends, your brother you would just snap at us or tell us to mind our own bussiness.
Originally I thought that I would be alone for Christmas. Thank goodness for Facebook because after I posted this I got five different invites for Christmas Day! I knew you would only have your brother while everyone else had some big family thing going on. We talked about playing games, watching movies, doing Tarot card readings, and laughing the night away. Well your brother locked himself in your room for three hours refusing to socialize with us. "I don't give a shit about your friend." We didn't watch a movie or play any games because we were waiting on your other friend to show up, we waited more than an hour and half which wasn't fair to the friend that had showed up on time....me. Then your tardy friend bolted right after we ate. Then when your brother did join us he said that I needed to leave because I was mooching on your holiday. Countless insults and cursing came from your brother while I sat by quietly and took it out of respect for YOU. I sat there listening to you scream and curse at each other for more than an hour talking about me as if I wasn't even there. Finally your brother ended up back in your room. I wanted to leave but I stayed because I saw how YOU were visibly upset by how everything had gone wrong. Once again I put YOU before ME. But yet you claim I always put myself first.
The next day I told you I wanted to spend the following Christmas with my family. You told me that you shouldn't have invited me in the first place. Then you went on to explain that all your friends ruined your Christmas. There goes that victim mentality again that you did nothing wrong. You said that my negative attitude was unappreciated. Wow. I chose to spend Christmas with you over far more friendlier invites, stayed for seven hours (three of those hours after your brother verbally assaulted me), brought games/tarot/movies/dessert but you accused me of not putting in an effort.
Sometimes it takes a little while for things to sink in. But it suddenly hit me last night that none of my efforts are ever good enough for you. You amplify my flaws and ignore my assets. Whenever I try to have a mature discussion with you about something on my mind you blow up at me and start rapidly firing off insults. Unfortunately I have a pattern of letting people into my life that don't appreciate, don't respect, and don't treat me well. That needs to stop.
When you were getting terrorized at work I was there for you. I even went out to dinner with you one night when I had other plans to support you. When you left work I organized a secret going away party. When you were apartment hunting I scoured ads for you AND spent an evening looking at places with you. When you had a bad health scare I offered to go to a clinic with you and hold your hand. When you felt down on yourself from your failed romance I constantly reminded you how amazing you were. When you got into fights with other friends I was your sounding board. I praised you, complimented you, and supported you. You told me I was one of the few people that really helped you get through this dark time and you don't know what you would have done without me. Then on three occasions you accused me of not being there for you EVER. Your moods swings were scary and unpredictable. And the one time I brought you around some of my friends you made such a horrible impression that they labeled YOU dramatic, self involved, and a bit too much.
I tried to end things amicably. "I would have rather told you this than texted it, but I don't think this is a healthy friendship for either of us. Clearly we both want something that the other person can't or won't give. I will always have a special place in my heart for you and some of the times we shared but I need to move forward with my life. I wish you lots of luck with all the exciting changes you're going through. Please have a happy and safe new year."
Your response was further insults about my negative attitude, erratic behavior, and how miserable I am to be around. If I had had any doubts about ending the friendship the second time around your response solidified things for me. I think you're an insecure person who needs to bring me down to make yourself feel better. You couldn't even take my friendly goodbye with good grace and instead felt the need to throw in one last insult. One of my goals this past year has been to severely decrease the amount of drama in my life and looking back YOU were the only source of drama for me in the past couple of months.
I predict just like last time you'll try to weasel your way back into my life, but I am 100% done. I have an amazing family and although I don't have many friends they are of the BEST quality out there. I don't need someone who doesn't appreciate me and all the countless things I do for them. You have explained that the people in your life don't like spending time with you and now I understand why. Your other friends practically sprinted out of your apartment on Christmas. I think you maybe have split personality disorder or you're bi-polar. You like me, you don't like me. I'm an incredibly supportive friend, I'm never there for you. You appreciate how I listen to you, I never listen to you. I was starting to get whiplash from all your mood swings and it wasn't just me. Your tardy friend who has known you for YEARS mentioned this behavior on Christmas, the guy you dated over the summer mentioned this multiple times, your former co-workers and supervisors complained about this, your brother mentioned this....so can we ALL be wrong? Either way you should seek help beacuse your behavior ends up chasing all teh quality people out of your life. I speak from personal experience as therapy did wonders for me when I was in a dark place. I know I'm a flawed person, but I am so much more than the sum of my flaws and every chance you got you would point them out.
I deserve better than you gave me and now I know this.
Visiters
Friend Zone
I don't mean to brag, but I'm really good at rejection. I think there's an art to it that took me years to perfect. Don't feel bad because not everyone has been fortunate enough to have the opportunities to hone this particular skill set like I have.
Although there have been countless romantic rejections in my life time I'll go over the highlight reel for you.
In fifth grade Doug Breshin said, "I'd rather kill myself than date Laura." It's good to know that even at such a young age he understood his options. Death clearly was much more appealing than having anything to do with me. Although it was good to know he had such strong feelings for me I have to admit I was hoping for them to be slightly different than suicidal.
In sixth grade by good buddy Robert Curti told a mutual friend, "Laura has the best personality. She's smart, funny, and not stuck up like most of the girls around here. But she's a dog." Finally a guy who had given me clarity. Personality, no matter how amazing it is, doesn't matter unless you're a knock out. Good to know. Note to self: Start saving for plastic surgery fund immediately.
In eighth grade a friend attempted to fix me up with Charles Jackson. He looked a lot like Jesse from "The Mighty Duck" movies. In a crowded hallway my friend pointed me out to him. He yelled so loud that several heads turned around "HELL NO!" There's an important lesson here that sometimes rejection includes public humiliation.
A consistent remark I kept getting from my romantic interests was how unattractive I was. What confuses me is that I didn't have any of the trade mark features that would make someone fugly. I didn't have horrible acne, any large or irregular facial features like big nose or dumbo ears, my teeth were white and straight without any overbite, no unsightly scars of deformities. This led me to believe what it boiled down to was my weight.
The "beautiful people" as I called them in school all had one thing in common, at least the girls did, they were all skinny. They could wear midriffs with their size zero jeans. So I guess being overweight meant that I was undesirable to the opposite sex. Shakira hips DO lie. I think the ideal woman probably is skinny with a giant ass and huge hooters. Sadly I had no ass, but I do have huge hooters along with a big stomach and thighs too.
Apparently I had been cast in the comedic sidekick role; half the pay with none of the perks of a lead. For boys I was the girl he would talk to about the much hotter girls he liked. For girls I was the ugly friend/wing person. My heart would flutter when a guy came up to me, then drop down to my stomach when he asked about the friend I was with. I can't even tell you how many times that happened.
Opinions are like assholes, everyone has them. And apparently assholes have a lot of opinions! When I was studying abroad in Australia a guy mentioned that I could be really pretty if I lost weight. It's good to know I had some potential buried underneath all my layers of flab. The guy I dated last year, yes the crack addict, was obsessed with his ex...yes the one he had naked pics and a porno of. She was of course skinny with big boobs. Then there was the guy I dated over the summer whose screen saver was always a half naked skinny girl although he swore he loved my curves. But he did keep pushing for me to take up Yoga. Hmmmm. Oddly enough I don't think any guy I ever dated loved, liked, or appreciated my fullness.
I already mentioned that 95% of all the profiles I come across on match.com state they are looking for a girl that's "slender" or "athletic and toned". So is the message here that I have to lose weight for a guy to like me? Forget the fact that I graduated in the 10% of my class in college, that I've done tons of volunteer work throughout my life, how loyal/honest/dependable/reliable I am, my sense of humor that has people in tears. Clearly no matter how many amazing non-physical attributes I have they will never matter unless I have the body of Brittney Spears circa 1999. Guys are lining up to be with that crazy bitch. True story.
Instead of developing my intelligence and humanitarian skills I should have been doing 1000 sit ups to get glistening abs. If some day I am fortunate enough to have an ugly daughter I will pass along the lessons all these fabulous men have taught me; mommy loves you but no one else will.
Although there have been countless romantic rejections in my life time I'll go over the highlight reel for you.
In fifth grade Doug Breshin said, "I'd rather kill myself than date Laura." It's good to know that even at such a young age he understood his options. Death clearly was much more appealing than having anything to do with me. Although it was good to know he had such strong feelings for me I have to admit I was hoping for them to be slightly different than suicidal.
In sixth grade by good buddy Robert Curti told a mutual friend, "Laura has the best personality. She's smart, funny, and not stuck up like most of the girls around here. But she's a dog." Finally a guy who had given me clarity. Personality, no matter how amazing it is, doesn't matter unless you're a knock out. Good to know. Note to self: Start saving for plastic surgery fund immediately.
In eighth grade a friend attempted to fix me up with Charles Jackson. He looked a lot like Jesse from "The Mighty Duck" movies. In a crowded hallway my friend pointed me out to him. He yelled so loud that several heads turned around "HELL NO!" There's an important lesson here that sometimes rejection includes public humiliation.
A consistent remark I kept getting from my romantic interests was how unattractive I was. What confuses me is that I didn't have any of the trade mark features that would make someone fugly. I didn't have horrible acne, any large or irregular facial features like big nose or dumbo ears, my teeth were white and straight without any overbite, no unsightly scars of deformities. This led me to believe what it boiled down to was my weight.
The "beautiful people" as I called them in school all had one thing in common, at least the girls did, they were all skinny. They could wear midriffs with their size zero jeans. So I guess being overweight meant that I was undesirable to the opposite sex. Shakira hips DO lie. I think the ideal woman probably is skinny with a giant ass and huge hooters. Sadly I had no ass, but I do have huge hooters along with a big stomach and thighs too.
Apparently I had been cast in the comedic sidekick role; half the pay with none of the perks of a lead. For boys I was the girl he would talk to about the much hotter girls he liked. For girls I was the ugly friend/wing person. My heart would flutter when a guy came up to me, then drop down to my stomach when he asked about the friend I was with. I can't even tell you how many times that happened.
Opinions are like assholes, everyone has them. And apparently assholes have a lot of opinions! When I was studying abroad in Australia a guy mentioned that I could be really pretty if I lost weight. It's good to know I had some potential buried underneath all my layers of flab. The guy I dated last year, yes the crack addict, was obsessed with his ex...yes the one he had naked pics and a porno of. She was of course skinny with big boobs. Then there was the guy I dated over the summer whose screen saver was always a half naked skinny girl although he swore he loved my curves. But he did keep pushing for me to take up Yoga. Hmmmm. Oddly enough I don't think any guy I ever dated loved, liked, or appreciated my fullness.
I already mentioned that 95% of all the profiles I come across on match.com state they are looking for a girl that's "slender" or "athletic and toned". So is the message here that I have to lose weight for a guy to like me? Forget the fact that I graduated in the 10% of my class in college, that I've done tons of volunteer work throughout my life, how loyal/honest/dependable/reliable I am, my sense of humor that has people in tears. Clearly no matter how many amazing non-physical attributes I have they will never matter unless I have the body of Brittney Spears circa 1999. Guys are lining up to be with that crazy bitch. True story.
Instead of developing my intelligence and humanitarian skills I should have been doing 1000 sit ups to get glistening abs. If some day I am fortunate enough to have an ugly daughter I will pass along the lessons all these fabulous men have taught me; mommy loves you but no one else will.
Mean Girls
****How JJ distinguishes herself from the others****
Have I ever bullied someone? Yes, but before you get some image of me beating the shit out of some poor defenseless kid half my size let me further explain. I bully the bullies, much like a super hero but I wear my underwear underneath my clothes. And if I had to say what my special power was I would say it's the razor truth. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but WORDS do hurt too. If I do my job right than words hurt even more.
Brendon told me about this girl at a call center he briefly worked at during college. Her name was well let's just call her "V". V took pleasure in bullying one of the new reps. She would curse at her, cut her off whenever she was speaking, mock her fashion choices. The thing about bullies is that they are sad pathetic excuses of a human being whose only source of pleasure in life is another's misery. Not too different from parasites exception is that bullies tend to be popular. I've never seen tapeworm with a posse of followers. Whatever.
One day I was visiting Brendon for lunch at work. We were sitting in the cafeteria when I overheard some girl making nasty comments about someone else sitting a couple tables away from her. Brendon motioned to the loud mouth saying under his breath "That's her." Now I though V would be some gorgeous intelligent perfect specimen the way she felt the right to sit on a high horse pointing her crooked little fingers at everyone else. Imagine my surprise (sarcasm folks) when the girl I saw was one giant hot mess: Bleached blond hair with hot pink streaks and her black roots showing, about 10 pounds of caked on make-up ala street walker, protruding belly hanging over her acid wash jeans, and a tattoo right over her droopy breasts Sweet As Sin.
Brendon filled me in on her background. She's a single mom, no longer with the baby daddy, hey these things happen. But in the one short year of her daughter's life she has had THREE different boyfriends. She collects public assistance yet managed to take a European vacation a couple of months ago. Obviously this girl is a class act. I feel most sorry for the poor kid, I know I hate kids, but this one is doomed to follow in her nasty whore mother's foot steps. The reason I don't have kids is because I value my social and sex life way to much to sacrifice them for someone else. Yet here is a woman, really a little girl pretending to be a woman, that actively chose to be a mom AND work the streets. Of course she's a bully, clearly no one can measure up to her HIGH standards.
You know I've never had a problem speaking my mind, so why should that day have been an exception. As I strutted over to the wicked witch of the east I could feel Brendon's smile on my back. "Excuse me I just wanted to say how much I admire you."
She rolled her eyes, "What are you talking about?"
I crossed my arms and grinned, "I think it takes a brave person to publicly break someone down especially when they're the perfect candidate to be cast on Jerry Springer. Do you even know who your baby daddy is? Not like it matters since you rotate through men quicker than a bitch in heat. Hopefully someone calls CPS on your fat ass."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"Who the fuck do you think you are? What do you have against this girl exactly? That's she younger, prettier, smarter, and thinner than you. Ugh what a bitch. I bet she can attract a man without spreading her legs to expose her overused flappy vag. How about the fact that she's not some white trash piece of shit that gets her kicks off making others feel bad about themselves. Thankfully you have your minions who aren't your real friends by the way and probably laugh about YOU behind your back." There was an eruption of laughter in the cafeteria. Good, now she knew the taste of humiliation.
I turned to V's victim, "Hold your head up knowing that you are a better person that her in every conceivable way."
I walked away as V sat there speechless. Brendon gave me a high five on my way out. If it were a high school movie I would expect the room to give me an applause. Where was a giant punch bowl to dump on her head after I finished my speech? A giant punch bowl would have made added that extra something to the moment especially since V was wearing white.
Have I ever bullied someone? Yes, but before you get some image of me beating the shit out of some poor defenseless kid half my size let me further explain. I bully the bullies, much like a super hero but I wear my underwear underneath my clothes. And if I had to say what my special power was I would say it's the razor truth. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but WORDS do hurt too. If I do my job right than words hurt even more.
Brendon told me about this girl at a call center he briefly worked at during college. Her name was well let's just call her "V". V took pleasure in bullying one of the new reps. She would curse at her, cut her off whenever she was speaking, mock her fashion choices. The thing about bullies is that they are sad pathetic excuses of a human being whose only source of pleasure in life is another's misery. Not too different from parasites exception is that bullies tend to be popular. I've never seen tapeworm with a posse of followers. Whatever.
One day I was visiting Brendon for lunch at work. We were sitting in the cafeteria when I overheard some girl making nasty comments about someone else sitting a couple tables away from her. Brendon motioned to the loud mouth saying under his breath "That's her." Now I though V would be some gorgeous intelligent perfect specimen the way she felt the right to sit on a high horse pointing her crooked little fingers at everyone else. Imagine my surprise (sarcasm folks) when the girl I saw was one giant hot mess: Bleached blond hair with hot pink streaks and her black roots showing, about 10 pounds of caked on make-up ala street walker, protruding belly hanging over her acid wash jeans, and a tattoo right over her droopy breasts Sweet As Sin.
Brendon filled me in on her background. She's a single mom, no longer with the baby daddy, hey these things happen. But in the one short year of her daughter's life she has had THREE different boyfriends. She collects public assistance yet managed to take a European vacation a couple of months ago. Obviously this girl is a class act. I feel most sorry for the poor kid, I know I hate kids, but this one is doomed to follow in her nasty whore mother's foot steps. The reason I don't have kids is because I value my social and sex life way to much to sacrifice them for someone else. Yet here is a woman, really a little girl pretending to be a woman, that actively chose to be a mom AND work the streets. Of course she's a bully, clearly no one can measure up to her HIGH standards.
You know I've never had a problem speaking my mind, so why should that day have been an exception. As I strutted over to the wicked witch of the east I could feel Brendon's smile on my back. "Excuse me I just wanted to say how much I admire you."
She rolled her eyes, "What are you talking about?"
I crossed my arms and grinned, "I think it takes a brave person to publicly break someone down especially when they're the perfect candidate to be cast on Jerry Springer. Do you even know who your baby daddy is? Not like it matters since you rotate through men quicker than a bitch in heat. Hopefully someone calls CPS on your fat ass."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"Who the fuck do you think you are? What do you have against this girl exactly? That's she younger, prettier, smarter, and thinner than you. Ugh what a bitch. I bet she can attract a man without spreading her legs to expose her overused flappy vag. How about the fact that she's not some white trash piece of shit that gets her kicks off making others feel bad about themselves. Thankfully you have your minions who aren't your real friends by the way and probably laugh about YOU behind your back." There was an eruption of laughter in the cafeteria. Good, now she knew the taste of humiliation.
I turned to V's victim, "Hold your head up knowing that you are a better person that her in every conceivable way."
I walked away as V sat there speechless. Brendon gave me a high five on my way out. If it were a high school movie I would expect the room to give me an applause. Where was a giant punch bowl to dump on her head after I finished my speech? A giant punch bowl would have made added that extra something to the moment especially since V was wearing white.
Christmas Dick Measuring Contest
****The holidays according to JJ****
Having three older brothers has always been like sitting ringside at a WWE match. To be fair they kept things fresh: noogies, wedgies, head locks, and the occasional all out brawl. I think what my dear mommy hated the most was all the profanity "asstwat" "fuckface" "shit for brains". This was not a case of turrets, rather they were just common run of the mill neanderthals. And why is it that the strong sent of week-old-gym socks always came from their bedrooms? Mom tried to counteract it with fresh flowers from the shop which led me to crack open windows even in mid winter to avoid nose bleeds from aroma overdose.
Jeremy, Jason, and Josh...yes those are their names. Now I know by the time my mom starting shooting out babies her kindergarten days were long behind her, yet I feel it was someone's obligation to point out that there are twenty-five other letters in the alphabet besides "J". For some odd reason I felt my dad Jeffrey wouldn't be of any help there. So anyways all this testosterone in one household meant three things were certain: toilet seat always left up, very expensive grocery bill in the teen years, and lots of "friendly" competition.
Of course I didn't feel the need to compete because the fact that I was female meant I had already won. But in the beginning it was fun being a spectator. Who did better in school? Who was the super star athlete? Who had the best girlfriend? (best didn't necessarily mean prettiest, more like most sexually open aka whore). Who could spit the farthest distance? Who could fart the loudest and smelliest?
One would hope the boys would have eventually grown out of this dick measuring contest but as I sit here in my parents' home Christmas dinner 2011 the saga still continues. Who has the best wife? (this is measured by how many babies she can pop out and how quickly she responds to the "get me a beer" command) Who is the most financially well off? Whose kids are the cutest/most well behaved/accomplished? My brothers even share pictures of their Christmas trees to compare size. Is it wrong of me to wish they would settle this Highlander style with sword decapitation? Yeah I guess that would ruin mom's beautiful cream carpet, but a girl can still dream.
Jeremy punches me in the arm, "So JJ when are you going to catch up with the rest of us?" Jason and Josh both laugh at my perceived misfortune.
"Hopefully never. Viagra and male pattern baldness don't appeal to me all that much." Now whose laughing?!
One of the kids chimes in, "Daddy what's Viagra?"
My mom walks in to with a tray of homemade truffles, "It's adult vitamins sweetie. Now Juliana Jennifer please watch what you say around the kids please." Yes my mom is the one person on the planet that insists on using my given name.
Here's yet another reason I don't like kids. There's this rule that you have to censor yourself around them. Why? If I ever had kids, which will happen the day the US President and any middle east ruler make passionate love on public television, we can't pretend it doesn't happen behind closed doors...well if I took the plunge I'd keep it real with my kids. The sex talk would happen before they hit elementary school. All the other parents would hate me for teaching my kid the proper names to their privates (what the fuck is a hooha anyways? Is this Dr Seuss for sex ed?) But guarantee my kid won't be the one coming home with a VD. Yup, I said it. After school specials got one thing right, knowledge is power. And unless you plan on raising your kid like the boy in the bubble they are going to pick up profanity, sex, and violence. If they're lucky enough they can get exposed to all three during a really good episode of South Park which is a cartoon by the way. A cartoon that teaches way more about life than that fag Blues Clues. No offense to fags.
There's a big part of me that pities the unfortunate souls that get sucked into the underworld of parenthood. Maybe when you were dating your future spouse you had some wild R-rated sex life, if you were really lucky x-rated, with some light S&M or role playing but at least some loud animal noises were involved. Then you have a wrinkly fat mini Buddha enter your life and everything changes. Suddenly you can only do it if you're lucky enough to get the grandparents to watch the brats for a night and if you aren't it has to be super quiet and quick in a means to be courteous to the cock blocking monsters. But who are we kidding? Most of the time the parents are too tired to even think about sex. I love being tired after an all night romp, but this fatigue is caused by the thing that has now taken over your life...the kids.
As I look at the Christmas tree with the thousand and one gifts spread underneath it reminds me how even the holidays are spoiled because of them. The whole bullshit Santa charade, breaking your bank account to get them every damn thing they want even though they don't deserve it, the excessive decorations, the freshly baked cookies, the stupid school concerts. And the parents will tell you it's all worth it just to see the smile on their childrens' faces. Give me a fuckin break. The kids are NEVER happy. Guaranteed they'll be bitching about the one thing Santa forgot to get them. Or how about that their cousin/brother/friends got something better. That's right the dick measuring contest has been graciously passed onto the next generation. Don't think it stops at getting teh gift, hiding the gift until the big event, and beautifully wrapping the gift, but they'll wnat you to immediatly assemble the gift too. The most fucked up part is that just a few weeks later they will have broken or completely forgotten about that one thing they just couldn't live without. And somehow I'm required to get the little shits gifts too. I used birth control responsibly to avoid situations like this, so why am I being punished?
This is why I made sure to get them the shittiest gifts I could find. And to be fair I get all of them the same thing so I don't get accused of playing favorites. Which I don't get how I could have a favorite of something I can't stand; do you prefer vomiting or diarrhea? I have also taken the liberty of wrapping my gifts in a different kind of paper, toilet paper. That way they can re-use, reduce, and recycle later on when they're shitting out all the festive food they gorged on. I told you I was big on practicality. This year all of the kids got cheese graters. Bed, Bath, and Beyond had them on sale. You know what, it is all worth it when I see the looks on their faces.
Having three older brothers has always been like sitting ringside at a WWE match. To be fair they kept things fresh: noogies, wedgies, head locks, and the occasional all out brawl. I think what my dear mommy hated the most was all the profanity "asstwat" "fuckface" "shit for brains". This was not a case of turrets, rather they were just common run of the mill neanderthals. And why is it that the strong sent of week-old-gym socks always came from their bedrooms? Mom tried to counteract it with fresh flowers from the shop which led me to crack open windows even in mid winter to avoid nose bleeds from aroma overdose.
Jeremy, Jason, and Josh...yes those are their names. Now I know by the time my mom starting shooting out babies her kindergarten days were long behind her, yet I feel it was someone's obligation to point out that there are twenty-five other letters in the alphabet besides "J". For some odd reason I felt my dad Jeffrey wouldn't be of any help there. So anyways all this testosterone in one household meant three things were certain: toilet seat always left up, very expensive grocery bill in the teen years, and lots of "friendly" competition.
Of course I didn't feel the need to compete because the fact that I was female meant I had already won. But in the beginning it was fun being a spectator. Who did better in school? Who was the super star athlete? Who had the best girlfriend? (best didn't necessarily mean prettiest, more like most sexually open aka whore). Who could spit the farthest distance? Who could fart the loudest and smelliest?
One would hope the boys would have eventually grown out of this dick measuring contest but as I sit here in my parents' home Christmas dinner 2011 the saga still continues. Who has the best wife? (this is measured by how many babies she can pop out and how quickly she responds to the "get me a beer" command) Who is the most financially well off? Whose kids are the cutest/most well behaved/accomplished? My brothers even share pictures of their Christmas trees to compare size. Is it wrong of me to wish they would settle this Highlander style with sword decapitation? Yeah I guess that would ruin mom's beautiful cream carpet, but a girl can still dream.
Jeremy punches me in the arm, "So JJ when are you going to catch up with the rest of us?" Jason and Josh both laugh at my perceived misfortune.
"Hopefully never. Viagra and male pattern baldness don't appeal to me all that much." Now whose laughing?!
One of the kids chimes in, "Daddy what's Viagra?"
My mom walks in to with a tray of homemade truffles, "It's adult vitamins sweetie. Now Juliana Jennifer please watch what you say around the kids please." Yes my mom is the one person on the planet that insists on using my given name.
Here's yet another reason I don't like kids. There's this rule that you have to censor yourself around them. Why? If I ever had kids, which will happen the day the US President and any middle east ruler make passionate love on public television, we can't pretend it doesn't happen behind closed doors...well if I took the plunge I'd keep it real with my kids. The sex talk would happen before they hit elementary school. All the other parents would hate me for teaching my kid the proper names to their privates (what the fuck is a hooha anyways? Is this Dr Seuss for sex ed?) But guarantee my kid won't be the one coming home with a VD. Yup, I said it. After school specials got one thing right, knowledge is power. And unless you plan on raising your kid like the boy in the bubble they are going to pick up profanity, sex, and violence. If they're lucky enough they can get exposed to all three during a really good episode of South Park which is a cartoon by the way. A cartoon that teaches way more about life than that fag Blues Clues. No offense to fags.
There's a big part of me that pities the unfortunate souls that get sucked into the underworld of parenthood. Maybe when you were dating your future spouse you had some wild R-rated sex life, if you were really lucky x-rated, with some light S&M or role playing but at least some loud animal noises were involved. Then you have a wrinkly fat mini Buddha enter your life and everything changes. Suddenly you can only do it if you're lucky enough to get the grandparents to watch the brats for a night and if you aren't it has to be super quiet and quick in a means to be courteous to the cock blocking monsters. But who are we kidding? Most of the time the parents are too tired to even think about sex. I love being tired after an all night romp, but this fatigue is caused by the thing that has now taken over your life...the kids.
As I look at the Christmas tree with the thousand and one gifts spread underneath it reminds me how even the holidays are spoiled because of them. The whole bullshit Santa charade, breaking your bank account to get them every damn thing they want even though they don't deserve it, the excessive decorations, the freshly baked cookies, the stupid school concerts. And the parents will tell you it's all worth it just to see the smile on their childrens' faces. Give me a fuckin break. The kids are NEVER happy. Guaranteed they'll be bitching about the one thing Santa forgot to get them. Or how about that their cousin/brother/friends got something better. That's right the dick measuring contest has been graciously passed onto the next generation. Don't think it stops at getting teh gift, hiding the gift until the big event, and beautifully wrapping the gift, but they'll wnat you to immediatly assemble the gift too. The most fucked up part is that just a few weeks later they will have broken or completely forgotten about that one thing they just couldn't live without. And somehow I'm required to get the little shits gifts too. I used birth control responsibly to avoid situations like this, so why am I being punished?
This is why I made sure to get them the shittiest gifts I could find. And to be fair I get all of them the same thing so I don't get accused of playing favorites. Which I don't get how I could have a favorite of something I can't stand; do you prefer vomiting or diarrhea? I have also taken the liberty of wrapping my gifts in a different kind of paper, toilet paper. That way they can re-use, reduce, and recycle later on when they're shitting out all the festive food they gorged on. I told you I was big on practicality. This year all of the kids got cheese graters. Bed, Bath, and Beyond had them on sale. You know what, it is all worth it when I see the looks on their faces.
All Good Things Must Come to An End
****This is from Katie's perspective****
This was the clearest my mind had been in a long time. No more fear. No more hesitation. No more indecisiveness. I stood on the front step to the place I had called home for almost six months now. My right hand grasped the envelope so tightly my knuckles were turning white. My head, my heart, and my gut were finally all in agreement.
My boss had been shocked when I told her I needed some time off work to take care of personal matters. She asked me how long and I told her I didn't know. She explained that she can only hold my job for so long. I understood the risk I was taking, but it was something that I had to do. My bank account had been emptied and the money was in my bulding wallet in my purse. Once I bought the tickets and asked him to go with me there was no turning back.
An hour ago I had sent both Nick and Charlie a text asking them to meet me at the house. My words were both direct and evasive. I refused to divulge any more details until I was in front of them both. I needed to look into one of their eyes to tell them I had fallen deeply in love with him. And moments later explain to the other that he just wasn't the guy for me. I wouldn't wish my circumstances on anyone. It was all bittersweet to give my heart to someone while breaking someone elses.
Katie you can do this. I walked inside and saw them both sitting on opposing sides of the couch. Two pairs of hazel eyes looked over at me as I approached them. "Please just let me just get it out before I lose my wind. I take full responsibility for being the one to cause this rift between all three of us." When they started to defend me I waved my hand to quiet them.
"I've always been the person who watches life pass me by. And to be honest I was okay with that because I was never some thrill seeking adrenaline junkie unlike some other people I know. Charlie you have this sense of adventure that intimidates me beyond belief. You create your own path, you make waves, you spice things up. I think it's so easy for most people to fall into the cafeteria line of life: choose your meat, choose your side, choose your veggie, choose your drink. Most of us, including myself, are sheep. You Charlie are the shepherd. I know I'm corny, but metaphors are all I've got here." I giggled. Thankfully both of them cracked a smile on their faces too.
"Nearly five years ago I was just some girl applying for a job at this cool cafe. There was nothing special or different about me. Nothing that set me apart from the rest. But Nick, you saw something about me that I didn't even see. And over the years I have known you I was eventually able to see it myself. If it weren't for you I wouldn't have found the family away from my family, learned how to brew the perfect pot of coffee, and the ability to laugh at myself. The last skill has come in handy countless times. You are by far the best person I know: selfless, honest, dependable, and loving. Believe it or not I think I have become a better person just by being around you."
I held up my envelope. "Today I took a leap of faith into the complete unknown. Not bad for a neurotic control freak. I have two train tickets to a surprise destination. I really don't know where since I told the clerk to book something for 4 PM this afternoon. Then she sealed it in an envelope before handing it over to me. I need to say that I love both of you just in very different ways and I only hope the person I don't ask to come with me will understand that I need to move forward with what I know is the right choice for me."
I extended my hand to Nick. He took it and stood up in front of me. "You are a part of me, my favorite part. Just the sound of your voice makes me smile. You have stood by my side through so much over the years. Now I am asking you to stand by my decision to be with Charlie. There is something there that's unexpected and if I don't go for it I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been."
Nick's eyes teared up. "Katie I can't wait for you."
"I would never expect you to." I squeezed his hands.
He pulled me in for a tight hug. I didn't want him to let go, but knew we had to at some point. When he pulled away from me he turned towards Charlie, "Take good care of our girl." Charlie nodded. Nick walked out of the room without looking back.
Charlie grabbed my face with both hands before diving in for a passionate kiss. We walked towards the door hand in hand, then Charlie stopped me. "What about out things?"
I looked up at him, "I already have everything I need."
This was the clearest my mind had been in a long time. No more fear. No more hesitation. No more indecisiveness. I stood on the front step to the place I had called home for almost six months now. My right hand grasped the envelope so tightly my knuckles were turning white. My head, my heart, and my gut were finally all in agreement.
My boss had been shocked when I told her I needed some time off work to take care of personal matters. She asked me how long and I told her I didn't know. She explained that she can only hold my job for so long. I understood the risk I was taking, but it was something that I had to do. My bank account had been emptied and the money was in my bulding wallet in my purse. Once I bought the tickets and asked him to go with me there was no turning back.
An hour ago I had sent both Nick and Charlie a text asking them to meet me at the house. My words were both direct and evasive. I refused to divulge any more details until I was in front of them both. I needed to look into one of their eyes to tell them I had fallen deeply in love with him. And moments later explain to the other that he just wasn't the guy for me. I wouldn't wish my circumstances on anyone. It was all bittersweet to give my heart to someone while breaking someone elses.
Katie you can do this. I walked inside and saw them both sitting on opposing sides of the couch. Two pairs of hazel eyes looked over at me as I approached them. "Please just let me just get it out before I lose my wind. I take full responsibility for being the one to cause this rift between all three of us." When they started to defend me I waved my hand to quiet them.
"I've always been the person who watches life pass me by. And to be honest I was okay with that because I was never some thrill seeking adrenaline junkie unlike some other people I know. Charlie you have this sense of adventure that intimidates me beyond belief. You create your own path, you make waves, you spice things up. I think it's so easy for most people to fall into the cafeteria line of life: choose your meat, choose your side, choose your veggie, choose your drink. Most of us, including myself, are sheep. You Charlie are the shepherd. I know I'm corny, but metaphors are all I've got here." I giggled. Thankfully both of them cracked a smile on their faces too.
"Nearly five years ago I was just some girl applying for a job at this cool cafe. There was nothing special or different about me. Nothing that set me apart from the rest. But Nick, you saw something about me that I didn't even see. And over the years I have known you I was eventually able to see it myself. If it weren't for you I wouldn't have found the family away from my family, learned how to brew the perfect pot of coffee, and the ability to laugh at myself. The last skill has come in handy countless times. You are by far the best person I know: selfless, honest, dependable, and loving. Believe it or not I think I have become a better person just by being around you."
I held up my envelope. "Today I took a leap of faith into the complete unknown. Not bad for a neurotic control freak. I have two train tickets to a surprise destination. I really don't know where since I told the clerk to book something for 4 PM this afternoon. Then she sealed it in an envelope before handing it over to me. I need to say that I love both of you just in very different ways and I only hope the person I don't ask to come with me will understand that I need to move forward with what I know is the right choice for me."
I extended my hand to Nick. He took it and stood up in front of me. "You are a part of me, my favorite part. Just the sound of your voice makes me smile. You have stood by my side through so much over the years. Now I am asking you to stand by my decision to be with Charlie. There is something there that's unexpected and if I don't go for it I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been."
Nick's eyes teared up. "Katie I can't wait for you."
"I would never expect you to." I squeezed his hands.
He pulled me in for a tight hug. I didn't want him to let go, but knew we had to at some point. When he pulled away from me he turned towards Charlie, "Take good care of our girl." Charlie nodded. Nick walked out of the room without looking back.
Charlie grabbed my face with both hands before diving in for a passionate kiss. We walked towards the door hand in hand, then Charlie stopped me. "What about out things?"
I looked up at him, "I already have everything I need."
I Will NOT Follow That Damn Yellow Brick Road
****JJ, the working girl. Not that kind you fools****
After high school graduation Brendon, the class valedictorian, went off to some IVY league school in the northeast. There was no doubt in my mind he would be off doing great things. Much to my parents disappointment I decided the whole higher education thing wasn't for me. And although I didn't go to college I did live in a college town where I was able to attend many college parties. So you can say I definitely got my dose of the college experience too. Is there more to it than sleeping until noon after a long night of under aged drinking?!
A couple of months into my new life my dad, the buzz kill that he is, informed me I had a choice: either get a job or go to college. If I didn't choose either option then I would lose use of my car. Of course my mom chimed in that she could always use help down at the flower shop. Yeah I'd rather get gang banged by the entire football team. Actually now that the image is in my head....never mind.
Oddly enough I ended up at the once place I had happily managed to avoid during all my formative years, the mall. The challenge was finding something that wasn't girly, food prep related, or trendy. I refused to wear a uniform or partake in customer service. Sales positions didn't really appeal to me either; I'd rather a steady and small paycheck then get my hopes up on a potential commission. Needless to say my options were severely limited.
There was this t-shirt store called "Lani's". Perfect, a place I can wear jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers every day. Did you ever see a funny bumper sticker or key chain and think to yourself that would make an awesome t-shirt? That's what this store does. A smart ass like me would fit right in. Thankfully I could sleep late most days and get the closing shift which surprisingly most people didn't want. Because of the nature of the store I didn't have to censor myself either. This place was not for the faint of heart, prudish stay at home mommies, or Jesus freaks. Although to be fair their money is just as good as anyone elses.
Fast forward a few years and I was still at Lani's, but now as the store assistant manager. My management style was laid back as long as you didn't cross me. Micro-managing was a waste of every one's time, so as long as you did what you needed to do I didn't give two shits how you did it. I only hired people I could see myself hanging out with outside of work too. I was stuck at this place forty plus hours a week, might as well enjoy the company I keep. That was my theory anyways. And I was not above putting myself in rotation to do the menial jobs that everyone hated such as cleaning the bathroom. No one likes a manager who thinks they're too important to get their hands dirty. My mom prodded me to go for the manager slot when it opened up, but I felt the extra hassle and responsibility weren't worth the extra pay.
The other day the new manager came in to introduce himself. Blond over blue, tight ass, dimples when he smiles. Something about him seemed so familiar but I couldn't quite place it.It was the obnixious hyena laugh that radiated in the store that gave him away. Jarrod. No last name, just Jarrod. I'm sure he has last name although it has no relevance to me.
We had met before at a party during those formative months right after I graduated high school. Those days and nights were full of much alcohol and pot and random hook ups. Life was good. Fuck that, life was awesome right before my dad burst my little drug induced orgy bubble. Anyways Jarrod and I were playing that card game Kings or Bullshit. There was some obvious flirting going on that led to some horrible sex in the bed of his pickup truck.
Do you remember that list I gave you of the things a guy can do wrong sexually that will make me kick him to the curb? Imagine a man or should I say little boy that manages to accomplish all of them in one evening. And I am not going to excuse it because of the alcohol since I had no trouble holding up on my end of the deal. Too bad real life isn't like a game show because I would have happily taken the donkey behind door number two over this moron.
Now I know for sure it wasn't me. I know you've been wondering all this time what I look like. Well here it us: 5'9'', toned athletic body yet with curvaceous hips; ass; and large breasts, long wavy strawberry blond hair, brownish green eyes, button nose. I have none of the usual defects that would make a girl unfuckable such as acne, morbid obesity, excessive body hair, lazy eye, mangled yellowed teeth, smelly. Need I go on? I was fuckin hot and everyone that knew me knew it. I expected a guy to spring a boner just looked at me.
First the kissing. Slobbery. Bad breath. Teeth clanking. He bit my lip so hard he broke skin. I pushed his face away thinking we could just focus on the actual sex part. He couldn't get it up. There is no reason a young guy in a sexual prime should have this issue. So naturally I asked him if he had done this before. He got offended. I replied, "If you know what you're doing then show me."
He pushed me back down and proceeded to go down on me. It didn't matter what body part his mouth was on, same technique or rather lack there of. When he bit down on me I kicked him on reflex. This was the one and only time in my life I engaged in a pity fuck. Don't worry, it only lasted about three minutes. He couldn't finish although I might argue he never really started. The grand finale was the projectile vomiting all over me and the back of the truck. My only consolation was that I would never have to see him again.
Now he was going to be my boss! Well the horrible hook-up happened years ago while we were both very inebriated. Not that I ever want to be a girl a guy bones and forgets, but I'll make an exception this time for very special circumstances. Unfortunately as soon as we locked eyes I knew he knew just who I was. Fuckme. Wait a minute, he was smiling. Maybe he didn't remember. No way that night would bring a smile to anyone's face.
He walked over to me, "Have we met?"
I shook my head, "I don't think so."
"Oh we've definitely met, but it was a while back. You had some double initial name like BB."
"Actually my name is JJ and I'm sure you're confusing me with someone else."
He leaned into me to whisper in my ear, "You were so hot that night. And now you'll be working underneath me. I'm getting hard just thinking about it."
It's true that it's not what is said, but who says it. Any other guy that wasn't some limp dick loser speaking those words to me would have been a turn on. But from Jarrod, ugh. I think I might just projectile vomit on him. For as much as I gripe about this job I am really very happy here. I get paid well with very little expected of me. Now this asstwat was going to fuck that all up. I had to think fast. As much as I hate lying this was a situation where I saw no other feasible way out. For giving me the worst night of my life this guy had what was coming to him. "A few years back? Yeah I think I remember you too."
His smile broadened, "I knew it was you. Why don't you say we hook up again?"
"Are you sure? Things will be a little different this time around. There are certain things I can't do anymore."
Confusion was painted all over his face. "What are you talking about?"
Time to go in for the kill. "Well back then as you know I was a guy. Last year I finally got that corrective surgery I had been hoping for. And I remember how much you liked taking it up the ass, I just don't think I can please you like I did that night. I mean there's always strap-ons. I'd be willing to try if you would." It took everything in me not to burst into laughter right then and there as repulsion visibly spread through every part of his body.
He backed away from me, "You're right, I obviously have you confused with someone else. I actually, um, wow is it that late already? I had something I had to take care of." I have never seen someone sprint so fast out of the store. Then again ending things a bit too quickly was a talent of his.
Well you can imagine my surprise when I heard from the district manager that Jarrod had decided to take a job elsewhere. The DM just couldn't grasp why he had suddenly changed his mind. He then asked me to reconsider taking the position myself. Maybe. Who knows? I'll consider my options over a toke and a beer.
After high school graduation Brendon, the class valedictorian, went off to some IVY league school in the northeast. There was no doubt in my mind he would be off doing great things. Much to my parents disappointment I decided the whole higher education thing wasn't for me. And although I didn't go to college I did live in a college town where I was able to attend many college parties. So you can say I definitely got my dose of the college experience too. Is there more to it than sleeping until noon after a long night of under aged drinking?!
A couple of months into my new life my dad, the buzz kill that he is, informed me I had a choice: either get a job or go to college. If I didn't choose either option then I would lose use of my car. Of course my mom chimed in that she could always use help down at the flower shop. Yeah I'd rather get gang banged by the entire football team. Actually now that the image is in my head....never mind.
Oddly enough I ended up at the once place I had happily managed to avoid during all my formative years, the mall. The challenge was finding something that wasn't girly, food prep related, or trendy. I refused to wear a uniform or partake in customer service. Sales positions didn't really appeal to me either; I'd rather a steady and small paycheck then get my hopes up on a potential commission. Needless to say my options were severely limited.
There was this t-shirt store called "Lani's". Perfect, a place I can wear jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers every day. Did you ever see a funny bumper sticker or key chain and think to yourself that would make an awesome t-shirt? That's what this store does. A smart ass like me would fit right in. Thankfully I could sleep late most days and get the closing shift which surprisingly most people didn't want. Because of the nature of the store I didn't have to censor myself either. This place was not for the faint of heart, prudish stay at home mommies, or Jesus freaks. Although to be fair their money is just as good as anyone elses.
Fast forward a few years and I was still at Lani's, but now as the store assistant manager. My management style was laid back as long as you didn't cross me. Micro-managing was a waste of every one's time, so as long as you did what you needed to do I didn't give two shits how you did it. I only hired people I could see myself hanging out with outside of work too. I was stuck at this place forty plus hours a week, might as well enjoy the company I keep. That was my theory anyways. And I was not above putting myself in rotation to do the menial jobs that everyone hated such as cleaning the bathroom. No one likes a manager who thinks they're too important to get their hands dirty. My mom prodded me to go for the manager slot when it opened up, but I felt the extra hassle and responsibility weren't worth the extra pay.
The other day the new manager came in to introduce himself. Blond over blue, tight ass, dimples when he smiles. Something about him seemed so familiar but I couldn't quite place it.It was the obnixious hyena laugh that radiated in the store that gave him away. Jarrod. No last name, just Jarrod. I'm sure he has last name although it has no relevance to me.
We had met before at a party during those formative months right after I graduated high school. Those days and nights were full of much alcohol and pot and random hook ups. Life was good. Fuck that, life was awesome right before my dad burst my little drug induced orgy bubble. Anyways Jarrod and I were playing that card game Kings or Bullshit. There was some obvious flirting going on that led to some horrible sex in the bed of his pickup truck.
Do you remember that list I gave you of the things a guy can do wrong sexually that will make me kick him to the curb? Imagine a man or should I say little boy that manages to accomplish all of them in one evening. And I am not going to excuse it because of the alcohol since I had no trouble holding up on my end of the deal. Too bad real life isn't like a game show because I would have happily taken the donkey behind door number two over this moron.
Now I know for sure it wasn't me. I know you've been wondering all this time what I look like. Well here it us: 5'9'', toned athletic body yet with curvaceous hips; ass; and large breasts, long wavy strawberry blond hair, brownish green eyes, button nose. I have none of the usual defects that would make a girl unfuckable such as acne, morbid obesity, excessive body hair, lazy eye, mangled yellowed teeth, smelly. Need I go on? I was fuckin hot and everyone that knew me knew it. I expected a guy to spring a boner just looked at me.
First the kissing. Slobbery. Bad breath. Teeth clanking. He bit my lip so hard he broke skin. I pushed his face away thinking we could just focus on the actual sex part. He couldn't get it up. There is no reason a young guy in a sexual prime should have this issue. So naturally I asked him if he had done this before. He got offended. I replied, "If you know what you're doing then show me."
He pushed me back down and proceeded to go down on me. It didn't matter what body part his mouth was on, same technique or rather lack there of. When he bit down on me I kicked him on reflex. This was the one and only time in my life I engaged in a pity fuck. Don't worry, it only lasted about three minutes. He couldn't finish although I might argue he never really started. The grand finale was the projectile vomiting all over me and the back of the truck. My only consolation was that I would never have to see him again.
Now he was going to be my boss! Well the horrible hook-up happened years ago while we were both very inebriated. Not that I ever want to be a girl a guy bones and forgets, but I'll make an exception this time for very special circumstances. Unfortunately as soon as we locked eyes I knew he knew just who I was. Fuckme. Wait a minute, he was smiling. Maybe he didn't remember. No way that night would bring a smile to anyone's face.
He walked over to me, "Have we met?"
I shook my head, "I don't think so."
"Oh we've definitely met, but it was a while back. You had some double initial name like BB."
"Actually my name is JJ and I'm sure you're confusing me with someone else."
He leaned into me to whisper in my ear, "You were so hot that night. And now you'll be working underneath me. I'm getting hard just thinking about it."
It's true that it's not what is said, but who says it. Any other guy that wasn't some limp dick loser speaking those words to me would have been a turn on. But from Jarrod, ugh. I think I might just projectile vomit on him. For as much as I gripe about this job I am really very happy here. I get paid well with very little expected of me. Now this asstwat was going to fuck that all up. I had to think fast. As much as I hate lying this was a situation where I saw no other feasible way out. For giving me the worst night of my life this guy had what was coming to him. "A few years back? Yeah I think I remember you too."
His smile broadened, "I knew it was you. Why don't you say we hook up again?"
"Are you sure? Things will be a little different this time around. There are certain things I can't do anymore."
Confusion was painted all over his face. "What are you talking about?"
Time to go in for the kill. "Well back then as you know I was a guy. Last year I finally got that corrective surgery I had been hoping for. And I remember how much you liked taking it up the ass, I just don't think I can please you like I did that night. I mean there's always strap-ons. I'd be willing to try if you would." It took everything in me not to burst into laughter right then and there as repulsion visibly spread through every part of his body.
He backed away from me, "You're right, I obviously have you confused with someone else. I actually, um, wow is it that late already? I had something I had to take care of." I have never seen someone sprint so fast out of the store. Then again ending things a bit too quickly was a talent of his.
Well you can imagine my surprise when I heard from the district manager that Jarrod had decided to take a job elsewhere. The DM just couldn't grasp why he had suddenly changed his mind. He then asked me to reconsider taking the position myself. Maybe. Who knows? I'll consider my options over a toke and a beer.
Mother Thinks She Knows Best
****JJ's dominant personality is taking over my blog****
My rebellion against the female stereotype started at a very early age. The battles occured when my mom tried to push me to be girly. Five years old the Barbie I got for Christmas with all her damn accessories somehow ended up clogging the upstairs toilet. Nine Years old the dainty little pink glittery dress I was supposed to wear for my birthday was found at the bottom of the cat's litter box. Thirteen years old My First Make-Up Kit melted in the microwave.
You're probably wondering why I didn't just try talking to my mom. Why can't I just explain that certain things don't appeal to me. What's with the dramatic demonstrations? Having a heart to heart with her to say how I really feel would be like trying to tell a a wild lion to try the vegan diet. I had three older brothers, so at last my mom had gotten the little princess she had always hoped for....or so she thought. Basically she ended up with four sons. JJ was a girl who liked wearing boys clothes, playing with boys toys, and hanging out with boys. The more I resisted being turned into her life sized doll, the more she tried.
I don't like being pushed into a corner by anyone. And if you even try I'll knock your fuckin head off. Despite what you may already think of me I'm really not this agressive bulldog bitch. This is just a giant pet peeve of mine. For example just because I liked playing sports in the dirt I was labeled a Tomboy. It's this incessant need everyone has to catagorize, label, and neatly place everything in a box. I'm not last night's left overs, I'm a person damnit. And in all honestly how many of us completely check off every box in our supposed catagory anyways?
This was why my mom and I would constantly butt heads. She made a very wrong assumption that my lack of penis meant I would behave a certain way. I remember the varied attempts to get me to help out in the kitchen. There go those gender roles again. My three older brothers were just as perfectly capable to play into her Martha Stewart fantasies. Not my thing. And instead of accepting that she continued to push and push and push. Stir this, mix this, grab the gloves and take this out of the oven. Won't you be a dear?
So I guess it's fair to say that when I previously told you I didn't have mommy or daddy issues I lied. I try not to make a habit of lying by the way, but it's hard to not only recognize your personal defects let alone share them with others. My dad and I are just fine, always have been. That's probably because he doesn't have a giant stick up his ass like my mom. I think my personality is an extreme opposite version of hers because after so much pressure to be a mini clone of her I went running the other way.
She was confused at the second hand furniture in my apartment. Not that she did my taxes, but she knew I could afford what she considered better. I'm not an out of the catalogue designer kind of girl. I grew up in a house that felt like a musuem: always use coasters, decor that coordinated with the furnture that coordinated with the rug, don't wear your shoes in doors. I valued comfort over style. If a couch soothed my tired ass after a long day in retail hell it was good enough for me. Looks only came into play with the guys I screwed around with.
And speaking of the men in my life. My mom was always questioning when I would settle down and get married like my brothers had. She would shake her head and sigh stating "I just don't get it, you are such a pretty girl." My looks had nothing to do with why I wasn't married and everything to do with my active sex life. Don't you see mom, I am putting my best assets to use. I haven't done anything like her aside from sitting down while I pee my entire life, so why would I start now?
At nearly thirty years old I find myself still trying to explain myself to my mom. Currently I'm trying to figure out a tactful way to get my spare key back from her. It was given to her in case of emergenicies, her idea and not mine. Little did I know at the time that she had ulterior motives to drop by unnanounced when I wasn't home. How do you know you ask? Subtle clues like the display of wedding magazines on my kitchen table. Or the Pier One throw pillows on my couch. And how can I forget the casserole left in my fridge with reheating instructions attached.
None of those sweet little surprises compares to the time she walked in on me and a guy. We were actually going at it on my kitchen floor, I don't always make it to the bedroom. And I was just at the point of climax when I hear, "Honey are you home?" Followed by a shriek, teh clack of high heels, then a door slam. Shortly thereafter a soft penis and the end of my good time.
Would it have been nice to have formed some sort of bond with her? Sure, but some things just aren't meant to be and I'm okay with that. I still love her in the way you're supposed to love your parents I just don't like her very much. After all these years I have come to realize we are foreigners to one another with very little comprehension for the other person's language or customs.
My rebellion against the female stereotype started at a very early age. The battles occured when my mom tried to push me to be girly. Five years old the Barbie I got for Christmas with all her damn accessories somehow ended up clogging the upstairs toilet. Nine Years old the dainty little pink glittery dress I was supposed to wear for my birthday was found at the bottom of the cat's litter box. Thirteen years old My First Make-Up Kit melted in the microwave.
You're probably wondering why I didn't just try talking to my mom. Why can't I just explain that certain things don't appeal to me. What's with the dramatic demonstrations? Having a heart to heart with her to say how I really feel would be like trying to tell a a wild lion to try the vegan diet. I had three older brothers, so at last my mom had gotten the little princess she had always hoped for....or so she thought. Basically she ended up with four sons. JJ was a girl who liked wearing boys clothes, playing with boys toys, and hanging out with boys. The more I resisted being turned into her life sized doll, the more she tried.
I don't like being pushed into a corner by anyone. And if you even try I'll knock your fuckin head off. Despite what you may already think of me I'm really not this agressive bulldog bitch. This is just a giant pet peeve of mine. For example just because I liked playing sports in the dirt I was labeled a Tomboy. It's this incessant need everyone has to catagorize, label, and neatly place everything in a box. I'm not last night's left overs, I'm a person damnit. And in all honestly how many of us completely check off every box in our supposed catagory anyways?
This was why my mom and I would constantly butt heads. She made a very wrong assumption that my lack of penis meant I would behave a certain way. I remember the varied attempts to get me to help out in the kitchen. There go those gender roles again. My three older brothers were just as perfectly capable to play into her Martha Stewart fantasies. Not my thing. And instead of accepting that she continued to push and push and push. Stir this, mix this, grab the gloves and take this out of the oven. Won't you be a dear?
So I guess it's fair to say that when I previously told you I didn't have mommy or daddy issues I lied. I try not to make a habit of lying by the way, but it's hard to not only recognize your personal defects let alone share them with others. My dad and I are just fine, always have been. That's probably because he doesn't have a giant stick up his ass like my mom. I think my personality is an extreme opposite version of hers because after so much pressure to be a mini clone of her I went running the other way.
She was confused at the second hand furniture in my apartment. Not that she did my taxes, but she knew I could afford what she considered better. I'm not an out of the catalogue designer kind of girl. I grew up in a house that felt like a musuem: always use coasters, decor that coordinated with the furnture that coordinated with the rug, don't wear your shoes in doors. I valued comfort over style. If a couch soothed my tired ass after a long day in retail hell it was good enough for me. Looks only came into play with the guys I screwed around with.
And speaking of the men in my life. My mom was always questioning when I would settle down and get married like my brothers had. She would shake her head and sigh stating "I just don't get it, you are such a pretty girl." My looks had nothing to do with why I wasn't married and everything to do with my active sex life. Don't you see mom, I am putting my best assets to use. I haven't done anything like her aside from sitting down while I pee my entire life, so why would I start now?
At nearly thirty years old I find myself still trying to explain myself to my mom. Currently I'm trying to figure out a tactful way to get my spare key back from her. It was given to her in case of emergenicies, her idea and not mine. Little did I know at the time that she had ulterior motives to drop by unnanounced when I wasn't home. How do you know you ask? Subtle clues like the display of wedding magazines on my kitchen table. Or the Pier One throw pillows on my couch. And how can I forget the casserole left in my fridge with reheating instructions attached.
None of those sweet little surprises compares to the time she walked in on me and a guy. We were actually going at it on my kitchen floor, I don't always make it to the bedroom. And I was just at the point of climax when I hear, "Honey are you home?" Followed by a shriek, teh clack of high heels, then a door slam. Shortly thereafter a soft penis and the end of my good time.
Would it have been nice to have formed some sort of bond with her? Sure, but some things just aren't meant to be and I'm okay with that. I still love her in the way you're supposed to love your parents I just don't like her very much. After all these years I have come to realize we are foreigners to one another with very little comprehension for the other person's language or customs.
A Boy Named Brendon
****More JJ***
A smile comes across my face when I think about what happened my first day of high school. Some upper classman thought he'd give me a friendly "hello" by grabbing my ass when he passed me in the hallway. Of course I threw him a friendly "hello" back with a knee to the groin. I thought it was pretty impressive that I was the first kid suspended in the new academic year, my parents thought otherwise.
My dad had to take off of work that day to come pick me up from school. The majority of the car ride home was spent in silence. I was smirking to myself about the clear message I had established that first day Don't Fuck With JJ!. At the last red light before we reached our house my dad cleared his throat in a very matter a fact way before announcing, "This was not a smart choice JJ."
I nodded thoughtfully then replied, "Okay, so in the future I should let guys grab my body parts when they feel like it? You know girls get a certain reputation when they do that."
"Don't be a smart ass. You could have just as easily marched down to the Principal's office to report that boy."
"Tattle tale? Listen dad I didn't do it when I was a kid and I'm sure as hell not going to do it now. I can handle myself."
"That's a matter of opinion."
"Yeah and your opinion happens to be wrong."
"Okay I'll make a deal with you. Get suspended as often as you'd like, but when you do you'll have to spend the time off from school with your mom at the flower shop." Now my dad was the one that was smirking. It's true I wasn't crazy about school, but being forced to spend time with a woman that was trying to shove girliness down my throat was plain torture.
"Is this my free pass then?"
Two days later I returned from my suspension. Most of my peers regardless of their gender were avoiding me. My clear message had been amplified to Crazy Dyke Bitch. I guess when a male ego has been damaged he feels he must lash out in any way he can. So obviously because I didn't want him I must be a lesbian. Although I was still a virgin at this point I was well aware of my preference towards cock. Whatever.
You can imagine my surprise when someone sought me out during lunch. This awkward, tall, and skinny boy introduced himself as Brandon. When he offered me a handshake I ignored him and continued eating my lunch. Maybe he thought my act of violence was a declaration that I was the girl looking for ever lasting love before I would let a guy cop a feel. Either way I didn't get why this kid was bothering me.
He sat down next to me, "Here's the thing. That guy you decked, he was my big brother Bobby."
"And?"
"At the fear of getting decked myself I wanted to give you a high five, pat on the back, hug even. Bobby is a giant asshole with this whole entitlement complex. He thinks because he's a varsity athlete he can grab any girl or beat up any guy."
This guy was kind of sad and pathetic. There was a part of me that was feeling sorry for him. Imagine being the kid brother of "God's Gift to High School". From the looks of him he was probably the brains of the two. Being openly smart in high school was like volunteering for daily wedgies. Listen I don't make the rules.
What I didn't know that day was that Brendon would turn out to be my closest friend. I refuse to use the phrase Best Friend or it's equally annoying acronym BFF, I'm not some pre-pubescent freak. Brendon and I will never get matching charm necklaces where if you put his half and my half together they fit like two puzzle pieces. I will admit we did compliment each other quite well though. He helped me with my studies and I helped make sure he didn't get his ass kicked.
The main thing we had in common was our complete hate of school. Brendon actually liked the classes, it was all the social drama that got in the way he despised. I didn't like anything high school had to offer but it beat the alternative to spending time with my mom at her floral shop. Flowers do NOT smell nice, they just plain smell. Anyways you would never find Brendon and I hanging out at any school sporting event, school play, anything extracurricular to prove our level of school spirit. Clock in, clock out, go home. Afternoons were spent at his house getting high from his brother's secret pot stash. I am sure Big brother Bobby knew we were stealing his shit, but I'm even more sure he didn't confront us beacuse he didn't want to end up in another situation where I insulted his manhood.
One afternoon we found another secret stash of Bobby's, his pornos. First I have to say the girl's look ridiculous in these things. These giant boobs plastered onto underweight bodies, the extra long fingernails, the bright make-up. The worst was the noises they make. I rolled my eyes, "No way does a girl really sound like that during sex."
Brandon tossed the Playboy on the floor next to us. "Sometimes they do."
My jaw dropped, "You've been holding out on me. Who? When?" Our friendship was like that of two dudes. I was not that girl that got jealous when her guy friend had a girlfriend or even got some action because deep down I was secretly hoping he would open his eyes and fall in love with me. Ugh. In reality I was the one asking for all the dirty details. But I found it highly unlikely that Brendon had some girl since he spent all his free time with me.
He blushed, "No, not me obviously. Bobby. The walls are so thin. I wasn't trying to listen." He was so embarrassed.
"I don't get why you're acting all weird with me. We've been buds for like two years now. What's the big deal?"
His hazel eyes locked with mine, "Have you...."
"No, not yet. I want to though. Just haven't found a guy I want to do it all with."
He looked away, "Yeah I know what you mean."
I don't know why I never noticed before, but Brendon was actually quite good looking. These last two years of hitting the gym together had really filled him out. Brown wavy hair, chiseled features, even chest hair. Maybe because I had put him in the friend category was why I never considered him as an option. But, hey why the hell not? I'd rather fool around with someone I trusted and respected than some random neaderthal on the football team.
Subtly was never a strong feature of mine. With one swift movement I straddled him and began kissing him. He didn't resist. But his hands stayed off to the side in side mid air awkward pose.
I got irritated, "Touch me!"
"Are you sure? The last guy that did that got injured." I grabbed both his hands and placed them firmly on my ass.
After what I experienced that night I can firmly stand behind the statement that two virgins should never get together! We were both fumbling clueless messes. Not to mention neither of us had condoms, so imagine my naked ass rummaging through his brother's room for some rubbers because Brendon couldn't function mentally while sporting a giant erection. We bumped heads, my hair got pulled, we both got leg cramps. Looking back I probably would have rather played with Barbie while wearing that pink glittery dress as my mom applied make-up to me in her flower shop. Yeah it was that bad.
The problem is that I was one determined stubborn individual who refused to be bad at sex. For the first time in my life I dove into my studies, studies of sex. Watching porn, reading Cosmo, and surfing the net. Then each afternoon I would practice my new knowledge out on Brendon. The good friend he was he was always eager to help me out. He even suggested I learn about blow jobs. In turn I suggested he experiment with eating pussy. And to my surprise sometimes I did sound like those girls in the videos. He would never admit it to me but I think Brendon was studying up on sex too because he got so damn good at it.
Because of all the time we spent together people easily confused us as boyfriend/girlfriend. It wasn't like that. We didn't go on dates or cuddle or celebrate anniversaries. We just hung out and fucked. I wouldn't classify us as "friends with benefits" either since that's mostly about hooking up. We were definitely friends who smoked pot, watched movies together, and boycotted school events.
Some people say sex can ruin a friendship but I would have to disagree. If anything it brought us closer together. There was an openess between us to be exactly who we were without fear of judgment or ridicule. There were conversations we had that could never be repeated to anyone else. It's not often you meet someone that just gets you. Well he did. I appreciated that he never tried to make me be something I wasn't.
Second semester of senior year Brendon told me he was interested in putting himself out there and wanted to date this girl from his Calculus class. If there had been romantic feelings or any sort of attachment I would have cried and told him to choose me. Instead I gave him a slap on the back while encouraging him to go for it. Obviously the humping stopped at the point. It was important to me that my friend did what made him happy. But, you better believe I teased him mercilessly when he broke our anti-school pack to take the girl to prom.
It's been about fifteen years since that geeky guy introduced himself to me in the hallway. Although we don't spend our afternoons together getting stoned and laid, I still consider him my closest friend. Between you and me I think I never got into that whole relationship thing because guys have never measured up to Brendon. Not that I want to be with Brendon in that way, but he's the one person whose seen the softer side of JJ. And if he ever told anyone I'd knee him in the nuts.
A smile comes across my face when I think about what happened my first day of high school. Some upper classman thought he'd give me a friendly "hello" by grabbing my ass when he passed me in the hallway. Of course I threw him a friendly "hello" back with a knee to the groin. I thought it was pretty impressive that I was the first kid suspended in the new academic year, my parents thought otherwise.
My dad had to take off of work that day to come pick me up from school. The majority of the car ride home was spent in silence. I was smirking to myself about the clear message I had established that first day Don't Fuck With JJ!. At the last red light before we reached our house my dad cleared his throat in a very matter a fact way before announcing, "This was not a smart choice JJ."
I nodded thoughtfully then replied, "Okay, so in the future I should let guys grab my body parts when they feel like it? You know girls get a certain reputation when they do that."
"Don't be a smart ass. You could have just as easily marched down to the Principal's office to report that boy."
"Tattle tale? Listen dad I didn't do it when I was a kid and I'm sure as hell not going to do it now. I can handle myself."
"That's a matter of opinion."
"Yeah and your opinion happens to be wrong."
"Okay I'll make a deal with you. Get suspended as often as you'd like, but when you do you'll have to spend the time off from school with your mom at the flower shop." Now my dad was the one that was smirking. It's true I wasn't crazy about school, but being forced to spend time with a woman that was trying to shove girliness down my throat was plain torture.
"Is this my free pass then?"
Two days later I returned from my suspension. Most of my peers regardless of their gender were avoiding me. My clear message had been amplified to Crazy Dyke Bitch. I guess when a male ego has been damaged he feels he must lash out in any way he can. So obviously because I didn't want him I must be a lesbian. Although I was still a virgin at this point I was well aware of my preference towards cock. Whatever.
You can imagine my surprise when someone sought me out during lunch. This awkward, tall, and skinny boy introduced himself as Brandon. When he offered me a handshake I ignored him and continued eating my lunch. Maybe he thought my act of violence was a declaration that I was the girl looking for ever lasting love before I would let a guy cop a feel. Either way I didn't get why this kid was bothering me.
He sat down next to me, "Here's the thing. That guy you decked, he was my big brother Bobby."
"And?"
"At the fear of getting decked myself I wanted to give you a high five, pat on the back, hug even. Bobby is a giant asshole with this whole entitlement complex. He thinks because he's a varsity athlete he can grab any girl or beat up any guy."
This guy was kind of sad and pathetic. There was a part of me that was feeling sorry for him. Imagine being the kid brother of "God's Gift to High School". From the looks of him he was probably the brains of the two. Being openly smart in high school was like volunteering for daily wedgies. Listen I don't make the rules.
What I didn't know that day was that Brendon would turn out to be my closest friend. I refuse to use the phrase Best Friend or it's equally annoying acronym BFF, I'm not some pre-pubescent freak. Brendon and I will never get matching charm necklaces where if you put his half and my half together they fit like two puzzle pieces. I will admit we did compliment each other quite well though. He helped me with my studies and I helped make sure he didn't get his ass kicked.
The main thing we had in common was our complete hate of school. Brendon actually liked the classes, it was all the social drama that got in the way he despised. I didn't like anything high school had to offer but it beat the alternative to spending time with my mom at her floral shop. Flowers do NOT smell nice, they just plain smell. Anyways you would never find Brendon and I hanging out at any school sporting event, school play, anything extracurricular to prove our level of school spirit. Clock in, clock out, go home. Afternoons were spent at his house getting high from his brother's secret pot stash. I am sure Big brother Bobby knew we were stealing his shit, but I'm even more sure he didn't confront us beacuse he didn't want to end up in another situation where I insulted his manhood.
One afternoon we found another secret stash of Bobby's, his pornos. First I have to say the girl's look ridiculous in these things. These giant boobs plastered onto underweight bodies, the extra long fingernails, the bright make-up. The worst was the noises they make. I rolled my eyes, "No way does a girl really sound like that during sex."
Brandon tossed the Playboy on the floor next to us. "Sometimes they do."
My jaw dropped, "You've been holding out on me. Who? When?" Our friendship was like that of two dudes. I was not that girl that got jealous when her guy friend had a girlfriend or even got some action because deep down I was secretly hoping he would open his eyes and fall in love with me. Ugh. In reality I was the one asking for all the dirty details. But I found it highly unlikely that Brendon had some girl since he spent all his free time with me.
He blushed, "No, not me obviously. Bobby. The walls are so thin. I wasn't trying to listen." He was so embarrassed.
"I don't get why you're acting all weird with me. We've been buds for like two years now. What's the big deal?"
His hazel eyes locked with mine, "Have you...."
"No, not yet. I want to though. Just haven't found a guy I want to do it all with."
He looked away, "Yeah I know what you mean."
I don't know why I never noticed before, but Brendon was actually quite good looking. These last two years of hitting the gym together had really filled him out. Brown wavy hair, chiseled features, even chest hair. Maybe because I had put him in the friend category was why I never considered him as an option. But, hey why the hell not? I'd rather fool around with someone I trusted and respected than some random neaderthal on the football team.
Subtly was never a strong feature of mine. With one swift movement I straddled him and began kissing him. He didn't resist. But his hands stayed off to the side in side mid air awkward pose.
I got irritated, "Touch me!"
"Are you sure? The last guy that did that got injured." I grabbed both his hands and placed them firmly on my ass.
After what I experienced that night I can firmly stand behind the statement that two virgins should never get together! We were both fumbling clueless messes. Not to mention neither of us had condoms, so imagine my naked ass rummaging through his brother's room for some rubbers because Brendon couldn't function mentally while sporting a giant erection. We bumped heads, my hair got pulled, we both got leg cramps. Looking back I probably would have rather played with Barbie while wearing that pink glittery dress as my mom applied make-up to me in her flower shop. Yeah it was that bad.
The problem is that I was one determined stubborn individual who refused to be bad at sex. For the first time in my life I dove into my studies, studies of sex. Watching porn, reading Cosmo, and surfing the net. Then each afternoon I would practice my new knowledge out on Brendon. The good friend he was he was always eager to help me out. He even suggested I learn about blow jobs. In turn I suggested he experiment with eating pussy. And to my surprise sometimes I did sound like those girls in the videos. He would never admit it to me but I think Brendon was studying up on sex too because he got so damn good at it.
Because of all the time we spent together people easily confused us as boyfriend/girlfriend. It wasn't like that. We didn't go on dates or cuddle or celebrate anniversaries. We just hung out and fucked. I wouldn't classify us as "friends with benefits" either since that's mostly about hooking up. We were definitely friends who smoked pot, watched movies together, and boycotted school events.
Some people say sex can ruin a friendship but I would have to disagree. If anything it brought us closer together. There was an openess between us to be exactly who we were without fear of judgment or ridicule. There were conversations we had that could never be repeated to anyone else. It's not often you meet someone that just gets you. Well he did. I appreciated that he never tried to make me be something I wasn't.
Second semester of senior year Brendon told me he was interested in putting himself out there and wanted to date this girl from his Calculus class. If there had been romantic feelings or any sort of attachment I would have cried and told him to choose me. Instead I gave him a slap on the back while encouraging him to go for it. Obviously the humping stopped at the point. It was important to me that my friend did what made him happy. But, you better believe I teased him mercilessly when he broke our anti-school pack to take the girl to prom.
It's been about fifteen years since that geeky guy introduced himself to me in the hallway. Although we don't spend our afternoons together getting stoned and laid, I still consider him my closest friend. Between you and me I think I never got into that whole relationship thing because guys have never measured up to Brendon. Not that I want to be with Brendon in that way, but he's the one person whose seen the softer side of JJ. And if he ever told anyone I'd knee him in the nuts.
Reflections: A Rather Embaressing Confession
****I am choosing to open up big time and hoping I am met with compassion rather than judgment. We'll see****
In 2011 I finally saw myself in the mirror for what I was, a weak woman.
It's true that if you don't love and respect yourself then no one else will. I didn't know my value and because of this I ended up with men who didn't know it either. It took more than three years for me to end a marriage to a man that didn't want to be with me. Although he never directly said it, his actions spoke very loudly. I cared for him so much and believed we could work things out. He didn't want to.
Coming out of this painful experience I should have taken the time to heal and self reflect, but I was afraid of being alone. I jumped right into another relationship with a man named Jason Andrews. At first he was sweet filling my head with empty promises and lies. Well here's the ugly truth. When we met I was in a very vulnerable place. He knew this and took full advantage. Jason had no car, no job, and was essentially homeless. He explained in half truths that he had made some poor choices and was trying to rebuild his life. Not only could I relate, I could also respect that. My parents raised me to get to know a person rather than judge them based on their circumstances, so this is what I did. It resulted in him getting use of my car, me partially financially supporting him, and eventually giving him a place to stay. I opened up to him about my insecurities which he once again used to his advantage. The verbal and emotional abuse were pretty consistent as was the sexual neglect too. I was a sad excuse of a person who didn't understand that I deserved so much more than I was settling for.
Four months into the relationship I discovered his "hard times" were really due to the fact that he was a crack addict. He applied to my empathy/stupidity and I stayed with him. Two weeks later I called him at work explaining I needed him to take me to the hospital as I was in a lot of pain. His job was a 10 minute drive from our apartment, yet he took over an hour to get home. Then after twenty minutes with me in the hospital he left me to go get pizza because he was hungry. He was gone for two and 1/2 hours. I tried to end things that night, but he convinced me how much he cared and he would do better. Once again I didn't understand just how unhealthy this all was. I believed him.
Less than two weeks later I found naked pictures of his ex-girlfriend downloaded onto my computer. I flipped out, he managed to convince me I was being overly sensitive because all guys look at porn. I think what dug so deep was this wasn't some random girl on a website, but this was a woman he knew personally and had been with. Add that to my giant insecurities about the way I look and the fact that he never ONCE called me beautiful or sexy. Maybe I convinced myself this was okay. People had flaws and this was one of his.
A week later the day before my 30th birthday he relapsed. He came stumbling home at three in the morning high off his ass. I kicked him out. Then on the night of my birthday he kept calling my phone crying that he didn't have a place to stay and was hungry. He didn't understand why I could be so cruel leaving him to fend for himself in the middle of the winter. The next day I sent him packing. His own parents wouldn't take him in which should have told me something. Jason ended up in a homeless shelter in downtown Albany.
Less than two weeks later after several text messages and phone calls telling me all the things I wanted to hear I took him back. Now I know what you're thinking because several months later I am thinking the same thing, what the hell? Forget low self esteem, clearly I had no self esteem. I honestly thought being with Jason was as good as it was ever going to get for me. I was this unlovabale and unattractive person that was lucky someone wanted me at all. Happily Ever After didn't happen to people like me.
Unfortunately after I took him back I turned into a neurotic paranoid person that constantly scoured his cell phone and emails behind his back. After about a month I was going to give him the 100% green light when I found a porno of his ex-girlfriend, the same one that was in the photos, on my computer. It was pretty graphic. It was then that I realized he never cared for me, he probably didn't even like me. I wasn't a person, I was someone he could get things from.
When I 100% ended things he tried to convince me that I should be the one to move out because he was the one that had liked this apartment in the first place. I pointed out that 99% of the stuff in the apartment was mine: all the furniture, appliances, ect. All he had was a closet full of clothes and some misc items in boxes from his dad's house. Additionally I was in a better financial position to afford the apartment. Then he called me selfish saying that everything had to be my way all the time. Lastly he called me a slut stating the real reason I was ending the relationship was so I could start humping random guys. This was the same man who had looked me in the eyes as he told me he loved me and wanted to build a life with me. Now that my well had run dry he let it all out: I was a selfish slut.
We agreed to finish out the month since he had paid his half and then he would move out. He lasted less than a week before he relapsed again. He didn't come home. This time I wasn't going to be a victim. I packed all his shit in garbage bags, drove it down to his job, and dumped it out front. I contacted his boss, who had hired him only on the condition he stayed clean, to inform him Jason had relapsed and stolen the company vehicle to do so. And lastly I called a locksmith.
A day later Jason called the cops on me for theft. He was jonesing for another fix and had run out of money. I had the $100 he had left behind that I was using towards our mutual bills, money he owed me. It wasn't worth getting arrested so I gave him the money back.
Then he was hospitalized for an overdose. I ran there to see if he was okay. Thank the powers that be for the intervention of my parents. They told me that I needed to choose: Jason or them. I walked right out of the hospital after I told him to never contact me again. It was the slap in the face I needed to realize just how far I had fallen into that dark place he had taken me to.
Here are the facts. He's been battling a drug addiction for over ten years. He has lied and stolen from everyone he knows. His one and only daughter barely knows who he is since he's been in rehab or jail most of her life. He cheated on the only women he ever officially dated: his ex-wife, his ex-girlfriend, and me with anything that came his way. I have had no contact with him since March 29th 2011, but I am certain he is still using and has moved onto his next "mark". I only hope she can be a lot stronger and smarter than I was.
Believe it or not I am actually grateful for Jason Andrews because he was my rock bottom. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have moved out of the house I shared with my ex-husband and into the apartment I now call home. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have been so assertive about getting my current job which is a giant step up from my last job. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have my rabbit Banjo and therefore wouldn't have my rabbit Amelia, and I love them more than I can even explain. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gone back into therapy to work on building myself up to be the best possible version of myself. And if it weren't for him devaluing me so much I wouldn't have come to eventually learn my own true value.
I take full responsibility for the horrible choices I made, but they made me stronger through the lessons they taught me. It's the end of 2011 and I can look in the mirror to see a strong woman.
In 2011 I finally saw myself in the mirror for what I was, a weak woman.
It's true that if you don't love and respect yourself then no one else will. I didn't know my value and because of this I ended up with men who didn't know it either. It took more than three years for me to end a marriage to a man that didn't want to be with me. Although he never directly said it, his actions spoke very loudly. I cared for him so much and believed we could work things out. He didn't want to.
Coming out of this painful experience I should have taken the time to heal and self reflect, but I was afraid of being alone. I jumped right into another relationship with a man named Jason Andrews. At first he was sweet filling my head with empty promises and lies. Well here's the ugly truth. When we met I was in a very vulnerable place. He knew this and took full advantage. Jason had no car, no job, and was essentially homeless. He explained in half truths that he had made some poor choices and was trying to rebuild his life. Not only could I relate, I could also respect that. My parents raised me to get to know a person rather than judge them based on their circumstances, so this is what I did. It resulted in him getting use of my car, me partially financially supporting him, and eventually giving him a place to stay. I opened up to him about my insecurities which he once again used to his advantage. The verbal and emotional abuse were pretty consistent as was the sexual neglect too. I was a sad excuse of a person who didn't understand that I deserved so much more than I was settling for.
Four months into the relationship I discovered his "hard times" were really due to the fact that he was a crack addict. He applied to my empathy/stupidity and I stayed with him. Two weeks later I called him at work explaining I needed him to take me to the hospital as I was in a lot of pain. His job was a 10 minute drive from our apartment, yet he took over an hour to get home. Then after twenty minutes with me in the hospital he left me to go get pizza because he was hungry. He was gone for two and 1/2 hours. I tried to end things that night, but he convinced me how much he cared and he would do better. Once again I didn't understand just how unhealthy this all was. I believed him.
Less than two weeks later I found naked pictures of his ex-girlfriend downloaded onto my computer. I flipped out, he managed to convince me I was being overly sensitive because all guys look at porn. I think what dug so deep was this wasn't some random girl on a website, but this was a woman he knew personally and had been with. Add that to my giant insecurities about the way I look and the fact that he never ONCE called me beautiful or sexy. Maybe I convinced myself this was okay. People had flaws and this was one of his.
A week later the day before my 30th birthday he relapsed. He came stumbling home at three in the morning high off his ass. I kicked him out. Then on the night of my birthday he kept calling my phone crying that he didn't have a place to stay and was hungry. He didn't understand why I could be so cruel leaving him to fend for himself in the middle of the winter. The next day I sent him packing. His own parents wouldn't take him in which should have told me something. Jason ended up in a homeless shelter in downtown Albany.
Less than two weeks later after several text messages and phone calls telling me all the things I wanted to hear I took him back. Now I know what you're thinking because several months later I am thinking the same thing, what the hell? Forget low self esteem, clearly I had no self esteem. I honestly thought being with Jason was as good as it was ever going to get for me. I was this unlovabale and unattractive person that was lucky someone wanted me at all. Happily Ever After didn't happen to people like me.
Unfortunately after I took him back I turned into a neurotic paranoid person that constantly scoured his cell phone and emails behind his back. After about a month I was going to give him the 100% green light when I found a porno of his ex-girlfriend, the same one that was in the photos, on my computer. It was pretty graphic. It was then that I realized he never cared for me, he probably didn't even like me. I wasn't a person, I was someone he could get things from.
When I 100% ended things he tried to convince me that I should be the one to move out because he was the one that had liked this apartment in the first place. I pointed out that 99% of the stuff in the apartment was mine: all the furniture, appliances, ect. All he had was a closet full of clothes and some misc items in boxes from his dad's house. Additionally I was in a better financial position to afford the apartment. Then he called me selfish saying that everything had to be my way all the time. Lastly he called me a slut stating the real reason I was ending the relationship was so I could start humping random guys. This was the same man who had looked me in the eyes as he told me he loved me and wanted to build a life with me. Now that my well had run dry he let it all out: I was a selfish slut.
We agreed to finish out the month since he had paid his half and then he would move out. He lasted less than a week before he relapsed again. He didn't come home. This time I wasn't going to be a victim. I packed all his shit in garbage bags, drove it down to his job, and dumped it out front. I contacted his boss, who had hired him only on the condition he stayed clean, to inform him Jason had relapsed and stolen the company vehicle to do so. And lastly I called a locksmith.
A day later Jason called the cops on me for theft. He was jonesing for another fix and had run out of money. I had the $100 he had left behind that I was using towards our mutual bills, money he owed me. It wasn't worth getting arrested so I gave him the money back.
Then he was hospitalized for an overdose. I ran there to see if he was okay. Thank the powers that be for the intervention of my parents. They told me that I needed to choose: Jason or them. I walked right out of the hospital after I told him to never contact me again. It was the slap in the face I needed to realize just how far I had fallen into that dark place he had taken me to.
Here are the facts. He's been battling a drug addiction for over ten years. He has lied and stolen from everyone he knows. His one and only daughter barely knows who he is since he's been in rehab or jail most of her life. He cheated on the only women he ever officially dated: his ex-wife, his ex-girlfriend, and me with anything that came his way. I have had no contact with him since March 29th 2011, but I am certain he is still using and has moved onto his next "mark". I only hope she can be a lot stronger and smarter than I was.
Believe it or not I am actually grateful for Jason Andrews because he was my rock bottom. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have moved out of the house I shared with my ex-husband and into the apartment I now call home. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have been so assertive about getting my current job which is a giant step up from my last job. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have my rabbit Banjo and therefore wouldn't have my rabbit Amelia, and I love them more than I can even explain. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gone back into therapy to work on building myself up to be the best possible version of myself. And if it weren't for him devaluing me so much I wouldn't have come to eventually learn my own true value.
I take full responsibility for the horrible choices I made, but they made me stronger through the lessons they taught me. It's the end of 2011 and I can look in the mirror to see a strong woman.
Thirty Fingers, Thirty Toes
****Caleb and Lila plus three, Caleb's perspective****
Like most people I don't like being proven wrong, however there have been a few occasions where I didn't mind it so much.
When I was about eight years old I was stuck at home with a broken leg unable to play in the Pop Warner football league with the rest of my friends. It was my dad who showed there is more than one fun way to spend a summer afternoon; he gave me a hammer and asked me to help him make a bird house for my mom's garden. While sports had never really been my thing, I learned that making things with my hands was.
After my relationship with Sarah went horribly wrong I was convinced love, romance, and all the happiness I longed for just wasn't going to happen. And although I wasn't thrilled, I had learned to accept it. I took all my energies and poured them into my work which led me to a very lucrative career in construction. All of that changed when I met Lila. I learned I can have the career and the girl.
I count my blessings every day: beautiful home, wonderful family, strong career, and now a love I can't even describe has filled my heart. As I quietly walk into the nursery I first spot my slumbering wife in the rocking chair. Even though there has been plenty of help since the babies were born, she has been the driving force in our new found family. There was the family I was born into and then there was the one I had created. Until they were born I thought I had everything I could ever want and need.
There's my slumbering princess Samantha. My mom refers to her as "Giggles". Aside from the day she was born, this girl doesn't cry for anything. Instead she has a different giggle for everything: hold me, feed me, change me, play with me. She is mini-Lila in looks too; big brown curls and those deep brown puppy eyes.
I walk over to the next crib where Liam was squirming around. He's our little drama king. Liam tells us everything on his mind through his facial expressions and odd noises. While the other two are pretty good with sleeping and feeding schedules, Liam needs things done his way on his time. Good thing he's so darn cute. My sister says he looks exactly the way I did as a baby right down to the huge dimples in his chubby cheeks.
Last but definitely not least is Ollie aka Oliver. Even though he's the youngest of the three, it's been joked around that he has an old soul. Ollie is the quiet observer. He likes to take things in, everything in, and makes this scrunched up face like he's deep in thought. Lila and I both agree he's the exact physical combination of the two of us: her curly brown hair and my green eyes.
The pregnancy was rough towards the end. The stress on Lila's body was too much and we all worried not only would we lose the babies, but we might lose Lila too. Thankfully I have them all safely at home with me tonight. Yesterday the babies turned four months old. Having multiples isn't easy by any means. If it weren't for all the support from friends and family I'm not sure how we'd manage. Lila even found a "Parent's of Multiples" forum online she frequents when she can. I'm sure you can imagine her free time is very limited.
Often she falls asleep in the nursery and I usually carry her back to our bed. Tonight I think I want to stay in here with everyone. I slip down onto the floor, take Lila's hand into my own, and shut my eyes. Life is good.
Like most people I don't like being proven wrong, however there have been a few occasions where I didn't mind it so much.
When I was about eight years old I was stuck at home with a broken leg unable to play in the Pop Warner football league with the rest of my friends. It was my dad who showed there is more than one fun way to spend a summer afternoon; he gave me a hammer and asked me to help him make a bird house for my mom's garden. While sports had never really been my thing, I learned that making things with my hands was.
After my relationship with Sarah went horribly wrong I was convinced love, romance, and all the happiness I longed for just wasn't going to happen. And although I wasn't thrilled, I had learned to accept it. I took all my energies and poured them into my work which led me to a very lucrative career in construction. All of that changed when I met Lila. I learned I can have the career and the girl.
I count my blessings every day: beautiful home, wonderful family, strong career, and now a love I can't even describe has filled my heart. As I quietly walk into the nursery I first spot my slumbering wife in the rocking chair. Even though there has been plenty of help since the babies were born, she has been the driving force in our new found family. There was the family I was born into and then there was the one I had created. Until they were born I thought I had everything I could ever want and need.
There's my slumbering princess Samantha. My mom refers to her as "Giggles". Aside from the day she was born, this girl doesn't cry for anything. Instead she has a different giggle for everything: hold me, feed me, change me, play with me. She is mini-Lila in looks too; big brown curls and those deep brown puppy eyes.
I walk over to the next crib where Liam was squirming around. He's our little drama king. Liam tells us everything on his mind through his facial expressions and odd noises. While the other two are pretty good with sleeping and feeding schedules, Liam needs things done his way on his time. Good thing he's so darn cute. My sister says he looks exactly the way I did as a baby right down to the huge dimples in his chubby cheeks.
Last but definitely not least is Ollie aka Oliver. Even though he's the youngest of the three, it's been joked around that he has an old soul. Ollie is the quiet observer. He likes to take things in, everything in, and makes this scrunched up face like he's deep in thought. Lila and I both agree he's the exact physical combination of the two of us: her curly brown hair and my green eyes.
The pregnancy was rough towards the end. The stress on Lila's body was too much and we all worried not only would we lose the babies, but we might lose Lila too. Thankfully I have them all safely at home with me tonight. Yesterday the babies turned four months old. Having multiples isn't easy by any means. If it weren't for all the support from friends and family I'm not sure how we'd manage. Lila even found a "Parent's of Multiples" forum online she frequents when she can. I'm sure you can imagine her free time is very limited.
Often she falls asleep in the nursery and I usually carry her back to our bed. Tonight I think I want to stay in here with everyone. I slip down onto the floor, take Lila's hand into my own, and shut my eyes. Life is good.
That Whole "Domestic Goddess" Thing
****More insights from JJ****
Apparently I'm a betrayal to all womankind that I don't yearn to get dragged by my hair back to a cave where I will cook, clean, and squeeze out screaming babies for my man. I guess I never got that domestic gene and never really got the appeal either. I'm sure there has to be some correlation between stay at home moms and alcoholism. Just sayin.
My apartment has no frills, no decor, no themes per room. What's important to me is functionality. And I scour the internet, garage sales, and consignment stores for previously loved furniture. That means, gasp, nothing matches! Oh well, I guess Better Home and Garden won't be doing a feature on me. Another dream gone. This is why I don't have a twelve chair dining room set. I never have and never will host elaborate dinner parties. You will find a folding table with four folding chairs for when I play poker with my friends. The types of parties I tend to host are keggers where people mostly stand or pass out on my couch when they've reach the point of shitfaced. In my kitchen I have items I actually use: toaster, microwave, oven/stove combo, and a fridge. Why the fuck would I need a 27 spices spice rack? Or decorative pot holders? There is no need to set an ambiance like some Martha Stuart wannabe fruit.
Kids are annoying. All kids, no exception. And if you're thinking I am wrong because your kids are precious gifts from heaven I can guarantee at some point someone has wanted to backhand one of your kids. I am NOT advocating beating kids, I firmly believe that's wrong, but it doesn't mean that the thought doesn't creep up in all of us at some point including you about your own. They're noisy, messy, rude, whiny and from what I hear expensive. Not to mention it completely destroys any hope of a social life. And so many women use pregnancy/having kids as an excuse to turn into a fat blob version of their former selves. I enjoy my freedom and my fabulous body, so no thanks.
As far as cooking goes, I'd rather pay someone else to do it and deliver it. I'm actually at the point where I call in and say "It's me, the usual." I'll eat right out of the container to avoid washing dishes. You can call me lazy, it's true I am. But I also do circuit training five days a week for forty-five minutes each day, maybe that balances things out a bit? So there go my hopes of being a domestic goddess. I'm completely okay with this since The American Dream isn't my particular dream.
The other night I ran into my neighbor while doing laundry. This isn't a complete shock considered we live in a Duplex with shared laundry facilities in the basement. As I was bent over lunloading my clothes from the washer and into the dryer a husky voice commented, "Not bad."
I turned around to see those icy blue eyes flirting with me. I replied, "I don't know whose ass you were looking at because mine happens to be fantastic."
"I wouldn't know, never got the chance to feel for myself."
Without saying a word I turned on the dryer then sat on top of it signaling for him to come to me. He put his hands on my thighs while staring deeply into my eyes. I licked my lips. A playful smirk spread across his face. Patience was never a virtue I possessed. I mouthed the words "Fuck me."
His face dove into mine. His tongue explored my mouth while I ran my hands under his shirt to feel his tight body. My hand slipped down to his throbbing cock. It was practically busting against the inside of his jeans. When I rubbed it he began to moan inside my mouth. I love it when a guy is vocal about his pleasure. I pushed him away. He had that hungry puppy look in his eyes. This could be a whole lot of fun.
"Take off your clothes and show me what you're working with", I demanded. Either he'd play by my rules or the game was over and I could tell he was the type to play along.
He pulled his shirt over his head revealing the smooth, toned, olive body underneath. Shoes kicked off. Button undone. Zipper unzipped. Pants and boxers slide down his legs together. His cock pointing at the direction of where it wants to go. I smiled, "Not bad."
His reward came when I pulled my tank off. Unclasped my bra. My hard nipples pointing at what I want. Shorts slipped off. No panties. Lastly I kick off my flip flops. I jumped off the dryer, turned my back to him, and bent myself over the machine. Then I invited him, "Come find out."
Listen perverts you are not getting the complete play by play on what happened next. It was good, damn good. Now I know why those moans are so loud coming through the walls. And the droubt is definitely over. What the hell was I thinking? Neighbor boy and I left things open ended. It amy happen again, it may not. We'll see.
No doubt every time I think of doing my laundry I'll get a little wet. Who would have ever considered house hold chores an aphrodisiac? It's funny how a bout of great sex always reminds me of some of the not so great ones. I think someone somewhere decided it was the woman's job to put the male orgasm above her own. Yeah, well I don't think so. Why should I waste my energy teaching a man things he should already know? Like where the clit is. Hello, it's right there!!! Even a blind decrepit old man in the dark could stumble upon it. Other reasons I will kick a man to the curb before he's even had a chance to put his clothes back on: making it a race to the finish line. Cumming in under ten minutes is not an achievement, it's a sad event. If a man can't maintain his erection, well there's medical help for that. If a man can't please me then he needs to leave. I have laughed at and made somewhat harsh comments at the pathetically clueless. "Are you kidding me?" "Wow, have you ever been with a woman before?" "Are you ever trying?" "I could have done it better myself".
Before you think I'm some cold-hearted bitch, well think whatever the hell you want, the fact is I don't do relationships. I do hook-ups. So if I have a man back at my place it isn't for scrabble. He needs to handle what I brought him here for or step aside for someone who can.
My job sucks. My apartment is sub-par. My cat is a bit psychotic. So....one thing I always look forward to is a good pounding. If I lose that then what have I got left?
Apparently I'm a betrayal to all womankind that I don't yearn to get dragged by my hair back to a cave where I will cook, clean, and squeeze out screaming babies for my man. I guess I never got that domestic gene and never really got the appeal either. I'm sure there has to be some correlation between stay at home moms and alcoholism. Just sayin.
My apartment has no frills, no decor, no themes per room. What's important to me is functionality. And I scour the internet, garage sales, and consignment stores for previously loved furniture. That means, gasp, nothing matches! Oh well, I guess Better Home and Garden won't be doing a feature on me. Another dream gone. This is why I don't have a twelve chair dining room set. I never have and never will host elaborate dinner parties. You will find a folding table with four folding chairs for when I play poker with my friends. The types of parties I tend to host are keggers where people mostly stand or pass out on my couch when they've reach the point of shitfaced. In my kitchen I have items I actually use: toaster, microwave, oven/stove combo, and a fridge. Why the fuck would I need a 27 spices spice rack? Or decorative pot holders? There is no need to set an ambiance like some Martha Stuart wannabe fruit.
Kids are annoying. All kids, no exception. And if you're thinking I am wrong because your kids are precious gifts from heaven I can guarantee at some point someone has wanted to backhand one of your kids. I am NOT advocating beating kids, I firmly believe that's wrong, but it doesn't mean that the thought doesn't creep up in all of us at some point including you about your own. They're noisy, messy, rude, whiny and from what I hear expensive. Not to mention it completely destroys any hope of a social life. And so many women use pregnancy/having kids as an excuse to turn into a fat blob version of their former selves. I enjoy my freedom and my fabulous body, so no thanks.
As far as cooking goes, I'd rather pay someone else to do it and deliver it. I'm actually at the point where I call in and say "It's me, the usual." I'll eat right out of the container to avoid washing dishes. You can call me lazy, it's true I am. But I also do circuit training five days a week for forty-five minutes each day, maybe that balances things out a bit? So there go my hopes of being a domestic goddess. I'm completely okay with this since The American Dream isn't my particular dream.
The other night I ran into my neighbor while doing laundry. This isn't a complete shock considered we live in a Duplex with shared laundry facilities in the basement. As I was bent over lunloading my clothes from the washer and into the dryer a husky voice commented, "Not bad."
I turned around to see those icy blue eyes flirting with me. I replied, "I don't know whose ass you were looking at because mine happens to be fantastic."
"I wouldn't know, never got the chance to feel for myself."
Without saying a word I turned on the dryer then sat on top of it signaling for him to come to me. He put his hands on my thighs while staring deeply into my eyes. I licked my lips. A playful smirk spread across his face. Patience was never a virtue I possessed. I mouthed the words "Fuck me."
His face dove into mine. His tongue explored my mouth while I ran my hands under his shirt to feel his tight body. My hand slipped down to his throbbing cock. It was practically busting against the inside of his jeans. When I rubbed it he began to moan inside my mouth. I love it when a guy is vocal about his pleasure. I pushed him away. He had that hungry puppy look in his eyes. This could be a whole lot of fun.
"Take off your clothes and show me what you're working with", I demanded. Either he'd play by my rules or the game was over and I could tell he was the type to play along.
He pulled his shirt over his head revealing the smooth, toned, olive body underneath. Shoes kicked off. Button undone. Zipper unzipped. Pants and boxers slide down his legs together. His cock pointing at the direction of where it wants to go. I smiled, "Not bad."
His reward came when I pulled my tank off. Unclasped my bra. My hard nipples pointing at what I want. Shorts slipped off. No panties. Lastly I kick off my flip flops. I jumped off the dryer, turned my back to him, and bent myself over the machine. Then I invited him, "Come find out."
Listen perverts you are not getting the complete play by play on what happened next. It was good, damn good. Now I know why those moans are so loud coming through the walls. And the droubt is definitely over. What the hell was I thinking? Neighbor boy and I left things open ended. It amy happen again, it may not. We'll see.
No doubt every time I think of doing my laundry I'll get a little wet. Who would have ever considered house hold chores an aphrodisiac? It's funny how a bout of great sex always reminds me of some of the not so great ones. I think someone somewhere decided it was the woman's job to put the male orgasm above her own. Yeah, well I don't think so. Why should I waste my energy teaching a man things he should already know? Like where the clit is. Hello, it's right there!!! Even a blind decrepit old man in the dark could stumble upon it. Other reasons I will kick a man to the curb before he's even had a chance to put his clothes back on: making it a race to the finish line. Cumming in under ten minutes is not an achievement, it's a sad event. If a man can't maintain his erection, well there's medical help for that. If a man can't please me then he needs to leave. I have laughed at and made somewhat harsh comments at the pathetically clueless. "Are you kidding me?" "Wow, have you ever been with a woman before?" "Are you ever trying?" "I could have done it better myself".
Before you think I'm some cold-hearted bitch, well think whatever the hell you want, the fact is I don't do relationships. I do hook-ups. So if I have a man back at my place it isn't for scrabble. He needs to handle what I brought him here for or step aside for someone who can.
My job sucks. My apartment is sub-par. My cat is a bit psychotic. So....one thing I always look forward to is a good pounding. If I lose that then what have I got left?
The Problem With Most Girls
****More from our new friend JJ*****
If you want my honest opinion, which you probably don't but you're going to get it anyways, most girls have it all wrong when it comes to that silly little thing called love. Most of the blame goes to lame ass romantic comedies and Disney. Strike three against me, I hate Disney.
Let's look at this ridiculous concept of Prince Charming. It gets implanted in little girls heads that there is this perfect man out there who will slay fire breathing dragons in pursuit of true love with not a single hair out of place in the process. He'll take you on a romantic boat or carpet ride. He'll travel all over the land trying to return your precious shoe. And how can we forget that his kiss will be so magical it can bring you back from death. Is Disney seriously encouraging necrophilia? That's just nasty.
I had this friend, we'll call her Cinderella since she was just as dumb and blond as the original, who was so painfully clueless when it came to guys. She claimed she was looking for true love and happiness through this online dating site. That's right I remember the Disney Movie where that happened, think it was Bambi. Anyways they had this mind blowing first date of dinner and movie. You gotta love a guy whose original. She was so taken by him that she slept with him right away and then never heard from him again. Hmmmm....
I know this is the part where I'm supposed to play the sensitive and supporting role but I just didn't have it in me. Just because a guy has sex with you doesn't mean he wants something more. Sometimes you barely even like the person you're having sex with. It is completely possible to surrender yourself to your basic animal instincts. I think Madonna did an album on that. And poor Cinderella was shocked that this guy wasn't returning her twenty seven texts/phone calls.
Then comes the whining. Why doesn't he like me? What did I do wrong? I thought he was different. I thought we had a real connection. There is only so much I can take before I end up rolling my eyes and shouting "SHUT THE FUCK UP! He didn't like you, he liked your pussy. End of story, move on." Needless to say Cinderella and I are no longer friends. And believe it or not I am completely okay with that. She was just like 99% of the other girls I have attempted to befriend a certified drama queen.
There are countless beauty magazines that convince women they need to enhance themselves with hundreds of dollars worth of products that only end up making them look worse than when they started. A main motivator for the push up bra, ass enhancing jeans, fake eye lashes, and hair extensions it apparently to attract the opposite sex. Let me tell you something, I don't buy any of that crap and I could outscore these dollar store looking hookers any day. I have the one thing Mabelline doesn't sell, confidence. And confidence is why I can have my pick of any man I want.
Recently I was at an RPI hockey game with some friends. There was a guy a few rows away that caught my eye. I didn't need to bat my lashes and blush like a little school girl, you should outgrow those tactics once you hit puberty by the way. Instead I held his gaze for about sixty seconds and then ignored him for the rest of the period. While I was busy shouting at the bullshit calls with the rest of my friends this guy is wondering who I am and what I am about. At the end of the game he came up to me and asked if he could take me out for a drink. I explained I was out with friends, but maybe another time. Then I took control of the situation and got his number.
A few nights later he was back at my place eating me out like I was his last meal before death row. Another mistake most girls make is that she is so eager to please her man she insists on performing oral on him first. Uh uh. Make him earn it and believe me mine are well worth it. Most men are sexually selfish and won't give a girl what she needs after he gets what he needs. I tease a guy with a little sneak preview of whats to come if he's a good little boy and it works almost every time. If a guy isn't into it then neither am I. Needless to say I have no problem kicking a blue-balled man to the curb. For every guy who won't give me what I want there are a dozen more who will.
The best part about the RPI guy was that we hooked up a few times without any expectations. That's the way it needs to be. Then when the shiny newness wore off we both moved on. Believe it or not it really can be that simple. Who keeps going to the same well after it's dried up? Let's be logical here people. Once again I have to refer back to Cinderella. She gave him what he really wanted and he moved on. And if I really think about it she probably DIDN'T give him what he wanted which is why she never heard from him again. Not trying to be mean, just keeping it real here. For me if the guy isn't a complete weirdo and the sex was good I'll come back for seconds, thirds, and maybe even fourths.
I'm not saying there aren't some great guys out there who may somewhat resemble the guys in the wonderful world of Disney. Here's the thing, they'll represent them in personality OR appearance, not both. The man who sweeps you off your feet romantically will have random bouts of flatulence, back hair, and a protruding gut. He has this wonderful personality out of necessity because he's fugly. How else is he going to get a girl? The man with the perfect hair and rock hard abs won't get you flowers because he doesn't need to woo you to get your panties off. Sign me up for option #2 please.
If you want my honest opinion, which you probably don't but you're going to get it anyways, most girls have it all wrong when it comes to that silly little thing called love. Most of the blame goes to lame ass romantic comedies and Disney. Strike three against me, I hate Disney.
Let's look at this ridiculous concept of Prince Charming. It gets implanted in little girls heads that there is this perfect man out there who will slay fire breathing dragons in pursuit of true love with not a single hair out of place in the process. He'll take you on a romantic boat or carpet ride. He'll travel all over the land trying to return your precious shoe. And how can we forget that his kiss will be so magical it can bring you back from death. Is Disney seriously encouraging necrophilia? That's just nasty.
I had this friend, we'll call her Cinderella since she was just as dumb and blond as the original, who was so painfully clueless when it came to guys. She claimed she was looking for true love and happiness through this online dating site. That's right I remember the Disney Movie where that happened, think it was Bambi. Anyways they had this mind blowing first date of dinner and movie. You gotta love a guy whose original. She was so taken by him that she slept with him right away and then never heard from him again. Hmmmm....
I know this is the part where I'm supposed to play the sensitive and supporting role but I just didn't have it in me. Just because a guy has sex with you doesn't mean he wants something more. Sometimes you barely even like the person you're having sex with. It is completely possible to surrender yourself to your basic animal instincts. I think Madonna did an album on that. And poor Cinderella was shocked that this guy wasn't returning her twenty seven texts/phone calls.
Then comes the whining. Why doesn't he like me? What did I do wrong? I thought he was different. I thought we had a real connection. There is only so much I can take before I end up rolling my eyes and shouting "SHUT THE FUCK UP! He didn't like you, he liked your pussy. End of story, move on." Needless to say Cinderella and I are no longer friends. And believe it or not I am completely okay with that. She was just like 99% of the other girls I have attempted to befriend a certified drama queen.
There are countless beauty magazines that convince women they need to enhance themselves with hundreds of dollars worth of products that only end up making them look worse than when they started. A main motivator for the push up bra, ass enhancing jeans, fake eye lashes, and hair extensions it apparently to attract the opposite sex. Let me tell you something, I don't buy any of that crap and I could outscore these dollar store looking hookers any day. I have the one thing Mabelline doesn't sell, confidence. And confidence is why I can have my pick of any man I want.
Recently I was at an RPI hockey game with some friends. There was a guy a few rows away that caught my eye. I didn't need to bat my lashes and blush like a little school girl, you should outgrow those tactics once you hit puberty by the way. Instead I held his gaze for about sixty seconds and then ignored him for the rest of the period. While I was busy shouting at the bullshit calls with the rest of my friends this guy is wondering who I am and what I am about. At the end of the game he came up to me and asked if he could take me out for a drink. I explained I was out with friends, but maybe another time. Then I took control of the situation and got his number.
A few nights later he was back at my place eating me out like I was his last meal before death row. Another mistake most girls make is that she is so eager to please her man she insists on performing oral on him first. Uh uh. Make him earn it and believe me mine are well worth it. Most men are sexually selfish and won't give a girl what she needs after he gets what he needs. I tease a guy with a little sneak preview of whats to come if he's a good little boy and it works almost every time. If a guy isn't into it then neither am I. Needless to say I have no problem kicking a blue-balled man to the curb. For every guy who won't give me what I want there are a dozen more who will.
The best part about the RPI guy was that we hooked up a few times without any expectations. That's the way it needs to be. Then when the shiny newness wore off we both moved on. Believe it or not it really can be that simple. Who keeps going to the same well after it's dried up? Let's be logical here people. Once again I have to refer back to Cinderella. She gave him what he really wanted and he moved on. And if I really think about it she probably DIDN'T give him what he wanted which is why she never heard from him again. Not trying to be mean, just keeping it real here. For me if the guy isn't a complete weirdo and the sex was good I'll come back for seconds, thirds, and maybe even fourths.
I'm not saying there aren't some great guys out there who may somewhat resemble the guys in the wonderful world of Disney. Here's the thing, they'll represent them in personality OR appearance, not both. The man who sweeps you off your feet romantically will have random bouts of flatulence, back hair, and a protruding gut. He has this wonderful personality out of necessity because he's fugly. How else is he going to get a girl? The man with the perfect hair and rock hard abs won't get you flowers because he doesn't need to woo you to get your panties off. Sign me up for option #2 please.
Split Decisions
*****Katie's perspective****
Last night I had a nightmare. It was that scene from "The Good Son" except it was me on the edge of they cliff deciding if I should save Charlie or Nick from plummeting to their death. Those two pairs of hazel eyes staring up at me brimming with fear and it was my indecision that led to the death of both of them.
It's not often I have nightmares, but when I do get them I go back to this child like state that requires comfort and soothing. My first instinct was to go to Nick. I tip-toed across the hall to his room where he was sound asleep. As I turned to leave he woke up and whispered my name. I sprinted over to him and fell into his arms as the tears began streaming down my face. He held me tightly against him with one arm while stroking my hair gently with his other hand. Both his body and his personality were always so warm.
I woke up to the sun dancing across Nick's slumbering face. There was a pang in my heart for the pain I had caused him. More than anything I was disapointed in myself that I had taken him forgranted assuming he would always be there no matter what just like last night. Nick put aside his own pain to comfort me through mine. I know I'm not the brightest crayon in the box but I know enough to realize this is a rare quality in a person. And if I'm being honest with myself I just can't picture my life without him. The problem is in what capacity?
My mind wandered to my recent trip with Charlie. We went to this massive mall built on a swamp and rode the ferris wheel. Yes, this mall had a full sized ferris wheel inside. And at the top we kissed. We also rode horses side by side on the carousel reaching over and kissing. Then there were the countless arcade games me played at Dave and Busters. Of course more kissing. Later on we couldn't stop kissing while we watched some penguin movie in the eyemax theatre. Charlie has the ability to send electricity running all throughout my body with a simple touch. And everytime he looked at me that certain way I could feel my face flush.
Once before I had accused Charlie of only being interested in me because I was his shiny new toy. Maybe I had it all wrong and it was really me who felt that way. There has been an intense passion between us since the first day we met. First it was expressed in anger then later on it progressed to lust. Of course I lusted after him, he was the very definition of sexy. Passion eventually fades or so I;ve heard. And without the passion what would be left to what we have? But there is something different about him in the way that he challenges me like no one ever has before. Most people just shrug me off as I already am. He believes there is so much more to me than that. I wonder if he's in on some secret no one else has figured out yet.
Things with Nick have developed steadily over the years. We formed a strong friendship through experiences we shared, most of them at the cafe. And it will probably always be my first instinct to go to him when the world has crapped on me. No one sooths my inner savage beast quite like he does. There is no doubt that what we have will not fade or change. Afterall he's Mr. Consistancy. How could I forget that he took a big chance on me all those years ago? And how he's stood by me always, most of the time without me having to even ask.
I kissed Nick's forehead then whispered "I'm so sorry." I slipped out of the room. Quietly I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. All my years at Banjo's had turned me into a pro of brewing a nice pot of coffee yet my talents were wasted on this stupid one cup Keurig machine. As the wonder machine prepared my drink I stood at the counter doodling on a napkin. Old habits die hard I guess. I wasn't really paying attention to what I was doing until the machine signaled that my cup was done. My eyes widened at my work of art because that's where the answer to my dilemna was.
Abandoning my fresh brew I dashed to the front door, slipped on some shoes, and left the house. It was time for Katie to stop letting life happen to her and instead make things happen herself.
Last night I had a nightmare. It was that scene from "The Good Son" except it was me on the edge of they cliff deciding if I should save Charlie or Nick from plummeting to their death. Those two pairs of hazel eyes staring up at me brimming with fear and it was my indecision that led to the death of both of them.
It's not often I have nightmares, but when I do get them I go back to this child like state that requires comfort and soothing. My first instinct was to go to Nick. I tip-toed across the hall to his room where he was sound asleep. As I turned to leave he woke up and whispered my name. I sprinted over to him and fell into his arms as the tears began streaming down my face. He held me tightly against him with one arm while stroking my hair gently with his other hand. Both his body and his personality were always so warm.
I woke up to the sun dancing across Nick's slumbering face. There was a pang in my heart for the pain I had caused him. More than anything I was disapointed in myself that I had taken him forgranted assuming he would always be there no matter what just like last night. Nick put aside his own pain to comfort me through mine. I know I'm not the brightest crayon in the box but I know enough to realize this is a rare quality in a person. And if I'm being honest with myself I just can't picture my life without him. The problem is in what capacity?
My mind wandered to my recent trip with Charlie. We went to this massive mall built on a swamp and rode the ferris wheel. Yes, this mall had a full sized ferris wheel inside. And at the top we kissed. We also rode horses side by side on the carousel reaching over and kissing. Then there were the countless arcade games me played at Dave and Busters. Of course more kissing. Later on we couldn't stop kissing while we watched some penguin movie in the eyemax theatre. Charlie has the ability to send electricity running all throughout my body with a simple touch. And everytime he looked at me that certain way I could feel my face flush.
Once before I had accused Charlie of only being interested in me because I was his shiny new toy. Maybe I had it all wrong and it was really me who felt that way. There has been an intense passion between us since the first day we met. First it was expressed in anger then later on it progressed to lust. Of course I lusted after him, he was the very definition of sexy. Passion eventually fades or so I;ve heard. And without the passion what would be left to what we have? But there is something different about him in the way that he challenges me like no one ever has before. Most people just shrug me off as I already am. He believes there is so much more to me than that. I wonder if he's in on some secret no one else has figured out yet.
Things with Nick have developed steadily over the years. We formed a strong friendship through experiences we shared, most of them at the cafe. And it will probably always be my first instinct to go to him when the world has crapped on me. No one sooths my inner savage beast quite like he does. There is no doubt that what we have will not fade or change. Afterall he's Mr. Consistancy. How could I forget that he took a big chance on me all those years ago? And how he's stood by me always, most of the time without me having to even ask.
I kissed Nick's forehead then whispered "I'm so sorry." I slipped out of the room. Quietly I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. All my years at Banjo's had turned me into a pro of brewing a nice pot of coffee yet my talents were wasted on this stupid one cup Keurig machine. As the wonder machine prepared my drink I stood at the counter doodling on a napkin. Old habits die hard I guess. I wasn't really paying attention to what I was doing until the machine signaled that my cup was done. My eyes widened at my work of art because that's where the answer to my dilemna was.
Abandoning my fresh brew I dashed to the front door, slipped on some shoes, and left the house. It was time for Katie to stop letting life happen to her and instead make things happen herself.
What Would JJ Do?
****This is a new fictional piece****
After a long day at work I like to cuddle up on my bed and watch some TV with Envy. Envy, my cat, got her name because she really is a green-eyed little monster. When I brought her home from the pet store, yes I bought her from a pet store and not some do-gooder rescue group and apparently according to many people this makes me a horrible person. Whatever. The point is she wreaked all sorts of havoc in my apartment: ate, clawed, and broke many things. Thankfully I don't own anything real nice. My furniture much like me has been previously loved by several owners.
Are you ready for it? Here's strike 2 against me. I'm a woman who loves sex. Okay, that's a bit of an understatement. I'm borderline nympho. Give me your best shot because you can't say anything I haven't heard a hundred times before: Slut, whore, tramp, home wrecker. The first three I don't mind as much but to the best of my knowledge I have never wrecked any one's home except my own and once again I give the credit to my feline friend for that.
About six months ago my last relationship brutally ended when Josh started talking about taking things to the next level. He was a real sweet guy and that should have been a giant red flag yet I proceeded because he was so damn hot. I am definitely not a relationship girl by any means but I gave it an honest shot. Josh was into hand holding, cuddling, buying me small gifts to show he cared. I'm sure any girl would have melted for him, just not this girl. And before you go psycho-analyzing me I'd like to clarify I don't have daddy issues, mommy issues, or intimacy issues. I'm just not into that shit. You will NEVER catch me watching some crappy Drew Barrymore romantic comedy. However if you like gory slasher flicks or high energy action flicks then we'll get along just fine.
So I ended things with Josh aka every girls' dream. At the same time I decided to take a break from it all. Not that I'm boasting, well okay I am a bit, but every time I sleep with a guy he falls in love with me. I am that good. True story! If you want to know my secret I'd have to say I have a sixth sense for reading my partners. I can tell what he wants and how he wants it before we even start kissing. If I were a call-girl I'd probably be some high end one that charges a few thousand per session with a very select clientele. Not that I'd ever consider that line of business as I am perfectly happy working in retail hell.
Where were we? Oh yeah I'm relaxing after work with Envy when I hear the guy upstairs going at it. He's loud, the girl's loud, the bed banging against the wall is loud. It's a painful reminder that I haven't gotten any in almost six months. Six months?! Since the fateful day I lost my v-card I've never gone more than a couple weeks with a score. Like the drug reference? Well I don't need drugs because sex is my drug. This drought is on the level of needing assistance from The Red Cross. Here's another issue, I have a small bit of history with my upstairs neighbor too.
At last summer's block party I had a few too many beers. I was traveling in the happy land of somewhere between shitfaced and pleasantly buzzed when I literally bumped into him. Icy blue eyes, jet black hair, strong muscular build. What separates me from the common slut is the fact that I am picky about who I sleep with. I don't waste my time on fat balding smelly slobs with bad teeth. Neighbor boy was exactly the kind of man meat I liked to devour. And up until that point we had only exchanged in mild flirtation. Suddenly I found myself in his apartment hungry for sex like a teen aged boy. He was by far the best kisser I had come across in my many years. My body ached for him and based on his massive boner I knew he ached for me too.
This has never happened to me before and it's a bit embarrassing actually. I freaked out, pulled away, and sprinted out of his apartment. The lame ass excuse I gave was that I wasn't feeling well. It must have been true because it would take nothing short of the bubonic plague to keep me from scoring with a hot guy. What was wrong with me? I haven't been able to look him in his icy blue eyes since. Some would argue it was too soon after my break-up with Josh. I would argue what the fuck do they know? Have you not been listening to me? I am not a girl who gets attached.
Now I'm in my own personal hell watching some reality TV with one of the seven deadly sins by my side listening to all the fun I should have been having right above me. I stare longingly at the drawer full of neglected toys because I refused to even pleasure myself. This would be a great self help book "Tramp to Born Again Virgin in Thirty Days!"
Since I have nowhere else to turn and blatantly refuse to pay someone $50 an hour to ask me how I feel I'll just skip to the conclusion every psychologist draws and blame my parents. My mom wanted to name me Julianna after her favorite Catholic School nun (an interesting side note is that my mom was raised Jewish. What Jew sends their kid to private Catholic school? Obviously there's a family history of crazy) and my dad was really attached to the name Jennifer after his great-aunt. The compromise was to name me Julianna Jennifer. Thank goodness for the sanity of my older brother who insisted I be referred to as "JJ".
I often get "JJ, that's so cute". I am NOT a cute girl. Cute girls like butterflies. Cute girls like the colors pink and purple. Cute girls have to accessorize. Cute girls cry while watching shows like The Bachelor thinking "why not me". By the way the reason it's not you is because you're a pussy. Yeah I said it. Hey I'm not trying to be your best friend here. There's this little thing I like to do called keeping it real. JJ is a girl that doesn't paint her nails, has a wardrobe full of jeans and sneakers and t-shirts, and loves playing sports with her friends when the weather permits. For this reason I don't have many female friends; simply put I can't relate to the typical female bullshit.
Man are they still going at it? This guy must have unbelievable stamina. As I look up at the ceiling I start chanting to myself that I made the right decision to back away from it all. I know I did. I think I did. I'm not so sure. I need a cold shower.
After a long day at work I like to cuddle up on my bed and watch some TV with Envy. Envy, my cat, got her name because she really is a green-eyed little monster. When I brought her home from the pet store, yes I bought her from a pet store and not some do-gooder rescue group and apparently according to many people this makes me a horrible person. Whatever. The point is she wreaked all sorts of havoc in my apartment: ate, clawed, and broke many things. Thankfully I don't own anything real nice. My furniture much like me has been previously loved by several owners.
Are you ready for it? Here's strike 2 against me. I'm a woman who loves sex. Okay, that's a bit of an understatement. I'm borderline nympho. Give me your best shot because you can't say anything I haven't heard a hundred times before: Slut, whore, tramp, home wrecker. The first three I don't mind as much but to the best of my knowledge I have never wrecked any one's home except my own and once again I give the credit to my feline friend for that.
About six months ago my last relationship brutally ended when Josh started talking about taking things to the next level. He was a real sweet guy and that should have been a giant red flag yet I proceeded because he was so damn hot. I am definitely not a relationship girl by any means but I gave it an honest shot. Josh was into hand holding, cuddling, buying me small gifts to show he cared. I'm sure any girl would have melted for him, just not this girl. And before you go psycho-analyzing me I'd like to clarify I don't have daddy issues, mommy issues, or intimacy issues. I'm just not into that shit. You will NEVER catch me watching some crappy Drew Barrymore romantic comedy. However if you like gory slasher flicks or high energy action flicks then we'll get along just fine.
So I ended things with Josh aka every girls' dream. At the same time I decided to take a break from it all. Not that I'm boasting, well okay I am a bit, but every time I sleep with a guy he falls in love with me. I am that good. True story! If you want to know my secret I'd have to say I have a sixth sense for reading my partners. I can tell what he wants and how he wants it before we even start kissing. If I were a call-girl I'd probably be some high end one that charges a few thousand per session with a very select clientele. Not that I'd ever consider that line of business as I am perfectly happy working in retail hell.
Where were we? Oh yeah I'm relaxing after work with Envy when I hear the guy upstairs going at it. He's loud, the girl's loud, the bed banging against the wall is loud. It's a painful reminder that I haven't gotten any in almost six months. Six months?! Since the fateful day I lost my v-card I've never gone more than a couple weeks with a score. Like the drug reference? Well I don't need drugs because sex is my drug. This drought is on the level of needing assistance from The Red Cross. Here's another issue, I have a small bit of history with my upstairs neighbor too.
At last summer's block party I had a few too many beers. I was traveling in the happy land of somewhere between shitfaced and pleasantly buzzed when I literally bumped into him. Icy blue eyes, jet black hair, strong muscular build. What separates me from the common slut is the fact that I am picky about who I sleep with. I don't waste my time on fat balding smelly slobs with bad teeth. Neighbor boy was exactly the kind of man meat I liked to devour. And up until that point we had only exchanged in mild flirtation. Suddenly I found myself in his apartment hungry for sex like a teen aged boy. He was by far the best kisser I had come across in my many years. My body ached for him and based on his massive boner I knew he ached for me too.
This has never happened to me before and it's a bit embarrassing actually. I freaked out, pulled away, and sprinted out of his apartment. The lame ass excuse I gave was that I wasn't feeling well. It must have been true because it would take nothing short of the bubonic plague to keep me from scoring with a hot guy. What was wrong with me? I haven't been able to look him in his icy blue eyes since. Some would argue it was too soon after my break-up with Josh. I would argue what the fuck do they know? Have you not been listening to me? I am not a girl who gets attached.
Now I'm in my own personal hell watching some reality TV with one of the seven deadly sins by my side listening to all the fun I should have been having right above me. I stare longingly at the drawer full of neglected toys because I refused to even pleasure myself. This would be a great self help book "Tramp to Born Again Virgin in Thirty Days!"
Since I have nowhere else to turn and blatantly refuse to pay someone $50 an hour to ask me how I feel I'll just skip to the conclusion every psychologist draws and blame my parents. My mom wanted to name me Julianna after her favorite Catholic School nun (an interesting side note is that my mom was raised Jewish. What Jew sends their kid to private Catholic school? Obviously there's a family history of crazy) and my dad was really attached to the name Jennifer after his great-aunt. The compromise was to name me Julianna Jennifer. Thank goodness for the sanity of my older brother who insisted I be referred to as "JJ".
I often get "JJ, that's so cute". I am NOT a cute girl. Cute girls like butterflies. Cute girls like the colors pink and purple. Cute girls have to accessorize. Cute girls cry while watching shows like The Bachelor thinking "why not me". By the way the reason it's not you is because you're a pussy. Yeah I said it. Hey I'm not trying to be your best friend here. There's this little thing I like to do called keeping it real. JJ is a girl that doesn't paint her nails, has a wardrobe full of jeans and sneakers and t-shirts, and loves playing sports with her friends when the weather permits. For this reason I don't have many female friends; simply put I can't relate to the typical female bullshit.
Man are they still going at it? This guy must have unbelievable stamina. As I look up at the ceiling I start chanting to myself that I made the right decision to back away from it all. I know I did. I think I did. I'm not so sure. I need a cold shower.
Things I Should Have Said
Dear John,
I just want to put it out there that I have been hurt badly in the past when it comes to matters of the heart. I accept responsibility for choosing the wrong kind of guy and/or rushing things before really getting to know someone. It sounds like such a cliche but I really thought you were different.
I have never clicked so much with any guy before. The amount of things we had in common literally blew my mind:
1. As adults still dressing up for Halloween
2. Full belief and fascination with the super natural
3. Anti-guns/hunting
4. Old fashioned approach to dating (a recent development for me)
5. The importance of starting a family in the not so distant future so the kids can have a relationship with their grandparents
6. Love of Disney
7. Obsession with collectibles: you Disney and me Angels
8. Our love for music, especially being vocalists
9. Referring to our pets as out "kids"
There was a nice steady flow to our conversations. We never ran out of things to talk about. We found the other person smart, funny, intelligent, and attractive. John I can't tell you the last time I was this excited about a dating prospect. It's so scary putting yourself out there again but I was hopeful that this could lead to something amazing.
Yet if I dig a little bit deeper there were things that irked me. The more I tried to sweep them under the rug the more I kept tripping over them until I eventually landed flat on my face.
I know you have been out of the game for a while, you told me eight years since your last relationship, (I guess this should have been one of teh first red flags I noticed) but here are a few pointers that I promise are not specifically unique to me and will most likely apply to the vast majority of the women you come across:
The phone thing is just weird. I get that some people just aren't "phone people", but if you're trying to get to know someone it's a good idea to go beyond texting and emailing to an actual phone call. Phone calls are a happy medium between texting/emailing and face to face interactions. It's more personal too. You stating that you won't ever talk on the phone because you don't feel like it implies your unwillingness to compromise. Dating and relationships are about compromise. I hate to break it to you but unless you date a puppet you won't get your way all the time every time. And if you tell a girl you're so busy that you probably won't get to meet her face to face for weeks and you're STILL unwilling to give her a phone call....there's something going on there.
No one wants to feel like an after thought. If you're in the middle of texting someone and need to step away to do something for 30-40 minutes, let the person know instead of leaving them hanging. Or when someone texts you early afternoon and you don't get back to them for hours because you were "busy", you're sending a clear message that there are countless things that are more important than them. Not a good feeling.
Reciprications. Most girls like to be complimented, ideally without having to fish for them. When a girl texts you a picture of herself and instead of replying with something like "You look nice" or "That's a great pic", you choose to not respond for a few days, well it's not going to sit well with the girl. A girl who throws you compliments such as "nice smile", "you're funny", "I think you're a great guy" an appropriate response is Thank You. Instead you would brush off my compliments as a joke or say that you already knew that. It was hard to decide if you were insecure or full of yourself. And the fact that over weeks of communicating you didn't manage to compliment me even once also speaks volumes of your character. Another red flag to how one sided things would be with you.
Excuses. We mutually agreed our first date would be dinner at Olive Garden. You explained more than once that you were really looking forward to meeting me. Unfortunately I was battling a nasty cold, so we decided our date would happen when I got better. A week later when I was on the mend you said that the holiday time was really busy and we'd have to play it by ear. You told me you probably wouldn't be able to text that Friday night because you had all this holiday shopping to get done. Saturday you tell me your "big shopping expedition" consisted of buying scrap book paper at Joann's. Afterwards you went out to dinner with your family....something you had previously told me you do every night of the week. Your actions aren't matching up with your words. So you couldn't skip one family dinner, once again something you do every night of the week, to have dinner with me? I get that family is important to you but you did ditch them last Christmas to go to Disney with your friends. Seems inconsistant.
I knew the risk of putting myself out there again meant I stood the chance of getting disappointed, rejected, and hurt. Once again I thought you were different. It's unfortunate that I went into this whole heartily and you went into it half assed. And it was a blow to my ego that I was obviously much more interested in the prospect of "us" than you were. I think the thing that tipped the scales against you was when I texted you a picture of me and more than two days passed with no response. I don't think you're a bad guy by any means; we're just on different pages. And although I doubt I'll ever find a guy I have as much in common with, I'm willing to lose some similarities in exchange for someone whose attentive and "into me".
You seemed surprised when I told you things weren't going as I thought they should. I just have to wonder where your head is at when you tell me I have to wait weeks to meet you face to face, you refuse to have a phone conversation, and you don't want me talking to any other guys in the meantime. So I'm supposed to put my life on hold for a guy I haven't even met? Suppose I actually did that and then when January rolls around you have brand new shiny reasons why we can't meet up. Time is the most valuable thing we own because it's the one thing we use that we can't ever get back. I can't waste anymore time on a guy that isn't willing to put in the time for me.
It's seems like you're either playing games or you're not ready to give things an honest shot. I wish you luck in what you're looking for. As for me I need to keep this little promise to myself not to settle for less than what I deserve.
Sincerely,
Laura
I just want to put it out there that I have been hurt badly in the past when it comes to matters of the heart. I accept responsibility for choosing the wrong kind of guy and/or rushing things before really getting to know someone. It sounds like such a cliche but I really thought you were different.
I have never clicked so much with any guy before. The amount of things we had in common literally blew my mind:
1. As adults still dressing up for Halloween
2. Full belief and fascination with the super natural
3. Anti-guns/hunting
4. Old fashioned approach to dating (a recent development for me)
5. The importance of starting a family in the not so distant future so the kids can have a relationship with their grandparents
6. Love of Disney
7. Obsession with collectibles: you Disney and me Angels
8. Our love for music, especially being vocalists
9. Referring to our pets as out "kids"
There was a nice steady flow to our conversations. We never ran out of things to talk about. We found the other person smart, funny, intelligent, and attractive. John I can't tell you the last time I was this excited about a dating prospect. It's so scary putting yourself out there again but I was hopeful that this could lead to something amazing.
Yet if I dig a little bit deeper there were things that irked me. The more I tried to sweep them under the rug the more I kept tripping over them until I eventually landed flat on my face.
I know you have been out of the game for a while, you told me eight years since your last relationship, (I guess this should have been one of teh first red flags I noticed) but here are a few pointers that I promise are not specifically unique to me and will most likely apply to the vast majority of the women you come across:
The phone thing is just weird. I get that some people just aren't "phone people", but if you're trying to get to know someone it's a good idea to go beyond texting and emailing to an actual phone call. Phone calls are a happy medium between texting/emailing and face to face interactions. It's more personal too. You stating that you won't ever talk on the phone because you don't feel like it implies your unwillingness to compromise. Dating and relationships are about compromise. I hate to break it to you but unless you date a puppet you won't get your way all the time every time. And if you tell a girl you're so busy that you probably won't get to meet her face to face for weeks and you're STILL unwilling to give her a phone call....there's something going on there.
No one wants to feel like an after thought. If you're in the middle of texting someone and need to step away to do something for 30-40 minutes, let the person know instead of leaving them hanging. Or when someone texts you early afternoon and you don't get back to them for hours because you were "busy", you're sending a clear message that there are countless things that are more important than them. Not a good feeling.
Reciprications. Most girls like to be complimented, ideally without having to fish for them. When a girl texts you a picture of herself and instead of replying with something like "You look nice" or "That's a great pic", you choose to not respond for a few days, well it's not going to sit well with the girl. A girl who throws you compliments such as "nice smile", "you're funny", "I think you're a great guy" an appropriate response is Thank You. Instead you would brush off my compliments as a joke or say that you already knew that. It was hard to decide if you were insecure or full of yourself. And the fact that over weeks of communicating you didn't manage to compliment me even once also speaks volumes of your character. Another red flag to how one sided things would be with you.
Excuses. We mutually agreed our first date would be dinner at Olive Garden. You explained more than once that you were really looking forward to meeting me. Unfortunately I was battling a nasty cold, so we decided our date would happen when I got better. A week later when I was on the mend you said that the holiday time was really busy and we'd have to play it by ear. You told me you probably wouldn't be able to text that Friday night because you had all this holiday shopping to get done. Saturday you tell me your "big shopping expedition" consisted of buying scrap book paper at Joann's. Afterwards you went out to dinner with your family....something you had previously told me you do every night of the week. Your actions aren't matching up with your words. So you couldn't skip one family dinner, once again something you do every night of the week, to have dinner with me? I get that family is important to you but you did ditch them last Christmas to go to Disney with your friends. Seems inconsistant.
I knew the risk of putting myself out there again meant I stood the chance of getting disappointed, rejected, and hurt. Once again I thought you were different. It's unfortunate that I went into this whole heartily and you went into it half assed. And it was a blow to my ego that I was obviously much more interested in the prospect of "us" than you were. I think the thing that tipped the scales against you was when I texted you a picture of me and more than two days passed with no response. I don't think you're a bad guy by any means; we're just on different pages. And although I doubt I'll ever find a guy I have as much in common with, I'm willing to lose some similarities in exchange for someone whose attentive and "into me".
You seemed surprised when I told you things weren't going as I thought they should. I just have to wonder where your head is at when you tell me I have to wait weeks to meet you face to face, you refuse to have a phone conversation, and you don't want me talking to any other guys in the meantime. So I'm supposed to put my life on hold for a guy I haven't even met? Suppose I actually did that and then when January rolls around you have brand new shiny reasons why we can't meet up. Time is the most valuable thing we own because it's the one thing we use that we can't ever get back. I can't waste anymore time on a guy that isn't willing to put in the time for me.
It's seems like you're either playing games or you're not ready to give things an honest shot. I wish you luck in what you're looking for. As for me I need to keep this little promise to myself not to settle for less than what I deserve.
Sincerely,
Laura
Why I moved Back to NY
In a completely emotionally hysterical state on 11/23/11 I told my dad over the phone that NY might not be the place for me anymore. Of course when I had calmed down I went over the reasons I decided to move back to NY five years ago and how these reasons apply to me now.
THEN: Christmas 2006 I reached out to hold my nephew Micheal and he cried in fear because I was a complete stranger to him. It hit me that I would never have the relationship I longed for with my nephews as long as I was living 1000 miles away from them. Antonio and I would be getting married in five months and were looking to start a family of our own in the near future. Our kids would be estranged to their cousins. I needed to be there for birthdays, holidays, and the occasional stop by visit for no reason at all. I wanted them to know me and more importantly I wanted to know them.
NOW:I'm divorced and these nephews were blood relatives to my ex-husband. Their parents decided to cut me off from their kids without even letting me say goodbye. Antonio and I thankfully never had any kids of our own. This reason is completely null and void.
THEN: I thrived in my undergrad studies and always hoped I'd go back to get my masters degree. The Capital District in NY has so many colleges I could choose from depending on what course of study I was most interested in. The area of South Carolina I was in had one small college with only a few masters programs.
NOW:So far I have not had the opportunity to go back to school, but the important fact is that the opportunity is STILL there when I am ready. Finances, a full time job, and health issues have prevented me so far yet I have feeling it will still happen.
THEN:After three and half years in South Carolina I hadn't formed many, if any, real solid friendships, at least not like the ones I had back in NY. My severe lack of social life was pretty depressing. A big part of this had to do with the fact that I was a liberal bisexual Pagan living in the "Bible Belt". Yeah...not such a good fit.
NOW: Everything seems to have come full circle. When I moved back to NY I had a full social calender filled with parties, get-to-gethers, TV night hang outs. Plus lots of family gatherings with the in-laws. The last year has been pretty lonely. For various reasons my list of friends has seriously dwindled and the invites have almost completely stopped. Additionally I don't get good turn outs to the few gatherings I put together. Once again my in-laws are no longer a part of my life. This aspect has actually gotten worse than it was in South Carolina. But I live in a tri-city area where things are constantly happening, so I feel confident if I put myself out there I could probably revamp my social life. As things currently stand I may end up spending Christmas, New Years Eve, My Birthday, and Valentine's Day alone.
THEN: Antonio and I were going to start a family in the not so distant future. His mom helped out with her other grand kids and was looking forward to helping out with our future kids. We preferred this to daycare for several reasons. Also I didn't like the idea of raising my kids in the south. For starters the educational system was nothing compared to NY schools and I knew this first hand from working as a teaching assistant in one of the better schools in the area. I also felt there was still so much backwards thinking and limited cultural diversity. How many times can I hear "the south will rise again" or "you're going to burn in hell for not accepting Jesus into your life" or "The south will rise again".
NOW As previously mentioned I have no kids. I also have no husband, boyfriend, lover boy...basically "kids" is a foreign concept to me right now. I do still strongly feel raising my kids in NY would be better than raising them in SC, but I don't know how valid this is since I'm not sure when or if I'll even have kids.
My parents are my best friends. Moving away from them was one of the hardest decisions I had to make in my life. I miss them everyday and it hurts that I only see them about twice a year. Five years ago the decision to move back to NY made sense on a logical and practical level. On an emotional level I miss my parents and want to pack up my life all over again to be near them. But I have a solid job, a great apartment, and pet rabbits that I would lose with the move. These are not easy things to come by. I have a lot to think about.
THEN: Christmas 2006 I reached out to hold my nephew Micheal and he cried in fear because I was a complete stranger to him. It hit me that I would never have the relationship I longed for with my nephews as long as I was living 1000 miles away from them. Antonio and I would be getting married in five months and were looking to start a family of our own in the near future. Our kids would be estranged to their cousins. I needed to be there for birthdays, holidays, and the occasional stop by visit for no reason at all. I wanted them to know me and more importantly I wanted to know them.
NOW:I'm divorced and these nephews were blood relatives to my ex-husband. Their parents decided to cut me off from their kids without even letting me say goodbye. Antonio and I thankfully never had any kids of our own. This reason is completely null and void.
THEN: I thrived in my undergrad studies and always hoped I'd go back to get my masters degree. The Capital District in NY has so many colleges I could choose from depending on what course of study I was most interested in. The area of South Carolina I was in had one small college with only a few masters programs.
NOW:So far I have not had the opportunity to go back to school, but the important fact is that the opportunity is STILL there when I am ready. Finances, a full time job, and health issues have prevented me so far yet I have feeling it will still happen.
THEN:After three and half years in South Carolina I hadn't formed many, if any, real solid friendships, at least not like the ones I had back in NY. My severe lack of social life was pretty depressing. A big part of this had to do with the fact that I was a liberal bisexual Pagan living in the "Bible Belt". Yeah...not such a good fit.
NOW: Everything seems to have come full circle. When I moved back to NY I had a full social calender filled with parties, get-to-gethers, TV night hang outs. Plus lots of family gatherings with the in-laws. The last year has been pretty lonely. For various reasons my list of friends has seriously dwindled and the invites have almost completely stopped. Additionally I don't get good turn outs to the few gatherings I put together. Once again my in-laws are no longer a part of my life. This aspect has actually gotten worse than it was in South Carolina. But I live in a tri-city area where things are constantly happening, so I feel confident if I put myself out there I could probably revamp my social life. As things currently stand I may end up spending Christmas, New Years Eve, My Birthday, and Valentine's Day alone.
THEN: Antonio and I were going to start a family in the not so distant future. His mom helped out with her other grand kids and was looking forward to helping out with our future kids. We preferred this to daycare for several reasons. Also I didn't like the idea of raising my kids in the south. For starters the educational system was nothing compared to NY schools and I knew this first hand from working as a teaching assistant in one of the better schools in the area. I also felt there was still so much backwards thinking and limited cultural diversity. How many times can I hear "the south will rise again" or "you're going to burn in hell for not accepting Jesus into your life" or "The south will rise again".
NOW As previously mentioned I have no kids. I also have no husband, boyfriend, lover boy...basically "kids" is a foreign concept to me right now. I do still strongly feel raising my kids in NY would be better than raising them in SC, but I don't know how valid this is since I'm not sure when or if I'll even have kids.
My parents are my best friends. Moving away from them was one of the hardest decisions I had to make in my life. I miss them everyday and it hurts that I only see them about twice a year. Five years ago the decision to move back to NY made sense on a logical and practical level. On an emotional level I miss my parents and want to pack up my life all over again to be near them. But I have a solid job, a great apartment, and pet rabbits that I would lose with the move. These are not easy things to come by. I have a lot to think about.
About Me
- ElbieNy25
- "Scars are proof that we were brave enough to fight the battle and strong enough to survive it"-me 2008 Unfortunately/fortunately I have many scars from life, but I'm still here. I've been writing for over twenty years and just recently finished my first manuscript entitled "The Journey". I love peopl; they fascinate me with their stories, quirks, and mysterious ways.