When I returned to blogging universe I was writing about some colorful sexual experiences 1/2 truth and 1/2 fiction. It got me thinking about things that should just be obvious to a man, but so clearly aren't. I know everyone has certain individual tastes and preferences however I feel confident that the following "Does" and "Don'ts" can be agreed upon by most women I personally know.
KISSING
Don't eat some one's face. Excessive slobbering and drool are NEVER okay. I don't want to have to get a towel to wipe my face down after a make out session. This is not a dental visit, no need to open your mouth extra wide so I can see your molars.
Do a breath check. Not telling you what to snack on, but maybe if you're on a date where possible kissing may occur later on....stay away from the garlic. Gum is always an option, brushing teeth, mouth wash works too. This is probably the number one killer to what could be an incredible kiss.
Don't move your tongue around like you're having epileptic seizure: hitting my teeth, the roof of my mouth, my tonsils. Equally as bad is the infamous limp tongue. You put it in my mouth and then it goes to sleep. If you don't know how to use your tongue properly it's best to leave it at home folks.
Do know the difference between playful lip nibbling and lip biting. If you drew blood then you probably were a bit too rough. Reel it back in Dracula.
FOREPLAY
Let's keep it real here, most guys skip this section altogether. I totally get heat of the moment I need it now, but that should be the exception and NOT the rule.
Do pay attention to the breasts. Big, small, in between...they all like attention. Giant hint, nipples are a highly erogenous zone on both men and women. Lips, tongue, fingers, hands. A hard nipple is a happy nipple.
Don't try to remove them and take them with you. They are sensitive and they are attached to the body, so be kind. One guy bit my nipple so hard once I was shocked it hadn't actually fallen off. That same man beat my boobs so hard I had bruises for days. (See my blog about Andy)
Do heat up the oven BEFORE shoving your meatloaf inside. Like any workout session you should stretch before you go running a marathon otherwise you're bound to get painful cramps or quit halfway through.
SEX
Do be creative. No one likes the same thing every time no matter how good it may be. I love Visco's pizza but would I want it for every meal every day? Nope. Surprise me, entice me, keep me guessing where we're going. Props, role playing, fetishes...don't knock it until you've tried it at least a few times.
Don't make it a race. Let's not challenge to see who gets the first orgasm, how about we try to make sure we both enjoy ourselves?! If you're consistantly the first to the finish line you may not get to enter that race ever again.
Do have open lines of communication with your partner. Likes vs dislikes, past experiences good and bad. Knowing each other is the best way to please each other.
Don't immediately get up after you're done, put on your clothes, and leave to do something else. You might as well leave a $20 on the table if that's your attitude. Ever heard of spooning? The goal is to not make your lady feel like a cheap hooker.
EXTRAS
Good Hygeiene. like freshly baked cookies will entice us to devour them, a funky guy will have us running the other way. That also reminds me about grooming. If a girl has to hunt to find your cock she's less likely to want to play with it.
It's always the season to be giving. Why do men always expect oral sex without giving back? Or if they do perform it, then it's after much prompting and done with as much zest as curbing your dog? As one of my ex's put it, "If you want repeat customers then make sure you're providing an excellent service."
Visiters
Romance and Indigestion
Anyone who knows me or at least reads my blog can see that I'm a woman who has had no shortage of passions in her life. There is one relationship though that stands out above all the others. What we had has lasted most of my life and was riddled with drama. And no matter what we've been through together I don't know if I can ever see myself completely walking away. This time I will not change names to protect the innocent. This time I will bare it all because it's a story that needs to be told. If I can prevent even one person from repeating my mistakes then it'll be well worth it.
I can't remember the fine details of when we first crossed paths, but I know I was real young and completely unaware of the powers of seduction she would have over me for years to come. To this day I have never put my lips on anything finer. The pleasure, the pain, the pleasure, the pain keeps me in this torturous cycle I'm unable to break from. So many have told me I should know better. I should, sometimes I do, most of the time I don't. If you've ever seen us together than you would know just how happy we can be.
CHEESE.
American. Cheddar. Mozzarella. Fontanella. Brie. Gouda. Pepper Jack. Parmesan. The only kind I ever came across that I didn't enjoy was Blue Cheese. Yuck. Often I would order sandwiches, burgers, and wraps with the explicit instructions "put every kind of cheese you have on it." Their eyes would bulge out of their heads, but I didn't stutter. Give me my cheesy fix dammit!
Indigestion. Constipation. Nausea. Acid reflex. Heartburn. High Cholesterol. When it happened I would swear that it was the last time I indulged in this sordid romance again. My departure was always short and sweet. How could I deny something so good even if it was so bad?! The risk seemed well worth it. Even this past January when I was diagnosed with early stage Fatty Liver Disease, I was specifically told by numerous health care professionals to stop with the cheese...I still longed for her.
Aside from countless moments of pleasure, the only positive thing I ever got from cheese was calcium. This forced me to take a long hard look at my life and where cheese was taking me. Did I have long term potential with cheese? Just how much was I willing to give up to keep cheese in my life? How different or potentially better could my life be if I opened my heart to someone healthier for me? Sure cheese is always up for a good time, but maybe I want more than cheese is able to give me.
This is still an ongoing battle for me, although I think I'm much closer to a conclusion than I was a few years ago. Maybe after all this time I need to just let go. But NO ONE can diminish what we had.
I can't remember the fine details of when we first crossed paths, but I know I was real young and completely unaware of the powers of seduction she would have over me for years to come. To this day I have never put my lips on anything finer. The pleasure, the pain, the pleasure, the pain keeps me in this torturous cycle I'm unable to break from. So many have told me I should know better. I should, sometimes I do, most of the time I don't. If you've ever seen us together than you would know just how happy we can be.
CHEESE.
American. Cheddar. Mozzarella. Fontanella. Brie. Gouda. Pepper Jack. Parmesan. The only kind I ever came across that I didn't enjoy was Blue Cheese. Yuck. Often I would order sandwiches, burgers, and wraps with the explicit instructions "put every kind of cheese you have on it." Their eyes would bulge out of their heads, but I didn't stutter. Give me my cheesy fix dammit!
Indigestion. Constipation. Nausea. Acid reflex. Heartburn. High Cholesterol. When it happened I would swear that it was the last time I indulged in this sordid romance again. My departure was always short and sweet. How could I deny something so good even if it was so bad?! The risk seemed well worth it. Even this past January when I was diagnosed with early stage Fatty Liver Disease, I was specifically told by numerous health care professionals to stop with the cheese...I still longed for her.
Aside from countless moments of pleasure, the only positive thing I ever got from cheese was calcium. This forced me to take a long hard look at my life and where cheese was taking me. Did I have long term potential with cheese? Just how much was I willing to give up to keep cheese in my life? How different or potentially better could my life be if I opened my heart to someone healthier for me? Sure cheese is always up for a good time, but maybe I want more than cheese is able to give me.
This is still an ongoing battle for me, although I think I'm much closer to a conclusion than I was a few years ago. Maybe after all this time I need to just let go. But NO ONE can diminish what we had.
Up the Butt Couples
It's not as kinky as it sounds. We all have met at least one of these couples that can't live, breath, think without the other one by their side doing it with them. One of them will refuse a social invitation if the other one wasn't invited or just as well assume the other one WAS invited and bring them along without asking. Let's rule out reasons of practicality such as they only have one car between them. These couples have made the active choice to be adult Siamese twins. Hence the name up the butt couples.
Pam and Josh. I worked with Pam when I was a copy-editor at a data publishing company. Pam was in the sales department. Coincidentally I had met Josh when I had previously worked for a bank, he was a frequent customer. When I found out they were dating AND they lived down the block from me, I couldn't have been more thrilled. Here's a couple that me and my boyfriend can hang with. They were intelligent, funny, and easy going....that is until I realized they were an up the butt couple.
One day I invited Pam to have lunch with me. She agreed to drive. As soon as we leave the parking lot at work I notice she's going in the opposite direction of the restaurant, a restaurant that is almost across the street from work. I ask her if everything is okay. She replies that she's going to get Josh. Hmmm I didn't invite Josh, I invited Pam to lunch. Never mind that Josh's job is a fifteen minute drive out of the way. When we show up he's not ready, so we wait another 5 minutes. Then it's another fifteen minute drive back to the restaurant. Now we have twenty-five minutes to order, eat, and get back to work on time. This is not a fast food joint, but a nice sit down place where we would have had plenty of time had we been allotted the full hour. I have to admit I had lost my appetite watching them on the other side of the booth "I love you" "No, I love you more" "No, I love you more" throughout the entire meal. As we finish I ask if she can drop me off back at work so I'm not late, I would have walked myself back but it's a four lane highway. She insists on driving Josh back first because he only has a thirty minute lunch which has already run over. Of course it makes sense that all THREE of us should be late.
It was my parents' retirement communities semi-annual parking lot sale. I usually sleep at their place the night before because parking is a bitch the day of. But this year I decided to invite Pam. I explain we have to get there super early and that my parents will be waiting for us. I arrive at her house exactly on time. She explains Josh just got out of the shower and isn't ready yet. Once again, I don't recall the invitation extending to Josh or Pam asking me if Josh could join us. She suggests I wait in my car and they'll be out in about five minutes. I call my parents to tell them we're running a few minutes late. After fifteen minutes of waiting in my car I honk my horn. Josh decides this is rude and he's not going. Pam spends the next ten minutes begging him to still come with us and that she won't go if he won't go. Finally they decide they'll just meet me there.
You may very well think these are the bitter musings of a single gal whose desperately jealous she hasn't found her other half. That's just not the case. Well I think couples should compliment one another, I do believe especially after some of the relationship BS I've been through, that a person should be complete all on their own. Why is it that some people lose their entire identity once they become part of a couple? Did Pam forget who she was for the thirty plus years before she met Josh? And at what point is a line drawn? Will she decline invitations to all female events where Josh clearly can't partake in such as baby showers, bridal showers, a girl's night out? Does she consult him on the clothes she wears, the career choices she pursues, the friends she makes? If he were to go away and she couldn't go with him I imagine she would stay home all depressed and clueless about what to do with herself.
Honestly it's not like we can do anything though. If you've ever known one of these couples then you know to intervene will just unite them even further while alienating yourself from the one you're actually friends with. The best defense is to not become one of these yourself. If you notice you start dressing like your partner, then time to do some serious thinking about who and what you are.
Pam and Josh. I worked with Pam when I was a copy-editor at a data publishing company. Pam was in the sales department. Coincidentally I had met Josh when I had previously worked for a bank, he was a frequent customer. When I found out they were dating AND they lived down the block from me, I couldn't have been more thrilled. Here's a couple that me and my boyfriend can hang with. They were intelligent, funny, and easy going....that is until I realized they were an up the butt couple.
One day I invited Pam to have lunch with me. She agreed to drive. As soon as we leave the parking lot at work I notice she's going in the opposite direction of the restaurant, a restaurant that is almost across the street from work. I ask her if everything is okay. She replies that she's going to get Josh. Hmmm I didn't invite Josh, I invited Pam to lunch. Never mind that Josh's job is a fifteen minute drive out of the way. When we show up he's not ready, so we wait another 5 minutes. Then it's another fifteen minute drive back to the restaurant. Now we have twenty-five minutes to order, eat, and get back to work on time. This is not a fast food joint, but a nice sit down place where we would have had plenty of time had we been allotted the full hour. I have to admit I had lost my appetite watching them on the other side of the booth "I love you" "No, I love you more" "No, I love you more" throughout the entire meal. As we finish I ask if she can drop me off back at work so I'm not late, I would have walked myself back but it's a four lane highway. She insists on driving Josh back first because he only has a thirty minute lunch which has already run over. Of course it makes sense that all THREE of us should be late.
It was my parents' retirement communities semi-annual parking lot sale. I usually sleep at their place the night before because parking is a bitch the day of. But this year I decided to invite Pam. I explain we have to get there super early and that my parents will be waiting for us. I arrive at her house exactly on time. She explains Josh just got out of the shower and isn't ready yet. Once again, I don't recall the invitation extending to Josh or Pam asking me if Josh could join us. She suggests I wait in my car and they'll be out in about five minutes. I call my parents to tell them we're running a few minutes late. After fifteen minutes of waiting in my car I honk my horn. Josh decides this is rude and he's not going. Pam spends the next ten minutes begging him to still come with us and that she won't go if he won't go. Finally they decide they'll just meet me there.
You may very well think these are the bitter musings of a single gal whose desperately jealous she hasn't found her other half. That's just not the case. Well I think couples should compliment one another, I do believe especially after some of the relationship BS I've been through, that a person should be complete all on their own. Why is it that some people lose their entire identity once they become part of a couple? Did Pam forget who she was for the thirty plus years before she met Josh? And at what point is a line drawn? Will she decline invitations to all female events where Josh clearly can't partake in such as baby showers, bridal showers, a girl's night out? Does she consult him on the clothes she wears, the career choices she pursues, the friends she makes? If he were to go away and she couldn't go with him I imagine she would stay home all depressed and clueless about what to do with herself.
Honestly it's not like we can do anything though. If you've ever known one of these couples then you know to intervene will just unite them even further while alienating yourself from the one you're actually friends with. The best defense is to not become one of these yourself. If you notice you start dressing like your partner, then time to do some serious thinking about who and what you are.
Some sweet backhanding
My 21st Century Disney post seemed to be quiet popular. I decided to take some real life examples of friends, family, and myself about some common dating mishaps. We love our girl friends, we do, and no matter how many times they act like idiots by dating even bigger idiots we know we'll be there for them. We'll listen to them brag about these moron's slightly positive attributes while brushing the MASSIVE flaws under the rug. Then we'll comfort them when they cry over what was glaringly obviously coming their way much like an avalanche. As always I never reveal real names. Imagine if we spoke the truth about the men we dated, stopped using rose colored glasses, and said it how it really was....would we still date them?
Jessica: I'm a single mom. I fell in love with someone, accidentally got pregnant and three weeks before the baby was due he left me. Less than two months later I found someone else though. I fell in love with him, but after about 8 months of dating he decided he wasn't into it anymore. Three weeks later I found someone else. My baby is my top priority, but I'm young and should be allowed to take care of me too. I'm a woman with needs.
Patricia: I met this guy, fresh out of prison. He's bringing income in by dealing drugs, the very thing that got him in prison twice before. He's got five kids by three different women. He's been absent from his kid's lives but it's not really his fault, he was in prison most of that time. He's still married to baby mama #2 and hasn't made any efforts in over 10 years to get divorced even though he had a kid with another woman during that time. I think he'll be a good father if we had a kid together.
Candice: I met this guy off craigslist. Currently he's living in a 1/2 way house recovering from a crack addiction. He has no car, no job, and no money. He's got a 10 year old with his ex-wife that he hasn't consistently seen over the years because he's been too busy getting high or ending up in rehab. He stole from his last GF of 6 years, nothing major: her checkbook, her TV, and her car. He constantly sexually rejects me, but he's into Internet porn. Even though he's cheated on everyone he's ever been with I don't think he'll cheat on me. He's a great cook and a handyman, so I see this going real far.
Dana: I'm so sick of men and all the drama they bring, so I decided to go the other way. I met this hot chick off the Internet. She's got two kids with two different men. Her first baby daddy was over forty years old when she was sixteen. She actually just got pregnant again recently and isn't 100% sure who that dad is. She's been in jail a couple of times for domestic violence issues that usually involved drinking. I don't know, there's just something about her that draws me in.
Sue: I was flirting with this co-worker of mine, he caught my eye. I've dated co-workers in the past and it always blows up in my face, but I just feel this time will be different. He seems different. I work full time, but in my spare time I'm going to school to get my MBA. He spends all his spare time drinking and getting high although sometimes he likes to go camping where he'll drink and get high. He's 35 and has two roommates, one being his sister. I have my own place. But I really think we're on the same page about what we want.
Candice revisited: So things didn't work out with the other guy, but now I'm dating his friend. He has a job, an apartment, and some money. He's on parole though so he has a curfew and when he sleeps over he has to ask for permission. The parole thing isn't even that serious; he stole someones car, went drunk driving, and totaled it. Everyone makes mistakes. He's a recovering alcoholic. The way he stays away from alcohol is compensating with weed. Sometimes you gotta think outside the box. No car and no license. But no one's perfect right?
Alicia: Back in college I used to date manipulative and controlling men, but Dennis is different. He told me before we could get serious I needed to get a job, financially establish myself, and learn to live on my own. When I finally found my own place he told me his lease was up and he was moving in. Then he told me decorations he didn't like in my apartment that I should get rid of. He says I don't spend enough time with him and wants me to quit the league I'm president of. The other day he told me I was taking him to the airport, but wouldn't give me any flight details until a few hours before so I had to sit around waiting. He's just trying to help give me some positive direction and we're both happy when I listen to him.
Melissa: I've been dating my daughter's orthodontist for a couple of weeks now. I don't think it'll get awkward though.being a single mom limits my dating pool, but he's divorced and has kids of his own too. He's about twenty years older than me and told me on our first date that he wants me to stop taking birth control so we can have a baby together. I'm in love, so I think I'm going to do it!
Heather: There's this club I like to go to with my girls. The bouncer caught my eye and made sure my friends knew all about it. We started having sex on the downlow because he's private and doesn't want people knowing his bussiness. Then I found out he has a girlfriend, went public with her,and she was one of my friends! I got the upper hand though because even though he's dating her, he's still having sex with me.
Sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a good backhand from our friends.
Jessica: I'm a single mom. I fell in love with someone, accidentally got pregnant and three weeks before the baby was due he left me. Less than two months later I found someone else though. I fell in love with him, but after about 8 months of dating he decided he wasn't into it anymore. Three weeks later I found someone else. My baby is my top priority, but I'm young and should be allowed to take care of me too. I'm a woman with needs.
Patricia: I met this guy, fresh out of prison. He's bringing income in by dealing drugs, the very thing that got him in prison twice before. He's got five kids by three different women. He's been absent from his kid's lives but it's not really his fault, he was in prison most of that time. He's still married to baby mama #2 and hasn't made any efforts in over 10 years to get divorced even though he had a kid with another woman during that time. I think he'll be a good father if we had a kid together.
Candice: I met this guy off craigslist. Currently he's living in a 1/2 way house recovering from a crack addiction. He has no car, no job, and no money. He's got a 10 year old with his ex-wife that he hasn't consistently seen over the years because he's been too busy getting high or ending up in rehab. He stole from his last GF of 6 years, nothing major: her checkbook, her TV, and her car. He constantly sexually rejects me, but he's into Internet porn. Even though he's cheated on everyone he's ever been with I don't think he'll cheat on me. He's a great cook and a handyman, so I see this going real far.
Dana: I'm so sick of men and all the drama they bring, so I decided to go the other way. I met this hot chick off the Internet. She's got two kids with two different men. Her first baby daddy was over forty years old when she was sixteen. She actually just got pregnant again recently and isn't 100% sure who that dad is. She's been in jail a couple of times for domestic violence issues that usually involved drinking. I don't know, there's just something about her that draws me in.
Sue: I was flirting with this co-worker of mine, he caught my eye. I've dated co-workers in the past and it always blows up in my face, but I just feel this time will be different. He seems different. I work full time, but in my spare time I'm going to school to get my MBA. He spends all his spare time drinking and getting high although sometimes he likes to go camping where he'll drink and get high. He's 35 and has two roommates, one being his sister. I have my own place. But I really think we're on the same page about what we want.
Candice revisited: So things didn't work out with the other guy, but now I'm dating his friend. He has a job, an apartment, and some money. He's on parole though so he has a curfew and when he sleeps over he has to ask for permission. The parole thing isn't even that serious; he stole someones car, went drunk driving, and totaled it. Everyone makes mistakes. He's a recovering alcoholic. The way he stays away from alcohol is compensating with weed. Sometimes you gotta think outside the box. No car and no license. But no one's perfect right?
Alicia: Back in college I used to date manipulative and controlling men, but Dennis is different. He told me before we could get serious I needed to get a job, financially establish myself, and learn to live on my own. When I finally found my own place he told me his lease was up and he was moving in. Then he told me decorations he didn't like in my apartment that I should get rid of. He says I don't spend enough time with him and wants me to quit the league I'm president of. The other day he told me I was taking him to the airport, but wouldn't give me any flight details until a few hours before so I had to sit around waiting. He's just trying to help give me some positive direction and we're both happy when I listen to him.
Melissa: I've been dating my daughter's orthodontist for a couple of weeks now. I don't think it'll get awkward though.being a single mom limits my dating pool, but he's divorced and has kids of his own too. He's about twenty years older than me and told me on our first date that he wants me to stop taking birth control so we can have a baby together. I'm in love, so I think I'm going to do it!
Heather: There's this club I like to go to with my girls. The bouncer caught my eye and made sure my friends knew all about it. We started having sex on the downlow because he's private and doesn't want people knowing his bussiness. Then I found out he has a girlfriend, went public with her,and she was one of my friends! I got the upper hand though because even though he's dating her, he's still having sex with me.
Sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a good backhand from our friends.
Interpretations
***Names have been changed to protect the not so innocent****
Dear Katie,
Yesterday you attacked my character via email. Something I had been doing for a while had gotten underneath your skin and instead of approaching me face to face like an adult so we can discuss this, you verbally assaulted me via email like the coward you are. You felt I was speaking about you and your family in derogatory terms when I stated "I admire you and your situation."
To me "situation" is not an inherently bad word. This is in fact a word that my friends, my family, and myself use on a fairly regular basis to refer to a multitude of scenarios. The key is to know who is saying it and why they are saying it to understand what context it's ebing used it. This is a concept that seems to elude you. Clearly when someone tells you they admire you they must be putting you down? Or at least that's how you see it because "admire" is such an ugly/dirty word. Since you seem to be prejudice to "situation" I'll give you some examples:
When asking about what plans are going on that night... "So what's the situation?"
When asking for an update "What's the latest situation?"
When describing something I'm experiencing good/bad/other "Here's the situation..."
You may even recall a TV show we both watch where a guy refers to himself as "The Situation". I highly doubt he's referring to himself in a derogatory fashion.
When I pointed out that I don't look down on you based on how often I compliment and praise you, you questioned the intention of my compliments therefore implying I may be insincere. This has offended me. Then after I apologized several times for an OBVIOUS MISUNDERSTANDING you stated "You are not who I thought you were. I thought you were a compassionate person who I could talk to, clearly I was wrong."
Since you are so convinced I am a disingenuous, phony, and two faced person yet you had zero evidence to provide when I asked you for it...let me provide some examples for you.
1A. The second time we ever hung out YOU invited ME out for drinks. Not only did you pick me up two hours later than we had previously discussed, but on your way to come pick me up you had the audacity to ask me to lend you $20. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but when Person A asks Person B out, is it okay for Person A to then ask Person B to pay for it? I lent you the money assuming it was a one time thing but boy was I wrong.
B. After spending a wonderful Saturday together, you text me 8:30 at night and ask to borrow $20. Since you are currently without a car, I woudl ahve to drive out to you. You explain that you need to get juice for your kids and your daughter wants to go to the movies with her friends. I explain to you I'm at home in my pajamas relaxing with my pets. I'd have to put the pets away, get some clothes on, drive to an ATM, and then drive to your house to give you the money. Obviously this is a major inconvenience for me...your response is "So can you do it?" Some words come to mind: selfish and inconsiderate being two of them. I tell you "no".
C. You make lunch plans with a friend but realize you don't have money to pay for yourself. You ask me to borrow $5. Not only is this the third time in a one month period you've asked me for money, but it's for a lunch you didn't even invite me to. After delaying in giving you a response because I'm so offended, you send me a nasty email about how I left you hanging. I say "no" to this request.
D. The fourth and final request for money is the weekend after we went to an amusement park. You ask for $20 because you have no gas in your car. I tell you "no". I'm still trying to figure out how I turned into a potential ATM for you. I should have never said "yes" that first time because I set up a precedence for you to think you can ask me on a regular basis.
2. You confided in me that someone you trusted had spread rumors about you and caused a lot of unnecessary drama between you and some of your co-workers. You were hurt by this person's actions. You even have colorful words for what you thought of this person. Yet on a daily basis I see the two of you talking, laughing, hanging out. You explain to me she's just a surface level friend, you'll be social with her but won't trust her again. You're right, I'M the disingenuous, two faced, phony one.
3.You give me $5 and ask me to drive down the road to go get your family some ice cream. Your toddler wants to go with me, but I explain I don't have a car seat. You say it's okay because it's just down the street. After the fact I find out from friends and family that I could have gotten fined, a ticket, or even possibly arrested for child endangerment. Thank you for once again thinking of someone besides yourself, oh wait you didn't! And when you claim to be a super mom who puts your kids above all others, you put your child's life in danger for ice cream. You have been in the car with me twice, so hwo do you know what kind of driver I am?
We have this beautiful thing called free will. You are completely within your rights to think or say whatever you want about me no matter how delusional it is. You can make a character assessment based on the misinterpretation of a word. Thankfully I have actual examples of who you are on my side. You did me a favor once and for all proving why I don't need someone like you in my life.
Good Luck and Good Riddance.
Laura
Dear Katie,
Yesterday you attacked my character via email. Something I had been doing for a while had gotten underneath your skin and instead of approaching me face to face like an adult so we can discuss this, you verbally assaulted me via email like the coward you are. You felt I was speaking about you and your family in derogatory terms when I stated "I admire you and your situation."
To me "situation" is not an inherently bad word. This is in fact a word that my friends, my family, and myself use on a fairly regular basis to refer to a multitude of scenarios. The key is to know who is saying it and why they are saying it to understand what context it's ebing used it. This is a concept that seems to elude you. Clearly when someone tells you they admire you they must be putting you down? Or at least that's how you see it because "admire" is such an ugly/dirty word. Since you seem to be prejudice to "situation" I'll give you some examples:
When asking about what plans are going on that night... "So what's the situation?"
When asking for an update "What's the latest situation?"
When describing something I'm experiencing good/bad/other "Here's the situation..."
You may even recall a TV show we both watch where a guy refers to himself as "The Situation". I highly doubt he's referring to himself in a derogatory fashion.
When I pointed out that I don't look down on you based on how often I compliment and praise you, you questioned the intention of my compliments therefore implying I may be insincere. This has offended me. Then after I apologized several times for an OBVIOUS MISUNDERSTANDING you stated "You are not who I thought you were. I thought you were a compassionate person who I could talk to, clearly I was wrong."
Since you are so convinced I am a disingenuous, phony, and two faced person yet you had zero evidence to provide when I asked you for it...let me provide some examples for you.
1A. The second time we ever hung out YOU invited ME out for drinks. Not only did you pick me up two hours later than we had previously discussed, but on your way to come pick me up you had the audacity to ask me to lend you $20. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but when Person A asks Person B out, is it okay for Person A to then ask Person B to pay for it? I lent you the money assuming it was a one time thing but boy was I wrong.
B. After spending a wonderful Saturday together, you text me 8:30 at night and ask to borrow $20. Since you are currently without a car, I woudl ahve to drive out to you. You explain that you need to get juice for your kids and your daughter wants to go to the movies with her friends. I explain to you I'm at home in my pajamas relaxing with my pets. I'd have to put the pets away, get some clothes on, drive to an ATM, and then drive to your house to give you the money. Obviously this is a major inconvenience for me...your response is "So can you do it?" Some words come to mind: selfish and inconsiderate being two of them. I tell you "no".
C. You make lunch plans with a friend but realize you don't have money to pay for yourself. You ask me to borrow $5. Not only is this the third time in a one month period you've asked me for money, but it's for a lunch you didn't even invite me to. After delaying in giving you a response because I'm so offended, you send me a nasty email about how I left you hanging. I say "no" to this request.
D. The fourth and final request for money is the weekend after we went to an amusement park. You ask for $20 because you have no gas in your car. I tell you "no". I'm still trying to figure out how I turned into a potential ATM for you. I should have never said "yes" that first time because I set up a precedence for you to think you can ask me on a regular basis.
2. You confided in me that someone you trusted had spread rumors about you and caused a lot of unnecessary drama between you and some of your co-workers. You were hurt by this person's actions. You even have colorful words for what you thought of this person. Yet on a daily basis I see the two of you talking, laughing, hanging out. You explain to me she's just a surface level friend, you'll be social with her but won't trust her again. You're right, I'M the disingenuous, two faced, phony one.
3.You give me $5 and ask me to drive down the road to go get your family some ice cream. Your toddler wants to go with me, but I explain I don't have a car seat. You say it's okay because it's just down the street. After the fact I find out from friends and family that I could have gotten fined, a ticket, or even possibly arrested for child endangerment. Thank you for once again thinking of someone besides yourself, oh wait you didn't! And when you claim to be a super mom who puts your kids above all others, you put your child's life in danger for ice cream. You have been in the car with me twice, so hwo do you know what kind of driver I am?
We have this beautiful thing called free will. You are completely within your rights to think or say whatever you want about me no matter how delusional it is. You can make a character assessment based on the misinterpretation of a word. Thankfully I have actual examples of who you are on my side. You did me a favor once and for all proving why I don't need someone like you in my life.
Good Luck and Good Riddance.
Laura
Fresh Wounds
This morning I got a private message on Facebook from his mom. She told me he had moved to Utah and hoped I was well. It opened the barely healed wound right back up. I can't be mad at her though, you see she's socially retarded and honestly doesn't get that I can't have anything to do with her son anymore. Even the mention of his name has an effect on me. Time will make things easier but right now its only been a few weeks.
The proper reaction would have been to delete her message without responding. Instead I text his friend Kevin with a parade of questions: Why did he go to Utah? How did he get out there? Was he still the best man at his friend's wedding a couple weeks ago?
My friend Ilana tells me I need to stop communicating with my ex's friends and mom. She's right. It's not healthy for me. Why should I care about him anymore when he has shown no interest in me or my well being? He's the one who broke my heart. He's the one who name called, belittled, and berated me not only when we broke up but at various points throughout our relationship as well.
And I had moved on, or so I thought I had. Immediately upon ending the relationship I blocked him on Facebook and through my cell phone carrier. I wanted a clean break. You see I'm the queen of painfully dragging shit out. It took me three years to realize my marriage was toxic before I finally grew a pair and took action. Roller coaster break up then make up then break up again girl. An ugly pattern I finally had to put a stop to.
Here's the problem....my huge heart. I have never in my life been able to just let go of or turn off my feelings. When I let someone into my heart it's nearly impossible to evict them completely. I care way too much about people who couldn't give two shits about me. My ex isn't sitting around crying over me. He isn't torturing himself over what went wrong. He closed that door, like they all do, and moved on to another situation more to his liking probably with another girl.
I don't trust men romantically. I'm not some evil man hater by any means. Fortunately I have three close male friends, a father, and a brother who have shown me time and time again that there are wonderful men out there. Not only have they been amazing towards me, but equally amazing to their leading ladies as well. I have just had the worst luck in my own love life and I take complete responsibility. No one forces me to date these men, that choice rests completely on my shoulders. I dive in head first before I get to know who they really are. Not so surprisingly it blows up in my face every time when they turn out to be a complete fabrication of who I actually thought they were. I ignore blaring red flags, I settle for less than what I want or deserve, I make bad choices....the same bad choices over and over and over again.
This is why I need to be on my own. This is why I need time to build myself up. This is why I need time to heal. This is why I have decided to bow out of the dating world until I'm good and ready, until I can trust my own instincts and judgments.
The proper reaction would have been to delete her message without responding. Instead I text his friend Kevin with a parade of questions: Why did he go to Utah? How did he get out there? Was he still the best man at his friend's wedding a couple weeks ago?
My friend Ilana tells me I need to stop communicating with my ex's friends and mom. She's right. It's not healthy for me. Why should I care about him anymore when he has shown no interest in me or my well being? He's the one who broke my heart. He's the one who name called, belittled, and berated me not only when we broke up but at various points throughout our relationship as well.
And I had moved on, or so I thought I had. Immediately upon ending the relationship I blocked him on Facebook and through my cell phone carrier. I wanted a clean break. You see I'm the queen of painfully dragging shit out. It took me three years to realize my marriage was toxic before I finally grew a pair and took action. Roller coaster break up then make up then break up again girl. An ugly pattern I finally had to put a stop to.
Here's the problem....my huge heart. I have never in my life been able to just let go of or turn off my feelings. When I let someone into my heart it's nearly impossible to evict them completely. I care way too much about people who couldn't give two shits about me. My ex isn't sitting around crying over me. He isn't torturing himself over what went wrong. He closed that door, like they all do, and moved on to another situation more to his liking probably with another girl.
I don't trust men romantically. I'm not some evil man hater by any means. Fortunately I have three close male friends, a father, and a brother who have shown me time and time again that there are wonderful men out there. Not only have they been amazing towards me, but equally amazing to their leading ladies as well. I have just had the worst luck in my own love life and I take complete responsibility. No one forces me to date these men, that choice rests completely on my shoulders. I dive in head first before I get to know who they really are. Not so surprisingly it blows up in my face every time when they turn out to be a complete fabrication of who I actually thought they were. I ignore blaring red flags, I settle for less than what I want or deserve, I make bad choices....the same bad choices over and over and over again.
This is why I need to be on my own. This is why I need time to build myself up. This is why I need time to heal. This is why I have decided to bow out of the dating world until I'm good and ready, until I can trust my own instincts and judgments.
Mug Thieves and Integrity
This is a blog whose pure intention is to rant. Feeling a bit drowsy at work I decided to get my quick caffeine fix and found that someone had stolen my mug. There is nothing particularly special about this mug, it was a freebie I got my first day working at MVP, but it's the principal. Someone went into my desk, riffled through my things, and decided my mug was now their mug. Really?!
What's wrong with people? Were you suffering that badly from a lack of caffeine and lack of cup that you went through my drawers and took mine? There is a key to my desk which I will be using from now on to insure other shit isn't stolen. You may wonder why I haven't been using my key all along and it's because I don't leave anything of real value in my desk. Now I know there are people/a person who goes through people's desks...the key will be fully utilized.
Apparently at this job people steal lunches too! We have a break room with a giant fridge that most people put their lunches, snacks, ect in. How sad that someone would take someone else's lunch? Are things really that bad? To be here the person has to be fully employed, so they can't afford something from the vending machine? How pathetic! Obviously their low morals have put them in a position where they have no friends to share food with or borrow a couple bucks from. I would rather go hungry than steal from someone else.
I would like to thank Dolly who gave me her spare mug. She is a kind individual. As for the person who stole my mug, I hope whatever you drank in my mug gave you explosive diarrhea.
What's wrong with people? Were you suffering that badly from a lack of caffeine and lack of cup that you went through my drawers and took mine? There is a key to my desk which I will be using from now on to insure other shit isn't stolen. You may wonder why I haven't been using my key all along and it's because I don't leave anything of real value in my desk. Now I know there are people/a person who goes through people's desks...the key will be fully utilized.
Apparently at this job people steal lunches too! We have a break room with a giant fridge that most people put their lunches, snacks, ect in. How sad that someone would take someone else's lunch? Are things really that bad? To be here the person has to be fully employed, so they can't afford something from the vending machine? How pathetic! Obviously their low morals have put them in a position where they have no friends to share food with or borrow a couple bucks from. I would rather go hungry than steal from someone else.
I would like to thank Dolly who gave me her spare mug. She is a kind individual. As for the person who stole my mug, I hope whatever you drank in my mug gave you explosive diarrhea.
The Price of Beauty
Last spring, in an effort to revamp my social life and make new friends, I started a book club at work. Our most recent read Lisa See's "Snow Flower and the Secret Fan" explores the friendship between two women in nineteenth century China over the course of several decades. I was educated on foot binding.
Apparently the size and shape of a woman's foot can determine how marriageable she is. She can even jump social classes from lowly farmer to diplomat based on the beauty of her feet. The process starts when the girl is about six years old, feet are wound tightly for a year or two, a special diet is involved and 8/10 toes must break to reform.
Painful and some might classify it as downright barbaric. It got me thinking, how every culture has their thing. But despite the variations from one culture to the next, the burden is always placed on the woman. I'll be the first to admit I'm no anthropology expert, but I feel well versed in what America considers beautiful.
In America thinness is valued above all else, even more so than a pretty face. There is no such thing as thin enough apparently. No wonder we have such a high rise in eating disorders among young women. As a child I was constantly berated for being fat, when I was only 5-10 pounds overweight most of my childhood. That would be chunky, chubby, ect....not the giant heifer I was painted out to be.
Think about all the products designed to "fix us". Control top panties, girdles, various forms of make-up, hair styling/coloring/straightening/curling/shimmering products, cleavage enhancing bras, thong under ware to hide pantylines, high heals, manicures and pedicures, tummy tucks/face lifts/liposuction/botox....wow that's exhausting just thinking about all that crap. Disheartening that I don't know a single woman who hasn't used some of the things including myself. How much money has been spent trying to become more beautiful in the eye of teh beholder that is America?
Do we do it for ourselves? Do we do it to attract a mate? Do we do it to seek approval from our peers? Why are we fed bullshit "It's what's on the inside that counts" but all we're told is what's wrong with us on the outside. There are countless beauty magazines purely designed to make us feel ugly. And I can't recall the last time I heard a man shout "Woah, look at the personality on her!"
Look at hollywood. How many leading ladies are paired with leading men that are less than steller looking?
I am so grateful based on my Visitor Count that people are actually reading my blog, especially after my long absence and inconsistent appearances before that. I can also appreciate that not everyone likes to comment, but today I'm asking for some feedback. What do you do in the name of beauty? Why do you do it? And do you think we set ourselves up to fail when we put such unreasonable standards on ourselves?
Apparently the size and shape of a woman's foot can determine how marriageable she is. She can even jump social classes from lowly farmer to diplomat based on the beauty of her feet. The process starts when the girl is about six years old, feet are wound tightly for a year or two, a special diet is involved and 8/10 toes must break to reform.
Painful and some might classify it as downright barbaric. It got me thinking, how every culture has their thing. But despite the variations from one culture to the next, the burden is always placed on the woman. I'll be the first to admit I'm no anthropology expert, but I feel well versed in what America considers beautiful.
In America thinness is valued above all else, even more so than a pretty face. There is no such thing as thin enough apparently. No wonder we have such a high rise in eating disorders among young women. As a child I was constantly berated for being fat, when I was only 5-10 pounds overweight most of my childhood. That would be chunky, chubby, ect....not the giant heifer I was painted out to be.
Think about all the products designed to "fix us". Control top panties, girdles, various forms of make-up, hair styling/coloring/straightening/curling/shimmering products, cleavage enhancing bras, thong under ware to hide pantylines, high heals, manicures and pedicures, tummy tucks/face lifts/liposuction/botox....wow that's exhausting just thinking about all that crap. Disheartening that I don't know a single woman who hasn't used some of the things including myself. How much money has been spent trying to become more beautiful in the eye of teh beholder that is America?
Do we do it for ourselves? Do we do it to attract a mate? Do we do it to seek approval from our peers? Why are we fed bullshit "It's what's on the inside that counts" but all we're told is what's wrong with us on the outside. There are countless beauty magazines purely designed to make us feel ugly. And I can't recall the last time I heard a man shout "Woah, look at the personality on her!"
Look at hollywood. How many leading ladies are paired with leading men that are less than steller looking?
I am so grateful based on my Visitor Count that people are actually reading my blog, especially after my long absence and inconsistent appearances before that. I can also appreciate that not everyone likes to comment, but today I'm asking for some feedback. What do you do in the name of beauty? Why do you do it? And do you think we set ourselves up to fail when we put such unreasonable standards on ourselves?
Natural Disasters
Hurricane. Tsunami. Droughts. Floods. Famines. We can all name our share of natural disasters. Most of us can name some of the recent past. Some of us were personally affected by them. My personal natural disaster was the end of my marriage.
He was my friend first; someone I could talk to about anything, someone I could depend on, someone who accepted me for who I really was and not what they wanted me to be. We made each other laugh. He was intelligent, compassionate, close to his family (a pretty wonderful family too), and only had eyes for me. It seemed like he was almost everything I could want in a partner. He was my lover AND my best friend.
We were both such passionate people. There was no such thing as a small disagreement, we had full blown screaming arguments. I'll admit I fought dirty, often hitting below the belt with ugly insults. He did it too, sometimes, but not nearly as often as I did. He didn't deserve my hurtful words. For this I have apologized, post-divorce, many times.
The passion was amazing when it came to physical acts. We snuggled constantly, kissed, and had a very active sex life.
Shortly after we got married he lost interest. He still won't tell me why, claims he doesn't know. He may really not know. But he no longer wanted to spend time with me; he preferred work, poker with friends, football/TV shows. Basically anything was better than being around me. The laughter had seriously diminished. I was no longer his favorite person and if I'm being completely honest with myself I may have never been.
I've posted previously about his faults in the collapse of our marriage, now it's time to take serious inflection and examine how I contributed to the downward spiral. I mentioned that he accepted me for me, but I never fully accepted him for him. There were things about him, it's not even fair to call them flaws, but just things about him that I was less than crazy about. The things themselves don't really matter, I should have realized they are an inherent part of who he is and to change them would have been to change him.
I think I broke his spirit. I am a person with various health issues that become a bit of a burden on the people who choose to be in my life. Being my husband, he experienced the brunt of them. It's true he knew what he was getting into when he married me, but I think after a while it was too much to shoulder. He is one of the most compassionate, kind-hearted, and loving people I have ever met in my life. Simply put everyone has a limit and I believe unintentionally I pushed him past his. I resented him for a long time both during and after the marriage for no longer loving me. Now I'm beginning to understand just how it all happened.
Sometimes love and good intentions just aren't enough. We were two people who cared greatly for one another despite what was glaringly obvious to others....we just weren't right for each other. We came from some different backgrounds, had some conflicting values and beliefs, and for me I wanted things from him that he was just not able to give or be.
It hurts each and every day. A dream died. A beautiful home being foreclosed on. My never being able to see my nephews, HIS nephews, ever again. Losing a sense of who I was because he was a part of who I was. Scared if I'll ever find IT. Most of all I'm grateful for all the things he allowed me to learn about myself and what I really want. I hope he find what he's looking for too.
He was my friend first; someone I could talk to about anything, someone I could depend on, someone who accepted me for who I really was and not what they wanted me to be. We made each other laugh. He was intelligent, compassionate, close to his family (a pretty wonderful family too), and only had eyes for me. It seemed like he was almost everything I could want in a partner. He was my lover AND my best friend.
We were both such passionate people. There was no such thing as a small disagreement, we had full blown screaming arguments. I'll admit I fought dirty, often hitting below the belt with ugly insults. He did it too, sometimes, but not nearly as often as I did. He didn't deserve my hurtful words. For this I have apologized, post-divorce, many times.
The passion was amazing when it came to physical acts. We snuggled constantly, kissed, and had a very active sex life.
Shortly after we got married he lost interest. He still won't tell me why, claims he doesn't know. He may really not know. But he no longer wanted to spend time with me; he preferred work, poker with friends, football/TV shows. Basically anything was better than being around me. The laughter had seriously diminished. I was no longer his favorite person and if I'm being completely honest with myself I may have never been.
I've posted previously about his faults in the collapse of our marriage, now it's time to take serious inflection and examine how I contributed to the downward spiral. I mentioned that he accepted me for me, but I never fully accepted him for him. There were things about him, it's not even fair to call them flaws, but just things about him that I was less than crazy about. The things themselves don't really matter, I should have realized they are an inherent part of who he is and to change them would have been to change him.
I think I broke his spirit. I am a person with various health issues that become a bit of a burden on the people who choose to be in my life. Being my husband, he experienced the brunt of them. It's true he knew what he was getting into when he married me, but I think after a while it was too much to shoulder. He is one of the most compassionate, kind-hearted, and loving people I have ever met in my life. Simply put everyone has a limit and I believe unintentionally I pushed him past his. I resented him for a long time both during and after the marriage for no longer loving me. Now I'm beginning to understand just how it all happened.
Sometimes love and good intentions just aren't enough. We were two people who cared greatly for one another despite what was glaringly obvious to others....we just weren't right for each other. We came from some different backgrounds, had some conflicting values and beliefs, and for me I wanted things from him that he was just not able to give or be.
It hurts each and every day. A dream died. A beautiful home being foreclosed on. My never being able to see my nephews, HIS nephews, ever again. Losing a sense of who I was because he was a part of who I was. Scared if I'll ever find IT. Most of all I'm grateful for all the things he allowed me to learn about myself and what I really want. I hope he find what he's looking for too.
21st Century Disney
We all grew up with these movies and most of us probably loved them, but let's take a moment to dissect them and put them into 21st century dating. Imagine the following conversations amongst friends:
Cinderella
Man: I'm in love!
Friend: Tell me about her
Man: I might her last night at this club. She was the hottest chick up in there, everyone was checking her out.
Friend: What's she look like?
Man: I don't remember.
Friend: Okay, what's her name?
Man: I don't know.
Friend: What do you know about her?
Man: She's a real good dancer. (pulls a single shoe out of knapsack) And she's got good taste in shoes.
Friend: Why the hell do you have her shoe?
Man:She bolted right at midnight, left so quick she left her shoe behind.
Friend: Did you check if she's got an ankle bracelet? Sounds like this chick is on parole. Probably trying to make curfew.
Man: I don't know we didn't really talk. But she's the one.
Friend: Okay bro, what's the plan?
Man: I'm going door to door with this shoe to see who it belongs to.
right......psycho stalker much?!
The Little Mermaid
Ariel: I have to tell you about this guy I'm in love with.
Friend: Details please.
Ariel: I spotted him at a party last night. He's so sexy. Wavy brown hair, deep set eyes, and a body I want to do naughty things too.
Friend: Your dad let you out last night?
Ariel: No I snuck out, it was a college party. He wouldn't have let me go.
Friend: So what happened?
Ariel: Well he got real drunk and I helped him out to the curb where he threw up and passed out. All his friends had bailed on him. Then I sang to him.
Friend: You did what?
Ariel: I sang to him. He's the man of my dreams.
Friend: Ariel you're only sixteen, you know you're dad won't let you date until you're out of high school.
Ariel: I know, that's why I'm moving out; changing my name, and going to follow him until he falls in love with me too. I would sell my soul to the devil to be with him.
Friend: That's crazy. What do you even know about him?
Ariel: That's he's a hot college guy, have you not been listening to me?!
Enough said there....
Sleeping Beauty
Man: I have a serious problem with this girl I'm into.
Friend: What's going on?
Man: She's in a coma.
Friend: What happened?
Man: She has a problem with needles.
Friend: You need to stay away from that shit.
Man: But I love her.
Friend: What do you even know about this chick?
Man: That she's in a coma because of needles.
That one was short and sweet.
Snow White
Friend: We need to have a serious talk about your girlfriend.
Man: Isn't she great? Beautiful pale skin, dark hair.
Friend: She's got such white skin because she never leaves home. She's too busy sleeping in all her roommates beds.
Man: Hey, just because a girl lives with seven guys doesn't mean she's sleazy.
Friend: Okay how about the fact that she talks to animals.
Man: She's sensitive and into nature.
Friend: Dude, she thinks that they talk back to her. That's fucked up.
Man: You don't know her like I do.
Friend: What about all her family drama? Her mom put her into anaphilactic shock by giving her a shitload of peanuts. She knew her kid had peanut allergies.
Man: That was a misunderstanding.
Cinderella
Man: I'm in love!
Friend: Tell me about her
Man: I might her last night at this club. She was the hottest chick up in there, everyone was checking her out.
Friend: What's she look like?
Man: I don't remember.
Friend: Okay, what's her name?
Man: I don't know.
Friend: What do you know about her?
Man: She's a real good dancer. (pulls a single shoe out of knapsack) And she's got good taste in shoes.
Friend: Why the hell do you have her shoe?
Man:She bolted right at midnight, left so quick she left her shoe behind.
Friend: Did you check if she's got an ankle bracelet? Sounds like this chick is on parole. Probably trying to make curfew.
Man: I don't know we didn't really talk. But she's the one.
Friend: Okay bro, what's the plan?
Man: I'm going door to door with this shoe to see who it belongs to.
right......psycho stalker much?!
The Little Mermaid
Ariel: I have to tell you about this guy I'm in love with.
Friend: Details please.
Ariel: I spotted him at a party last night. He's so sexy. Wavy brown hair, deep set eyes, and a body I want to do naughty things too.
Friend: Your dad let you out last night?
Ariel: No I snuck out, it was a college party. He wouldn't have let me go.
Friend: So what happened?
Ariel: Well he got real drunk and I helped him out to the curb where he threw up and passed out. All his friends had bailed on him. Then I sang to him.
Friend: You did what?
Ariel: I sang to him. He's the man of my dreams.
Friend: Ariel you're only sixteen, you know you're dad won't let you date until you're out of high school.
Ariel: I know, that's why I'm moving out; changing my name, and going to follow him until he falls in love with me too. I would sell my soul to the devil to be with him.
Friend: That's crazy. What do you even know about him?
Ariel: That's he's a hot college guy, have you not been listening to me?!
Enough said there....
Sleeping Beauty
Man: I have a serious problem with this girl I'm into.
Friend: What's going on?
Man: She's in a coma.
Friend: What happened?
Man: She has a problem with needles.
Friend: You need to stay away from that shit.
Man: But I love her.
Friend: What do you even know about this chick?
Man: That she's in a coma because of needles.
That one was short and sweet.
Snow White
Friend: We need to have a serious talk about your girlfriend.
Man: Isn't she great? Beautiful pale skin, dark hair.
Friend: She's got such white skin because she never leaves home. She's too busy sleeping in all her roommates beds.
Man: Hey, just because a girl lives with seven guys doesn't mean she's sleazy.
Friend: Okay how about the fact that she talks to animals.
Man: She's sensitive and into nature.
Friend: Dude, she thinks that they talk back to her. That's fucked up.
Man: You don't know her like I do.
Friend: What about all her family drama? Her mom put her into anaphilactic shock by giving her a shitload of peanuts. She knew her kid had peanut allergies.
Man: That was a misunderstanding.
Battle Wounds
A couple of month's back Beth was at an amusement park with some friends. It was probably in the 90's, so naturally she was wearing a tank top and some shorts. One of her friends without thinking took one look at this nasty scar on Beth's arm and shouted "Wow, what happened?!"
Beth went into shock and immediatly closed down mumbling, "I don't want to talk about it."
Most of the time She's very aware of her scars, especially that one, but there are brief moments in time where she actually manages to forget about them. Those moments are few and far between; they end with her falling flat on her face back into reality. The scars are in various parts of her body, mostly on my left side because she's right-handed. The first time Beth told her therapist she was a self-mutilator her therapist admonished her for making this her identity. Now Beth refers to herself as someone who mutilates, or rather used to.
Her first memory of doing it was when she was about eight years old. The scene of the crime was the bathroom of the babysitter's house. Beth was so overcome with emotions, bubbling over, head hurting, the tears flowing. Her tiny right hand scraped the skin off the back of her tiny left hand. Beth was too young to fully understand what she was doing or why I was doing it. But then the release afterwards. This was the beginning of an ugly addiction that would last more than two decades.
The most common misconception about people who mutilate is that they're suicidal. This is just not true. For Beth is was about matching the pain she felt on the inside with pain on the outside. You can't put some disinfectant and a band-aid on hurt feelings, but you can on a cut on your arm/leg/wherever. The world is full of people with addictions: cigarettes, alcohol, punching holes in the wall when they get mad, gambling, shopping, sex. While no addiction is healthy, all of the forementioned ones are much more socially acceptable then mutilating.
When Beth is consumed with so much emotion she can hardly breath, yes she does hypervetilate, this is her quick and easy fix. When Beth can't find the words or courage to reach out to those around her for help, this is how she expresses herself. When Beth feels so numb and she needs to feel alive again, this is what bring her back to the rest of the world.
She's been in and out of therapy since she was nine. Four inpatient hospitalizations. Countless people have walked out on her because they couldn't take her particular brand of crazy. And this is something she'll struggle with for the rest of her life. Although she's now learned much healthier coping mechanisms, this will always be her first urge. And unfortunately living full time in a padded room just isn't an option.
The best thing you can do for someone struggling with an addiction is to be their friend. Don't judge them, berate them, or feed into it. Unless you're a qualified medical professional, don't try to treat it either. Sometimes kind words and compassion are the best medicine for a fresh wound.
Every morning when Beth showers she gentle cleans each old wound. They remind her of what she's survived, how far she's come, and that dark place she refuses to go back to no matter what.
Beth went into shock and immediatly closed down mumbling, "I don't want to talk about it."
Most of the time She's very aware of her scars, especially that one, but there are brief moments in time where she actually manages to forget about them. Those moments are few and far between; they end with her falling flat on her face back into reality. The scars are in various parts of her body, mostly on my left side because she's right-handed. The first time Beth told her therapist she was a self-mutilator her therapist admonished her for making this her identity. Now Beth refers to herself as someone who mutilates, or rather used to.
Her first memory of doing it was when she was about eight years old. The scene of the crime was the bathroom of the babysitter's house. Beth was so overcome with emotions, bubbling over, head hurting, the tears flowing. Her tiny right hand scraped the skin off the back of her tiny left hand. Beth was too young to fully understand what she was doing or why I was doing it. But then the release afterwards. This was the beginning of an ugly addiction that would last more than two decades.
The most common misconception about people who mutilate is that they're suicidal. This is just not true. For Beth is was about matching the pain she felt on the inside with pain on the outside. You can't put some disinfectant and a band-aid on hurt feelings, but you can on a cut on your arm/leg/wherever. The world is full of people with addictions: cigarettes, alcohol, punching holes in the wall when they get mad, gambling, shopping, sex. While no addiction is healthy, all of the forementioned ones are much more socially acceptable then mutilating.
When Beth is consumed with so much emotion she can hardly breath, yes she does hypervetilate, this is her quick and easy fix. When Beth can't find the words or courage to reach out to those around her for help, this is how she expresses herself. When Beth feels so numb and she needs to feel alive again, this is what bring her back to the rest of the world.
She's been in and out of therapy since she was nine. Four inpatient hospitalizations. Countless people have walked out on her because they couldn't take her particular brand of crazy. And this is something she'll struggle with for the rest of her life. Although she's now learned much healthier coping mechanisms, this will always be her first urge. And unfortunately living full time in a padded room just isn't an option.
The best thing you can do for someone struggling with an addiction is to be their friend. Don't judge them, berate them, or feed into it. Unless you're a qualified medical professional, don't try to treat it either. Sometimes kind words and compassion are the best medicine for a fresh wound.
Every morning when Beth showers she gentle cleans each old wound. They remind her of what she's survived, how far she's come, and that dark place she refuses to go back to no matter what.
Men who break women down
It's like an epidemic. I can't even tell you how many amazing women let a no good man break their spirits.
It all goes back that bully mentality we learned about from our parents back in grade school. Bullies are miserable and insecure people who find happiness in bringing others down. When you're a kid you think yeah, yeah whatever. It still hurts when you're being cornered on a playground while others shout cruel things at you. There's also the concept that bullies are jeolous in some way of their victims. Who knows?!
Now maybe you don't quite grasp all this as a kid, but surely when you are an adult it would make more sense. That's just not always the case. I have seen countless college educated, independent, and career oriented women fall prey to men. Not just any kind of man, but usually men who are high school drop outs, drug addicts, ex-convict types. Why don't we know any better? I include myself in this group of women by the way.
For me it started with my first boyfriend Joe when I was sixteen years old. He set the precendence for all my future relationships. He was such a romantic: a single red rose every time we had a date, love poems that he mailed to me, serenading me "Brown-eyed Girl". I fell hard. It was a couple months in that he began with the violent outbursts both verbal and physical. Somehow he ingrained in my fragile little mind that I would never be worthy of a love without pain.
For years afterwards I dated men/little boys that used me, verbally and physically abused me, and threw me away once I was no longer any good to them. After each break up I swore to myself that I would never let it happen again. I wanted to hold out for the man who loved and cherished me the way deep down I knew I deserved. But the pattern continued.
It wasn't just me though. How many tear filled conversations with girlfriends of mine going through the same damn thing. We all exchanged the same sage words about how we continued to date beneath us, rushed things before we truly knew the guy, how we deserve someone as equally amazing as we are. Do we know better? Are we so desperate to be in someone's arms that it doesn't completely matter who those arms belong to? Why do we continue to devalue ourselves? Why do we seek a future with men that have such shady pasts?
After yet another break up and yet another failed promise to myself I question how much more my battered heart can take. Is he out there? Or maybe I just have to find the love I've been searching for in others within myself. I am vowing to stay single and abstinate while letting fate take teh reigns.
I have been repeating the following mantra 10 times a day for the past couple of weeks:
I am strong
I am smart
I am beautiful
I am worthy of love
Maybe the key is that we learn how to love and respect ourselves so that other people in our life can do the same.
It all goes back that bully mentality we learned about from our parents back in grade school. Bullies are miserable and insecure people who find happiness in bringing others down. When you're a kid you think yeah, yeah whatever. It still hurts when you're being cornered on a playground while others shout cruel things at you. There's also the concept that bullies are jeolous in some way of their victims. Who knows?!
Now maybe you don't quite grasp all this as a kid, but surely when you are an adult it would make more sense. That's just not always the case. I have seen countless college educated, independent, and career oriented women fall prey to men. Not just any kind of man, but usually men who are high school drop outs, drug addicts, ex-convict types. Why don't we know any better? I include myself in this group of women by the way.
For me it started with my first boyfriend Joe when I was sixteen years old. He set the precendence for all my future relationships. He was such a romantic: a single red rose every time we had a date, love poems that he mailed to me, serenading me "Brown-eyed Girl". I fell hard. It was a couple months in that he began with the violent outbursts both verbal and physical. Somehow he ingrained in my fragile little mind that I would never be worthy of a love without pain.
For years afterwards I dated men/little boys that used me, verbally and physically abused me, and threw me away once I was no longer any good to them. After each break up I swore to myself that I would never let it happen again. I wanted to hold out for the man who loved and cherished me the way deep down I knew I deserved. But the pattern continued.
It wasn't just me though. How many tear filled conversations with girlfriends of mine going through the same damn thing. We all exchanged the same sage words about how we continued to date beneath us, rushed things before we truly knew the guy, how we deserve someone as equally amazing as we are. Do we know better? Are we so desperate to be in someone's arms that it doesn't completely matter who those arms belong to? Why do we continue to devalue ourselves? Why do we seek a future with men that have such shady pasts?
After yet another break up and yet another failed promise to myself I question how much more my battered heart can take. Is he out there? Or maybe I just have to find the love I've been searching for in others within myself. I am vowing to stay single and abstinate while letting fate take teh reigns.
I have been repeating the following mantra 10 times a day for the past couple of weeks:
I am strong
I am smart
I am beautiful
I am worthy of love
Maybe the key is that we learn how to love and respect ourselves so that other people in our life can do the same.
The Girl Behind All The Quirks
The start of sixth grade meant many things: the intergration of three elemenatary schools into one stomping ground, hopefully the onset of puberty, switching classes for different subjects, and riding the bus.
After hours of laboring what to wear for the first day of school, this was the biggest decision I had to make at this point in my life, I settled on a denim skirt and tye-dyed t-shirt. My fashion sense was one of the many reasons I would never reach the inner circle of the popular kids. IThe night before I lay in bed with far too much adrenaline running through my veins to get any decent amount of sleep. Anyone who had met me for five minutes knew how boy crazy I was and now I got a shot at boys from Liberty and Upper Nyack as I was already over the boys from VC.
I digress, this isn't about fashion fau-paus or chasing boys, this story is about a person that left an imprint on my heart.
On a brisk September morning I climbed the school bus steps. This was so foreign to me aside from the occasional field trip I had taken in Elementary School. Frantically I plumped my tiny ass down in the first seat I saw of course at the very front the bus. I didn't want to hunt for something towards the back where the older kids sat. They key to surviving 6th grade, know your role. Mine was at the bottom of the totum pole.
As the bus started moving I eyed the girl I was sitting next to. Smooth caramel skin, extra long legs, and wild kinky hair. She was staring out the window. This was the only time in the course of our friendship she would be so quiet.
Who spoke to who first? When did we transform from strangers to aquainatnces to eventaully friends? I honestly don't remember those details. What I remember most was the meat of our friendship sandwhich. Yes, I realize that metaphor solidified my dork status and I'm okay with that.
The way the memories play back in my mind is a highlite real of the best and worst times. The black and white still shots I took of her while we walked the Nyack College campus on a drizzly summer day. The way she stood up for me when a fellow classmate threatened to beat the crap out of me because the boy she was crushing on liked me instead. How I held her in my arms that dark day she had a terrible aweful ugly fight with her mom. Her cats Nina and Blackie. The secret alcove she created behind her closet. The connection we shared for both being self mutilators to ease the emotional day to day pain. Countless sleepovers where we'd stayed up all night talking about complete bullshit, laughing, crying, and wishing for a better life or at least one different from the ones we had. The fights that two emotional roller coaster riders are bound to have as well as the make-ups.
Abby became my muse for countless poems and short stories. To this day I have never met someone so animated, raw, real, and honest. Abby was completely unafraid of who she was despite the fact that so many others were. There was a period of time in high school that she ran away from home and was gone for weeks. This is pre-everyone and their chimp has a cell phone era. I had no idea where she was or if she was okay. For years we had continued to share that same seat on the bus, but her spot remained vacant while she was MIA. Eventually she returned unscathed with very few details about what had happened. This disapearing and reappearing act continued for the remainder of our high school years.
People labled Abby weird, but that's because they never took the time to get to know the girl behind all the quirks. What amazed me most about her is how pure her heart stayed despite all the shit she was put through by family, so-called friends, and life.
The famous "they" say you hurt the ones you love the most. My understanding of that was two fold: you hurt the ones you love because you know they will be the most forgiving and compassionate of your ways. And the ones you love hurt you the most because you open up your heart to allow yourself to be vulnerable to them. I also believe there are different types of love that vary from romantic to familiar to friendship, but the love that existed between Abby and I was beyond definition.
There came a point where the love was too intense and I was too young to know how to deal with it so I ran away from it. I went off to college leaving the friendship behind with the rest of my childhood. My parents told me occassionally Abby would stop by dropping off little gifts. I told them to throw the gift away because I needed a clean break. Four years later when I realized just what I had walked away from she was gone. She had picked up and started a life elsewhere, location unknown.
People enter your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Even though Abby is no longer physically in my life her presence will remain a part of who I am forever.
After hours of laboring what to wear for the first day of school, this was the biggest decision I had to make at this point in my life, I settled on a denim skirt and tye-dyed t-shirt. My fashion sense was one of the many reasons I would never reach the inner circle of the popular kids. IThe night before I lay in bed with far too much adrenaline running through my veins to get any decent amount of sleep. Anyone who had met me for five minutes knew how boy crazy I was and now I got a shot at boys from Liberty and Upper Nyack as I was already over the boys from VC.
I digress, this isn't about fashion fau-paus or chasing boys, this story is about a person that left an imprint on my heart.
On a brisk September morning I climbed the school bus steps. This was so foreign to me aside from the occasional field trip I had taken in Elementary School. Frantically I plumped my tiny ass down in the first seat I saw of course at the very front the bus. I didn't want to hunt for something towards the back where the older kids sat. They key to surviving 6th grade, know your role. Mine was at the bottom of the totum pole.
As the bus started moving I eyed the girl I was sitting next to. Smooth caramel skin, extra long legs, and wild kinky hair. She was staring out the window. This was the only time in the course of our friendship she would be so quiet.
Who spoke to who first? When did we transform from strangers to aquainatnces to eventaully friends? I honestly don't remember those details. What I remember most was the meat of our friendship sandwhich. Yes, I realize that metaphor solidified my dork status and I'm okay with that.
The way the memories play back in my mind is a highlite real of the best and worst times. The black and white still shots I took of her while we walked the Nyack College campus on a drizzly summer day. The way she stood up for me when a fellow classmate threatened to beat the crap out of me because the boy she was crushing on liked me instead. How I held her in my arms that dark day she had a terrible aweful ugly fight with her mom. Her cats Nina and Blackie. The secret alcove she created behind her closet. The connection we shared for both being self mutilators to ease the emotional day to day pain. Countless sleepovers where we'd stayed up all night talking about complete bullshit, laughing, crying, and wishing for a better life or at least one different from the ones we had. The fights that two emotional roller coaster riders are bound to have as well as the make-ups.
Abby became my muse for countless poems and short stories. To this day I have never met someone so animated, raw, real, and honest. Abby was completely unafraid of who she was despite the fact that so many others were. There was a period of time in high school that she ran away from home and was gone for weeks. This is pre-everyone and their chimp has a cell phone era. I had no idea where she was or if she was okay. For years we had continued to share that same seat on the bus, but her spot remained vacant while she was MIA. Eventually she returned unscathed with very few details about what had happened. This disapearing and reappearing act continued for the remainder of our high school years.
People labled Abby weird, but that's because they never took the time to get to know the girl behind all the quirks. What amazed me most about her is how pure her heart stayed despite all the shit she was put through by family, so-called friends, and life.
The famous "they" say you hurt the ones you love the most. My understanding of that was two fold: you hurt the ones you love because you know they will be the most forgiving and compassionate of your ways. And the ones you love hurt you the most because you open up your heart to allow yourself to be vulnerable to them. I also believe there are different types of love that vary from romantic to familiar to friendship, but the love that existed between Abby and I was beyond definition.
There came a point where the love was too intense and I was too young to know how to deal with it so I ran away from it. I went off to college leaving the friendship behind with the rest of my childhood. My parents told me occassionally Abby would stop by dropping off little gifts. I told them to throw the gift away because I needed a clean break. Four years later when I realized just what I had walked away from she was gone. She had picked up and started a life elsewhere, location unknown.
People enter your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Even though Abby is no longer physically in my life her presence will remain a part of who I am forever.
Diluted Theories by Brandon
"Women won't date men under 6' tall. It all goes back to the caveman days and the hunter mentality. Women size up men to see who will be the best mate, those with larger stature get the first pick. These men are viewed as good hunters and providers for the women. Being that I'm only 5'5, I have to compensate somehow. So after I've been dating a girl for about a month I buy her a real expensive gift, something from Tiffani's usually, to show what a good provider I can be for her."
I just sat on the other end of the phone trying not to laugh. Brandon was 100% convinced that he had horrible luck with women because of his height. I would tend to disagree because I believe his trouble was rooted in his personality. Brandon was one of the most pessimistic, self deprecating, and whiney men I had ever met. He was also constantly seeking validation from complete strangers.
"I joined one of those dating websites, a free one because I'm not paying for that shit, and I've had terrible luck. I find matches that are both attractive and seem to have something in common with me. Then I carefully write out a thoughtful email to them making sure to include references to their profile so they know I read it and I'm not approaching them solely based on their pictures. The women don't respond to me! They should out of common courtesy email me back if they aren't interested, I deserve that much. They probably took one look at my profile, saw that I was 5'5 and decided they didn't want to date me. Do you know what I do to their lack of response? I send them a nasty email back 'Why are you on a dating website if you're not interested in meeting men to date? Do you know how rude you are not responding to my thoughtful email? Thanks for proving again just how shallow women are.'"
Brandon and I go way back. His younger brother was a classmate of mine since second grade. I know Brandon's whole family actually. But after high school we completely lost touch. Then the wonders of Facebook reconnected us a few years back. We chatted on there every day. He was a solid friend when I found myself unexpectedly unemployed.
The more we chatted, the more I learned what a negative person he is. He complained about everything: his job, his apartment, his lack of a social life, and his horrible luck with women. Because we were strictly platonic, he felt comfortable opening up to me about things he probably wouldn't say to a woman he had any sort of romantic interest in. He told me flat out on several occasions how bad he was in bed. Brandon said the evidence was in the fact that every girl he had ever been with either cheated on him, left him for another man, or both. Most guys I know tend to exaggerate about how amazing they are, so I felt like Brandon was doing the same thing about how awful he was.
The weekend that never should have happened...happened. I went down on a mini road trip to the city to visit Brandon. We were both nervous at first because we knew the point of my little visit was to have some "R" rated fun amongst two consenting adults. I don't know why I'm a magnet to bad kissers. Are my standards too high? Is it too much to want some slow, sensual, passionate kissing? Am I wrong to be put off by men who eat my face? I had rug burn from his beard on my face for days afterwards because the kissing was so rough. Several people pointed to the unsightly rash on my face. Let's just call this a foul ball.
As we started fooling around on his bed I noticed his pug was on the bed with us working steadily on a chew toy. I politely asked Brandon if he could put the dog in another room while we were having sex. He looked at me wide eyed and said, "Why? What's the big deal?" I'm not going to make any judgments here, okay I am, but I would safely say 9/10 women aren't into bestiality....This was strike #1
Strike #2 was the complete lack of foreplay on his behalf. My lips landed all over his body while he just laid there and enjoyed the show. My tits and pussy remained completely ignored until he thrust himself inside me. This hurt by the way since I wasn't the least bit wet. My tits still remained completely ignored. Just to give you a visual, I have juicy DD tits, so what a waste!
The final strike was that over the course of the weekend we had sex four times and I didn't orgasm even once. This has NEVER happened to me before. Sure I might have one off moment, but never that many in a row with the same guy. He had no idea where the g-spot or the clit were located; at least I assume by his complete lack to stimulate them. There were a couple points during sex where he just stopped in the middle and stared at me with this blank look on his face. After a couple of the most akward minutes of my life I asked him, "Are you done?"
He smiled and said, "No, why?"
Here is where I have to take responsibility. I knew what I was getting into. Brandon had forewarned me on countless occasions of how clueless he was sexually. What confuses me the most is how two people can be in the same room at the same time and be sharing an experience together, but have completely different outlooks? Surely the sex was bad for him too right? Apparently not. For weeks afterwards Brandon was texting me about what an amazing time he had and wanted to know when I could come visit again. I tried to do the polite thing and just come up with one excuse after another; that was until the fateful day when the worst thing happened.
He asked me point blank, "Was I bad in bed? I need you to be 100% brutally honest with me, I can take it. This will in no way affect our friendship."
I found myself at a crossroads where neither direction seemed particularly appealing. I could lie to him, placate him but what purpose would that serve? He's going to continue to do the same things to other women and eventually one will tell him the truth probably not nearly as nice as I would. Or I can take the high road and be honest. Maybe the honesty can help him become better. I think back to people telling me things I could improve upon myself, believe me the list is long, and although it hurt at the time I ended up being better for it in the end.
Deep breath. Be a real friend to this guy. I tell Brandon the truth. He asks for specifics. I give them to him: the sloppy kissing, the dog, the complete lack of foreplay, the awkward pauses, the lack of orgasms.
At first he seems to be really taking it in. he even thanks me. I feel as if I made the right choice. Then he doesn't talk to me for a few days. When he approaches me again he flips out on me.
"If you had any sense of decency at all then you would have lied. Obviously you were saying those things to bring me down so you could feel better about yourself. I have NEVER had any woman ever tell me I'm bad in bed. It's a fact that not all women have orgasms. And I got to thinking, there were two of us there so if the sex was bad then maybe it was you."
After years of experiencing his turbulent mood swings I've had enough. He asked me to be brutally honest and I gave him what he wanted. I suppose he expected me to exhault his sexual prowess, but I don't believe that would have been right. Much like after I gained thirty pounds of lard, a friend telling me I look fabulous. Um, not helpful. Tell me I'm a fat ass so I can drop the twinkies and do something about it!
This was my retort to Brandon's attack. "Women must have previously told you that you were bad in bed because YOU have been telling me for years that you were bad in bed. So don't acted all shocked that I agreed with your previous assesment. I KNOW it wasn't me because you told me repeatidly how amazing I was and were begging me for weeks to come down for a repeat adventure. And while not all women have orgasms all the time, I know me and I have orgasms. So Brandon, it wasn't me it was you. You asked for the truth and then were too much of a child to accept it. You can either use this information to improve yourself for future sexual experiences or fall into another bout of self depracation. The choice is yours."
Brandon and I are no longer friends. I don't regret what I did beacuse it opened my eyes to the kind of person he really is. Maybe he'll grow from all this, but I highly doubt it.
I just sat on the other end of the phone trying not to laugh. Brandon was 100% convinced that he had horrible luck with women because of his height. I would tend to disagree because I believe his trouble was rooted in his personality. Brandon was one of the most pessimistic, self deprecating, and whiney men I had ever met. He was also constantly seeking validation from complete strangers.
"I joined one of those dating websites, a free one because I'm not paying for that shit, and I've had terrible luck. I find matches that are both attractive and seem to have something in common with me. Then I carefully write out a thoughtful email to them making sure to include references to their profile so they know I read it and I'm not approaching them solely based on their pictures. The women don't respond to me! They should out of common courtesy email me back if they aren't interested, I deserve that much. They probably took one look at my profile, saw that I was 5'5 and decided they didn't want to date me. Do you know what I do to their lack of response? I send them a nasty email back 'Why are you on a dating website if you're not interested in meeting men to date? Do you know how rude you are not responding to my thoughtful email? Thanks for proving again just how shallow women are.'"
Brandon and I go way back. His younger brother was a classmate of mine since second grade. I know Brandon's whole family actually. But after high school we completely lost touch. Then the wonders of Facebook reconnected us a few years back. We chatted on there every day. He was a solid friend when I found myself unexpectedly unemployed.
The more we chatted, the more I learned what a negative person he is. He complained about everything: his job, his apartment, his lack of a social life, and his horrible luck with women. Because we were strictly platonic, he felt comfortable opening up to me about things he probably wouldn't say to a woman he had any sort of romantic interest in. He told me flat out on several occasions how bad he was in bed. Brandon said the evidence was in the fact that every girl he had ever been with either cheated on him, left him for another man, or both. Most guys I know tend to exaggerate about how amazing they are, so I felt like Brandon was doing the same thing about how awful he was.
The weekend that never should have happened...happened. I went down on a mini road trip to the city to visit Brandon. We were both nervous at first because we knew the point of my little visit was to have some "R" rated fun amongst two consenting adults. I don't know why I'm a magnet to bad kissers. Are my standards too high? Is it too much to want some slow, sensual, passionate kissing? Am I wrong to be put off by men who eat my face? I had rug burn from his beard on my face for days afterwards because the kissing was so rough. Several people pointed to the unsightly rash on my face. Let's just call this a foul ball.
As we started fooling around on his bed I noticed his pug was on the bed with us working steadily on a chew toy. I politely asked Brandon if he could put the dog in another room while we were having sex. He looked at me wide eyed and said, "Why? What's the big deal?" I'm not going to make any judgments here, okay I am, but I would safely say 9/10 women aren't into bestiality....This was strike #1
Strike #2 was the complete lack of foreplay on his behalf. My lips landed all over his body while he just laid there and enjoyed the show. My tits and pussy remained completely ignored until he thrust himself inside me. This hurt by the way since I wasn't the least bit wet. My tits still remained completely ignored. Just to give you a visual, I have juicy DD tits, so what a waste!
The final strike was that over the course of the weekend we had sex four times and I didn't orgasm even once. This has NEVER happened to me before. Sure I might have one off moment, but never that many in a row with the same guy. He had no idea where the g-spot or the clit were located; at least I assume by his complete lack to stimulate them. There were a couple points during sex where he just stopped in the middle and stared at me with this blank look on his face. After a couple of the most akward minutes of my life I asked him, "Are you done?"
He smiled and said, "No, why?"
Here is where I have to take responsibility. I knew what I was getting into. Brandon had forewarned me on countless occasions of how clueless he was sexually. What confuses me the most is how two people can be in the same room at the same time and be sharing an experience together, but have completely different outlooks? Surely the sex was bad for him too right? Apparently not. For weeks afterwards Brandon was texting me about what an amazing time he had and wanted to know when I could come visit again. I tried to do the polite thing and just come up with one excuse after another; that was until the fateful day when the worst thing happened.
He asked me point blank, "Was I bad in bed? I need you to be 100% brutally honest with me, I can take it. This will in no way affect our friendship."
I found myself at a crossroads where neither direction seemed particularly appealing. I could lie to him, placate him but what purpose would that serve? He's going to continue to do the same things to other women and eventually one will tell him the truth probably not nearly as nice as I would. Or I can take the high road and be honest. Maybe the honesty can help him become better. I think back to people telling me things I could improve upon myself, believe me the list is long, and although it hurt at the time I ended up being better for it in the end.
Deep breath. Be a real friend to this guy. I tell Brandon the truth. He asks for specifics. I give them to him: the sloppy kissing, the dog, the complete lack of foreplay, the awkward pauses, the lack of orgasms.
At first he seems to be really taking it in. he even thanks me. I feel as if I made the right choice. Then he doesn't talk to me for a few days. When he approaches me again he flips out on me.
"If you had any sense of decency at all then you would have lied. Obviously you were saying those things to bring me down so you could feel better about yourself. I have NEVER had any woman ever tell me I'm bad in bed. It's a fact that not all women have orgasms. And I got to thinking, there were two of us there so if the sex was bad then maybe it was you."
After years of experiencing his turbulent mood swings I've had enough. He asked me to be brutally honest and I gave him what he wanted. I suppose he expected me to exhault his sexual prowess, but I don't believe that would have been right. Much like after I gained thirty pounds of lard, a friend telling me I look fabulous. Um, not helpful. Tell me I'm a fat ass so I can drop the twinkies and do something about it!
This was my retort to Brandon's attack. "Women must have previously told you that you were bad in bed because YOU have been telling me for years that you were bad in bed. So don't acted all shocked that I agreed with your previous assesment. I KNOW it wasn't me because you told me repeatidly how amazing I was and were begging me for weeks to come down for a repeat adventure. And while not all women have orgasms all the time, I know me and I have orgasms. So Brandon, it wasn't me it was you. You asked for the truth and then were too much of a child to accept it. You can either use this information to improve yourself for future sexual experiences or fall into another bout of self depracation. The choice is yours."
Brandon and I are no longer friends. I don't regret what I did beacuse it opened my eyes to the kind of person he really is. Maybe he'll grow from all this, but I highly doubt it.
Was he gay? Was he a virgin? Was he asexual?
The story was always the same. Girl meets boy, girl sleeps with boy, things end very ugly very quickly between girl and boy. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to switch things up a bit.
Matt couldn't have been farther from the usual degenerates I mate with. He had a masters degree, a career with a local manufacturing planet, his own place, his own car, no criminal records, and no drug addictions. Best of all he was a set up through our parents and not some random I met off Craigslist. Things looked promising this time.
Take things slow I kept telling myself. I have to admit that Matt wasn't much to look at, not just my opinion by the way...several of my friends commented on what a "great personality he has..." We all know what that means. But despite his lack of sexual appeal, he actually did have a great personality. Our dates lasted hours where we just talked and laughed and sometimes sang along to songs on the radio severely off key.
It was three weeks and six dates until we had our first kiss. Those dating in the 21st century will agree that that is taking things morbidly slow. The night we had our first kiss we were sitting in his car reminiscing over the great day we had. I went to hug him goodbye and he went for it. To say it was bad would be an understatement. This kiss had all the elements that make a good kiss go wrong: bad breath, teeth clanking, limp tongue alternating with lizard flicking tongue, and excessive drooling. I pulled away, told him I was tired and retreated back into my house.
Here's the problem: I really liked this guy, so do I walk away after one gut wrenching kiss? I decided to give it another shot. We continued to hang out and each date was better than the last, at least on the non-physical level. Now I've had amazing sexual chemistry with previous guys, but nothing else was there. With Matt, we had a mental and emotional connection with no physical one. Well 2/3 isn't so bad, right?
He was real sweet though. Throughout the course of our courtship he texted and called me daily to tell me "thinking of you", "you're so beautiful and sexy", "can't wait to see you again." It was nice to know that he was so into me, I hoped my feelings would at some point match his.
He had been up front about his lack of sexual experience stating that he had only been with a few girls and it had been a while. But...something seemed a bit off. When things got more intimate he would cum without warning from my mere touch. I'd love to take credit for having magic hands, but that's just not the case. My A-game lies more in the oral arena if you know what I mean. But Matt would cum and not even know he came. I'd point to the puddle on my sheets and dripping from hand as evidence. Matt had become the two stroke wonder.
I consulted my good friend Dan about this. He said that this has happened to him too...when he was in High School and was a virgin. Hmmmm....
Finally after two months of dating, Matt decides to take me away to Vermont for the weekend to a cozy bed and breakfast. We decided this is when and where we'll have our first time. To claim I have the sex drive of a teenage boy would be putting it mildly, two months waiting for sex was driving me mad.
The weekend finally arrives. We have an amazing drive up there joking around, singing to my mixed CD's from circa 1999, and enjoying the scenic surroundings. The place is gorgeous and our room is breath taking. We explore the town during the day hand in hand like some love sick puppies. Kissing has improved vastly as long as it stays closed mouthed, short, and sweet. That night we get dressed up to have dinner at a local lounge. From across the table he texts me "You're beautiful". Things couldn't be going any better.
We slowly make our way back to the room. I excuse myself to change into a pink negligee. He's waiting on the bed in only his boxers. I'm filled with both excitement and disappointment. Looking at him nearly naked I'm just reminded of how unattracted I am to him. He's morbidly obese with man boobs that rival my own breasts and covered in hair EVERYWHERE. But I really do like him, so I'm determined to make this work. Maybe the sex will be amazing and I should stop making assumptions based on the bad kissing and two stroke squirt jobs. Did I mention he sweats like he just ran a marathon even though he's barely moved? Deep breath, I can do this.
I crawl up to him and we begin kissing. I kiss his lips, his neck, and work my way down his chest forest. I slip my fingers underneath his boxers and slowly slide them off. He's completely limp. Okay....
I pull my negligee over my head so now we're both naked. I start stroking him worried I'll end things before they really started. He stays limp.
"Is everything okay Matt?"
His face flushes. He doesn't answer. This is awkward.
"Do you want me to stop?"
He stays silent and looks away.
Frustrated I get up, pull back on my negligee, and sit on the edge of the bed with my back towards him. He stays in the same spot: limp, sweaty, and naked. Then he speaks, "I don't think I can do this."
I look back over at him completely confused by what's happening.
He continues, "I just don't see you that way. I think you're a great girl, but I don't think we're right for each other."
Now I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of humiliation and anger. "So you dated me for two months, took me on a romantic get-away to Vermont because you just see me as a friend? Do you do this with all your friends?"
He mumbled, "I'm sorry. You're a great girl."
"You already said that!" I snapped.
That night he slept on the couch and I slept on the bed. Silence over packing up, over breakfast, and over the two and half hour car ride home. One question kept playing over and over in my mind: what the hell happened?
After he dropped me off at home we never spoke again. I deleted him from my Facebook and my phone. There are rampant theories amongst my friends about what Matt did, the most popular of course that he was a virgin who freaked out at the idea of having sex so he dumped me. Kind of fits considering how "into me" he was up until the very moment we were going to have sex. The other theory running as a close second is that he's an in the closet gay. In the end Matt is the only one who know the truth.
Matt couldn't have been farther from the usual degenerates I mate with. He had a masters degree, a career with a local manufacturing planet, his own place, his own car, no criminal records, and no drug addictions. Best of all he was a set up through our parents and not some random I met off Craigslist. Things looked promising this time.
Take things slow I kept telling myself. I have to admit that Matt wasn't much to look at, not just my opinion by the way...several of my friends commented on what a "great personality he has..." We all know what that means. But despite his lack of sexual appeal, he actually did have a great personality. Our dates lasted hours where we just talked and laughed and sometimes sang along to songs on the radio severely off key.
It was three weeks and six dates until we had our first kiss. Those dating in the 21st century will agree that that is taking things morbidly slow. The night we had our first kiss we were sitting in his car reminiscing over the great day we had. I went to hug him goodbye and he went for it. To say it was bad would be an understatement. This kiss had all the elements that make a good kiss go wrong: bad breath, teeth clanking, limp tongue alternating with lizard flicking tongue, and excessive drooling. I pulled away, told him I was tired and retreated back into my house.
Here's the problem: I really liked this guy, so do I walk away after one gut wrenching kiss? I decided to give it another shot. We continued to hang out and each date was better than the last, at least on the non-physical level. Now I've had amazing sexual chemistry with previous guys, but nothing else was there. With Matt, we had a mental and emotional connection with no physical one. Well 2/3 isn't so bad, right?
He was real sweet though. Throughout the course of our courtship he texted and called me daily to tell me "thinking of you", "you're so beautiful and sexy", "can't wait to see you again." It was nice to know that he was so into me, I hoped my feelings would at some point match his.
He had been up front about his lack of sexual experience stating that he had only been with a few girls and it had been a while. But...something seemed a bit off. When things got more intimate he would cum without warning from my mere touch. I'd love to take credit for having magic hands, but that's just not the case. My A-game lies more in the oral arena if you know what I mean. But Matt would cum and not even know he came. I'd point to the puddle on my sheets and dripping from hand as evidence. Matt had become the two stroke wonder.
I consulted my good friend Dan about this. He said that this has happened to him too...when he was in High School and was a virgin. Hmmmm....
Finally after two months of dating, Matt decides to take me away to Vermont for the weekend to a cozy bed and breakfast. We decided this is when and where we'll have our first time. To claim I have the sex drive of a teenage boy would be putting it mildly, two months waiting for sex was driving me mad.
The weekend finally arrives. We have an amazing drive up there joking around, singing to my mixed CD's from circa 1999, and enjoying the scenic surroundings. The place is gorgeous and our room is breath taking. We explore the town during the day hand in hand like some love sick puppies. Kissing has improved vastly as long as it stays closed mouthed, short, and sweet. That night we get dressed up to have dinner at a local lounge. From across the table he texts me "You're beautiful". Things couldn't be going any better.
We slowly make our way back to the room. I excuse myself to change into a pink negligee. He's waiting on the bed in only his boxers. I'm filled with both excitement and disappointment. Looking at him nearly naked I'm just reminded of how unattracted I am to him. He's morbidly obese with man boobs that rival my own breasts and covered in hair EVERYWHERE. But I really do like him, so I'm determined to make this work. Maybe the sex will be amazing and I should stop making assumptions based on the bad kissing and two stroke squirt jobs. Did I mention he sweats like he just ran a marathon even though he's barely moved? Deep breath, I can do this.
I crawl up to him and we begin kissing. I kiss his lips, his neck, and work my way down his chest forest. I slip my fingers underneath his boxers and slowly slide them off. He's completely limp. Okay....
I pull my negligee over my head so now we're both naked. I start stroking him worried I'll end things before they really started. He stays limp.
"Is everything okay Matt?"
His face flushes. He doesn't answer. This is awkward.
"Do you want me to stop?"
He stays silent and looks away.
Frustrated I get up, pull back on my negligee, and sit on the edge of the bed with my back towards him. He stays in the same spot: limp, sweaty, and naked. Then he speaks, "I don't think I can do this."
I look back over at him completely confused by what's happening.
He continues, "I just don't see you that way. I think you're a great girl, but I don't think we're right for each other."
Now I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of humiliation and anger. "So you dated me for two months, took me on a romantic get-away to Vermont because you just see me as a friend? Do you do this with all your friends?"
He mumbled, "I'm sorry. You're a great girl."
"You already said that!" I snapped.
That night he slept on the couch and I slept on the bed. Silence over packing up, over breakfast, and over the two and half hour car ride home. One question kept playing over and over in my mind: what the hell happened?
After he dropped me off at home we never spoke again. I deleted him from my Facebook and my phone. There are rampant theories amongst my friends about what Matt did, the most popular of course that he was a virgin who freaked out at the idea of having sex so he dumped me. Kind of fits considering how "into me" he was up until the very moment we were going to have sex. The other theory running as a close second is that he's an in the closet gay. In the end Matt is the only one who know the truth.
Turn-Ons and Turn-Offs
If I had the female equivalent of a cock, it would have shriveled up and retreated back inside me at the sound of his voice. How much can one person talk about how amazing they are? Well he was certainly testing those limits with comments such as "I am so much smarter than my professor that my classmates come to me for help. I should be teaching the class" and "The local news does a story on me every single year because I turn diesel powered cars into electric ones. You've never seen one of the stories? They're HUGE!" or his constant professions of how amazing he is sexually, which in my experience a man can never match up to his words in that department.
Let's explore this for a minute.
Andy and I met through a local volunteer organization. He was a long standing and active member, I had just joined. At the time I was dating someone else and didn't really notice Andy as anything other than a fellow volunteer. Later on he regaled me with stories that he found me so attractive he had to go home and jerk off. What every die hard romantic loves to hear!
A couple months later I was single and on the prowl. Andy and I began shameless flirting via text that led to him meeting me at my place after work one day. He was so eager he began roughly kissing me aka forcefully jamming his tongue down my throat while leaving a layer of drool on my face. His next Casanova move was thrusting me onto my bed so hard my feet flipped over my head and I crashed onto my hardwood floors. When I managed to climb back up on the bed he went down on me.
The oral sex was amazing! Have you ever had oral sex so good you are moved to tears? It more than made up for his sloppy jump start. He wasn't the one trick lick kind of guy either, see when it comes to oral sex...variety is the key. So many men see it as a means to an end, a chore to just get out of the way so they can go back to the football game much like taking out the trash. But with Andy, I could tell this was something he really loved doing and I would be happy to write him a letter of recommendation any day.
Here's where things went sour. My beautifully large and often neglected breasts were battered like a chick in some Lifetime movie. I kept giving him subtle clues that I didn't particularly like what he was doing "OW!" "That hurts!" "Please stop!" but they were all ignored. He was like a child that just unwrapped his new toy and insisted on playing with it before reading the manual. Why do men NEVER read the manual or ask for directions? My poor breasts had bruises for days that triggered pain by my shirt rubbing up against them.
I know, I know. You're just like a man and you're demanding I get to the actual sex now. Enough with the foreplay already! This was the best sex of my life. He was smooth and rough in all the right places. He even did some dirty talk which was a huge turn on for me. But he talked a little too much....
While he's inside of me he starts telling me about his day, his pets, his family, his cars, his friends. Contrary to popular belief that women are natural multi-taskers, I am definitely not. So I wanted to know, why is he delivering a three act one man play while fucking me? His voice is nasally and whiny dripped in a puddle of arrogance. Then when I'm really enjoying a particular position and don't want to switch he has the nerve to call me "boring!" What woman wants to hear how boring she is while she's thrusting the life out of a man?!
Needless to say that this love affair only lasted a mere week. As much as I strongly feel there is a high importance to physical chemistry between partners, there are believe it or not, things that out way mind blowing sex. Here's my little list, in no particular order, in case any of you are curious:
1. A man who must smoke pot during the 5 mile drive from my house to Walmart where we go to pick up his asthma medication. It sounds like a contradiction, but yes he was a pot head asthmatic. ::sigh::
2. A man who openly declares all religions to be complete bullshit, insult my specific religion, and insist I'm an idiot for following one
3. While minimalism is great in theory, call me crazy but I'd like a man who has furniture in his apartment. It doesn't have to be nice furniture, but a place to plant my ass while watching a movie or even a mattress on the floor if I should sleep over will do. The one night we spent at his place I had to sleep on the living room floor underneath a blanket one of his pets had used for a chew toy. Class act all the way!
4. I get how great it is that men have the ability to pee anywhere at anytime and this must certainly come in handy on long road trips or camp outs. However, when a man pees in his backyard just cause he can while his bathroom in his house are less than 10 feet away....enough said about that one
5. Last but definitely not by any means least. While fucking someone, a man should never under any circumstances talk about any of the following: How sexually promiscuous he is, how he's fucked three of your co-workers, how he'll continue fucking multiple other women until you've given him some kind of commitment.
Andy wondered why when he asked me three times during the course of the week to be his steady girl friend I said "no". He also wondered why I ended things after only a week. And then he publicly declared on Facebook that he had no clue why he was still single...
There are some mysteries even Matlock can't solve I suppose.
Let's explore this for a minute.
Andy and I met through a local volunteer organization. He was a long standing and active member, I had just joined. At the time I was dating someone else and didn't really notice Andy as anything other than a fellow volunteer. Later on he regaled me with stories that he found me so attractive he had to go home and jerk off. What every die hard romantic loves to hear!
A couple months later I was single and on the prowl. Andy and I began shameless flirting via text that led to him meeting me at my place after work one day. He was so eager he began roughly kissing me aka forcefully jamming his tongue down my throat while leaving a layer of drool on my face. His next Casanova move was thrusting me onto my bed so hard my feet flipped over my head and I crashed onto my hardwood floors. When I managed to climb back up on the bed he went down on me.
The oral sex was amazing! Have you ever had oral sex so good you are moved to tears? It more than made up for his sloppy jump start. He wasn't the one trick lick kind of guy either, see when it comes to oral sex...variety is the key. So many men see it as a means to an end, a chore to just get out of the way so they can go back to the football game much like taking out the trash. But with Andy, I could tell this was something he really loved doing and I would be happy to write him a letter of recommendation any day.
Here's where things went sour. My beautifully large and often neglected breasts were battered like a chick in some Lifetime movie. I kept giving him subtle clues that I didn't particularly like what he was doing "OW!" "That hurts!" "Please stop!" but they were all ignored. He was like a child that just unwrapped his new toy and insisted on playing with it before reading the manual. Why do men NEVER read the manual or ask for directions? My poor breasts had bruises for days that triggered pain by my shirt rubbing up against them.
I know, I know. You're just like a man and you're demanding I get to the actual sex now. Enough with the foreplay already! This was the best sex of my life. He was smooth and rough in all the right places. He even did some dirty talk which was a huge turn on for me. But he talked a little too much....
While he's inside of me he starts telling me about his day, his pets, his family, his cars, his friends. Contrary to popular belief that women are natural multi-taskers, I am definitely not. So I wanted to know, why is he delivering a three act one man play while fucking me? His voice is nasally and whiny dripped in a puddle of arrogance. Then when I'm really enjoying a particular position and don't want to switch he has the nerve to call me "boring!" What woman wants to hear how boring she is while she's thrusting the life out of a man?!
Needless to say that this love affair only lasted a mere week. As much as I strongly feel there is a high importance to physical chemistry between partners, there are believe it or not, things that out way mind blowing sex. Here's my little list, in no particular order, in case any of you are curious:
1. A man who must smoke pot during the 5 mile drive from my house to Walmart where we go to pick up his asthma medication. It sounds like a contradiction, but yes he was a pot head asthmatic. ::sigh::
2. A man who openly declares all religions to be complete bullshit, insult my specific religion, and insist I'm an idiot for following one
3. While minimalism is great in theory, call me crazy but I'd like a man who has furniture in his apartment. It doesn't have to be nice furniture, but a place to plant my ass while watching a movie or even a mattress on the floor if I should sleep over will do. The one night we spent at his place I had to sleep on the living room floor underneath a blanket one of his pets had used for a chew toy. Class act all the way!
4. I get how great it is that men have the ability to pee anywhere at anytime and this must certainly come in handy on long road trips or camp outs. However, when a man pees in his backyard just cause he can while his bathroom in his house are less than 10 feet away....enough said about that one
5. Last but definitely not by any means least. While fucking someone, a man should never under any circumstances talk about any of the following: How sexually promiscuous he is, how he's fucked three of your co-workers, how he'll continue fucking multiple other women until you've given him some kind of commitment.
Andy wondered why when he asked me three times during the course of the week to be his steady girl friend I said "no". He also wondered why I ended things after only a week. And then he publicly declared on Facebook that he had no clue why he was still single...
There are some mysteries even Matlock can't solve I suppose.
Back in the Game
I'm getting too old for this shit!
Here I am thirty years old in some Super 8 motel recovering from a night reminscient of my college days. I turn to see the naked man or should I say boy passed out next to me. Steve? Sam? Does it really even matter? I turn to the other bed and see another naked man passed out, looks like Steve but a bit older.
What the hell happened last night?! I quietly climb out of bed praying I don't wake up either man-child while I frantically search for my clothes. A skirt, a thong, a bra, a seriously low cut top. As I make my way to the bathroom, I glance over my shoulder at the evidence of a wild romp. Not bad for a thirty-year old divorcee.
The events from last night come back to me in flashes. I met up with my friend Kacie and her boyfriend Adam at their apartment in downtown Troy-let. This is where I tried E for the first and probably last time in my life. We drove to a techno club out in Saratoga while smoking copious amounts of pot...the good kind, not the trash high school kids buy but the kind where you have a dealer who still sports an old school pager.
I danced without abandon. I don't even like techno music, but the funny thing is after enough illicit drugs I guess I'm bound to like anything or anyone. There are too many people jammed in this club, I need air. On the outside porch designated for smokers I spotted him leaning against the far railing. Designer clothes, short blonde hair, looking calm and cool and collected. He looked young, real young, like they probably ID'd him when he came in here kind of young. He turned my way and we began eye fucking immediatly. Ohmygod I'm a pedafile!
Thick boston accent. His face close to mine. I smell the fresh tobacco on his warm breath. Wasn't really listening to much he said beacuse words didn't make much sense. I'm horny, it's been a while, and we both knew the score. His tongue was down my throat. He pushed me up against the wall and pulled my hair as he kissed me deeper. I massaged his rock hard cock through his pants.
"Let's get out of here", he says.
No words, all I did was nod. I'm sure Kacie and Adam will be fine.
Super 8 motel.
His older brother was there. Thick boston accent too. Threesome? Sure why the hell not? Groaning, sweating, naked bodies clumsily bumping up against one another. Someone's got my claw marks on their back. Holy shit, did we use condoms?
I scan the bathroom trash for used condoms or wrappers. Nothing. I tip toe out of the bathroom now fully clothed. Where are my shoes? My cute purple open-toe wedges. I love those shoes. Then I spot it on the younger one, the used condom still on his limp and lifeless dick. How about the other man-child? Nada. Well one out of two aint bad. Guess I'll be making my first trip to Planned Parenthood in eight years.
Almost on instinct I look in the mini fridge and spot one of my shoes. I grab my purse off the floor by the door and head out with shoe in hand. I can't very well walk with one 4 inch wedge and the other foot bare.
Whoever said that thirty was the new twenty is seriously dilluded. I am too old for this shit.
Here I am thirty years old in some Super 8 motel recovering from a night reminscient of my college days. I turn to see the naked man or should I say boy passed out next to me. Steve? Sam? Does it really even matter? I turn to the other bed and see another naked man passed out, looks like Steve but a bit older.
What the hell happened last night?! I quietly climb out of bed praying I don't wake up either man-child while I frantically search for my clothes. A skirt, a thong, a bra, a seriously low cut top. As I make my way to the bathroom, I glance over my shoulder at the evidence of a wild romp. Not bad for a thirty-year old divorcee.
The events from last night come back to me in flashes. I met up with my friend Kacie and her boyfriend Adam at their apartment in downtown Troy-let. This is where I tried E for the first and probably last time in my life. We drove to a techno club out in Saratoga while smoking copious amounts of pot...the good kind, not the trash high school kids buy but the kind where you have a dealer who still sports an old school pager.
I danced without abandon. I don't even like techno music, but the funny thing is after enough illicit drugs I guess I'm bound to like anything or anyone. There are too many people jammed in this club, I need air. On the outside porch designated for smokers I spotted him leaning against the far railing. Designer clothes, short blonde hair, looking calm and cool and collected. He looked young, real young, like they probably ID'd him when he came in here kind of young. He turned my way and we began eye fucking immediatly. Ohmygod I'm a pedafile!
Thick boston accent. His face close to mine. I smell the fresh tobacco on his warm breath. Wasn't really listening to much he said beacuse words didn't make much sense. I'm horny, it's been a while, and we both knew the score. His tongue was down my throat. He pushed me up against the wall and pulled my hair as he kissed me deeper. I massaged his rock hard cock through his pants.
"Let's get out of here", he says.
No words, all I did was nod. I'm sure Kacie and Adam will be fine.
Super 8 motel.
His older brother was there. Thick boston accent too. Threesome? Sure why the hell not? Groaning, sweating, naked bodies clumsily bumping up against one another. Someone's got my claw marks on their back. Holy shit, did we use condoms?
I scan the bathroom trash for used condoms or wrappers. Nothing. I tip toe out of the bathroom now fully clothed. Where are my shoes? My cute purple open-toe wedges. I love those shoes. Then I spot it on the younger one, the used condom still on his limp and lifeless dick. How about the other man-child? Nada. Well one out of two aint bad. Guess I'll be making my first trip to Planned Parenthood in eight years.
Almost on instinct I look in the mini fridge and spot one of my shoes. I grab my purse off the floor by the door and head out with shoe in hand. I can't very well walk with one 4 inch wedge and the other foot bare.
Whoever said that thirty was the new twenty is seriously dilluded. I am too old for this shit.
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.