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Archive for January, 2010

I wasn’t looking forward to meeting the dental student for coffee yesterday. I had been but then our chat the night prior was a buzz kill. His age is a huge red flag, being 9 years YOUNGER is not something I am looking to deal with but there have been things he has said on-line that were surprising and not in line with a boy of his age. So, why did I still meet up, even though I wasn’t feeling it? Having been stood up myself, I find it sucks, even last-minute cancellations. One cup of coffee in public won’t hurt someone. Additionally, we had arranged a quid pro quo for the future. He needs a patient for his dental board exams and I need some cavities filled. Having coffee and letting him drill my teeth doesn’t mean I need to fuck him, so I sighed and went through with our meet up.

Briefly, before I talk of our meeting, let me explain why I had reservations about following through. Online, the first chats are generally light, as you get to know people. The 3rd or 4th starts to show signs of more adult conversations, sex and sexuality as a whole. So, we start talking about our sexual leanings and I am a very open-minded person who has tried many things and realized in the end that sometimes a dish of vanilla is good, but that dish should be Madagascar bourbon vanilla bean. On occasion I like to add some coconut, caramel, and sea salt, perhaps some rosemary or citrus zest. Hell, even bacon. But, you can’t go wrong with good old plain hot sexy rich vanilla. So, he states that he ONLY likes rough sex. ONLY. Also, that he never lets a girl top him. Sex games can be great fun, as long as the emphasis is on FUN. If you aren’t doing it out of a mutual desire to enjoy and respect your partner, their body, and their boundaries , then it isn’t fun. Now, I suggested that his need for control might stem from the facts that he is a student without much control over his day-to-day life, his father handles his finances, pays his bills, etc. so perhaps it was the one time he felt he could be in control. He denied this but then later hinted at having been hurt by women in earlier relationships and this resentment being part of why he only has rough sex now, it detaches him. So, his sexual lifestyle is based on showing women what he can do and how in control he is, rather than them. He enjoys spanking and choking during sex as well. I think his style and his reasons are potentially volatile. I worry for him, that if he isn’t able to allow himself to trust and open up to a sexual partner, someone might get hurt. So, with all of this said, he is not in the running for a hot sex partner, but I’ll help him out with the exam and perhaps we will be friends.

When he arrives, I am already sitting in the back room and drinking my coffee. First physical impression, very cute. Adorable in fact. Holy dimples. I find it hard to believe that this cute thing is all about rough grudge fucking. Sad. We talk for an hour and the conversation is great, so good in fact, that I wish I had other info on him. If he was a huge snuggly thing that just liked regular sex, he could be very fun. He texted me later and asked if I had fun with him at our coffee date. I didn’t lie, I did. He’s charming.  But he is too risky.

I ran home, late, walked the dog, fed her, myself and jumped in the shower… late. Then a public transportation delay and late. But sweet goodness, my Future Lawyer who wants to save the world, was also late! Sigh of relief. Sometimes the unpredictability of public transportation is fantastic. We met at a bookstore café and then walked down to a small club listen to some jazz. This place has been in business for nearly 70 years. Great little hole in the wall.

We had four cocktails and great conversation. He’s studying for his bar this year, he is an RA at his university, he likes his parents and respects that I don’t like mine. (Shhh, he’s a Jew too, of course, duh) We eventually kissed and the boy has some great lips. So, we left, and thought about going somewhere else, only to realize that everything closes early in this town anyway. We made out for a while outside but it was freezing, we then decided to walk through the closed mall in an attempt to warm up while we planned out next move. It turned out that our next move involved an hour of making out on a bench in the mall, partially hidden by shrubbery in their faux indoor garden, we were mostly incognito. We hit 2nd base easily and it was fun. THEN, as things were more and more heated, and I leaned back a bit on the bench so he could lean into me, I put us just enough in view, that the security guard walking by saw us. Needless to say we were halted and thrown out of the mall by a mall cop younger than both of us. I would have been humiliated had it not been so damn hot.

We parted ways at the cab stand outside and texted each other a few pleasantries of what a great night it was and how we really enjoyed each other before sleep hit at 3:45 am.

Now, 12 hours later, I am meeting a 37 year old professional photographer for coffee, and running late because of the writing of this post.

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I have delayed this post because I didn’t really know what to say about it. I got home Sunday night from my cupcake excursion and was sitting on the couch with my pup avoiding some real work that I SHOULD have done. Instead, I chose to troll the online dating sites to see if anyone was on-line and worthy of chatting with. It was only 8:15 and I was a little bored. I started chatting with this nice recently divorced, new dad to lab puppy, special education teacher with a background in furniture building. He has great taste in music, such as Cash, Waits, Cohen, etc. and seems to appreciate dry, sardonic humor. Overall, seemed like a chill relaxed kind of guy.

He asked if I wanted to meet for a cocktail and, well, the forecast called for a shit storm of rain,sleet, snow and wind, so I convinced him to meet me the following afternoon for coffee. As we were coming up with a place and time to meet I mentioned my intense dislike for the neighborhood I live in, he laughed, as he lived in the same area, just a mile away. We decided to meet for a couple cocktails that night, despite the weather, since a ten minute walk to the bar is nothing compared to what my dog puts me through in worse meteorological conditions.

He warned me he was shy, so I knew this walking in. He arrived a few minutes after me. He has that look of every semi alt country, indie introverted Johnny Cash loving man alive. The 50’s looking patterned snap button down, the non jean utilitarian pant, the chunky shoe, the mussed up hair… and of course, they always have glasses. He was cute and painfully shy. While I enjoyed his company for that hour, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere, other than friends. I don’t have anything bad to say about him and really do wish him the best. Maybe I can get one of my friends to go out with him. No, I thought he was a nice guy, don’t want to do that to him.

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The weather was so great yesterday, a reprieve from the month of bone chilling temps. I awoke in the morning with multi-layered guilt. It was a guilt trifle, if you will. My pup has had cabin fever from a lack of canine fun and I had stood up the Turk numerous times, so I decided to combine the two and remove the guilt in one train ride. The pup and I met the Turk outside Starbucks and proceeded to walk and talk , get a tea, then walk and talk some more.We ended up back at his house eating some sautéed shrimp, drinking some wine and making out, with my having to lay down the law on 2nd base making out only. He was pouty about this but dealt with it.

He’s nice, young, eager, stable BUT…. there is always a but, isn’t there? I don’t feel it. My toes don’t get all curly when we kiss like they did with the Peruvian. I am also fairly confident in my belief that he is a bit of a player. That, in and of itself, is fine, however, don’t play me. If you want to have sex with me, DON’T feed me a line of bullshit to get me to go to bed with you. I will if I am interested and I won’t if I am not. While I am not easy, per se, I don’t play sexual games of cat and mouse if I want someone. The only time games are introduced is if they are naughty and sexy and mutually agreed upon. So, why do I think he is a player? Aside from the truth of the night we met and that we were both making out with numerous people, his words feel too rehearsed at times and he has condoms everywhere in his house. A ridiculous amount of them stashed everywhere. I lost one of my diamond earrings when we were making out and realized it a couple hours later when we had moved from the living room into the bedroom. He has condoms under his bed pillows, stuffed in the couch cushions and under the couch. At all times. Just in case. In case of WHAT? In case of the need to relocate your building?!  He has enough condoms stashed to be a live action version of the film Up, if he were to inflate them all with helium. At least he is into safe sex, but oy vey!

I guess my general feeling of Meh in regards to the Turk also stems from many superficial things that I can’t seem to get past. He razors his head… like Yul Brynner. He shaves his back, sometimes (what about the rest of the time?) because he admits to being a “really hairy guy”. BUT, he doesn’t wax his one giant eyebrow. Really? Why not? Oh, and there is a weird thing he did when we were making out at his house. Not that WHAT he did was necessarily WEIRD,but that he chose to do it so soon and without testing the waters. He is a tit slapper. What in the fuck is with that?! Yeah, no, I don’t like that. That’s distracting and silly to me. Stop that.

So, I have a general degree of meh-ness when it comes to him. I’m not excited about him, at all and that seems unfair to him, however, I don’t think he necessarily cares HOW excited I am, as long as I am willing to make out with him. I am however finding myself excited when I think about the Musician,Writer,Assoc Prod guy. I need a new name for him, any suggestions? Even though our date had to be delayed on Friday, I find our gmail chats to be refreshing and something I look forward to. He has a sweetness about him that makes me smirk. A smirk is a very good thing.

All in all, a slow week. The foreigner friend of mine and I are headed out for cupcakes to soothe my menstrual craving, nomnomnom, and perhaps a hazelnut mocha as well.

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Yeah, schmuck, I meant TODAY. When you agree to meet a woman for coffee at a certain time, you show up. In light of the lack of LOCAL natural disasters, bomb threats, massive city shut downs, emergency weather conditions, or paralysis, I can come to only one reason you wouldn’t appear. It seems, Schmucky Insomniac Artist with a late night cake baking obsession, is an ass. Seriously though, WHO does that? We are all in our 30’s-40’s here. (I mean, myself and the majority of the men I am going out with, not you the reader. But, please be over 16, some of the stuff I say is NOT suitable for minors.)

I arrived a few minutes late to my favorite coffee shop, but he knew that was a possibility due to my schedule. I even called the coffee shop and told my 3rd favorite (the 2nd was on the bar and the 1st wasn’t working) barista to let him know I would be a few minutes late, when he arrived. Only, he never arrives. No voicemail, no text message, no email… he never arrives. What makes this even more annoying is that we JUST made the plans yesterday! These weren’t plans mentioned long ago that were possibly forgotten, this was, “How does coffee in 16 hours sound?”!!! Men in this city are intimidated by sexually confident women and feel emasculated at the drop of a hat, rather than stepping up and grabbing the hat before it hits the ground and then OWNING that hat… running off with it proudly and boldly on their heads! So, Mr. Baker Man…. your runway skills sucked and you are outta the running to be America’s Next Lesbian Dating Experiment.

On a high note, I have a 2nd date with the Atheist Jewish Hipster Musician/Writer/Producer guy tomorrow. Just coffee in the late afternoon, but I am looking forward to it. He seems like a genuinely awesome guy who was dealt a shitty hand by his recent girlfriend. He’s no Jewish Internet Webcam Sex Master BUT he is only 3 miles away, not 200. Can’t beat convenience.

And speaking of beating, I was woken up at 3 am this morning by a horny text from said Jewish Internet Webcam Sex Master who had just arrived home, found my email containing some photos of myself and promptly contacted me complaining of the current state of his cock. He requested my presence for an abbreviated performance via Skype and then we said our good nights. What I really enjoy about our video play is how quickly and seamlessly he transitions from incredibly turned on grunting beast to his dorky post orgasmic coy smirky smiles and soft eyes. It’s excellent.

So, that brings us current. Oh, except I just started my period a few hours ago and between the life affirming cramps and a massive toothache, I want to step in front of a city bus. Reminder to self: Don’t speak much on date tomorrow unless willing to say some crazy hormonally charged nonsense that sounds like speaking in tongues but equates to buzz kill for all men.

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These dating sites use an algorithmic approach to matching its members. Sometimes it works, some what. Other times it thinks I should date the 5’7 fattie with horseshoe pattern baldness and a desk job at a tech company in some suburban office park. Whooot! Yup, that’s my match alright! Well, last night it matched me with this man who has eyes the color of Australia’s famed Coral Coast and a face full of angles and bones and absolute brilliance. He’s 200 miles away I noticed, so the algorithm failed BUT, I decided that if I could do it for a year with my exfiancé, I could do it for a man whose eyes burn through you.

So, I  IM’d him. For those of you unfamiliar with internet lingo terms, that is Instant Messaged. There was a ten minute delay in his response, I assumed the distance was a turnoff. When he did respond we easily fell into a friendly rapport, that shifted once I asked his first name. I found his name peculiar, so I googled it in hopes of finding a cultural lineage association. When that search turned up nothing, I added his city, NOT ever thinking the first site that wouldappear would be his website. Suddenly I was intimately familiar in a painfully voyeuristic sense, with many aspects of his person, including his cock. Which, upon seeing, might I add, I suddenly clicked back to his profile and looked at his face and sighed. I then asked him, after remembering what he said in his profile, if he is culturally Jewish. He stated he was an atheist and I didn’t assume by his facial features, I didn’t see it UNTIL I saw the picture of his cock. Then I knew. I should just assume that if I find them attractive… probably got some Jew in there somewhere. My track record is Ashkenazic, I do NOT know why. I don’t go forSephardic or the Egyptian or African Jew, it must be Eastern European. Some people are Anglophiles, apparently I am a Judaiophile. What are ya’ gonna do? Sit around and kvetch about it or find some nice Jew schlong? Excellent choice.

I think I need to clarify WHY he has explicit photos of himself posted on-line. Aside from being an exhibitionist (SCORE!) and a voyeur (SCORE x 2!) he is also an established mixed media artist. He works in interactive visual realms such as video, and performance, as well as, creating through painting, writing, and photography. Hence, the nudity with such robust sociocultural statements attached.

Because I had now seen him in his full glory, I felt as if I was being unfair if I didn’t send over some pics of myself.  An eye for an eye, a tit for a cock? So, we began some in-depth chatting of our particular sexual proclivities and predilections. His proclamation of ALWAYS being a top is quite exciting actually. Now, how to get him a few hours closer?

Eventually all things must cum to an end, so we switched to Skype. I brushed my hair as I hadn’t yet taken off my winter hat and was sporting the worst hair EVER and changed out of my grandma sweater. This video call was NOT about me doing anything except watching. (clap clap clap) So, I watched. Oy vey, did I ever. We signed off so we could both get some work done, that we had happily avoided for hours, however I was not incredibly turned on and wanting my own personal happy moment.  I wrote out a fairly descriptive scenario to get my mind working, emailed it to him so I could think of him getting excited reading it, and set sail for my own little journey.

This morning I received an email from him explaining how, between our conversation, the webcam voyeur /exhibitionist play, my pics and my story, he had masturbated no less than 4 times… in under 9 hours. He slept for 6 of those. I felt very proud of myself. I still do. Of course we know that the chances of hot virtual sex ever being nearly that good in person are rare. I am definitely interested in getting to know this one a bit more though. I told him that I would be interested in actually spending time with him, in addition to shtuping him. He seemed to agree, but the afterglow of 4 orgasms might have him confused and easily agreeable.

Now, after a canceled date with a turk, which I will explain next post, and too many shots of espresso, the aggravation of two playful mice that are running around my kitchen and NOT getting caught by either my dog or my traps, and finally, a really hot shower, I am going to go to bed.

Ciao.

Update: I received an email letting me know that in under 24 hours the total number rose to 5.  Almost 6, but he “didn’t have the time to fully commit to it.” I like someone who shows passion and commitment to the things that are really important , don’t you?

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Two Dark and Stormies in fact. He had Dewar’s on the rocks. Tonight was one of those nights when I had planned to do NOTHING but housework, however,  he caught me in a moment of weakness. He texted asking if I was up for doing something tonight-ish rather than tommorrow-ish, as we had originally planned. Hmm, need shower, walk dog, cold as ass outside…. sure, why not?

We met at a coffee-house at 8. We sat, drank hot caffeinated beverages and chatted. YAWN. It was nice but we needed some alcohol in us. It was clear that we needed some assistance with the barriers. He seemed distracted, yet interested, stand offish, yet attracted. I was unable to read him, so I suggested a cocktail and he seemed all good with that. Still wasn’t sure where he fell on the interest scale, but I thought a couple of drinks would be more telling.  We walked a few blocks to the bar, a small hotel bar known for having good cocktails, specifically one of my favorites, the Dark and Stormy.

The crowd was a weird mix of suburbanites and convention attendees. By the time we had arrived at 9:45, people were already on their way to intoxicated and being rude and pushy. Were it not so cold out, I would have shifted us elsewhere. The heavens looked down upon us shortly though when I noticed two girls get up from a couch and leave. Sitting in the corner of a bar on a small leather couch with an attractive attentive woman is bound to illicit some response from a man if there are cocktails involved, right?

So, we talked about his RECENT ex girlfriend who broke up with him, ending a 4 year relationship over the PHONE while he was getting back from a business trip. My quirky gay thing, which raised a surprised eyebrow from him, but didn’t turn him off. His job in production and how religion plays into his family dynamic. His parents are strict Orthodox Jews from Latin America. He isn’t latin, other than by birth, in fact he looks very Eastern European. If you are familiar, he is Ashkenazi, which is a particularly German looking Jew. I know, I know… there is a Jewish trend in my life. What can I say, he was cute and then happened to be Jewish. His parent’s won’t welcome any girlfriend of his into their home who isn’t Jewish and he doesn’t tend to date Jewish women. Needless to say, this creates problems.

He also is a musician,of course, and a writer, of course, AND has multiple cats…. OF COURSE. Slightly Brooklynesque Hipster looking, not skinny jeans BUT not the traditional baggy legged jean either. It’s clear that his own individual style is AS important to him as an article or accessories function. Eventually we noticed that my train home was going to cease running if we didn’t leave in the next few so we paid our tab and wandered out into the single digit air.

At the corner we realized we were going opposite directions and said our ciaos. We hugged each other goodnight and as we were pulling away, whether it was mutual or my initiation, we had some nice kisses on the street corner. I would say he fared well above average. Definitely worth a second try.

In the train station, a nicely dressed 30 something black man approach me and asked me whether I had just been at a particular bar. I nodded and he went on to tell me, in a very polite and slighty shy manner, that he was working late and had stopped in with a friend, only to leave because the crowd seemed so overrun by, my word, douche bags and that he saw me leave. He said he was struck by how I didn’t look like I belonged there among the crowd, how I seemed intelligent, real, sincere and mischievous and found himself unable to shake my image from his mind after I had left. He isn’t at all what i would have ever approached but he was attractive and quite ballsy to come up to me like that. So, I gave him my email. He deserves it after an approach like that.

Now, after two pieces of toast with honey and peanut butter, I am ready for sleep.

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This one has me stunned. I didn’t know there was a kinky polyamorous Hasidic culture brewing among the twenty somethings in Brooklyn. Plus, the one who IM’s me tonight, he is also a libertarian. He wanted to chat more with me, as he felt an affair with me would tempt him to covet the very things I love, which he is not allowed, such as Bacon Milk Chocolate bars from Vosges, but he was running late for shul! Leave it to me, the trip hop loving, former vegetarian and in flux lesbian, now lover of MOST things meaty, to corrupt a Hasid.

Some former landlords of mine were members of the Brooklyn Hasidim. They were afraid of my dog and always refused to shake my hand. The rent was fantastic though and I could host large parties on a Friday night without concern for unscheduled landlord visits. I may have a fond deep appreciation of the Jewish meat but I prefer mine without beards and peyos (the curled sideburns). While perhaps the very length of their hair could lead to some kinky things involving their wrists tied to their heads, I cannot entertain serious consideration of a sexual nature. As for doing naughty dirty things with those said landlords, no thank you. I’d rather fuck Barbra Streisand in Yentl.

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