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Archive for June, 2010

I was meeting up with my ex girlfriend, the screenwriter, today for coffee when Cooper Fiennes texted me asking if I wanted to meet up and watch the Brazil-Chile match. Curious for them to meet each other, I told him to join us at my favorite cafe. She had heard about him and he, likewise. About 20 minutes later he walked in and she stumbled over herself for the first moments. She has deep-seated insecurities which makes meeting new people incredibly awkward for her.  He excused himself for the restroom and she was able to express her “oh my god”s and “holy shit”s regarding her impression of him. Once he arrived back at the table she was able to relax and speak comfortably with him.

Prior to C.F. , Screenwriter Girl had the best body of anyone I had been with. Unfortunately, her reasons behind the pristine physique were resulting from serious childhood sexual abuse trauma. A need to feel physically strong, since she is an emotional cripple. I care about her, but how do I say this? I was NEVER in love with her. She needed too much rescuing and I was already lost.  C.F.actually commented later on this. He said that there was something in her eyes that showed her traumas to the world. Even after she has gained physical strength, she has been unable to feel safe and heal. Her body is not a tool for fun and sport, as it is with C.F., this is their difference. Cooper Fiennes relishes sport of all types for how alive it makes him feel. The more his body aches, the more he pushes and challenges himself, the more alive and vibrant he feels. It’s incredibly sexy. Screenwriter Girl is trapped in her body, Cooper Fiennes uses his as an instrument of freedom.

I realized that the match had begun nearly twenty minutes prior and we really needed to get out the door and find a pub close by with food and the game. It was destined to be a good game, both teams are historically strong players with great coaches, so it could go either way. We left the cafe and said cheers to Screenwriter Girl and headed down the street. The Irish pub around the corner had air conditioning (THANK GOD!) and we found a seat right below the flat screen. 0-0 with a half hour in. We ordered some ciders, some food, and settled in. He pulled my stool closer to his and proceeded to act like a 14-year-old boy the entire match. You know, the “I poke you cause I like you” game? I love that he actually explains certain aspects of the game to me, things such as why there is a difference in the calls made by the English refs versus Spanish refs, what constitutes a yellow card or a foul, etc. He does it without my asking. While I have always liked International Football, I have watched it without knowing much about the game besides the obvious: ball goes into net equals goal. Dating C.F. has MANY benefits, apparently!!!

Brazil squashed Chile 3-0. It was a great game, but Chile could have played stronger. Not wanting to brave the heat, which was still nearly 35 degrees celsius/ 94 degrees farenheit , we had the waitress switch on Wimbledon for twenty minutes. Roddick had his ass handed to him by Yen-Hsun Lu and Capriati was rushed to the hospital for an accidental overdose. Between Capriati’s issues and Aggasi having been a meth user, who knew that Tennis could be so full of illicit behaviors?! It always seemed more refined some how. I guess when Tiger has a harem, Agassi smokes the pipe and Capriati abuses prescription pills, there is no such thing as refined sports anymore. Public figures are public figures and they all are susceptible to demons that fame can bring.

We wandered out, immediately wilted in the heat and decided to grab some ice cream for the stroll back to the train station. On the way he poked me no less than 30 times, and we stopped in 5 stores with air conditioning just to cool off for a few moments. We grabbed one more iced tea at Starbucks and sat chatting before parting ways on the street.

Meanwhile, I have been starting my period all day and annoyed that I couldn’t get a piece of ass if I begged. I’ve decided that hard to get is my new alter ego. If either of these boys want booty, they gotta work for it and jump through hoops, cause I’m not gonna be so easy anymore, damn it. Sigh, even if it means that I end up so sexually frustrated that I develop carpal tunnel from masturbating.

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I feel like I keep getting the ball near the net, but the goal just isn’t happening! I understand that both of my boys are busy, busy men, however, aren’t the men usually the ones that are chasing the girls for a piece of ass? How am I desperate for sex on the night before my period (translation: horny horny, horny and snuggly.) and with two men on my belt and yet, I’m stuck alone eating garlic hummus and fresh tomatoes and feeling mopey cause I’m not getting laid tonight? For one of their credits, Cooper Fiennes just moved into a new sublet this weekend and is wrecked, with an early morning start at work tomorrow. Type Geek though. Hmm. I’m not sure what to think of him. He rides the line of tepid or warm, mostly tepid though, with an occassional jump into hot, hot heat. The night he got back from Europe was hot. Thursday, was like married sex. He crawled into bed while I was brushing my teeth, under the covers, night lamp on beside him. I come into the room and undress my self, which is fine by the way, BUT, I like the whole undressing thing and the carrying on over the covers, the slowly shedding clothing and having to find it the next day. We are still casual, shouldn’t it be like that?

Type Geek and I took a day trip together on Saturday out of the city, hell, out of the state. We perused cute little waterfront towns and walked board walks. We played some bad pinball and worse Donkey Kong Jr. and had a wonderful dinner on the way home. I thought for sure that I would get laid, if not at night, since we were both tired, then perhaps in the morning. Except, while waiting for me to grab stuff from my house, he decided he was just too tired and asked if it was okay if we raincheck. Raincheck? All last week were rainchecks. Sigh. I know he’s attracted to me, I know he’s interested, but really? Rainchecks? How hard to get does he want to play? I’m already there. He’s already got me in his bed. Maybe it’s my turn to play a little hard to get. Harumph. I hate feeling forced to play games, but jesus christ, a girl may like you to buy her a nice dinner, but a girl also likes a good fuck too. maybe I need to make myself a little less available.

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Top 5 things lesbians never (or rarely)  have to deal with:

  1. Abraded chin from 5 o’clock shadows
  2. Projectile ejaculate (wear protective eye gear)
  3. Getting woken up because their partners “morning wood” nudged them
  4. Copious amounts of torso hair
  5. Emergency contraception

Condoms fail apparently AND the stakes aren’t really ones I want to gamble with, so, I found myself at CVS at 10:45 pm asking the pharmacist for some emergency contraception. At least there was never any risk that my ex girlfriends could get me pregnant.. or accidently shoot sperm in my eye.

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