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Posts Tagged ‘sex’

This is pretty much the funniest thing I have seen in a good long while. Satan, nibbles, and sex… by Steve Hughes

 

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Ages right? I guess I have been avoiding you all. There are multiple things I have been hiding, trying to keep for me and me alone.

 

  1. A crush on a boy I met on the street. Only, after bumping into each other several times over a couple months and even texting one night, it hasn’t gone anywhere.
  2. Some sex-capades and conversations and the like with someone you might not approve of.
  3. A health scare that I haven’t been able to get checked out yet due to lack of insurance, which is a frustrating mess in Massachusetts. Health care for all, my ASS. Been trying for months and my application STILL hasn’t been processed.

So, that’s it. That’s why I have been avoiding you all. I’m not in the mood lately to date as I want/need to figure out this health thing, and frankly, I just don’t have the energy for the douche bags since my dog died. It’s all too much drama.

How is everything else though? My career is still doing more fits than starts. I thought I found the right fit, only to realize that it most certainly is seeming not to be. Difficult week in that regards. I have started exercising again though and even played my first EVER game of basketball. I made two baskets and was told that I am a helluva natural defensive player. Ha. That’s the Brooklyn in me, yo!

I hope everyone is well.

 

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I’m in Boston. There, I admit it. Some of you have guessed, and over time, I have grown bored of hiding that fact. With that said, it hasn’t ever been a huge part of my blog, nor will it become so. I am fessing up however, because I was on my friend Bella’s radio show this evening and also met up with a new friend, who I met through my blog. Southie Single, as she is known, is awesome. Witty, attractive, intelligent, a great catch in a city full of douche bags. So, she and I decided to meet for a drink and commiserate over our dating woes.

Certain neighborhoods of our city are known for their residents interesting take on class and tradition. Southie Single and I sat at the bar of one such bistro, a place I adore, a brunch worth devouring, and cocktails so well-balanced that they feel as if they were without a creation, but that they just always were. So, here we are, sitting at this tiny bar in this tiny bistro in a quiet neighborhood of affluent bitchiness when a nice young gentleman approached and asked if he could sit in the empty seat between ourselves and an older woman to our right. All started politely. Us bloggers drank our cocktails and ate our salad and flourless chocolate cake while I eavesdropped on the conversations around us. The bartender made a comment about a dog and the solo gentleman commented that he didn’t have one, to which I chimed in that every man needs a dog. He said that his place was too small and felt that dogs didn’t belong in an apartment, to which my response was that there are so many dogs that live in kennels at the shelter, a small city apartment would be a far better alternative. Then the older woman started rambling on about how dogs do not belong in the city and how her neighbors have dogs  whom she would like to poison. POISON?!! She spoke with a contrived english accent, the type that seems to be crafted for the sole purpose of exaggerating her elitism.

Southie Single and I chuckled at the absurdity of the woman. Her beliefs in a true divided class made me delight in the idea of her departure from this planet. I know that is perhaps cruel, and I joke about it in a way in which I would never truly mean. I wish not for her death, truly, but perhaps for her to be maimed and lose her voice so she can no longer leave her home and spout her poisonous barbs.  At some point she got up to speak with some older men to the other side of Southie Single and I, perhaps in a hope that they followed her beliefs. We chatted up our solo diner and laughed in unison and solidarity over the nonsense that had occurred. We then said goodnight to him and I offered to walk Southie Single over to a department store for the winter hat she sorely needed since snow is predicted tomorrow.

After a few minutes in the store I was able to convince her to join me on Bella’s radio show, as the station was around the corner. The topic was bloggers and dating sites and while Southie Single originally felt she wouldn’t say much, eventually she opened up. The hilarity that occurred however was in she and I realizing that I had met and ALMOST gone out with her worst date in history. A man who felt porn was an instruction manual for dating and while he had a beautiful voice and was a great replicator of others music, he was, an utter self-centered incredible douche bag. Not at all deserving in any woman baring herself for him, as he was unfairly critical and had beyond what are appropriate levels of self-confidence. He considered himself a teacher, when he had so much more to learn. All I needed to do was write down one name as she was talking about him and she started to laugh hysterically as we realized that in fact we were thinking of the same man.

Moments like that make me thankful for Type Geek. He may be a lot of things, including 15oo miles away in the snowy mountains of Wyoming with the boys on a big wilderness trip, but he isn’t an utter douchebag. He is, however, an adorably scrumptious package of tush…and I haven’t gotten laid in a while due to logistics with our schedules. That MUST happen within hours of his return or I am afraid that my clit, the bitch that she is, will atrophy and fall off. I don’t think my insurance covers that.

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No definitive answers here as of yet. Type Geek is apparently not great with confrontation. Between the letter that almost states that I am in love with him, to the text that in fact DID say I am in love with him, the conversation in his car in which I asked to be more than a garnish in his life, to finally my message last night informing him that I do not need him to feel the same exact way, or to promise forever, or perfection, but that I do want him to consider us being more than we are now. Feeling like a 12-year-old, I laid it straight out and told him that I would like him to be my (ahem, gag, hate the word, makes me feel juvenile) boyfriend. So, his response? He told me that reading my email made him smile and that I am both super cute and honest and that yes, we can talk tomorrow night. Tomorrow night is now tonight. He hasn’t canceled yet. I know that he isn’t planning on dumping me because after he told me about his deplorable day, I told him it seemed he was overdue for one of my full body rubs. He agreed and then I said that if there was anything else I could do to or with his body, that I would be taking requests. Does one tell a girl, who has just professed their love for then and asked them to commit to a more solid relationship, that she should definitely straddle their cock, IF they don’t want to continue sleeping with them and seeing them? Maybe he has a dissociative disorder and each personality has their own relationship with me.  The weekend after I tell him I am in love with him, we have an epic 30 hour date. The night I tell him that I want him to be my boyfriend, he tells me he wants me to ride him. Ok, what gives?! I better get a Thanksgiving invite after all of this, or a DAMN good explanation why, after 7 months of dating, I am not.

I can’t help but look at my clock and count the hours until I see him and shut the door on this question. This goes beyond fickle. On a side note, a really hot girl started at my restaurant and a few staffers have told me that it is my job to determine her sexual preference. Meanwhile, it is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and I finished the first draft of my novel last night. Now to the massive chopping, shaving, and reshaping. I think I know what the story is I am trying to tell here, but I am curious what all of you, the readers, see as the story behind this whole adventure. Please, chime in and leave a comment. What are your feelings about this whole thing?

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Apparently I am spineless with no will power or I am a master of the Buddhist art of forgiveness and letting go. I went over last night. I was mad. I said no, no, no. Then I realized, who am I really hurting here? Am I going to benefit myself here at all by being bratty and “punishing” him by staying home? No. We need to have a talk, yes. But things aren’t changing between now and then. Increasing intimacy by withholding sex because I feel ignored, well, it is only going to lead to him ignoring me more. It is NOT going to increase intimacy. At the end of the day, I do need to ask this… WHO did he ask over? Was it someone else? No, it was me. He has a shitty way of showing he cares, he is a moron with regards to common sense acceptable behaviors (ahem, photo on OkCupid) and his online trolling habit is ANNOYING, but, at the end of the day, when he has the time after a business trip, I am the one he wants in his bed. This has to account for something. It doesn’t resolve the issues, and it certainly doesn’t make our need for a conversation about all of this any less urgent, but, it does show that he is choosing me. sorta.

By the way, the sex last night ROCKED!!!

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Two of my colleagues turned a polite conversation into an intervention today. They asked loaded questions and then mirrored them back at me. I know what they are saying. I know it to be true. I am NOT being treated fairly. He is NOT meeting me even a 1/3 of the way. He is NOT considering me at all in anything. I do know this. When I laid awake last night after masturbating and found myself suddenly crying because I have someone 3 miles away whom I have a supposed romantic relationship with but I realized that I masturbate far more than I have sex with this person whom I care very much for, that was when I felt truly kicked in the gut. I deleted his contact from my phone. Yes, he can still text, and I can still respond, but it makes it harder. He has texted me twice today. I refuse to respond. He needs to make some decisions now. We had an email exchange last evening that ended with my explaining that it is, in part, his imperfection, his human flaws, that make me care as much as I do. That his scars, his grey hair, the chronic lateness, all of these things add to who he is, and that is ok. We are not perfect, we are human, and not only do I care regardless, but I care because of it all. I know he has read it. His texts came after, which means he wasn’t scared away by my message, but was he moved at all?

In thinking of all of this,  I have decided on some requirements for myself. Things I need at this point, nearly 7 months from when we met. These are:

  • The texting/phone call ration needs to change. I want to hear his voice, not read his thoughts, for at least 10 minutes each day. Even a check in, how are you doing, how was your day, type of call.  
  • He needs to commit to a weekend somewhere with me. We have planned several, only to have them fall apart. I have made plans, taken days off work, arranged dog care.
  • Our hangouts need to be more date, less sex focused. I love the sex, but I want some romance. I want to be wooed.
  • We need to have more sex. We are both tired. We both have responsibilities and lives that wear us out, but I want that intimacy. We both deserve and need it. Give me a 10 minute quickie topped off with sleep. I’m not asking for marathon encounters here. I’m just putting value on taking anytime to connect sexually with each other.
  • Laying off the okcupid site. I can’t handle it. I need sexual exclusivity and to know that when he looks at me, he sees me and isn’t looking over our shoulders for what else might be out there. Until he can give me the attention and try to put himself out there, I’ll always be half a person to him. I deserve more.

So, those are my personal requirements, which may very well change as I consider what all of this is. I know that I am being played the fool. I can feel that. I am also very aware that this is a self-created issue because I didn’t have the conversation months earlier, before I realized I was in love with him. At what point does patience and belief/love in another become a pathetic nose dive into martyrdom?

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