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Posts Tagged ‘sex’

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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