Her Abs vs His Abs

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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Juggling, for the Uncoordinated

Last Tuesday night was a fun night with Type Geek. Being with him is always this great mix of sweetness and naughtiness. I never feel like I need to play a charade or be something I am not with these two boys I am seeing right now. I have tried to step it up with the dresses a bit and play up the girly factor a little bit more, since they both seem to really enjoy that, but it isn’t something that comes unnaturally. I was always a very femme girl. The time and effort are what stopped my sometimes, not the dress and the cute shoes. So, as I was saying, it’s nice to wake up next to someone and be able to just be yourself.

I was wondering how this was going to work, now that Type Geek and Cooper Fiennes are back in the same city, hell, the same neighborhood. So far, it’s interested. This past weekend was the first experiment in how this will work. I have this weird thing in my mind, If I am going to see the two boys on back to back nights, I need to see Type Geek and then Cooper Fiennes the next. I would be embarrassed to say this, to admit it to some people, BUT, this is anonymous and only a very few of you know my real identity…so what the hell. I feel like it’s unfair to have sex with the well endowed energizer bunny the night before the average guy. Average is NOT bad, but I get a different, more primal, being fucked kind of feeling from my Spaniard. There are times, and certain positions, that are almost painful. Not quite painful, but almost. Type Geek is wonderful, but I don’t get that feeling from him. I really enjoy sex with both of them, but there is something about fucking a man with a perfectly toned body, a large cock and a great sense of humor, that sometimes trumps the guaranteed orgasm the other can give you.  Cooper Fiennes is a piece of fruit with an expiration date, and I want to savor it while I have it. Type Geek lives here, is a permanent resident, has relationship potential, if I decide I want a relationship with a man again.

So, I was hoping to see Type Geek on Thursday or Friday, with Cooper Fiennes following up on Friday or Saturday. Plans with Type Geek kept getting turned around, post-poned and canceled due to work and family emergencies. I understand and truthfully, I am not bothered by it. I feel badly for some of the drama he is digging through at the moment. It’s hard to come back from vacation and step right back into chaos. So, then I tried to make a date with Cooper Fiennes. We had lunch later in the week, Thursday. That was nice, but not naked. Friday night he was exhausted. He ran 7 miles, played soccer and had gone rowing for 2 hours. He was done by 10 pm and hoping to be in bed by 11. We had a big gay brunch to go to on Saturday morning. June is always gay pride month, as many of us are aware, and I was invited to a brunch by a couple I know. Cooper Fiennes and I went, stood in the rain and watched some big gay festivities, I came out to my former neighbor as a recently reformed cock lover (which elicited an interesting response that I will touch base on in my next post), and then my dog and I walked C.F. across town to a bar for the World Cup games. I then headed home and had fingers crossed that I was seeing my Type Geek that night.

As the hours stretched by, it seemed likely I would be stuck at home alone for the night. T.G. had family stuff that needed to be dealt with and C.F. was being less than responsive to my texts wondering what he was up to after he was done hanging with his work friends. his work friends do NOT know the true nature of our relationship. I think some have an idea BUT it is a little complicated. Prior to meeting me, he had a very brief fling with one of their fellow colleagues. C.F. is married, but with no hope of reconciliation. His wife wanted something different and she told him so and moved on. he can’t finalize the divorce until he goes back to Spain. His colleague was cheating on her husband to be with him. Because of this, and how attached she was for their situations, C.F. ended it. She has been a bit passive aggressive ever since. Also, he is semi private about his divorce. While they know he isn’t living with her anymore and that I seem to show up at weird places and weird times, nothing has been said. Eventually, I’m taking a bath at 9 pm. It will prove to either be for a quick shave so I can molest C.F. or a pre bed soak. Midway through my bath, C.F. says he will meet up. Yay, sex !!

We met on the train platform, I stuck the fishnets back on, with my boots, a hot little silky black dress I hadn’t worn yet and minimal eye makeup. I knew the makeup wasn’t what he would be looking at. As we sat next to each other on the train, I slid his hand under the edge of the dress so he could feel that I had on garters. Happy boy. We picked up some ice and made it back to his house in record time. As I made us a couple of cocktails, he tried to distract me. We started on the kitchen counter and then he picked me up and moved me to the bed. Damn, it’s really hot to be physically picked up and moved around by someone like that. Again, stockings stayed on, sex rocked and we actually finished before dawn. We then finished our drinks and had a really great conversation about us and his marriage and our philosophies on life and dating and sex, etc. Next thing I know, we are having sex again. He is exhausted, I’m sore, and we really just need to sleep cause the birds are singing and he has to meet his colleagues to support a team event they are participating in. We look at each other and just pull up the blankets and stop. Then the phone rings. The event is starting early, in a half hour to be precise. I was planning on heading home, grabbing the dog and meeting back up, as if we hadn’t been in bed with eachother all night. That was not going to happen however. He jumped in the shower, I just threw on my non naughty clothes I brought to change into and we ran over to the event site.

Within a half hour, his colleagues all noticed I was there, and it was early and hmmm. One woman made comments. We think she knows. She kept saying things to illicit responses from either of us, specifically me and I would play deaf, ignorant or just laugh and change the topic whenever she said a word. I’m curious how this will all play out for him now that the week has started back up. Meanwhile, I held out mini hopes that maybe I could hang out with Type Geek on Sunday evening, but his brother is just too ill and needed him there for the night. The brother is being brought back to the hospital today. Hopefully they find an answer to his months of problems and I get my boy back soon.

Now, it’s the beginning of the week. I am going to try to avoid chatting up my Spaniard and try to get some errands taken care of. I want him to contact me next time he wants sex or company. I shouldn’t be doing the chasing all the time. He needs to work for it a bit, I have been too easy for him.

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Sunday Bloody Sunday

Okay, it was Wednesday and totally NOT on the game plan. The day started as normal as most of mine do. My pup was out to meet with her canine boyfriend for a playdate, I had a client meeting, and then after a long look in a mirror, that is when things got interesting. I noticed my grey was more noticeable than my highlights, at least to me. Jesus Christ, time for a hair appointment.

I always forget that my hair stylist  is constantly booked. She IS amazing, but considering I live my life in a constant state of spontaneity, it sucks to have to plan. I also forget that she doesn’t work on the days that are usually best for my schedule. I called the salon and was told that she had some appointments on Saturday. Ugh, the problem with that is this, once you have noticed how bad your hair looks, there is NO going back. You feel awful everyday until it’s rectified. I realized that I would be ending my day a bit earlier than expected so I called to see if there was a way to get squeezed in at some point in the late afternoon. Turns out she had an opening at the end. THANK YOU GOD!

Hmm, so then I started thinking, well damn, my hair looks SO good after a cut and foil, shame to let it go to waste. No, really, it looks HOT. I texted Cooper Fiennes to see what his availability was for drinks after work. Turned out he had a soccer match in the park so he wanted to make it a dinner and drinks scenario later, if that would work for me. Hells yeah!

Now, I don’t have much of an excuse these days to get really sexy. What I do for a living, what I do for fun, it’s all fairly casual. Wednesday night though, I wanted to feel like a sexy woman, so I ran by three resale shops and found a dress that I was semi on the fence about when I tried it on… consider that my legs were furry, my hair still grey and shaggy, and I wasn’t wearing the right undergarments or shoes or makeup. There was SOMETHING about it though. It had this rouching to it that gave the illusion of curves to my no T and no A body…and a neckline that kicked ass! Did I mention it was $24 ?! Score. Maybe it could produce a miracle and make me feel hot even though I was day 4 of my fucking period. So, unfortunately, no sex was on the table. I don’t fuck when I am bleeding.

I had two hours to get my dog home, shave (I know! This girl is having issues affording the professional waxing though), grab my makeup, the shoes, and jewelry and get to the salon for my hair appointment. I decided I would apply the makeup and get dressed after my appointment and then meet him at a local bar. I had considered that it would be hot to do a little role-playing. Pretend we are strangers, etc. Alas, by the time he told me he was headed home to shower after the game and I was still getting my hair trimmed and blown out,I found myself a bit tired, so I decided instead for Starbucks.

As per usual, my stylist did an AMAZING job. I love you, you know who you are and eventually you will read this post, when you have some free time and can catch up! Sadly she ran out the door as I was getting ready in the dressing room, so she missed the final look, but BRAVO! I paid, ran out to CVS to grab some polish and touch up my fingernails since there was no time for a manicure with his arrival in T minus…. x amount of minutes. The nails got painted in an alley way and the iced Americano imbibed while trying to look nonchalant yet sexy while reading the New York Times. I refused to look up at the door each time i heard it open. I hate public transportation because it’s so reliably unpredictable. I made it through all the interesting segments of the Times and was just headed into the mind numbing part when C.F. was standing over me with a grin from ear to ear. When I looked up,” wow”, was the only thing he could say. Yay! Now THAT is the response most girls want when they get sexied up, right?!

We wandered over to a local restaurant that I had previously had really great experiences with. Wednesday night however, I had the waiter from hell. Disinterested, unattractive, unfriendly and just hilariously awful. He didn’t ask what we wanted to drink, he didn’t mention specials, he didn’t say hello, instead, he lumbered over to the table, stood too closely and just stared at us. Umm, ok. I have a food allergy, so I asked him to ask the chef what would be appropriate, instead he told me that I should just tell him what I like, and the chef will make me something special. I don’t want that. I just want to know what 4 dishes on the menu are safe. He should know this automatically. That is HIS job. Anyway, the service just kept getting more and more laughable. I asked for my mussels and my heirloom tomato salad to come together, the salad gets dropped off first. I moved it aside. The other server notices and asks if I want my mussels to come out with C.F’s steak frites. Umm, yeah, that IS why I asked for them together in the first place. After we finished our meals he stood over us and asked,”yeah?” as we looked at the dessert menus. Seriously, Gordon Ramsey would make this fat man cry if he were ever to serve him! At the end, C.F. asked how much we liked him, “10% “, I replied. Then C.F. asked what we were doing next. “Going back to your place?”, I replied with the added stipulation that we could only do 85% because of my bitch ass period.

After an eventful train ride that provided a lot of amusement from the drug and alcohol fueled patrons, we arrived at our stop. I quickly switched from the heels to my flats for the walk to his sublet. The 15 minute walk took 30 because of all of the times he stopped to push me up against a building or tree and kiss me. Awesome awesome. Not complaining about that. Not complaining about the molestation in the elevator or the hallway or even that we weren’t in his place 5 minutes before he had picked me up and thrown me on his bed. Okay. Sure. So, long story short… aside from a 20 minute mood kill when I noticed the lighting in the room shift and glanced behind me to see the computer scrolling through a  photo slide show that was resting at an older fat photo of his best friend, we had 4 hours of total naked hotness. He asked me later how it’s possible that I give such good head, having been a lesbian for 12 years. I replied that it must be kinda like riding a bike… you don’t really forget. He accidently gave me a hickey on my neck (definitely NO dates for a few days. Thank GOD Type Geek is in Europe drinking beer right now and not here!) and I was feeling a little grrrr-umbly about that until I looked at his bed sheets and saw the hand prints. One thumb nail sized hickey versus bloody hand prints? Ha Ha Ha. I think I got the better end of the deal. Obviously I eventually decided to fuck him, regardless of my rule about my period. I looked too good. So did he and honestly, at a certain point… you aren’t feeling self conscious anymore, you just want to fuck. And fuck we did. Thank you my Spaniard friend. I will gladly give up 4 hours of sleep every night to be thrown around by him.

What does everyone think? Do you or don’t you when you or your partner is in period hell?

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