Friday, November 7, 2008

Episode 17: Celibacy

Recently, I've realized that I may be too ready and willing. I don't find anything wrong with casual sex, but I am finding that I am emotionally attaching myself to people that aren't willing to reciprocate... it kind of puts me in an uncomfortable position.

There's something inside of me that's changed and is kind of looking for something more. I'm tired of committing to things that don't exist (even if it's just a "sex thing") and putting my hopes in someone else. I think I need to take a break from abusing my self-respect.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Episode 16: Worn Out

I haven't had a man-made orgasm in at least 8 months. That's bad. Like really bad. When I was with the ex, I got the occasional "attention" I needed. But after awhile, I think we both gave up. Maybe that's why we failed...

Whatever. Point is, no guy since then has made my punani do the happy dance. All I've got is my handy dandy best-friend-in-times-of-need: my pocket rocket.

Okay, I've heard it before. "A vibrator cannot replace a man." Yes, I am very aware of it. In fact, I love man-made orgasms (I don't think I'd mind a woman-made orgasm either, but since I'm pretty much straight all of the time, I'll stick to "man made".) But something a man can't always give me is consistency. I can't rely on a man to ALWAYS give me an orgasm when I expect one. (Yes, I am one of those women that can't always have an orgasm. In fact, I am fairly sure there is only one way to get me to have one, and nobody has done that specific trick in awhile.) A vibrator knows what you like best: I know exactly where to put it and what to do with it to make it most effective. It's to the point, gets the job done with minimal effort, and I don't even have to kiss it when it's done.

Oh God. I'm one of those women. I'm in a relationship with my vibrator. Fuck.

No. This can't be. It's impossible. Absolutely impossible. I've been dating. I've been having sex. Just none of them involve orgasms. I'm not in a relationship with my vibrator, I'm just attached to it. Happens.

I've always been afraid to introduce it to a guy, a boyfriend, a fling, anything. I'm afraid introducing such a powerful little friend will fuck it up and I'll come to rely on it. I don't want to have threesomes every time. I'm a one man woman, and my vibrator is not invited to the party. But I've always wondered...

It's such a bad idea. Terrible. But the worse thing is that it's dying. My vibrator is dying. It is sad and eats up batteries... we're talking one a night, and I don't have rechargeables. Now that I think about it, that would be a wise investment. Note to self.

In other news, The Suit is playing games, I'm losing patience, and I've gone back to my faithful little friend. I guess I'm going to have to be okay with that for awhile. Damn you, Pocket Rocket. I can never let you go.

I need to have sex soon or my brain is going to explode. I'm not gonna lie, a good dicking is always better than a little buzz. Never anything wrong with that though. Nothing wrong with that at all.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Episode 15: Fuck Me.

I was at a movie when I missed his text...
The Suit: Wanna do it again?
Me (an hour later): Duh. I thought you'd never ask.

Still haven't heard anything back. At least I know he wants to do it again and I wasn't just crazy.

Sorry for the lack of updates. There's just been a lack of sex.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Episode 14: Forever Whatever

So things with The Suit and that's alright I suppose. Not that there was anything to "work out" - we're both not in the place for a relationship. That simple.

So, if I'm just sleeping with this guy, what's the rules with dating? Do I have to tell fuck buddy that I'm seeing someone? Do I have to see the person I'm seeing that I have a fuck buddy? What are these rules, and do I even have to follow them?

This comes up because I might have a date with someone tonight. I don't know if it's a date (it's probably not) but I've been flirting with this guy for awhile now. I know he used to have a little crush on me, but gave up after he found out (at the time) I had a crush on his good friend. So whatever, maybe those feelings are back... Don't get me wrong, I do like this guy as well... My issue is I don't know if I can get past the "friend" phase. Yeah, that's really the question: If I can get past the "friends" thing and be a little more romantically interested in him. We'll see I guess...

Monday, September 15, 2008

Episode 13: Jackrabbits.

I don't have sex on the first date. It's just not something I do.

However, when I went out with a good friend the other night, I don't think we realized it was a date, and I don't think we realized we were going to have sex.

I met him a few years ago through some projects - we were introduced and realized our business styles were similar. He has a kind of professionalism that I respect and admire. We had fallen out of touch over the past year: we were both in serious relationships (he had moved in with his girlfriend), and we hadn't been working a lot together. I was surprised when he called me in late August. He told me that he had flown to meet his girlfriend's parents with her in Europe, and that after he arrived, she dumped him for another woman. He flew back to the states and called me the next day for guidance. It surprised me: I didn't expect a call from him, nor did I know he respected my opinion that much. I talked him through the immediate pain, and checked in on him the next few days to make sure he was okay.

When I got back here, he called and wanted to get dinner. We desperately needed to catch up.

We met at a really adorable restaurant halfway between our apartments. I was a little dressed up - during the day I decided to go with my "professional" look. When I got out of my cab, he was wearing a suit. God, he looked fucking handsome. Incredibly sexy. (I later learned that these days he always wears a suit, so it wasn't like he was getting dressed up for me or anything.)

We were at the restaurant for hours; we closed the place down. The conversation was effortless - we talked a lot about our recent breakups... we both missed having the presence of another body in our beds; snuggling is a basic human right. Otherwise, we had so much to catch up on and It was so great to hear about how successful he's been lately. It was blinding actually - success is sexy when you've been dating guys who you have to ask to pay for your dinner - he picked up the entire bill (He wouldn't let me look at it, but I'm guessing it was around $100.) I'm not a golddigger or a moneygrubber by any means - It's just really attractive to be taken care of for once.. I've always felt like I had to be the nurturer.

He had told me about his new apartment - the one he had to get as soon as his girlfriend broke up with him - and I volunteered to go see it after dinner - I figured I wouldn't know when I'd see him again or have another chance to travel out to his apartment, so I might as well go with him now and get the grand tour.

It took us a little while to get out there, but his apartment was cool. Empty at the time - he has JUST moved in days before - practically no furniture. We talked about what he was going to buy and where it was going to go. I realized it was starting to get really late and mentioned I might need to leave soon... he suggested I just stay over - we indulge in our aforementioned snuggling desires - I figured it was safe, thinking "It's just snuggling."

So I stole a pair of his sweatpants and jumped into bed. He followed soon after and we were wrapped and intertwined. It was such an embrace that felt so good, so right. I opened my eyes for a split second and saw him staring back at me. He had one of those looks - you know what I'm talking about - and I knew what was up. I had subconsciously tricked myself into this, and now I was going to have to make a call.

"This cannot change things professionally." I said. "I will not have it. I am an adult and this should be dealt with maturely."
He said something about being an adult as well and that he wasn't concerned at all with the situation.

The next thing I knew, clothes were coming off. We were breathing into each other and our bodies just seemed to click. It was marathon sex - hours of it. Probably the most I've ever had in one night. "Was it good" is the question that always comes up - and I can say that some of it was great... felt amazing. Sometimes when we were done with a round, he would just stay inside me... we were connected in those moments and it was so surreal. On the other hand, it got a little jackrabbity at times. Gentlemen, whoever told you that pounding it into me like you were whacking off with your hand was never sexy, never good. Painful, in fact. Not cute. Ow. Still hurts.

But otherwise, it was nice.

We got 4 hours of sleep (normal for him apparently?) and I woke up the next morning completely disoriented and somewhat mindfucked. Manic, to be more precise. We had sex again, got in the shower, and went about our work.

It took me awhile to come to a few realizations about the situation: first, when we got in the shower, it wasn't sexual at all. It was a shower. He just happened to be standing next to me. Second, all day I was a completely manic mess, trying to figure out if I actually ha feelings for this person, or if I was just jaded by money, sex, and success.

I still don't know how I feel about it. I have feelings for him, sure, I just don't know what they are yet.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Episode 12: Unlucky

I don't think things are working out with The Self Depricator. We're good friends, still, but he's emotionally unstable to the point where I fear I am far too invested in our friendship, and he is basically relying on me for emotional support. That's scary to me. I don't think I've ever been in a friendship where someone else is relying on me for emotional support. I'm more than willing to do this for him, because I genuinely care about him, but I question his dedication to me.

I'm back in my usual place of residence trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. I'm young... so young... and I have plenty of time to figure these things out.

I am realizing, however, that I am unintentionally abusing my friends who are in serious relationships. When I run into them, one of the questions to escape my lips is (before "how is your relationship"?) "Does your boyfriend have any amazing single male friends?"

I'm beginning to sound desperate. Pathetically so. I feel like I'm hunting. I've been back for about 24 hours and I'm hunting. My weaknesses are getting the best of me, and my vibrator is no longer giving me the companionship I need. The Self Depricator satisfies me conversationally, my vibrator is a bit of a sexual release, but I feel like I need to be fucked and then spooned; my vibrator and a telephone can't do that.

Have I mentioned I'm completely over phone sex? I've been in a few long distance relationships where phone sex was brought into play - even webcam shit went down - but I feel as if even calling up a booty call or two for a little phoneplay is not gonna get the job done anymore. Anonymous sex scares me (sorry craigslist) so I'm not sure what I'm going to do anymore. Geez.

Where is the untapped reserves of attractive, single, mature, young men? Can we drill for that in Alaska? I'll put in a call to Sarah Palin. God. Her political career is really going to be over when McCain loses the election.

But back to sex, and all of it that I'm not having... Things need to change or I'm going to start fucking my friends again, or even worse, I'll try women again and make a whole new world of hell for myself.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Episode 11:

In reflection of what happened in Chapter 10, I don't really regret it. I suppose that was a long time coming and it was bound to happen. It was just unfortunate that it sucked so bad, because it makes me never want to drive 6 hours for a booty call again. Lame.

I am beginning to question the direction of my life and if I am heading in a safe direction. As I'm gearing up to go back "home" (where I have an apartment by myself that currently possesses most of my personal belongings,) I feel a surge of inappropriate and immature behavior coming on. I see a fall full of drunken hookups and late nights dancing in clubs with men I've never met before. I see myself shopping for "club clothes" - I HATE THAT - and getting all hung up in "how do I look." I fear the fall because i know things are going to change with the leaves and I'm not really ready for change yet. I am not really mentally prepared for the repercussions of my future actions. eg: moral destruction and lack of self-respect.

But for some reason I have hope. I have hope that my future promiscuity and experimentation in the single life will be fun. I don't really want to beat myself up over these things anymore, and hopefully I can just let go and have fun for once. My happiness is now my priority, and I intend to keep it that way.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Episode 10: Poor Choices

I made some really terrible decisions recently. I am not proud of them. In fact, they go against most of the things I stand for, and I regret letting things get out of hand. Let’s break it down so I get embarrassed and never do it again:

First: Getting drunk. Usually I don’t have a problem getting drunk. I did have a problem with getting THAT drunk. The hangover made it almost not worth it. Whiskey is not my friend, nor will it ever be. That night may have changed my mind about drinking heavily… the thing is I don’t remember drinking that much. I had maybe 6-8 shots over the course of several hours (all in mixed drinks, never straight) and somehow, I ended up making the choices I said I wasn’t going to. Brilliant.

Second: Sex. Don’t get me wrong, sex is great. But this sex was licentious. I was completely disregarding my values and ideals regarding sex for the primal urges. This sex was not by any means amazing. This sex was dim witted (on my part, obviously licentious.) Almost annoying. Whiskey dick had struck him and I was forced into a position (not literally, well I guess literally) where I was forced to do most of the work, if you get my drift. He kept asking me to go down on him (in hopes of getting it up) and whenever I would, we’d have about 30 seconds of intercourse before he was soft again. Annoying.

But I don’t think you understand how annoying it actually was. The most annoying part of this entire ordeal is that I had hooked up with this guy once before, drunker, in fact (we’re talking black out) and had the same issue: severe drunk dick. It was a similarly upsetting experience and I did not have sex with him (partially cause I didn’t want to, partially because I was “saving myself for someone special,” which he teased me about the other night, but honestly didn’t bother me.) I guess I kind of made it a personal mission at one point to a) meet up with this guy again, drunk and b) have awesome sex with him – because obviously the chemistry was there and needed to be ignited.

Back to the most annoying sex of my entire life, I decide it’s far to degrading to tease him about not being able to get hard (he’s being hard enough on himself as it is) telling me how much he wants to fuck me and yadda yadda yadda. I go “great. Get a condom.”

And here’s what takes us to the biggest failure of the evening: Sex without a condom.

Ugh. I regret it. I regret it so hard I wish I could beat myself up more for it, but the hangover enough taught me a lesson. Well sort of. An STD would really teach me a lesson, but fuck that. No thanks. I asked for one, it was finally materialized (hah. He had to go downstairs and ask his roommate for one. Cute.) and promptly ignored. Erections were so inconsistent that getting the condom on would have been a buzz-kill and a half. Miserable. Ugh. It was terrible. And that’s when I think the drunk girl in me, gave up, and just went with it. He kept asking if I was on birth control, I kept not answering, and we kept having sex… until he finally came and we collapsed on the bed.

I fell asleep in his arms. That was the best thing about the night: the spooning was orgasmic. There’s something incredible about a man who makes you feel tiny wrapped in his arms.

I guess when I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of my entire life, I figured out it wasn’t worth the trouble. I felt guilty, like I’d betrayed someone… not just myself. I think it’s because I have sincere feelings for the Self Depricator that I’m not exactly comfortable with. I’m afraid to tell him, and I think it’s because I care what he thinks.

Oh. And my period just started? What a day.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Episode 9: Stay or Leave

I'm not quite sure what I wanted to write about today, but I'm going to just put my thoughts out there...

This guy (aka The Self-Deprecator) is killing me. I have fallen for it really bad. Our daily conversations have moved from just online to the phone, which to one degree scares me, because I feel as if I'm expecting him to call now. Everyday. On the other hand, its comforting. It's like having the emotional support I've been looking for in a relationship, but not having to deal with the messy stuff.

Actually, we've been playing games, and I don't think either one of us will admit it.

One of the games is the "I'm so glad you're my friend and I can talk to you about who I'm hooking up with" game. The SD apparently got more game than I expected him (bravo, sir) and has thrown a few stories I wasn't expecting. Then again, I think my past adventures also kind of catch him off guard: at times I sound like a bit of a whore, in reality of a comparison to my peers, I'm a pretty prude chick. Oh well. This game is pretty much him being like "I think I have a crush on this girl..." and the next day I'll throw in "I'm going out of town next weekend and I think it's a booty call." I think I'm a little more of an open book when it comes to my sexual past (go figure) but I'm unsure if he's just afraid of sharing anything like that, or if he's sparing me the gory details.

Another game we play is the "I hate my life game" where we both get into some funk about how horrible our lives currently on. You always want what you can't have, he tells me. But I honestly don't feel like I want anything else, I just don't like what I'm doing, and that's clear. I am constantly questioning my future path, and he's giving me his opinion, a direct response, which I so fucking appreciate, because people with fippy-floppy answers piss me off. Grr. He's comforting, yet just pushy enough that it will either push me further into my stubbornness, or make me see something I hadn't before.

Our final game is the "I miss..." game. This is usually when I say "I miss New York" and he goes "It misses you" or something to that extent. This translated into English means "I miss you." "I miss you too." It's odd, knowing that I could be on his mind right now. I try not to lie to myself, and I point out it is very well possible he is NOT thinking of me. This is true. But he is on my mind a lot, and for the amount of talking we do every day, I don't know how I couldn't be.

I simply adore his presence in my life and wish that fate would let it be something else. But I firmly believe that I'm here for a reason (even if it's a masochistic enforced reason) and that my mission, should I choose to accept it (already have), I have to complete what I came here to do in hopes of bettering my life in the long run.

My dilemma really lies in if I want this job I've been offered or not. On one hand, I know its the best opportunity for me, but i hate it here. I have never been happy in this city. I don't think I ever will be. My other option is to go back to New York, but I question at this point whether I'm doing it for me, or if I'm doing it for my friends. I miss them a lot, and I question my motivation for either one of my choices. I am going to have to stick to the hand I've dealt myself, and somehow float through time for awhile. I won't know I've made the wrong choice until after it's done, and it's a risk I have to take.

I have to stop now. I'm expecting a phone call...

Monday, July 28, 2008

Episode 8: The Self-Deprecator

Things have drastically changed and this guy and I have grown closer. Still as friends, but closer altogether.

But I've moved further... Moved out of New York for a job. And now I can't see him anymore.

However, we speak every day. I am curious to know who else he does that with, but there's no way to tell. Regardless, I feel special, and I treasure our correspondence even though sometimes it just includes "hey whats up" "nothing" "k". It's just nice to know you're being thought of sometimes. That's it, isn't it? You want to be on someone's mind. You want to be thought of. In his drunken stupor last night, he told me I had been thought of (over the day) "more than I'll ever know" which to me was kind of a loaded sentence...

Last night I also discovered he is really self-deprecating. He claims to be really open about it, but last time I had really seen him upset like that. It kind of scared me, but was also kind of endearing. I wish I could have opened up to him more, or really been there to talk him through this, but I wasn't. I can't. And for now, I'll just have to be there for him on the phone.

It's difficult to know where to go from here. I'm hoping my only option is "closer"...

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Episode 7: Living in Oblivion

I met a boy who I am attracted to. I’m a firm believer that at first meeting, or even first glance, you can tell if you have sexual chemistry with someone. And I’m not one to really mix friends and fuck, which is something I’ve been clear about from the beginning. But I can’t read this guy, and although he could be a fuck, I’m unsure whether or not he wants to be “just friends.” I think I’ve been pretty forward thus far, but he’s been sending me seriously mixed messages, and I don’t know what to expect anymore.

I suppose I’m thinking about it too much. To a certain degree, I should let things happen naturally, but I’m not really a believer in that. I’m more of a pusher… I’m constantly working to get what I want, and if a boy is what I want, it’s what I’ll get.

The first time I hugged him, it was insincere. Awkward almost. He’s not a touchy feelie person. But the other night, as we said our goodbyes, his hug was different. It had meaning to it... less "I'm hugging you because it's the right thing to do now," more "I'm hugging you because you're amazing."

I honestly want to tell him what I think of him: How I find him terrifyingly charming even though he is tragically socially awkward in large group situations. How when he smiles, I can't help but smile; his toothy grin makes all things right. When he smiles, I just want him to hold me. I want to be the reason that smile exists. I want that smile to be for me. I adore how he seems wise beyond his years; how well-read and articulate he speaks. How he doesn't seem to care what I think of him at all. He blows my mind with the amount of kindness he shows towards others. His loyalty to his friends is inspiring. His honesty and openness make me feel like I'm not the only one who feels the way I do sometimes.

I suppose this is a certain level of infatuation that I am not comfortable with. He kind of takes me to a place that was once familiar, but is no longer a part of my life. I know for a fact he does not feel the same way, but I know he cares for me, which is what's important at this point in my life. I would rather have a strong group of talented, loving friends than a gorgeous fuck any day.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Episode 6: Sexual Harassment in the Office

Lately, I've been a little sexually harassed in my work environment. I'm sure it alarms most readers to hear that, but honestly it was the classic situation: Early on I allowed myself to be harassed because I thought it would raise my value to my employer. However, it soon accelerated, and I suppose I gave in because of my fear of being fired.

But it might be more than it, let's break it down:

The aforementioned "Boss" is actually my Boss's Boss. (From now on, we'll call my Boss's Boss "The Boss" and my Boss "Julian.") The Boss is someone I really respect as an artist. I decided to work for him because of that. Julian, who is my direct boss, is his assistant. Quite frankly, I could do without working for Julian (he's a bit of a nut sometimes) but I've honestly worked with more difficult people, so whatever. Anywho, I started working for The Boss because of what he does. He has an entire office dedicated to making his work happen; another example of an office like this would be like Steven Spielburg's company or something: people want to work for him because he's Steven Spielburg.

So I've been working for The Boss for awhile now, and the other day it was my duty to bring him into a meeting. I waited as he said goodbye to his girlfriend, and walked him into the building. We stepped into a mirrored elevator, and he turned and smiled at me.

"You have lovely breasts." The Boss said. "May I stare at them in the mirror?"

Now The Boss is an odd guy, I won't lie. But what artist really isn't? Creative minds are always a bit weird, and generally socially awkward.

"Sure." I smiled. No harm in staring at my breasts.
He touched me between the shoulderblades: "They don't hurt your back?"
Without missing a beat, I replied "Nah. I've had them for awhile." I'm hilarious, I know.

Then we exited the elevator and walked into the meeting where we met up with Julian. Things were as usual.

Today things got weirder. The Boss was in a really odd mood for most of the day (grumpy and tired.) Today was a day full of things he doesn't like to do, and I'm sure if he could, he'd pay someone else to do it, but would kill you if you did it wrong. (Again, artists = weird excentrics.) Anywho, day becomes night, and I call The Boss a limo to go home, which is a standard practice in my field. I wait at the front door and hold it open for him, he stops and smiles at me (the first smile I've seen today.)

"May I punch your breasts?" He asks.
"Uh. I guess?"
He punches my right boob three times. Like a punching bag.
I stop him. "Get in the car..." I shoo him off. Julian appears soon after, following The Boss into the limo.

Had Julian seen the transaction that had just taken place, it is guaranteed I'd be fired.


I admit, the line has been crossed, and I'm partially responsible. However, did my first action sanction the second, and if so, should I blame myself, or the fact that I value developing a personal relationship with The Boss above my job and my dignity. I am by no means interested in him sexually, and his fascination with me is purely about my amazing breasts. (Sure, they're awesome.)

It's just a weird situation to be in. I get to be alone with an artist that people would kill to have a conversation with. Instead, all he sees is my breasts and not my mind. Secretly, I prayed to be noticed, but not like this.

We'll see where this goes.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Episode 5: The Fuck Buddy, Visited and Revisited

So had a vacay with The Fuck Buddy this weekend. However, The Fuck Buddy has been demoted to “That Friend I Had Sex With Once.” “What happened!?” You’re exclaiming (I can hear you over the interwebs, yes.) Well here, let me tell you…

Spent the weekend with the Fuck Buddy and things were all right and good. We’re still friends so things weren’t awkward or anything. We drank, went out for drinks at some silly club, did Tequila shots, and then, oh yeah, we drank some more. So by the end of the evening, I’m pretty far gone, and I’m expecting to get some. Sweet victory.

Oh wait. Monkey wrench.

So he doesn’t seem to catch on to any physical cues (odd) so I decide maybe I need to be more direct. Like with text messages. (Which have always been direct. Sense any sarcasm? I do.) So I start the evening with the good ol “Fuck Me” text message, which I think may have been misspelled because I was drunk texting, but the point was still received Well. At least the text was received. I didn’t actually get any confirmation or response.

Then I sent the ol “don’t answer that,” like I’m thinking “Oh my God, I didn’t actually send that?” But I know I sent that. He knows I sent that. It was sent. Whoops. I send that thinking that he’ll think I’m embarrassed, but I’m actually not. I just want him to react.

No reaction.

So by the time we return to our lodging, it’s very late, I still haven’t heard anything from the Fuck Buddy about my text messages. He disappears for a moment, and I catch him on the phone… for what probably is an hour or so, talking to a girl he was in a long-distance relationship with. Uh, okay. Whatever. Doesn’t bother me. They aren’t “together” anymore, and facebook says he’s “single,” so F that. But then it starts to occur to me that maybe he doesn’t want to fuck, and he’s still stuck on this girl, so in a final attempt, and my last bit of willingness to embarrass myself in the hopes of sex, I send “honesty is the best policy” thinking he’ll feel guilty and tell me the truth: to fuck, or not to fuck.

He finishes his phone call, sees my text and laughs: “honesty is the best policy?” he asks. Then he snuggles up next to me on the couch.

Talk about mixed messages.

The next day, things are good and fine. We go through the day as “buddies,” the “fuck” prefix started to fade from our situation. That night, we’re partying again, and I’m not as drunk as I was the night before for sure, but he’s gone. We’re talking blackout. Like I won’t be surprised if he calls today and was like “what happened?” But during this delicious moment of drunken hilarity, he made a call to a friend, who had hooked up with some random girl, and it sounded like, offered to hook my buddy up with someone too.

“No,” he says over the phone “I’m committed to somebody right now.”
Or something like that. Paraphrased. Sue me. Trust me, that’s pretty close to what he said and I don’t think I could have possibly misinterpreted it. Woah.

So he wasn’t sleeping with me because he was “with someone.” Who, I have no idea. I’m thinking it’s long distance girl… and I have some reasons as to how I know. It includes reading text messages over someone’s shoulder (whoops) and reading things I could have quite frankly gone without knowing.

Officially, we are at friend level. That One Friend I Had Sex With Once is still a dear pal and I will continue to kick it with him regardless of who he’s having phone sex with long-distance style. He’s a great friend, and was there for me this weekend when I needed to escape my big city life. Thanks, Buddy.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Episode 4: Blast from the Past

A couple on the train is standing close by, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears and kissing each other's cheeks, as if nothing else mattered. They are completely infatuated with each other, and think nothing of anyone else looking on. Almost as sickening as it is, their gazes are intoxicating to each other, and I have to look away to keep my gag reflex from kicking in. (When did I become so disconnected from what love does to people?) It is almost irritating that they are so comfortable being affectionate in a public place.

I remember when I was like that.

I made the mistake of calling my ex today. But not like you think. I was at work and a task was asked of me that I knew he'd be able to help me with (as he was much more knowledgeable in the topic. Example: boss says "find me a specific computer piece" except I don't know what it is, but exboyfriend is a computer geek, therefore he could help me figure out what it is. I only use him as a resource when google is really no help.) Anyway, he didn't answer his phone so I left a message, a horrible babbling message, hoping he'd call me back.
"Hey, it's me. Sorry for bothering you but I need to ask a favor..."
I tell him to call me back on the office phone *insert number here* because my cell phone has been dead all day. (Way to plug it in before sleeping last night...)
However, luck finds me quickly, and I figure out most of the issue by myself (and from a little help from a store owner who was very nice and ended up giving me a $100 discount on the purchase I made.) So I call exboyfriend back to tell him to disregard my message and everything is fine.
But this time he picks up. I immediately start babbling... it last for about a minute. "I'm sorry for calling yadda yadda nevermind yadda yadda I figured it out." I literally talked from the second he said "hello" for about a minute and a half about how I was really sorry for calling and whatnot and I felt kind of dumb doing it, but it was totally necessary.

He said it was "fine" and "not to worry," he hadn't even gotten the message yet. Then, without missing a beat, he said the most horrifying thing he could have possibly said, the one thing that proved I was erased from his life:
"Who is this?"

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Episode 3: Craigslist Adventures Part Deux

Last night started part 2 of the experiment. I quickly discovered that this was either the best idea I’ve ever had, or quite possibly the worst. Only time will tell.

After deciding that men that post personal ads on craigslist are expecting the girl to be the aggressor, I’ve figured out that quite possibly this was not the route to go. So I abandoned The Baker and decided I should post an ad of my own. Then I’ll be able to sit back, and make them do most of the work. Make them come to me. Smart girl.

So after posting the ad, I abandon my computer and decide to watch an episode of whatever crap is running on E! at that hour. It’s like Denise Richards or something with vibrators which reminds me I need to buy batteries. I go back to check my email (no more than 20 minutes later) and I have an onslaught of emails. I am suddenly very, very popular. More so than I was in high school.

So after weeding through the various emails, ranging from bad, (“Hi my name is Joe. I’m an actor. Send me a picture cause I need to be physically attracted to you.”) to the really bad, (“Call me. I love eating pussy. 555-555-5555.”) to maybe reasonable (“You seem really funny and smart… meet for drinks?”)

In the end, I narrowed about 25 down to 3…

The cutest guy, who shall be referred to as “The Friend,” seemed to be a genuinely good match personality wise. He shares similar interests and seems to think I’m funny. I approve. However, I begin to realize that maybe The Friend and I are stuck in “just friends” mode. Things don’t become flirtatious and I’m finding him to appear as my confidant… he’s basically getting all of the back-information about what’s going on, and I fear we’ll never get beyond that point. He even described to me a recent situation where he tried craiglist, and the girl became his best friend instead of a girlfriend. I mean, it’s nice to have friends, but I don’t really need many more dude friends. I’m not sure what to do.

Then there’s “The Uncle” (who after tonight may become “The Creepy Uncle”.) I’ve agreed to meet this guy for drinks, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. In fact, I’m honestly incredibly uncomfortable with it and I’m not sure if I want to go at all. The reason he’s called “The Uncle” is because he is old enough to be; he’s 13 years older than me. (Parents would not approve. Well, parents would not approve of this entire experiment.) I suppose there’s no harm in meeting him for a drink to see if there’s sparks, and I suppose I can be really honest (“Sorry. I just don’t feel a connection.”) or whatever and see where it goes. The Friend’s stance is that I should ditch him and go hang out with him, or he should be my wingman. Great. So my new best friend has already agreed to be my wingman on my blind dates. Sigh.

Then the third guy I haven’t really been able to define yet. He seems like a well rounded nice guy. I don’t even have a secret nickname for him yet. We’ll see if he works his way up on the leader board.

I’m just feeling slightly terrified about this whole thing and hope I don’t end up raped or murdered later tonight. I’m going to a bar I know (so I know all the emergency exits) but I hope I don’t run into anyone I know. Whoops. We’ll see how this goes.

I have a lot of work to do this week, and probably not enough time to date. I’ve clearly over-extended myself. Wah wah.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Episode 2: Craigslist Adventures

In a random attempt of pushing myself to new ridiculous extremes, I responded to a slightly sarcastic, and intriguing, craigslist personal ad. What was I thinking? Apparently not much. I picked one that was a little less sketchy and sent an email to the guy. His ad didn't have a picture, which I thought was bold, not knowing if this guy would end up hideously deformed or with a giant facial tattoo or something (just the type to bring home to mom!) He eventually responded, and seems like a generally nice guy. He sent back a picture that was a little on the tiny side (aka, if blown up in "preview" bigger than 1x2, it looks like colored squares.) Anywho, he seems generally chill, but had a tendency to mention how busy he was with his job: a full time pastry chef at a 3-star restaurant. (He mentioned this multiple times.) The Baker also mentioned that his schedule consists of working and then going home to sleep. 

So I responded to the personal ad of someone who doesn't really have time for anyone else right now? Cute.

He also mentioned that my specific career has weird hours too (it does) and that I probably had a similar lifestyle (I do?) Anywho, we've been shooting emails back and forth (shorter by the day...) and I'm beginning to think that, oh hey, maybe he's just not into me. I'm getting craigslist rejected? Ugh.

It's not just the fact he seems to have ZERO time to socialize (or just chooses not to?) or that his emails never include any questions about me (just responses to the things I ask him, usually clarifying the previous email), but it's that he has made no attempt at "we should get coffee" or "want to go see the new Hulk movie?" It's just "I'm so busy. I work and sleep and when I get out I'm tragically disappointed with the bar scene." (Join the club.) Okay, so should I take this as a hint for me to be like "want to get coffee" or is this a hint that he's just not that into me?

Or maybe I'm just not that into him. I need someone a little more aggressive and less... depressed about the social scene I suppose. I need more encouraging to go out, not to stay in and be tempted to call The Fuck Buddy for another round

Friday, June 6, 2008

Episode 1: The Fuck Buddy

I slept with a friend. I'm not sure if it was a mistake or not... it's kind of a question of: "OMG do I care if my friend knows how terrifying my vagina is?" (Well, my vagina isn't really terrifying, I just think it is. I've been told it's quite nice, actually. My vagina and I just disagree on a few things.) 

It was good sex. Surprisingly good. Much better than I expected for a insanely drunk evening. In reflection, I feel like a total tard. I wish I could erase half of the things I did. Somewhere between a slightly over-exaggerated moan and the "bored of missionary? let's doggy style!" moment, lies the one sentence I wish I had never uttered, what in my mind is the equivalent to an unexpected fart (no. DID NOT do that.) I said, the lamest thing you could say post-coital: "Was it good?"

Of course it was good. It was fucking. It wasn't even sex or making love. It was fucking. You got off. I (sort of) got off. It was great. We had a good time. No need to kill it with a "was it good?" moment. Fuck, I wish I hadn't said it. But it was so quiet. The moment was so dead. I had sobered a little up between missionary and girl-on-top, and after he came and we were lying in front of the fan, in his now very sweaty, very naked, very sexy room, I asked if it was good. I'm a fucking fresh-out-of-the-kennel puppy looking for sexual confirmation that I do not suck in the sack and that my ex did not steal every bit of sexuality I owned. I got an exhausted, eyes-half-closed "yeah," and I guess at the time it was good enough for me and I passed out in his drunken arms. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I slept in THE NOOK. Oh GOD it was lovely. I wished we had woken up in the morning and I had snuggled into the nook more and he looks at me and goes: "the nook, was it good?"

Only in my horrifying, embarrassed, dreams. What a mockery.

What I think was the best about this sex, and why it actually became "fucking", was because we were both in the sexual mindset of a "man"; neither one of us were concerned with much emotional aspects or consequences associated with two friends having casual sex. We fucked. It was good. That's it. No emotional attachment. I don't even want to date him. Not even slightly interested in dating him or being his girlfriend, which struck me as odd, because whenever hookups happened in the past, it's ALL I wanted... it was almost desperate.

But with him, the "fuck buddy," it was like we just accepted it as us having fun. It's like if we played a board game or baked cookies together. Just another thing friends do together... apparently.

Don't get me wrong: he's not unattractive by any means. He is probably one of the hottest guys I know. But I guess I'm not intellectually attracted to him, just... perpetually want to have marathon sex with him over and over again.

I don't see anything wrong with having a "fuck buddy" but it hasn't been discussed (I plan on doing it next time we are lying naked together in bed... doing the "girl" thing with "labels" - fuck, what dude wouldn't mind being labeled a non-monogamous "fuck buddy"?) but what I've heard from friends is bad news. I stray from the norm, however, and maybe me and "The Fuck Buddy" can just be really good friends that show how much they care by getting shit-faced and having marathon sex. Works for me.

Sunday, June 1, 2008


I could start at the beginning, but that might be a waste of time. All I think you need to know is that I just got out of a long-term relationship (he dumped me in a very immature fashion,) I moved to New York City, and am trying to weave my way through the wonderful world of dating. It's not exactly fun, but I have a tendency to get into interesting situations worth sharing...

Now is the time to run around this crazy city and try to find someone that suits my needs; that will listen and understand. Will nurture and care. I'm done feeling guilty, I'm done focusing on the past, and I'm ready to find someone that's ready for me. 

Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky.