Happy Endings

Don’t you just LOVE a happy ending?

I was out on a date with a guy and he admitted to me that his last massage had a “happy ending.”

For those of you living under a rock, that means his “massage technician” jerked him off at the end of the massage thereby giving him a “happy ending” to his massage.

Now I was a little surprised.

First, I was astonished that he just admitted it to me out of the blue.

Maybe he was trying to steer the conversation in a sexual direction.

Second, I was a little shocked.

Not because he allowed himself to enjoy a happy ending massage, but because the massage parlor was in the illustrious town of Los Gatos.

What massage parlor in Los Gatos is doling out happy ending massages?

Come on!

This is not the first time a date admitted to a happy ending massage with me.

Another guy told me about the one he had when he was in India with – get this – a MALE masseur.

So go figure.

It happens in India.

It happens in Los Gatos.

Apparently happy ending massages are very popular.

Crime scene sex

In my life, I’ve met men who were squeamish about period sex and men who really could care less.

Personally, I’m in favor of it.

Especially in long term relationships.

I dislike it when it’s my first time with someone, or when things are still “new.”

I don’t think it’s dirty, per se.

I think it’s messy.

So you can imagine I was LESS THAN THRILLED when Aunt Flow arrived just in time for my date with Duncan’s Hero.

The best laid plans, eh?

And he had PRISTINE WHITE SHEETS.

Oh God!

Talk about intimidating.

So I did what any woman afraid of white sheets would do.

We had a one-sided romp.

Afterwards, he admitted to not being the least bit bothered by period sex.

Just an FYI for me, of course.

In fact, he actually told me about the time he had, as he put it, “CRIME SCENE SEX.”

I didn’t know there was a term for it, but apparently there is.

Just so you know, I’m not into crime scene sex.

Why make a big mess even bigger, I ask you?

But for what it’s worth, this one-sided shit isn’t exactly satisfying.

Juice

I’ve been waiting for the exact right moment to write a post titled Juice, after one of my favorite songs by Lizzo.

And now I can.

Because my JUICE is back.

I’ve been struggling to write blog posts lately, when usually they just come out of me as freely as shit comes out of a baby (and about as pleasant).

But ever since I got ghosted for a second time, I’ve been struggling to relight my inner fire.

I’ve been recycling posts and using my quilt hobby as a major contribution to my posts in the last few weeks.

But not anymore because the JUICE is back and it’s flowing baby!

Just in time for Halloween and my birthday.

It may have something to do with the fact that it’s officially been almost two months since I got ghosted and I’ve finally released the latent outrage I was feeling.

Or, it could have something to do with the fact that it’s just impossible to keep me quiet for any length of time.

OR. . .

. . . maybe it has to do with the hot tub date I had last week where I managed to really knock one out of the park with a really phenomenal. . . BAT!

But baseball analogies aside, I’m feeling good and I’m having a good time writing new blog posts for unblunder.

So thanks for sticking with me.

And in the immortal words of Lizzo:

If I’m shinin’, everybody gonna shine
I was born like this, don’t even gotta try
I’m like chardonnay, get better over time
Heard you say I’m not the baddest, bitch, you lied

I am one JUICY woman!

Nope

It’s not what you’re thinking.

I’m not going to tell another story about some guy’s tacky advances on Tinder.

No.

Or mention again that I got ghosted by the last guy I dated.

Instead I’m going to share with you that I got a little action last weekend.

Indeed.

It’s been months since that happened and I was happy to break my abstinence streak, or so I thought.

Turns out, when you haven’t done the deed for a while, things down there aren’t as robust as they normally are.

And vigorous activity can lead to some discomfort.

I spent the night at a friend’s house.

I’m not one to turn down ANOTHER romp in the hay but let me tell you, it is possible to DO IT TOO MUCH.

And then you have to stop.

Briefly, I thought, “Well, MAYBE I can sneak in another session without my nethers screaming too loudly at me that it hurts. . . “

But no, I must inform you that there are times in a woman’s life when her vagina must exert dominance over her libido with a loud and resounding, “NOPE!”

The pickle pouch

5681db484a9d8b0c63101aa9877d1722I have a love-hate relationship with condoms.

On the one hand I love what they do – prevent unintended pregnancy and the transmission of nasty old STDs.

On the other hand I hate for they feel – like I’m trying to pick up a dime with rubber gloves on.  There’s not much sensation.

But recently, I read MyLifeOnMatchAndMore’s enthusiastic blog post on “For the Love of Lube” and I couldn’t help but follow her link to Lucky Bloke, who sells variety packs of condoms and lube.

(Incidentally lube (Gun Oil) is something I have ALWAYS loved)

It started me thinking.  Maybe the next generation of condoms are superior to the ones I’m used to.  Maybe, just maybe I can learn to love condoms again.

Lucky Bloke has several awesome variety packs available:

  1. Non latex – For the sensitive among us.
  2. Smaller fit – For those challenged in the cock department (just remember size doesn’t matter?).
  3. Standard – For the average man.
  4. Mixed sizes – When you don’t know what size you are.
  5. Japanese Ultra thin – The very best in ultra thin.
  6. Flavored – Really?  Why?  Nevermind.
  7. Ultra thin – Ultra thin.  ‘Nuff said.
  8. Pleasure shaped – Condoms aren’t just ribbed anymore.
  9. Textured – like wearing an argyle sweater on your cock.

Maybe I can learn to love condoms a little more and hate them a little less.

 

30 years of f*cking

It’s officially been 30 years since I became sexually active.

I know this because I remember the date I lost my virginity.

It was July 8, 1989.

I was fifteen years old.

The only reason I didn’t lose it sooner is that the guy I picked to give my virginity to wound up backing out at the last minute.

I guess he was a big virgin too.

I’m not crazy about remembering dates to things like this.

It’s just that 7-8-89 is an easy date to remember.

It seems that now would be as good a time as any to review my sex life and make some changes, if needed.

Clearly, I have no sex life to speak of and so I’d like to change that.

However, I think I’ve made some good decisions lately about who to share that slice of myself with and who to abstain from sharing it with.

So I give myself points for that.

And, of course, no analysis of my sex life would be complete without acknowledging that there have been some MAJOR changes in my sex life, namely because I’m dating the new guy, but also because I’ve had a health scare or two.

Sure, there’s no one to speak of right now who I’m sharing intimacies with, but that’s likely going to change and I give myself bonus points for actually taking the time to get to know somebody as well as for creating a little empty space for someone new to enter the picture.

It was getting CROWDED.

Kidding!

The pickle pouch

5681db484a9d8b0c63101aa9877d1722I have a love-hate relationship with condoms.

On the one hand I love what they do – prevent unintended pregnancy and the transmission of nasty old STDs.

On the other hand I hate for they feel – like I’m trying to pick up a dime with rubber gloves on.  There’s not much sensation.

But recently, I read MyLifeOnMatchAndMore’s enthusiastic blog post on “For the Love of Lube” and I couldn’t help but follow her link to Lucky Bloke, who sells variety packs of condoms and lube.

(Incidentally lube (Gun Oil) is something I have ALWAYS loved)

It started me thinking.  Maybe the next generation of condoms are superior to the ones I’m used to.  Maybe, just maybe I can learn to love condoms again.

Lucky Bloke has several awesome variety packs available:

  1. Non latex – For the sensitive among us.
  2. Smaller fit – For those challenged in the cock department (just remember size doesn’t matter?).
  3. Standard – For the average man.
  4. Mixed sizes – When you don’t know what size you are.
  5. Japanese Ultra thin – The very best in ultra thin.
  6. Flavored – Really?  Why?  Nevermind.
  7. Ultra thin – Ultra thin.  ‘Nuff said.
  8. Pleasure shaped – Condoms aren’t just ribbed anymore.
  9. Textured – like wearing an argyle sweater on your cock.

Maybe I can learn to love condoms a little more and hate them a little less.

 

Mommy

Once upon a time, I dated a guy with a fetish.

Now, there are lots of fetishes out there.

Leather fetish.

Foot fetish.

Latex fetish.

Shoe fetish.

And my personal favorite:  black vinyl fetish.

But I’ve never come across anyone with an infant fetish.

Lactation.

Talking like a baby.

The whole shebang.

I’m not adverse to catering to someone’s fetish.

After all, I too have certain things that I like.

But believe me, I had an interesting time catering to this guy’s fetish.

It’s definitely NOT MY THING and all I can say about it is this:

For anyone who actually IS a mom, being called “Mommy” brings back memories of my two young kids and all the work it took me to raise them into the lovely human beings they are now.

I’m not sure that’s the association I need in order to effectively carry out his fantasy.

Also, and I’m just putting this out there, I don’t really want to be REMINDED of babies and young kids while I’m getting some action.

It seems inappropriate to the nth degree.

So I went ahead and role played but in the end, I think I can safely say that this is a fetish I do not possess and will not partake of in the future.

I’m a mom to two wonderful teenagers, not a mommy to a grown man.

Pleasure Party

After working a 12 hour day, I decided to take a detour on my way home and stop by my friend Melissa’s Pleasure Party.

It was a treat to hang out with an eclectic bunch of women fascinated by a discussion of all things pleasurable.

Our pleasure consultant was knowledgeable, skilled, and funny which is a prerequisite if you’re going to give a sex talk.

Much humor is needed.

Also needed are jello shots…

Our consultant had a whole table of toys including Lelo, bullets, oils, massage creams, candles, vibrators, dildos, and more.

My favorite part of the evening was when the consultant demonstrated how a little sleeve called Mimi could make giving a blow job that much easier.

All in all, a great time was had by everyone.  And I got to see my girl crush.

That was worth the price of admission.

So what did I buy?

Lotions, potions, and things that go BUZZ in the night.

Happy girl!