Steve

Today I found out via a text message that a former boyfriend died suddenly Thursday night from an as yet unknown cause.

He was in his 50s.

Far too young to die.

Long ago, when we first met I was madly in love with him and imagined that we had a future together.

But it was a long distance relationship and he seemed more happy being single than being with me for the long haul so we parted ways.

I’ll never forget when (nearly a decade later) he added me as a friend on Facebook.

Bold, I thought.

But Steve was always bold and daring.

And smart as a whip!

We managed to meet up a few times and catch up on the latest and greatest in our lives.

He took me on a sailboat ride around the bay and we ran out of gas.

Literally.

Ironically, neither one of us knew how to sail properly at the time.

Despite that, I had a lovely day on the water with him.

I took pictures and blogged my trip, for which he suggested the title “Fucking Steve!”

I will remember him as the strong, invincible, highly intelligent man I knew him to be.

If I know Steve, he’s in Valhalla celebrating his eternal soul with a beer and pretty ladies while telling stories of his amazing life.

Love Letter #1

I wrote my first of many love letters to a dear “old” friend of mine.

We happened to be texting.

And I’m not sure if it was the effects of watching Ellen Degeneres or the booze I was drinking, but the love just started pouring out of me.

I started out by pointing out what a gift he is in my life:

“I know what a gift you are.  You’re extraordinary.  A true gentleman and a romantic with a generous heart and a playful spirit.”

I went on to tell him, “I think it’s important to tell loved ones that they are loved.  You are one of my favorite people in the world.  And I love you.”

There’s so much I admire about him.

He’s a hopeless romantic.

He is so full of love that he can’t bear to not have someone to give it to.

I love his dry sense of humor and how he is self-deprecating about the things that worry him the most.

And if something happened to me tomorrow, he knows that  he has made my life better by just being in it and that I love him dearly.

And do you know what?

He loves me too!

Isn’t that a blessing?!

I could get used to writing love letters to my family and friends.

Glue for Idiots

So.

I have this friend from Serbia.

Not Russia. Serbia.

There’s a difference, I learned.

She and I used to go out to clubs in San Francisco to drink and dance the night away.

One such night we went to a club in the City and when we walked in it was a sea of black – everyone wearing black wool coats in the San Francisco cold and fog.

I was wearing a red wool jacket.

I stood out like a sore thumb.

The red jacket had an interesting effect on the people there.

They started to approach me and compliment my jacket.

A few of the men even attempted to start conversations with me.

My friend, who was very selective in her choice of men, disagreed with the men I spoke to.

BASICALLY I WILL SPEAK TO ANYONE WHO SPEAKS TO ME.

It’s just something I’ve learned:

Never be rude.

As the night progressed, my friend became increasingly concerned over the quality of men I drew in – to put it politely, they were not dressed well enough for her tastes.

And that’s when it happened.

She nicknamed me “Glue for Idiots.”

Now I’m not saying that this isn’t true on some levels.

I think I have a very approachable demeanor that encourages men to take their shot.

All I’m saying is that I’m not going to ignore a man because he’s wearing jeans or his watch isn’t expensive enough.

Truthfully there’s nothing much sexier than a man in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt that’s a bit on the tight side who smells like freshly cut grass and deodorant stretched to it’s limit.

If that makes me glue for idiots, so be it.

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Busted pussy

If you read yesterday’s post, then you know that unSCruz was HOT during the day and COLD AS FUCK at night.

I literally brought one warm weather dress for the entire event.

I pretty much lived in a bright yellow sundress during the day.

At night I would envelop myself in a nice warm onesie.

Thank God for those onesies.

It would have been sheer torture without them.

The first night I was there I climbed into a FRIGID bed and literally curled up in the tiniest ball I could muster, pulled the bedspread over me, and prayed that the bed would heat up fast.

The second night I was there I shared my bed with a friend and I appreciated the warmth of another body, but it was still pretty chilly.

It reminded me of the time I took The Swede to unSCruz two years ago and I brought nothing but a black lace romper to wear to bed and it was FUCKING FREEZING at night so I wore my lingerie with a full-length faux fur jacket over it.

And socks.

I’m nothing if not sexy.

The remaining nights were not as cold as the first two, but they certainly weren’t all that comfortable either.

Especially when you’re sleeping alone.

But sleeping alone was fine by me seeing as how (sorry I’ve been holding out on you) I have a cervical biopsy this week and I’m literally NOT ALLOWED to have sex, according to my doctor.

So there you have it.

UnSCruz was cold at night and I may have cancer.

Fucking busted pussy!

Burning Man 2015: Human Carcass Wash

Yes, I admit it.

I got naked on the streets of Black Rock City and I went through the Human Carcass Wash.

And I did it rather gleefully.human carcass wash

The Human Carcass Wash is basically a series of 4 basins that you step in sequentially.

Soap. Scrub. Rinse. Squeegee.

human carcass washEach basin is surrounded by 4 naked people, also there to participate in the Human Carcass Wash. The people at the Soap and Rinse basins hold spray bottles, which they use to spray your body down and get you clean. The people at the scrub and squeegee basins use their hands on your body.

Personally, I love the HCW. Everyone is naked and happy and there are always 4 people focusing on you at any given time.

It’s nice to be the center of attention and get cleaned at the same time.

And the water is delightfully chilly and causes you to shiver from your head to your playa encrusted toes.

I went through the Human Carcass Wash with a friend.

He went through the line ahead of me and it was fun to watch him get washed by all these burners as I got washed myself.

The only problem I encountered was at the end when I realized I didn’t have a towel to dry off with and I had to DRIP DRY BEFORE PUTTING ON MY CLOTHES.

It was a little bit nipply out, if you ask me.

But overall, the Human Carcass Wash was tons of fun (no pictures allowed or else I have some to post).

I’d do it again.

Rude Boys

A ton of stuff is going on, but none of it is blogworthy.

I mean, there was the guy who sent me a video clip of him in slow motion slapping some chick’s ass.

Yeah, so there’s that.

Then there’s the guy I had to block on Facebook for being downright mean to me.

He’s the second person I’ve blocked.

Ever.

The first guy I blocked what a friend of a friend who I’d never actually met but since we had a friend in common I approved the add.

He promptly sent me a message asking me when the last time I had sex.

BLOCK!

I mean seriously, what is it about me that INVITES that kind of conversation?

Nothing.

That’s just a rude boy!

The second guy I blocked was a mutual friend of the common friend.

I guess amnesia set in because I thought, what the hell, I’ll try again.

Instantly, I was peppered with questions about my feet.

When I told him that wasn’t my thing and did nothing for me, he sent me a nasty message.

Obviously my feet must look OLD if I’m not willing to share a picture of them over the internet (to a virtual stranger with a foot fetish, I might add).

BLOCK!

And now I know.

Do not approve anyone as a friend who you haven’t met in person, regardless of how many mutual friends you might have.

I say this a little tongue in cheek, because as you know Rude Boys make blogging gold.

I honestly couldn’t dream up some of the things that have been suggested to me.

But seriously, once, just once, I’d like to write a blog post about a man who was thougful and kind to me instead of the opposite.

One can only hope. . .

Me and the Universe

Not many of you know this but I started this blog when I was in Law School in 2005.

I fully intended to walk the straight and narrow and document how I WAS FINALLY GETTING THINGS RIGHT IN MY LIFE.

Of course, it turned into something else.

It just goes to show, you can’t pretend to be something you’re not and keep up the pretense for any length of time.

Eventually the real you shines through.

I thought I could make myself into someone classy, poised, and perfect. Instead I discovered I’m earthy, funny, and full of flaws.

I think the time has come for this blog to evolve AGAIN.

Into something with a little more soul and a little less frivolity.

I’ve been commiserating with a friend about our mutual single statuses.

We both have discovered recently that we have certain “problems.”

He is addicted to being in relationships.

I am addicted to the rush of a new sexual relationship.

It makes for very interesting conversations between us – the romantic and the cynic.

One of us fantasizes about snuggling and smelling his lover’s hair.

The other one of us fantasizes about getting down and dirty.

It’s a very interesting conundrum.

He could use a little dose of my cynicism and I could use a little dose of his romanticism.

If you merged us into one human being, we’d make the perfect partner.

The irony is, this friend hasn’t been a close part of my life for at least a decade.

But now we find ourselves thrown together by chance and circumstance.

And I think perhaps his perspective is the one I need the most right now.

Which reminds me that the universe is unfolding EXACTLY as it should.

And I am EXACTLY where I need to be.

With EXACTLY who I need to be with.

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Jealous much?

I am a SCORPIO.

Born smack dab in the middle of Scorpio territory on November 2nd.

As such, I happen to have some of the quintessential Scorpio traits:

Active imagination.

Strong sex drive.

Very loyal.

Wicked sting when wronged.

And, of course, tendencies toward jealousy.

I’m not proud of my jealous nature.

However, I’ve discovered it’s less a measure of how possessive I am than it is a measure of how secure I am.

When I’m comfortable in a relationship there’s very little jealousy.

When I’m off balance in a relationship, there’s a lot of jealousy.

So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered a friend hitting on not one, but two of my former lovers at Burning Man.

What?

After I expressly told her to lay off.

“Are you okay with this?” she mouthed to me while snuggling up to one of my lovers.

“Does it matter?” I asked. “It’s not like you’ll listen.”

And so I got jealous.

Go figure.

But seeing as how I believe in maintaining the “No Drama” rule at Burning Man, I opted to do nothing but sit and wait.

And in the end, it was all for naught.

Nothing came of it.

Jealousy is such a USELESS emotion.

Burning Man 2015 Flashback: Human Carcass Wash

Yes, I admit it.

I got naked on the streets of Black Rock City and I went through the Human Carcass Wash.

And I did it rather gleefully.human carcass wash

The Human Carcass Wash is basically a series of 4 basins that you step in sequentially.

Soap. Scrub. Rinse. Squeegee.

human carcass washEach basin is surrounded by 4 naked people, also there to participate in the Human Carcass Wash. The people at the Soap and Rinse basins hold spray bottles, which they use to spray your body down and get you clean. The people at the scrub and squeegee basins use their hands on your body.

Personally, I love the HCW. Everyone is naked and happy and there are always 4 people focusing on you at any given time.

It’s nice to be the center of attention and get cleaned at the same time.

And the water is delightfully chilly and causes you to shiver from your head to your playa encrusted toes.

I went through the Human Carcass Wash with a friend.

He went through the line ahead of me and it was fun to watch him get washed by all these burners as I got washed myself.

The only problem I encountered was at the end when I realized I didn’t have a towel to dry off with and I had to DRIP DRY BEFORE PUTTING ON MY CLOTHES.

It was a little bit nipply out, if you ask me.

But overall, the Human Carcass Wash was tons of fun (no pictures allowed or else I have some to post).

I’d do it again.

Glue for Idiots

So.

I have this friend from Serbia.

Not Russia. Serbia.

There’s a difference, I learned.

She and I used to go out to clubs in San Francisco to drink and dance the night away.

One such night we went to a club in the City and when we walked in it was a sea of black – everyone wearing black wool coats in the San Francisco cold and fog.

I was wearing a red wool jacket.

I stood out like a sore thumb.

The red jacket had an interesting effect on the people there.

They started to approach me and compliment my jacket.

A few of the men even attempted to start conversations with me.

My friend, who was very selective in her choice of men, disagreed with the men I spoke to.

BASICALLY I WILL SPEAK TO ANYONE WHO SPEAKS TO ME.

It’s just something I’ve learned:

Never be rude.

As the night progressed, my friend became increasingly concerned over the quality of men I drew in – to put it politely, they were not dressed well enough for her tastes.

And that’s when it happened.

She nicknamed me “Glue for Idiots.”

Now I’m not saying that this isn’t true on some levels.

I think I have a very approachable demeanor that encourages men to take their shot.

All I’m saying is that I’m not going to ignore a man because he’s wearing jeans or his watch isn’t expensive enough.

Truthfully there’s nothing much sexier than a man in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt that’s a bit on the tight side who smells like freshly cut grass and deodorant stretched to it’s limit.

If that makes me glue for idiots, so be it.

Save

Save