Three strikes, you’re out!

michelleI was really into this one guy when I was younger.

He was a drummer.

Just one of several drummers I dated.

I guess I have a thing for lumberjacks AND drummers.

The thing about him was that he was just absolutely THE DEFINITION OF SEXY.

Dark hair, dark eyes, nice biceps honed from years of going apeshit on his tubs.

He was also EVER SO SLIGHTLY younger than me.

I was so excited when he asked me out.

I remember he got lost on the way to my house to pick me up.

He drove an old truck.

Bonus!

Be still my heart.

In any case, he picked me up and we went out and for the life I me I don’t recall where we went or what we did.

All I know is that when it came time to say goodnight, he was dropping my off at my house and I leaned in the car window to give him a kiss and when the kiss was over, he said (I KID YOU NOT), “Good night Lisa. I mean Melissa. I mean Michelle.”

Now, at the time I was CRUSHED by this turn of events.

But as time has passed, I have realized that it wasn’t all that bad.

I’m such a good kisser I clearly kissed all the sense from his head and he couldn’t remember my name.

Yeah, that’s what happened!

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Wiseguy

He was the definition of sexy.

Tall, handsome in a rugged way, and big chested with a voice like he gargles with glass, I found him totally irresistible.

And miracle of miracles, he liked me too.

Before I knew it we were the only two people in the room.

He told me I was terrible at flirting and he was probably right.

I have two modes: shy and full-out.

This time around I was shy and unsure with occasional bursts of boldness.

First, I sent a friend to find out if he was married or attached to someone.

When I found out he was single, I actually leaned across the bar, right in front of him, and stared at his lips until he came closer and said, “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, seeing as how I can’t get any closer, I’m going to stare at your lips until you close the distance between your lips and mine,” I said.

“Or, you could grab me by the back of my head and pull me to you,” he suggested cheekily.

Wish granted!

When he finally kissed me my whole body got into it.

It was intense.

Consuming.

Before I knew it, we were in his RV fooling around to the light of my LED kitty ears.

Ah, Burning Man, how much I love thee!

This kiss

My first kiss was with Don, at a high school dance my freshman year, out on the dance floor.

He went in for a kiss then slipped me the tongue and I was like, “WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS?!”

It shocked me and surprised me.

I was not expecting a kiss.

My fist REAL kiss I got from my ex-boyfriend in high school.

He leaned me up against his mustang and kissed me until my knees melted and he had to prop me up against his car.

It was THAT good.

That kiss has set the bar for kissing for most of my adult life.

Until recently.

I was sitting in a hot tub at my friends’ house when it happened.

A woman planted a kiss on me that made me TOTALLY RETHINK HOW I KISS.

It was wild.

Crazy.

Soft yet demanding.

Filled with passion.

I decided right then and there that this kiss was going to change how I kiss men in the future.

Now, I emulate that kiss over and over again when I’m making out with somebody.

I’m 44 years old, I have two kids, and I’m still learning the nuances of passion.

Long live lifelong learning!

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In case you didn’t know it, The Swede is 9 hours ahead of me, time wise.

So there’s only a little window of opportunity to communicate unless we want to stay up super late.

Early morning. Late evening.

That’s what works.

So I’m messaging The Swede when I realize that it’s almost 2 am in Sweden.

I do what I always do.

I say good night in Swedish.

God Natt.

He likes it when I speak (my limited) Swedish to him.

Jag kan prata lite Svenska. (I can speak a little Swedish)

En billeter tack. (One ticket, please)

Var ligger badrummen? (Where is the bathroom?)

I’m so exotic.

So I get ready to sign off when I decided to send a GIF of a kiss.

And I pick out a naughty, horizontal thrusting, open-mouthed kiss and send it to him.

As soon as I hit send I think, “Oh! I’m not supposed to do this!” but it’s too late.

It’s been sent.

And now The Swede knows that I want to French kiss him while he lays on top of me, thrusting.

Oh well.

It’s not like I’m not trying.

But flirting is like breathing – even if you want to stop something keeps you going.

Ultimately, I decided that since I like The Swede it’s okay to flirt with him.

Just no more NEW men.

And no making sex jokes at my expense.

It’s all progress!

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Wiseguy

He was the definition of sexy.

Tall, handsome in a rugged way, and big chested with a voice like a radio star, I found him totally irresistible.

And miracle of miracles, he liked me too.

Before I knew it we were the only two people in the room.

He told me I was terrible at flirting and he was probably right.

I have two modes: shy and full-out.

This time around I was shy and unsure with occasional bursts of boldness.

First, I sent a friend to find out if he was married or attached to someone.

When I found out he was single, I actually leaned across the bar, right in front of him, and stared at his lips until he came closer and said, “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, seeing as how I can’t get any closer, I’m going to stare at your lips until you close the distance between your lips and mine,” I said.

“Or, you could grab me by the back of my head and pull me to you,” he suggested cheekily.

Wish granted!

When he finally kissed me my whole body got into it.

It was intense.

Consuming.

Before I knew it, we were in his RV fooling around to the light of my LED kitty ears.

Ah, Burning Man, how much I love thee!

How to Kiss

bad kissThe other day, I got kissed.

I know!  I know!

Amazing, huh?

Yeah well the kiss was “not bad” which is neither good nor bad but just okay.

I have big, pillow-y lips.  It takes time for me to pull out of a kiss and reassemble myself.

The guy who kissed me withdrew in a heartbeat.

One minute we were kissing, the next minute we were talking.

Or perhaps I should say “HE” was talking.

I was too busy trying to pull my lower lip back in place and open my eyes to notice what he was saying to me which I think had something to do with me being a great kisser.

“Oh um thanks,” I stammered, hoping my face was composed and not still posed mid-kiss – lower lip sticking out, eyes closed, tongue against the inside of my lips.

Take a moment and SAVOR it, sir!

Not everyone has lips as pillow-y as mine, ya know!

But okay fine, let’s talk.

And then he went in for another kiss, muttering something about my beautiful red lips.

This time he went for more.  And I was a little bit lost as to how to react.

He dumped his tongue in my mouth for a second and I didn’t know what to do.

Push it out?

Play with it?

Suck on it?

This is a fairly common kissing problem I’ve encountered:  THE TONGUE DUMP.

So I’m going to say this once and for all:

Kissing should never be about penetrating the other person’s mouth with your tongue and leaving it there.  It’s about the erotic play BETWEEN the two tongues.  So stroke gently.  Play back and forth.  Feel your way through the kiss.  Don’t just thrust and forget about it.  Please.  I’m begging you.

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Fortunately, my “tongue dump” didn’t last very long.

He went back to talking.

Again.

And I was left trying to compose myself.

Again.

And with that, he took off and I was left walking to my car alone, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Ah, the single life my friends. . .

Ain’t it glorious?

Three strikes, you’re out!

michelleI was really into this one guy when I was younger.

He was a drummer.

Just one of several drummers I dated.

I guess I have a thing for lumberjacks AND drummers.

The thing about him was that he was just absolutely THE DEFINITION OF SEXY.

Dark hair, dark eyes, nice biceps honed from years of going apeshit on his tubs.

He was also EVER SO SLIGHTLY younger than me.

I was so excited when he asked me out.

I remember he got lost on the way to my house to pick me up.

He drove an old truck.

Bonus!

Be still my heart.

In any case, he picked me up and we went out and for the life I me I don’t recall where we went or what we did.

All I know is that when it came time to say goodnight, he was dropping my off at my house and I leaned in the car window to give him a kiss and when the kiss was over, he said (I KID YOU NOT), “Good night Lisa. I mean Melissa. I mean Michelle.”

Now, at the time I was CRUSHED by this turn of events.

But as time has passed, I have realized that it wasn’t all that bad.

I’m such a good kisser I clearly kissed all the sense from his head and he couldn’t remember my name.

Yeah, that’s what happened!

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Buh-bye 2016, Hello 2017!

Last year I went to a HUGE house party for NYE.  I’d say there were somewhere between 100 to 200 people in attendance.

It was really a magnificent event and I had a great time with my date.

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I believe I drank my weight in champagne but managed to keep a lid on things.

No, I didn’t disgrace myself until the Dr. Seuss party where I drank too much rum and spewed vomit all over his car pulled over on the side of the road.

My bad!

See if I ever let anyone make my drink again without me watching!

Anyhow, this year I’m going to the same house party.

This time with the beautiful Barbara as my date.

Yes, nothing like bringing your BFF to a party to ensure that you have a GREAT time!

Of course, there will be no NYE kiss for me this year (sad face) but I might be able to scrounge up a partner or two to lay one on me.

And here, I’m debuting my outfit for NYE – a lovely rose gold sequin gown with matching accessories!nye-outfit

Yay!  Totally gorgeous!

Buh-bye 2016, HELLO 2017!

 

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Playa magic

KissPeople say things manifest themselves at Burning Man.

Who am I to disagree?

I have my own manifestation story:

I was riding my bike with Tejas on the playa when I came across a group of people standing in front of an art piece.

A beautiful woman was holding her chapstick and rubbing it on all her companions’ lips.

I reached into my backpack and grabbed a handful of chapsticks, my playa gift.

I slowly walked up to them.

“Can you use these?” I asked.

They were so thrilled! They ooohed and aaahed over the simple gift.

They all embraced me and thanked me, each taking a chapstick, opening it, and using it.

The beautiful woman was so happy she came up to me and said, “This is Philosophy chapstick. It is THE BEST chapstick,” and she rubbed it on my lips.

Then she kissed me.

Then she kissed Tejas.

Then we rode off.

I’m telling you, that one encounter was the highlight of my week at Burning Man – to be a part of that special magic that only happens on the playa.

To help these people manifest some much needed chapstick.

Sure, you could say it was just me being in the right place at the right time.

But I prefer to think of it as playa magic.

Suck Face

suck faceThe Israeli and I went out three times last week.

For our second date we went to The Blue Pheasant to dance but we barely danced. Instead we sat in a corner and made out.

Yes, we were THAT couple that makes out hard core in public.

He is a fantastic kisser.

His five o’clock shadow spent so much time against my face that my cheeks and chin turned red.

That’s how much we were kissing each other.

My only complaint is that sometimes he kisses me REALLY fast.

I am a little sheepish about that.

It’s not like I PLANNED to go out with him and make out the ENTIRE time.

It’s just that he was so EAGER.

So there we were in The Blue Pheasant, making out, when suddenly he starts kissing me slowly. Deliberately.

And I SWEAR MY OVARIES SHUDDERED A LITTLE BIT.

You can imagine the rest…