Foot in Mouth

So there I am, sipping a beer with a nice gentleman, chatting casually about Burning Man when he asked me a question.

I HEARD him ask, “So what’s was your favorite part of Burning Man?

My response?

The sex.

You just can’t save me from myself, can you?

He leaned in closer to me and asked, “Like sex on the beach?”

Wait!

What did you just ask me?

APPARENTLY, he asked me what was my favorite DRINK at Burning Man.

Oops!

So.

Now he knows that I’m a horn dog.

Also?

He knows I’m honest to a fault.

That must count for something!

Halfway Mark

Just so you know, declaring a hiatus from sexual activity on your blog suddenly opens yourself up to all sorts of feedback on the subject.

A bunch of people laughed at the idea.

Until I told them I’d done it before. . .and succeeded.

Others jumped to my defense and claimed that there was nothing wrong with my level of sexual interest.

Others knew better and came out in support of a healthier lifestyle.

Regardless, it’s now become a topic of conversation between me, my friends, and my blog readers.

Can she do it?

Is someone going to come along to inspire her to break her vow?

What about The Swede?

What I have noticed is that there is a pool of males, mostly single, for whom I seem to exist solely to stroke their egos by sexting with them.

They are the ones who seem to be the most interested in seeing me break my vow.

They keep pulling me back into conversations I’m trying to resist having.

When you’re trying to walk the straight and narrow, it is counter productive to enter into a conversation about masturbation.

Or pornography.

But try as I might, sometimes I slip and carry on a full on conversation about topics I have no business talking about.

Then I suffer.

So yeah, it’s been 6 weeks. I’m halfway there.

And no, it’s not easy but I’m making it.

Hairpulling

There I am hanging with a pal when the subject of snuggling comes up.

Do I want to snuggle?

Hells yes!

Of course, I’m trying to behave myself so I grab a suitably large pillow, plunk it down in his lap, and start snuggling on the couch.

Ah!

This is nice.

My friend starts to randomly touch me and it’s kinda nice.

I giggle when he touches my lower back.

It tickles!

It then becomes apparent that he’s trying to help with my problem by providing me with a PG level snuggle.

I instantly escalated it to PG-13.

I say to him, “If you really want to do me a favor, pull my hair.”

He grabs fistfuls and pulls.

Ah!

I can’t tell you how much I LOVE to have my hairpulled.

It’s definitely a THING for me.

My favorite hairpulling memory involved me, a Swede, and some concurrent deep kissing.

This rivaled it not because there was kissing but because there was SO MUCH HAIRPULLING I thought I’d lost my mind.

Imagine 15 minutes of hairpulling.

It was AWESOME!

I gotta say, I sure love it when a friend comes through for me.

Dateable

It’s been a rough week.

Between realizing that I’m my own problem and taking a 90 day vow of celibacy, I’ve been pretty swamped with all sorts of feelings.

Remarkably, my friends have really come through for me.

Whether it’s Tejas getting the ingredients for my favorite cocktail (the Sazerac), Michelle writing the SWEETEST supportive note to me on Facebook, or Barbara actually calling me to make sure I’m okay, I’ve been blanketed in love from every direction.

Which has helped greatly as I try to wean myself off of casual sexual relationships.

The Photographer has come out in force to support my decision to be temporarily celibate.

He’s peppered me in Messenger with sweet comments about how to transition from someone no one wants to date but everyone wants to fuck into someone actually dateable (and still fuckable, natch).

I took the opportunity to tell The Swede that I liked him:

fullsizerender11.jpgYou may laugh, but it was a HUGE stretch for me.

And I think I pulled it off nicely, if I do say so myself.

Gentle flirting – 1, Michelle’s sex monster – 0.

I’m my own f*cking problem

All this time I’ve been thinking that I can’t find a good man because a good man hasn’t crossed my path yet.

But that’s a lie.

I think I’ve come across a few.

You see, I take an odd approach to meeting men.

I bombard them with my sexuality and dare them to see ANYTHING AT ALL beyond it.

Of course, the good ones run away, and the bad boys stay.

So I have a bouquet of rebels and dirty boys to choose from.

They’re the ones who value sex as much as I do.

And I’m not in love with a single one of them.

And none of them are in love with me.

Maybe, and this is a BIG MAYBE, I need to relinquish my vice grip on sex being the most valuable part of a relationship and consider that there are other things infinitely more valuable.

Conversation, for one.

Thoughtfulness, for another.

A great sense of humor.

God, I can’t believe I’m going to say this but maybe I’ve been valuing the wrong things all along.

Maybe, if I want to find someone, I need to just stop with the sexting, and the nude pics, and the dinner dates at his place and just SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!

I think I’ve forgotten that I’m a woman, not just a vagina begging for earth-shattering orgasms.

Is this what my friends* have been trying to tell me all along?

If I really want to wind up with a decent man, then I need to embrace the woman I am, not the sex that I want.

Am I my own fucking problem?

 

*Barbara, Lisa, Rob, Michelle. . .

Red Flags

I ignore red flags MOST of the time.

Some guy calls his ex-wife a narcissist and I look the other way.

Another guy tells me I have a lazy eye over drinks and I laugh and make excuses.

So when the newest guy made a joke about my sister and I in a porno together, I ALMOST let it slide.

ALMOST.

But I didn’t.

I called him out on it.

I’m not sure why I didn’t let it slide.

Actually I do.

I made excuses for one guy’s behavior not too long ago and he lived up to my (ignored) first impression of him.

So this time I didn’t want to ignore it.

Yeah, I GET THAT IT’S A FUCKING JOKE.

BUT IT’S A DISGUSTING ONE!

Who, when trying to put their best foot forward upon meeting a new woman, makes a porn joke about her and her sister?

Who makes porn jokes BEFORE the first date?

A man with his mind in the gutter?

A man with no manners?

A man who clearly is suffering from a lack of social skills?

Regardless of WHY he did it, the end result is the same.

The fucking hammer has fallen and YOU HAVE BEEN VOTED OFF THE ISLAND!

Barbara would be so proud. . .

Poly or no?

I have a friend.

We’ll call him ‘Sam.’

Sam wants me to set him up with all the single women I know.

The thing is, Sam is poly.

At least Sam claims he’s poly.

[I personally think he’s flexible, for the right woman.]

All the women I know are monogamous.

Definitely NOT poly.

Anyway, Sam is upset that I offered to set up my friend Rob with two of my single girlfriends.

Beyond the fact that Sam is 10+ years older than Rob and simply less appropriate for the 30 – 40 year old women I know, Sam is POLY.

He likes to point out that I don’t believe he’s poly.

I like to point out that it doesn’t matter what I BELIEVE, it matters what HE BELIEVES.

So no, I’m not going to set up a monogamous woman with a poly man.

And, just so you know, I think it’s a wee bit deceptive that Sam’s online dating profiles don’t specify that he’s poly.

Now.

I COULD BE COMPLETELY WRONG ABOUT THIS, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that his lack of success in the dating pool could have something to do with the fact that he’s fishing in the wrong fucking pool with the wrong fucking bait.

Just saying.

When you start hitting on friends

He’s single.

I’m single.

We’ve known each other for decades.

He’s a decent guy.

I’m a decent (if slightly naughty) gal.

So when I found out he’s single, I took a leap of faith.

You see, the guys I meet online who are good guys are few and far between.

The Swede and basically NO ONE ELSE.

So even though I’ve been friends FOREVER with this guy I thought, “Why not?”

So I told him when he’s in a good place for dating, we should go on a date.

I suspect he will not take me up on my offer.

And that’s okay.

Going from vanilla relationships to me is like switching from the kiddie roller coaster to the Sky Scream – it’s a real mind fuck and you just may puke but it’s also quite exhilarating!

So I put it out there in the universe.

And even if he isn’t the man for me, someone decent will come along.

I’m keeping my eyeballs peeled for him.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I know I said I would STAY AWAY from policemen.

My ex-husband was a police officer, after all, and look how that turned out.

It’s not that I dislike policemen.

Not at all.

I admire the work that they do – keeping the peace and maintaining law in society.

Every day, they see people having the WORST day of their lives, which can’t be easy.

You couldn’t pay me enough money to do what they do.

Thank you, I’ll keep on planning events and balancing the budget.

Which is why I’m shocked that I like Chad.

Chad is a DOUBLE WHAMMY.

He’s a cop and was in the military.

The Air Force to be exact.

Actually, he was a policeman in the Air Force.

I find this combination of careers oddly fascinating.

Lord knows I have loved me some military men in the past (you know who you are).

And I do know some very upstanding police officers (Hi Jon).

But usually, I hear the word “police” and I run the other way.

This time around, none of my warning bells were going off.

Chad sent me a picture of himself, which looked oddly familiar.

A man, dressed in blue, with a navy ball cap on. . .

Looks like an academy photo, smells like an academy photo, MUST BE AN ACADEMY PHOTO.

I freaked out (a little) and said, “You’re not a cop.”

He replied with the EYES WIDE OPEN emoticon.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Confidence

He has confidence, I’ll give him that.

I was texting with a new man when I decided to send him a full length picture of me.

Just so that he could see what I mean when I say I’m a curvy girl.

Thick.

It’s used as a catch all phrase for women size 10+ and there’s a lot of diversity so in order to make sure we’re not wasting each other’s time, I usually send my photo to the men before I go out with them.

His response?

“I’m going to be making love to you a lot. . . I’m just gonna be upfront with you”

Oh my!

My initial reaction was, “Yeah, you wish!” followed swiftly by, “Please!”

It’s simply the horn dog in me coming out.

It’s not that I like handsome strangers telling me they want to fuck me a lot.

Wait.

What am I saying?

It’s EXACTLY that!

Who wouldn’t LOVE to hear those words said to them?

Sure, it’d be nice if I knew him better.

And felt more attracted to him.

But I appreciated his enthusiasm.

We went out and he continues to say things to me.

Things that can’t be repeated on this blog involving his fantasy which included the backseat of a car, his tongue, and my very appreciative flesh.

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