Monthly Archives: August 2010

When you’re mad…

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My friend Jamie called with the latest bouncer story today. I swear… I never wanted to date one until she started… now I”m tempted. He got in a big fight last night with some drunk idiot- and showed up at her house at 2:30 this morning…climbing into her bed…

for angry sex….the lucky bitch. ♥

Helllllllllo bouncers.Who doesn’t want a boyfriend that can beat the shit out of an idiot. Hell it’d be foreplay just to watch. Maybe I’m burned out on peacekeepers… maybe it’s time for an angry hothead with big muscles… Yummy. It sure sounds good.

There’s something so….hmmm…. raw… about a pissed off man- (let me be clear right away- only if he’s pissed at someone else or working things out WITH you- not if he’s pissed off at YOU) and I’m talking angry sex, not a punish fuck. Two VERY different things. Not that they both aren’t quite fun in the right circumstances. One he wants you for…and the other he NEEDS you for. The difference being he’s furious at you in one circumstance and crazy about you in the other. Go for crazy- furious has it’s drawbacks. Ask me to see my scar :)

The VERY best biting, hair pulling, scream the house down sex I’ve ever had… was screaming-furious-at-each-other angry sex. Not healthy, per se… but oh-my-write-home-about-him intense. He’d caught me flirting with a cute black man while we were out… had danced with me for a half hour with his hand wrapped around my throat until he knew I was still having a good time… we left in a cab- straight to the hotel… I have a scar from that night… and he woke up with a black eye. LOL

Angry on someone elses mistake? Priceless. He still adores you- so he’s not over-the-top but he’s a little out of control, what’s not to love?. You’ll both benefit from this experience… and trust me…

You’ll be looking for reasons to piss him off every now and again…

Objectified

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Some rules only apply to certain boys.

My last internet date was so unusual I haven’t shared it… yet. I’m going to email him the link to this when I’m finished. Public humiliation is the nicest thing he could expect.

I met him for dinner in the next city over. My main intention was to get over my whole ridiculous crush on the shark. He was absolutely gorgeous and I admit I chose him purely based on looks. I didn’t even really read his profile. I’m admitting right now that I am very much equally responsible because I ignored a million warning signs.

Why not…right? Choose a man like they choose us- by looks. It’s the truth… and I figured I’d embrace it for a change. Pick the hottest one and at least you’ll be attracted to them- right?

Marcus is a verrrrrrrrrry hot, black, surgical nurse. 6’4- bodybuilder. Like my own Reggie Bush… but taller. Pretty green eyes… damn. Internet dating is a lot more fun when they’re smokin’ hot. He’s funny, polite and charming. I’d love to go to nursing school so we have something in common and he’s happy to talk about it. Feels a little like school but he’s quite a sight and I’m not complaining. We eat dinner and walk up to Icon… dance for a few hours… I love black men that can dance. It’s like finding diamonds lying in the grass in the backyard. Seriously. Winning the lottery sort of good.

M- Come back to my place for some ice cream?

J- Ok, yeah. Ice cream- and then I’m going home.

Why the hell not? He’s cute- and I want to kiss him… it’s become my new favorite thing to do. Go ahead, throw stones. We drive up to his house, park & go inside. It’s clean- love that – and he has family pictures. Good sign.

M- Vanilla or Chocolate?

J- Both… ha ha ha.

He disappears into the kitchen and I’m delighted to finally be on a normal date. Finally- a normal guy. Funny and educated… smart and sexy… but still respectful. If I could order a perfect man for me- it’d be this guy. The total package… so far. I did a little discreet happy dance after he walked away.

Looking around there are pictures of nieces & nephews… grandparents… his sister, I think?. Awww… a family man. I hear footsteps and turn around and there he is.

<Gasp>

Stark naked with a giant Prince Albert piercing. My mouth literally fell open. I have never been so fucking floored in all my life. Ever. I looked at it briefly- and my only recollection is that it cured any sort of temptation I ever had about wondering what that might be like. Yikers. It was an epic sight… and he was carrying a bowl of vanilla ice cream in his hands.

J- Whoa… that’s not at all what I meant. Thank you- great time- got to go.

I hauled ass out of there like you can’t even fathom. Having learned my lesson. I don’t mind mind being objectified… but oh my goodness… some things just need to be discussed. You can’t be stripped down to your piercings before you talk about it a little… right?

They’re all crazy- I swear.

Yet I came home… and went through all the emails the shark ever sent me… and the nicest thing he ever said to me?

O- I want your lips around my cock……..game?

and I couldn’t get enough of him. Good grief. There is nothing attractive about a doormat…. but you see what I mean about the rules applying differently…so I suppose I’m quite responsible for encouraging these jerks to objectify me. In every bad way imaginable. I accept them as they are… even when it’s a whole lot less than ideal… and they hold me to impossible standards and put me through hell.

WTF?

SOLD!

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Oh Brian… I ♥ you. I’ve been so busy… and finally took a break today to catch up on your blog…

and found the tattoo(s) I MUST have.

Level with me- expert tattoo people I adore- how painful would they be?

No begging.

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My daughter and I went to run some errands- hit a few thrift stores to look for who-knows-what (pink cashmere deliciousness for .99… HELLO good Karma). Killing one of the last days of summer vacation and loving every minute of it.

We’re heading home and get stopped at the light. There’s a dread-locked hippie standing with a sign that says:

“Traveling and broke- anything will help”. His hippie-fabulous girlfriend is grinning vacantly and rubbing his back.

My daughter absolutely goes OFF.

I- Are you kidding me? Traveling? If you’re broke you don’t travel.

J- Ha ha ha- no kidding.

I- Look at them, they’re kissing! Stupid hippies- get a job- if you’re broke you don’t have time to stand around kissing in traffic.

J- Ok now, simmer down.

I reach down and throw my purse in the back seat because the little Coach hangtag is smacking me in the elbow.

I- Ohhhh hide our purses???

I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe and she’s hiding her wallet under the seat.

I- They get in your car? Oh my gosh mom. Dirty beggars.

J- No honey, I was throwing my purse back there because it was bugging me. You are freaking hysterical funny.

I- Hey I have bad hippie experience. I know what I’m talking about.

J- I’m calling your dad- that’s too funny not to tell him.

I can barely tell him what she said and I get off the phone with him still laughing. She smiles at me… puts her hand in mine and says…

I- Mommy… I’m really happy you don’t have Solar anymore. You could make a lot of money out there though- why don’t they at least take a shower, jeeeeeeeeeez.

J- The day I’m holding a sign asking for money- run me over with your car… ok?

I- Deal- that is NOT ok.

Oh my gosh it’s a wonderful thing to have kids- and to have such hysterically funny kids means I’m constantly laughing.

Motherhood is too good to be true with these two.

Not the marrying type

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I’ve come to some big conclusions this summer. I’ve effectively washed my hands of the worst relationship I’ve ever been in- and am much better off as a result. I’ve been on too many dates to count- all of them strange or creepy in one way or another (with the exception of Flintstone).

But he was married… like my other favorite. What is it with the cheaters of the world? Or is being faithful simply too much to ask of anyone? I’m on the fence. I don’t know that I could be faithful forever. I get bored….

I hate boring sex. I had old, familiar, no-effort-made-whatsoever sex for the past 7 years. Ugh. No… I’d rather pay all my own bills and shovel my own snow, thanks. Never again.

I suppose I look at having a husband like having a handicapped child that never leaves and goes away to college. He just stays…. forever. For better or worse… and let’s be honest… how often do you see better happen? Not very often… but worse? Worse happens alllllll the time. I can be single… and have a variety of better. That sounds a lot more appealing than rolling the dice and hoping for a miracle.

I don’t know that I could be convinced to get remarried. In fact I think I may be so picky… I might not have a boyfriend again. I have every other week to myself- um… options, lol… and the only boy I clean up after- I gave birth to. It’s sort of ideal… and tough to beat.