Sexually Transmitted Stupidity

My favorite Songbird called to cheer me up, and after two words she said:

S- Wait. You have to listen to this, then call me back.

https://app.stitcher.com/splayer/f/163807/56329244

*Sometimes the dude is thinking you want more and you’re thinking, I don’t want to know what your favorite movie is, I don’t care if you like dogs. I genuinely don’t care. I just want to collect you like a Pokemon. 

* He told me, we can’t give A1 dick to everyone. Not everyone can handle it. Listen… these dudes are on to us. They only hand out the A1 if they feel like you are removed enough that that they don’t have to handle your emotions.

*If this is someone that’s in your life, let them know how good that dick is. If they are just kind of like a fuckbuddy- y’all know what’s up. You don’t have to be verbose about the praise. A lot of times, you can’t even front. It doesn’t matter what you say, you said enough when it was all up in them guts. 

*What is the nutritional value of this penis. Twinkie dick is gonna taste great, but it’s not fulfilling. Then you have kale dick.  It doesn’t taste fantastic, but the nutrient level is incredible.  Then there’s the holy grail. the sweet potato dick, full of antioxidants, but also sweet and savory at the same damn time. Meaning you’re touching all the bases, which means its probably touching all your bases. 

*Do you know how dope it is to laugh with someone that’s gonna fuck the shit out of you? That right there is a gem of a time. 

Enjoy ♥

Abstinence for Beginners

I’ve been the worst kind of self-righteous, abstinent woman. I have openly encouraged all of my heartbroken friends to give up dick for a few years. I actually still will. At the point my relationship fell apart, I hadn’t been single since I was 14 years old. I would love to say that I didn’t define myself by the state of my relationship or how much he loved me, but I was the most extreme example of a doormat that you can imagine.

Funny how holding a newborn in the midst of your breakup can force you to put yourself above a man.

I picked up a million new skills in those 5 years. I learned how to knit my sex drive, silent. I planted seeds and grew a million vegetables instead of crying over some ridiculous waste of time I’d fallen for. I didn’t miss a man, for a minute.

It’s really cool to fall in love with yourself again. It turns out? I’m wayyyy cooler than I thought. I have far more of my shit together after focusing on the important things AND I don’t feel like I need a man to be complete any more. It would take a Holy Grail sort of situation to make me want to part with my freedom. I watch the football game I want to watch. I have 9 pillows on my bed. I give myself flowers. I have an amazing variety of vibrators. I’m all set.

I see my friends with people that treat them so poorly and I hear them say the same things I’ve heard echo in my ears, so many times before. I hear them blame themselves, try to make efforts to be more, give more and try harder… without seeing any huge efforts of that same caliber in return.

Y’all… Love isn’t suppose to suck and if it does, then learn to love your damn self instead. You’re way too cool to settle for bullshit efforts because when you’re your own biggest cheerleader, you laugh that bullshit right off the table. Mine fell into one of three categories. He was generally a lazy, mean cheater. Here’s what I’ve learned.

IF THEY ARE:

Cheating: Absofuckinglutely not. Get the fuck out of here with that. If you care at all about the life you’re living, the person you are and the example you set for your friends and family, then you care enough to not be a shitty human being. Shitty human beings cheat. Don’t let a shitty person waste space in your life.

Lazy: Same goes. Nope the fuck out of that bad party. If you’re the only one trying and trying and trying, I’d be willing to bet that they’re spending their efforts elsewhere. See above. If you ARE that lazy partner, get the hell up and break out some handcuffs. You’re behind. Catch the hell up.

Mean: Do I really have to tell you? Mean men and women are a waste of time and energy. You will only end up feeling bad about yourself and attracting meaner people. Being attracted to mean people is the epitome of self loathing. Love yourself until you only want someone who respects the value of your heart.

It’s kind of incredible to find peace in your own company again. I don’t need to be on the phone, the television is off and I’m completely delighted dancing by myself while I make dinner.

I get to do anything I want because I’m the Queen of my own castle and the champion of my own dreams. I have a job I love, a solid self esteem and the reliance in myself that I searched for in every wrong place.

You can be alone and not lonely. In fact, you can be far lonelier when you have someone in your life that just isn’t.

Date yourself. Take your fine ass out to dinner. Get dressed up and feel pretty or handsome. You’re the most important person you can love.

And let’s be honest… nobody can make you cum faster.

My Solid Homie

You know when you just SHOULDN’T? When you’re faced with an outrageous temptation and that little voice in the back of your head says:

“Oh no. No, no, no. Absolutely NOT!”

Yet that voice is just quiet enough that you can ignore it?

That was my night last night. I have a few cardinal rules that I do not break. Or didn’t use to break. Fuck.

I was talking to a friend of mine last night and we were commiserating about the sad state of our respective love lives. Living in a small town leaves you with a limited amount of options and when you start eliminating some of them because of past relationships, etc… the pool shrinks to a very small puddle. This particular friend of mine is permanently friend zoned. Off limits.

Well…

Suffice it to say… things have changed.

I read a text from him and swallowed hard.

SH- And if I’m certain, I believe you haven’t said no…

Gulp.

I set my phone down, walked outside and prayed the cold air would knock some sense into me.

No luck. I was still tempted. Could it really be that easy? I’ve never really had a FWB. At this point in my life though, I do not want a boyfriend or anything that resembles it. I do however, want to get laid regularly. Sadly… the two are generally a package deal.

Or so I thought.

J- Are we seriously considering this?

SH- I’ll be there in 30.

Yes, we’re way past considering. It’s go time. I ran to the shower, jumped in and slid into the shelf. Yeouch. I shaved my left thigh too quickly and felt the hot sting of the shower on fresh razor burn. Fuck. What the fuck am I thinking? This is a cardinal sin. The kind you have to write to the Pope about.

But I do have those cute new purple panties… and no really good reason to leave them sitting in the drawer.

And then I wait. Heart pounding, cheeks flushed and my mind racing… until I hear his car pull in and his footsteps to my door. Gulp. I’m awkward. This could be awkward as fuck. Eeeeek. Damn Victoria’s Secret and these Jezebel panties.

Or not.

Something fabulous happens when it’s just about need and not junked up with a bunch of expectation and feelings. Don’t get me wrong- I adore him, but this isn’t about that.

This has everything to do with satisfaction on demand. Like a glorified dick delivery service.

Thanks be to God… or really… my fabulous Solid Homie.

help

Customized

Miss Lovely and I were commiserating about the extreme torture of a silent phone.

M- The worst thing is hearing that damn noise and it’s not even from him. I fucking hate that. I’ve started to resent my phone.

L- Set up a custom text tone. Then you always know when it’s him.

M- What? Teach me.

Consider this my gift to all of you who are like me, and only concern yourself with the basics. I can answer a call and send a text. That’s enough for me.

But… I’ve been shown the light and I’m here to lead you to the promised land.

txt

Ahhhh. Sweet relief, thanks to my Lovely friend.

Now when a message comes whistling in to my phone from him, it’s the technical equivalent of long distance foreplay…

But the goodness doesn’t end there. I set up a few “warning” tones as well.

That one guy that won’t take no for an answer?

Mr. Divorced who wants me to cook him dinner?

I’ve never enjoyed my phone so much in my life.

Enjoy ♥

Wifey

He reached for me and I swallowed hard as I felt his nails dig into my wrist. They’d been drinking all day and I’d just gotten off work. Being sober in a bar at midnight is no laughing matter and it was a full house of what looked to be, inebriated teenagers.

I needed booze on board, post haste.

The dirty Bombay Sapphire martini I held, felt like a liquid security blanket even though I appeared to be the only person in the room with an actual glass. His hand on my wrist made my heart race, and the icy cold gin wasn’t helping fast enough.

Something had shifted with him and I could feel it hanging in the space between us. I set my glass down and he pulled me out the door and across the street to another bar.

We’re standing at the end of the bar, halfheartedly trying to order a drink, when a man interrupts us.

M- Hey, Hi- excuse me! I can see that you’re having some sort of romantic and special evening, it’s your anniversary, isn’t it! Can I squeeze in and order?

I blink at Perfection. Completely speechless and thankful for the dark, because I’m positive I’m ruby red.

P- It is. What’s it been, wifey- 3 years? Oh no, 3 years and 10 months.

I’m amazed my shaking knees are holding me. The butterflies in my stomach are making me a little nauseous and I feel feverish. I wish I had a drink in my hand so that I could do something other than look stunned. I finally choke out an awkward response.

J- Sure, hubby. Wow, you’re a daddy too.

P- Bonus!

I’m thankful for my sobriety, and manners…because they were the only things keeping me from propositioning him right then and there. The strange guy just wants to buy a drink, but now that he’s celebrating our anniversary with us, he insists on buying us a shot. I am still so stunned by what’s going on with Perfection that I cannot make up my mind about what I want.

J- Not Fireball or Rumple minze. Anything but those. You decide, Darling.

P- I insist, wife. What do you really want? Tell me what sounds good?

The answers that come to mind would leave him equally as speechless, but his hand is drifting lower on my ass and I can hardly breathe, let alone speak. The stranger is looking at me, expectantly.

J- Washington apples. Thank you.

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. Is this real life? Am I hallucinating? Am I really wasted and I just feel far too sober?

We take the shot and the stranger wishes us well on our marriage and leaves. Perfection leans in.

P- Do you know how many times I’ve had dreams about you?

J- Are you feeling alright? I think you’ve been overserved.

Ever have one of those moments where you’re a million miles away from the noisy room you’re standing in? I could feel his heart racing and hear him struggling like me.

This is real life.

This is Perfection.

This is what it’s supposed to feel like. In and of itself, it is a huge relief that I can recognize that. He doesn’t live here, the timing is wrong and he has a few loose ends I don’t want to get tangled in…

But…. it is fanfuckingtastic to have a Perfect evening, and remember what it feels like to be wildly attracted to not just anyone, but someone really and truly special.

Maybe I’m not a catlady, after all.

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