Tag Archives: Sex

Oh Tuesday…

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It’s been the longest slowest day. I’m not making a penny… it’s basically pointless to even be at work…. and I’m working a double.

Good Lord in heaven I may die of boredom.

Slow is the understatement of a lifetime. I’m sad when my customers leave, one by one… and it’s two hours until my next co-worker comes in. It’s beyond slow. It’s torturous.

Finally making it to round 2 and getting an hour break to run home and let the dogs out. Oh joy…

I’m exhausted, and dragging my knitting everywhere with me at the same time. Determined to change my focus and shake my bad boy habit with a brand new cozy sweater, hand knit, slowly… by little ol’ me.

It doesn’t hurt that knitting kills my sex drive. :)

It’s domesticity at it’s finest. I can knit myself happy in a few hundred mindless stitches. Even if I pull them out- it’s peaceful and gives me time to think without worrying.

I head back to work, shove my needles in my purse and pull out my apron. Oh responsibility… how I loathe you these days.

Hark!!!!! It’s slow… and I get to go home early! ♥ We’ll be eating mac & cheese for the week, but I miss my little Red and she’s burning a fever at Grandma’s. I’m inhaling my dinner salad when the beautiful Baby Chicken sits down next to me.

He’s such a jerk, but he’s so pretty. Silky shiny bald head that’s absolutely SCREAMING “touch me”. Sparkly blue eyes, naughty grin… he’s just a bad habit, walking… plain and simple.

Miss Everything walks up and whispers in my ear…

E- You’re not going to do that again, are you?

J- Absolutely not.

But he’s sure nice to look at, and he can even be nice to me at this point. Well… his version of nice, anyway. I see a glimmer of the guy I used to really like. I think maybe he’s tired of being an asshole to me. I realize a lot just chatting with him…

I have damn fine taste in beautiful things. I love pretty jewelry. I love brightly painted walls. I make my own raspberry jam because mine is better than any other I’ve tried. I’m a bit of a snob, I can admit it. If I can’t afford it, I make it. No matter what it is.

If I want something, then I get it.

My taste in men is very similar. Pretty. Bald. Nice arms. Nice teeth. Nice ass. Tattoos… and most importantly… a Spark. He has to be a little lethal. I have to wonder. He must be a sexual predator in a nice way, and he must be as unwilling to share me as I am him.

I’m looking at this adorable man-child who was my favorite guy for a while and I realize something.

It’s not that I like douche bags… it’s that I love a challenge. A contemporary. Someone with enough balls to give me a run for my money and keep me guessing.

I can’t stand stupid.

I loathe boring.

Don’t even get me started on men that can’t dance.

When I think about the fish that have gotten away, or have been thrown back, unceremoniously…

They’re a pretty hot bunch. They’re well dressed, well spoken and educated. They’re successful, they cook, and they kiss, very well. They read AND can spell.

But… they don’t write… and nothing prepared me for such a weakness.

My archetype of a man happened upon my blog.

The illustrious T, of the fantastic blog Morning Wood.

My internet crush… my Achilles… and the reason I’m climbing in bed with my sweater-to-be and not some darling diversion destined to disappoint me….

Because he reminds me….

If I’m busy wasting my time with the wrong one, I’ll never even know how good life can be with the right one.

Patience is a virtue… and I don’t have any.

Maybe I’ll knit some?

♥

He’s just not that into you. Again.

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Miss Everything smiles at me and says…

E- Sit. You need to see this movie, today is the perfect day.

J- He’s just not that into you? Fuck… I could write the sequel.

Every woman, everywhere, needs to see this movie. My favorite quote?

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we’re told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we’re so focused on finding our happy ending we don’t learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don’t, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn’t include a guy, maybe… it’s you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is… just… moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope. - Gigi, He’s just not that into you.

I actually caught myself telling my daughter last week that the only reason some little fucker kicked her in the ankle, was because he liked her. How retarded could I possibly be? That’s one lesson I can throw away. In fact when she comes home from school today, I’m going to put the brakes on that entire theory. I’m going to tell her the truth.

He kicked her because he’s an asshole in the making and his parents are doing a shitty job of teaching him to keep his hands to himself.

Nice boys don’t hurt nice girls. Assholes do. It does not mean he likes you.

It means he’s an asshole. It’s really that simple.

It means he thinks it’s ok to hurt you, and we need that just as much as we all need an invasive case of head lice.

Nice men don’t juggle women. A solid valuable man wants to outdo every other man that ever had the privilege of being as lucky as he is when he’s in the pleasure of your company. Good men are smart. They value you and the things that attracted them to you initially, but more than that?

They value themselves…. enough to want to impress you. Enough to care about what you think about him.

Just like us? When they really like you, they go out of their way to show you.

The guy that really is into you, goes out of his way to show it. He calls. Consistently. He pursues you and you smile about him when you think about him. There’s not a swarm of crazy women around him because he wants you to value what a good man he is too. He’s worthy, and he can see that you are too. That’s the guy we’re supposed to like. The one who loves you in pajamas as much as he loves you in a cocktail dress. The guy who shows you off to his friends. The one who puts you first because he loves that you make him feel that way too.

Nothing is fun about being lied to. Jealousy only breeds a low self esteem and poor choices. Anyone willing to make you feel that way or tie you to the railroad tracks of their “indiscretions” is clearly not the one for you.

He’s not the exception. He’s the rule, and unfortunately they outnumber the exceptions about 10 to 1.

Life is messy. Life is fraught with pain and suffering the consequences of making the same mistake and expecting different results. Learning the same lesson a hundred times in a row and feeling like an idiot by being shocked about it happening all over again.

But…

If I didn’t have faith… and if I didn’t know that I’m absolutely worth it… I’d close this stupid book on dating and throw in the towel. I’d give up… and give in… and the last chapter in my life would be of someone that didn’t respect or appreciate me.

How tragic would that be?

I’d rather write a happy ending… thankyouverymuch. I’d rather tell you that it really does exist. I’d rather not be such a whiner.

Frankly I’d rather be typing about my trip to the Virgin Islands right now.

I’d rather be sex blogging the man I adore, straight out of the water. It’s so much more fun than facing the absolute reality.

He just wasn’t that into me.

I was stupid. I thought I would be “different” even though I knew several amazing people that had suffered the same fate before me. I absolutely handed him my self respect on a silver platter.

I may as well have tied a bow around my neck… because I didn’t ask for a thing in return, and even the most simple of basic human kindnesses, were mind blowing.

That would be my fault as well. It’s ok to expect kindness. We expect our children to be kind and polite, why the hell wouldn’t we expect the same from the men in our lives?

So…

I bought yarn…and a sweater pattern… and until it’s done? I’m climbing out of the pool.

I’m done. I’m taking a sabbatical from men, entirely.

I need to like myself enough to ask for a helluva lot more than I’ve been settling for.

……..besides….. I’d rather be knitting than dating douche bags.

Head Doctor

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Omg…. Yep, that’s me…

Head Doctor: A woman who has retained a P.H.D. in oral sex.

and it’s something I feel very passionate about. I have many girlfriends who do not reciprocate orally.

Which is really shitty, if you ask me. If you expect your man to please you orally… (and who doesn’t, seriously?) then you sure as hell better be down for doing the same.

If you’re not? He should hold out on you.

and if you do a lame, half-assed job? He should do the same.

I had one boyfriend in the past that didn’t like to reciprocate… and I can count on one finger how many times he inspired me enough to want to blow him. Once.

Because the key to good head- is LOVING it. Not just tolerating it- and not just going through the motions because it’s his birthday or your anniversary.

Step up to the plate girlfriend and hit one out of the park. He’ll look at you a little differently… and he’ll mean it when he says he loves you. Cause it’ll be the only thing he can think about until you do it again.

Look up at him- his eyes will roll into the back of his head anyway- and hell- who are you trying to impress right now? Your mom? Or your man? Embrace that tramp-fabulous girl you know you have locked away. She’s fun… and he loves her. In fact?

He can’t get enough of her… and if you’ve done your job- you’re in for the time of your life.

Because the key to any man… is not through his stomach… though it does help- and it does give you quite an advantage… the key to any man- is in the back of your throat.

Sorry to be indelicate… but it’s true.

Ask any man. If he’s going to be completely honest with you… He’ll tell you.

I can hear the emails already…whining that you hate it… really? Why? Cause it tastes bad? Buy flavored lube… suck on a lifesaver (or better yet, an Altoid- but be sure to warn him), pull him into the shower… or just look at him- this is the man you want- the man you love- and the man you want to please…. and because it’s your turn next…

Inspire him. It’s in your best interest. How many short term investments can you make that have HUGE quick returns? None that pay out like this one.

Have a drink(s)- turn on your favorite music…feel sexy- however you get to that feeling. Kiss him- want him- and blow his damn doors off.

Being empowered is a fabulous rush- and honeychild… when you do this well- you own him. :)

Own. Your. Shit.

Because… finding yourself in love with someone is a great feeling… but don’t be lazy just because you’ve “landed” him. Don’t sit down on the job! For crying out loud, do not give him a reason to stray. If you love him- show him…

Like he realllllllllly wants you to….

…again, you’re welcome, cute boys of the world.

Rich & Boring.

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My date tonight was legendary.

If you like the whole pampered rich boy thing… which I don’t.

Damn.

Because this one has future ex-husband written all over him. Sorry… I have to be honest. I can see marrying & divorcing this guy in the first five minutes.

He wore a black tie… not that a red one would have gotten him anywhere, to be honest. After all, I have to be inspired to make my threats a reality. Niiiice suit though… Go Armani, go!

He picked me up in a brand new black Corvette… which is just not farm-chick driveway proof. I was ready to lose it by the time we made it back down the driveway… and I’m not sure which parts he left there from the bottom of his car…. but homeboy needs to learn how to drive in Idaho.Yikes… I know he was trying to impress and all that- but damn… that’s a nice car- leave her out of it… or park on the street. Eeek.

I’m tempted to see if he’ll let me drive it… which is the biggest temptation I’ve faced thus far… not a good sign.

He’s cute- in a ironed-white linen sort of way. He’s a rich boy- you can see it all over him within the first few seconds. He has silky soft hands- perfectly clean nails… Tiffany jewelry…even rings. Weird huh? I know, I know… I’m picking him apart… but it’s strange to see jewelry on a man unless it’s a wedding ring… sorry. Love that he’s familiar with the blue box though- three cheers!

Call me a bitch… but the last thing a low maintenance girl wants is a high maintenance man. Although for the first time in my life… I’m sitting with a man very capable of financing anything I want.

Yuck.

I know- ya’ll are gonna hate me for saying it… but….

Give me a hard working poor man any day- I prefer them ten times more than a spoiled rich boy. Alright… honesty is the best policy…He’s gorgeous. Funny. Sexy as hell… but he’s too rich.

I climb into the car… which isn’t hard in my cute little shoes.

K- You are gorgeous- I was sort of hoping you’d be wearing that cute little bikini you had on the other day.

J- Hmmm… You date a lot of girls that show up in bathing suits for a dinner date?

K- No, I apologize- that was my nerves talking. You look just like I hoped.

J- Sand Creek? Or?

K- How are you with surprises?

J- Depends

K- I have one for you. Do you have your phone? Want to call a friend to come along?

J- Uh no.WHY? Should I?

I am HORRIBLY tempted to take him up on the offer.

K- Dinner at my house? Outside? You can keep your phone on the table- call 911 at the first sign of my being inappropriate.

J- Don’t flatter yourself… I’m a black belt. One step out of line and I’ll have to break your legs and drown you.

K- Fair enough- I’m inviting you to.

He drives me out to the lake… to his house… and the dock… where a table is set… Flowers even… including some of my favorites… yikers… who the hell is this guy, anyway?

I’m feeling like an unsuspecting twilight zone cast member…

He smiles at me… awww dimples… fuck. I’m a sucker for dimples…

K- So what sort of vegetables am I going to buy from you?

J- Depends on what you like to eat?

K- I eat everything.

This guy is more than a shark… he’s a bottom feeder…. and I mean that as nice as I can say it.

Some woman comes out with salad… omg…. he has a….waitress? Really? Yep. I smile at her…

J- Thank you- hi… I’m Jenni

W- Enjoy your dinner.

Hmm. I’m more accustomed to being the help. In fact if this date teaches me anything its to never complain ever again about being treated like the help. I love it. I’d rather be real than spoiled, any day.

Not this guy… he loves being spoiled. It’s doomed… but I’m having a blast. Why not enjoy it?

He looks up and flashes those damned cute dimples at me…

K- Hungry?

J- Maybe?

K- Do you like Mexican?

I choke on my wine… start coughing… holy. Ugh.

J- Usually, why? What’d you order?

K- ORDER? I cook. Thanks.

J- You made me dinner?

K- No. I’m a horrible liar, sorry. Do you want Mexican, Thai or Italian?

J- Really?

K- Yes. Tell me what you want.

J- Mexican.

K- As you wish.

J- You do know my last name?

K- No… why?

J- It’s Roberts… I’m the real Dread Pirate Roberts… lol

K- No way.

I pull out my driver’s license… yep… it’s true… that’s me.

He leans across the table and kisses me on the nose. Huh. Ok.

The nice lady comes back and tells him he has a phone call.So I start texting my sister.

I resist the urge to say “COME GET ME RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!”

He come back to the table almost an hour later… Hmmm……… Not down… Not down at alllllll.

J- Wanna take me home? I have a big day tomorrow.

K- Anything you can cancel?

J- No.

K- Ok, yeah. let’s go! Wanna drive?

Of course I do… and omg… it’s so spectacularly fabulous I wish I was coming home to shark in the sheets. Which is probably why my date didn’t result in me naked and chipping the paint off my bedroom wall with the bed.

Damn.

They should bottle & sell shark at Super 1……

My new date could support them…

Which would result in me married & knocked up… with the wrong guy… so perhaps its for the best.

He drives me home, walks me to the front door… and leans in for the kiss.

Why not?

Oh I can tell you why not… cause he can’t kiss his way out of a paper bag.

I prefer being sexually frustrated- thanks.

Goodnight… no really… good night.

and away he goes. Ugh. Poor spoiled rich boy will be calling me for 4 months at least… ugh.