behind the names

so ones of you have asked what's with the names when it comes to the stories. there's a few parts of this:

#1- I never use real names. ever. it helps protect the not-so-innocent. I don't want names popping up in google search, having people use them to stalk or find info, contact, on and on. additionally, it protects me. if someone doesn't like a story, it's up to them to out themselves and claim their second identity. finally- friends and friends of friends know some of these people outside the little blogosphere. im ok airing MY dirty laundry but I don't want to air theirs per say.

#2 how the names are selected: it seems most nicknames explain themselves. cities/countries: where the boy is from. sadly, not places I've been to. *sigh* I wish I travelled that much. military branches pretty much are what they are. jobs, holidays, it's sadly basic and unimaginative. shoulder blades is the only "odd" one that comes to mind and when I get around to that story (I may have already posted it once) youll understand that.

#3 YES, these are real stories. YES, all these boys exist. YES, I could write a full (and then some) 50 shades. I realize this may label me a whore, tramp, hussy, WHATEVER to some people. it is what it is. I have several reasons, explanations, theories, excuses...it is what it is. some of it was young/stupid. some of it was proving something to myself. the last several years have been plain and simple because I like sex and I'm not ashamed of it. if a partner isn't particularly satisfying I have no problem (most of the time) cutting loose and moving on. I also have a serious aversion to relationships so there's no "black out" times with the exception of my 23 month marriage. there's been years I've elected not to have sex. there's been years sex has elected to not have me. there's been times I would have made for one hell of a jerry springer show.

end of the day: it is what it is. I'm not ashamed of any of it. each experience had its own lesson. and each experience was just that: an experience. I've been able to pass on wisdom, help others, recognize problems early in, define what I am looking for, know when it's time to get out (ok...still working on that one.)

so. there's the behind the scenes. now. back to the stories.

let the search begin!

so. if you follow my twitter or Facebook, I posted the other day about wanting a REAL date during the much anticipated mommy vacation. three weeks of "grown up" time all to myself deserves a real date.

then I thought. yes, thought usually follows AFTER most post.

I have several events coming up that it would be nice to not have to attend alone. there's a fundraising cruise in August, my birthday and the magazine launch party in September, and I know there's something else I'm forgetting...

so: I see my real date and I raises myself a boyfriend.

not sure how exactly this will happen short of a pretty woman arrangement, and since I'm poor ass broke that isn't even really an option...

so here's the details:

August-October. possible early release. just need it long enough to look legit. bonus: he gets out before the holiday season AND gets to attend some fucking amazing events.

must be able to be on a boat and handle his alcohol, dress up in a tux (owned or rented), and must lavish the appropriate amount of attention on the actual birthday (strict no gifts policy). must be able to blend with several different groups of people and have an appropriate sense of humor to cover up for my often not appropriate jokes.

the first three weeks will be kid free so plenty of time will be available. after that its a crap shoot with back to school, work, and everything leading up to the launch party.

skills of dancing, cooking are a bonus, appreciation of good coffee and wine requested.

basic life skills (job, transportation, hygiene) are non-negotiable. between 30-45 requested, exceptions considered but must bring something outstanding to the table.

in return he gets to spend time with me. so. I mean...what more does he need?

if this succeeds, it would be my third longest relationship EVER. he may get a trophy at the end.

SO. now accepting applications.

new york

chapter 3: new york

i think new york is the closest i will ever come to a real life fairy tale. not the whole of it, but a damn good portion.

new york. i still miss new york. i met him back in the day (probably a wednesday). had to have been 2004ish. summer/fall. newly divorced, baby, kiddo- life was a little crazy back then. i met new york online- back when match.com was all the rage and there were actually people on there not just all assholes looking for a booty call. well, that's a lie. there were plenty of those too (more stories for a later time). 

new york caught my eye pretty quickly online for three things: air force, wranglers, and a big ass truck. YES, i liked all those things back then (hell, no sense lying to ya'll- all three still catch my attention...well, carharts over wranglers these days).

new york was stationed locallyish at the air force base in spokane (i was still living in podunk at the time). when we "met" he was actually on deployment in the middle of no where, sandbox, left of and two degrees hotter than hell. we chatted every day for HOURS online. it made my work days a little more tolerable (what are they going to do? retroactively fire me? SUCK IT CORPORATE WORLD. MISUSE OF CORPORATE TOOLS AT IT'S FINEST). we talked about everything- growing up in small towns, cereal (his favorites were coco puffs and lucky charms if i remember correctly), family vacations, future plans- all of it. we actually played 50 questions over the months- every day we had to have a few new questions for each other.

we talked about meeting when he got home from deployment, going to the drive in movies, having home cooked meals, all the things that he missed being stuck in BFE sandbox.

time finally came when he was being brought back state side. holy crap excitement. he couldn't tell me exactly when until he was back on state soil but i had a rough idea. we got closer to fall and he was able to hint a little more about coming home- finally one day he was back in boston and able to tell me to be at the airport on my birthday.

so. in a made for the movies moment, on my birthday, i was waiting at the end of the terminal, waiting for my soldier to come home from war. he walked straight down the ramp, picked me up and gave me the biggest hug ever.

yes. it really happened.  doesn't get much sappier than that. i'll honestly never forget that moment as long as i have a working piece of my brain left.

somehow we managed to NOT rip each others clothes off in the parking garage, or in the car, or on the short drive back to his base. once we were in the barracks though it was no holds barred. MONTHS of foreplay, a soldier stuck in the sandbox for almost a year, we were both much younger then...needless to say we surfaced at one point for food and a trip to get a dvd player (he HAD to get one.) and then disappeared back inside until a few hours past when i was supposed to leave. i honestly can't remember the sex. i have a vague recollection of it being good- energetic, quick recovery time, he was attentive and took care of things.  can't say it was the best ever, but it definitely beats out the majority.

the next chance he had leave new york drove up to my little podunk apartment and spent a few days with me. i remember watching him sit on the couch with my oldest watching cartoons and eating cereal. simple memories with him. good memories.

deployments, schedules, life prevented anything from getting too serious. we kept in touch over the years. he swore i was his perfect woman and he would marry me one day. he just had too many things to do before he settled down (including a red head, twins, an oriental and a midget. good to have goals).

new york was eventually deployed to england where he still is today. he's made a life out of the air force and is kicking ass. sadly, some british tart plucked him up and he was married recently.

new york. the one that could have been. the one that i still wish had worked out some how. i miss the days of chatting and getting to know him. i still remember more things about him than i ever even knew about any of the *cough*several*cough* that followed.

i'm still a sucker for air force boys. i'm still a sucker for a new york accent. i'm still a sucker for a boy that can two step me around the dance floor and just as quickly whip me into the pretzel and back out again. trucks, bonfires, shotgunning beers, cussing up a storm- 

it will take a damn lot to replace that moment in the airport as one of my top memories.

new york was one of the good ones.

brazil

chapter two: brazil

this is NOT a shining moment in my history of men. it may in fact be one of the most embarrassing stories i have to tell. it, of course, like all embarrassing stories, starts in vegas...

vegas for thirty. four girls. an AMAZING two room hotel suite. itty bitty dresses. and ALCOHOL. so. much. alcohol.

i don't remember which day of the trip it was. i don't remember which club it was. i DO remember table service. and a bottle of vokda for the four of us.

one of our girls managed to wander off for a bit and when we caught up with her she had met brazil. i'm pretty sure he had a real name. i think it started with a J.

braSil (they spell it with an s. we're ignorant americans) was pretty. a trained boxer with a body to match. apparently his rough english skills didn't matter when it came to tonsil hockey on the back patio of a vagas bar. or the back skylit section of a casino club. or the pretend it's outdoors because it's decorated with green stuff and you've had so much alcohol it doesn't really matter section of the bar.

brazil and our girl were getting friendly. there was even a warning about appropriate club behavior at one point i believe.

the night goes along, our girl and brazil are inseparable. two of our four head back to the suite in a cab. i stick behind with our girl and brazil- no girl left behind. especially with a non-english speaking stranger in a club.

are you confused as to how this is MY story yet?

the night ends with brazil giving my girl and me a ride back to the suite. we invite him up (she invites him up) to the suite for a night cap. only polite thing to do, right?

the way the suite was set up is entry way, room to the left, room to the right. the two gals that had headed back in the cab earlier were sharing the room to the left. future mrs. brazil and i were sharing the room to the right. being a good wingman i took the couch in the entry way (actually a large living room area, couches, tv, table, you get the idea) while my girl and brazil took to the room.

an unknown amount of time later i was awakened by brazil. it seems that my girl was a bit trigger shy when it came to closing the deal. combine a dead sleep (or being passed out, po-tay-to/po-tah-to), a large quantity of alcohol still in my system, and the fact that a gorgeous man was (sadly and second-handedly) hitting on me, suddenly of COURSE sex sounded like a good idea. after all, it wouldnt be polite to send the poor boy home with blue balls after a whole night of build up. what can i say, i'm thoughtful like that.

i honestly don't remember much of what went on. there was sex. bad sex. jackhammer sex. there was an orgasm. singular. his. and then he was gone.

oh how i wish the story ended there.

in the morning i was horrified about what had happened. my girl had brought the guy back with her. had i technically poached her catch? SO against code. you never poach. ever. then i got to thinking about it...how horrifying that only after he had been soundly turned away did he wander out into the living room and see if maybe there was still a chance with that other chick. holy fuck embarrassing. i was really conflicted. i didn't want to tell any of the girls what had happened. i didn't want them to know ANY of it.

i made it about half way through the day before i cracked under pressure. while out to lunch i talked to one of the other gals about what had happened. she had come home in a cab and had no idea about any of it- brazil coming back with us, his rejection and second attempt...or so i thought.

TURNS OUT.

holy fuck embarrassing.

brazil. rejected and kicked out of the bedroom on the right wandered all the way across to the bedroom on the left. woke up BOTH of the girls in there consecutively to see if he had a chance. after being rejected by girl 1, girl 2, AND girl 3, he wandered back into the living room for his last ditch effort.

that's right. i was not the second choice. i was not the third choice. i was the last ditch effort on the way out the door.

nothing romantic. nothing special. not even the slightest attempt. a last ditch effort.

so embarrassing. talk about a severe ego kick. granted- vegas, that much alcohol, and a true pure blood asshole, it's a rare combination. generally there's a little more thought and consideration put into things. a little less being a trashed non-cognitive mess. but there it is. in all it's vegas shame: brazil, the last ditch king.

a REAL first time story

if you haven't heard of the mommy porn phenomenon that is 50 shades, please send me the address of the rock you're hiding under, i would love to join you.

"know thy enemy" and so i read the books. all three of them. and i almost vomited.

where do you start? the fact that they FUCKED UP every single part of a healthy sex life? sure, let's start there. how about labeling spanking as abuse and giving it a bad name for people that have never even thought about trying it. or the fact that every. single. adult store in town has posters up everywhere about 50 shades and the toys there in? yes, i know this for a fact. yes, it pisses me off. soccer moms without a clue venturing into a world that takes research, thought and communication to be done in a healthy way. fuck. talking to the guy at castle i found out they've had to TRIPLE their order on all the stuff mentioned in the books. and it's still selling out.

"isn't this a good thing? getting people to open up sexually?"

NO. because they're going off something they read in a book. A FICTION BOOK. any spanking, toys, anything in that realm requires communication and trust. they are NOT marriage savers. they are not something that should just be picked up. it could lead to a LOT of problems, pain, mistrust, abuse if not handled properly.

let's not even start about how from the very first sexual experience (a virgin to boot) EVERY. SINGLE. ORGASM. was perfectly synchronized and magical rainbows and sunshine. FUCK YOU FIFTY SHADES. synchronized orgasms are the exception, not the rule. perfect sex every time takes TIME and getting to know your partner. thank you for setting unrealistic expectations. fucking bitch. RAWR.

ok. end rant. kind of. all that fucking BULLSHIT aside, here is my answer to 50 shades: (this may end up being multiple posts to cover all the misconstrued sexual experiences).

FIRST TIME (virgin) SEX:

She had been crushing on him for most of the year but he still hardly noticed her existence. They had talked a few times, he had snuck into her room late one night and done something strange to her. Many years later she learned that strange thing was oral sex and when done right can be amazing. MANY. YEARS. LATER. (and a few more for the amazing part).

He was perfect in her eyes- muscular, tanned, athletic. She was non-existent to him- a virgin, a church girl, a nerd. Their world had no intersection, no reason to be around each other, no matter how hard she tried to make it so.

One day she heard that he would be moving to a different state and knew it was her last chance to get his attention. There was only one thing she knew that would get him to notice her, only one thing that would make him want to spend time with her.

One fall night at a High School Wrestling match, she timidly approached him.

"I heard you were moving."

"Yup."

"Well, if you want to have sex before you leave, I'm ready."

"Ok. Lay down."

She looked around the dirty, empty high school class room. Here? But he was willing, he was paying attention to her, that was all that mattered.

She lay down on the floor of the room and wiggled her wrangler jeans down as far as they would go while he unzipped his jeans and knelt over her.

In the quiet of the empty room he pushed into her, hard and painful. She tried to relax but the pain was just too intense.

"Ow. That kinda hurts." She whispered.

"Ok." he said standing up, zipping his jeans.

Without another word he walked out of the room and she never saw him again. She quietly pulled her jeans back on and stared in horror at the large stain all over the classroom carpet having no idea what to do or how to cover it up or make it go away. Ashamed, she left the room and never went back. Thankfully, it was never one of her assigned classes the rest of the three years in high school.

The next day at school everyone knew about what had happened. It was her first lesson about how boys talk. An embarrassing, long lasting lesson. It would be two years before she let another boy anywhere near her again, and then only to quell the pressure of peers.

THAT. see that? THAT is a mother fucking first experience. not some perfectly orchestrated multi-orgasmic love fest with a perfectly sculpted multimillionaire god in a gigantic bed with a maid to wash the sheets after. FUCK YOU FIFTY SHADES. fuck you for making every woman feel inadequate. fuck you and your horribly written fanfic gone overboard. fuck you and your "escape from reality" bullshit.

oh, and if you haven't noticed, I FUCKING HATE THOSE BOOKS.

catch me if you can...

so. I had a few minutes to look at my computer today and realized i haven't posted since MAY. holy slacker. I know I promised to write more- and I have- just not here. I'm officially on staff at a new magazine (shameless plug: museandthemode.com) and have been writing articles and neglecting this.

I'm ready for my flogging.

also, in addition to the magazine I have 4 other jobs keeping me occupied- I know. in January I was camped on my couch and couldn't find anything. kinda miss those days...my checkbook doesn't though. last month for the first time in far too long there was a little bit of scratch left after the bills were paid. been a long time since actual paychecks have done that.

the funny thing is that my brain has been exploding lately- the more I take on the more I find I want to do. writing for the magazine kicked my crafty stuff back into gear and I ended up making jewelry of all things. that bit of creativity sparked a million other ideas, stories, blog posts but i honestly haven't had time to sit down and do it. right now m-f goes something like 8-4 work, baseball from 5-8, work for one of the other 3 jobs, kids, and sometimes sleep. slightly crazy. behind the scenes: I'm actually tapping this out on my phone at a baseball game. thank heavens for smart phones.

long story not so short- I am writing, check the magazine for my bits and pieces. things should taper off with baseball soon a ill have evenings back and can hopefully sit down and empty some of this brain stuffs out.

until then...