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.

i had a date(ish)

gather around darlings, i have a delightful holiday tale that is sure to warm your hearts:

(or at least make you laugh/pee a little so SOME part of you is warmish)

i had a “date” last night.

before you get all excited for me it must be stated: this was not a “you’re hot and i want to take you out” date, this was a very old friend in town for the holidays, knows i’m single and rarely get to go out on this type of event, in the spirit of the holidays threw me a bone “date”.

so. you know. go me.

now, before i get too far into it you need to know that in spite of everything i actually had a pretty good time. it was good to be out, it was good to feel pretty, and it was good to not have to buy my own drinks/dinner/lap dances for once (we’ll get back to that last one in a minute).

so the friend in question is/was actually staying at my house for a few days while in town. he got to town thursday evening, friday we hung out a bit before he had to go do some things, then we were both back at my house around 3 (with both spawns) hanging out. 3 in the afternoon. it was actually a little before 3- yes, time is important. you see, between the time he got back to my house and the time i went to take the small spawn to a friends for a sleep over at 5 he was already SIX drinks ahead of me: two shooter bottles of gentlemans jack, firefly on the rocks, three screwdrivers. nothing lets your date know you’re excited about taking her out like getting completely smashed before it even starts.

i get back from dropping the small spawn off and start to get ready. a date is a date and damn it, i wanted to look nice. pretty skirt, nice strapless top, big girl shoes, big hair, big make up, i pulled out ALL the stops. while i’m doing this he has another drink and a bit of green because that of course lets a lady know you can’t wait to be alone with her- a completely altered reality. awesome. (also lets her know that she will be driving for the evening and not able to partake in any drinks herself. even better).

while i’m getting ready i was complimented several times along the lines of “you look hot. it’s nice to have my escort look so hot. you’re my escort for the evening, right? i’m paying for everything and getting sex after, so you’re my escort, right?”

i just love compliments. they make me glow.

yes, i still went through with the date. i’m that desperate. again: go me.

so we decide on a spot for dinner and start the evening out. dinner was actually delightful at a very nice restaurant but we forgot to factor in one thing: a gentleman’s club was on the agenda for the evening and the restaurant we had picked tended to be a little (as in the nile is just a little river) heavy handed on the garlic and onion. PERFECT for an evening of up close and personal with beautiful women (and the supposed sexy time at the end of the evening).

conversation was great through dinner. we talked about how long we had know each other, how we’ve both grown over the years, real, good, meaningful conversation. a little shocking all considered.

after dinner (one more drink) it was still early and the friends he planned on meeting at the club weren’t ready yet so we decided to drive around a bit (after stopping for a coors tall boy). this turned into about an hour and a half driving around in BFE, in pea soup fog, with NO IDEA where we were at. not the worst, but for sure not exactly a nice night out type thing. I WILL SAY: we did use this time to continue talking about things which was really nice. one caveat: you just never know how much is real conversation and how much is “altered state of mind” conversation. not really sure how much of it he remembers or meant. so. yeah.

we finally decide that we’ve had enough driving around and we’ll just go to his buddy’s house and wait for him to get ready to go to the club. translation: we’ll go park out back of his buddies house and attempt teenage car sex until his buddy is ready to go.

oh yeah. i just said that.

two adults. one car. a whole lot of (one sided) alcohol. a fuck ton of awkward.

let me just say: no matter how old you are, no matter how big your car is, no matter what you may think: CAR SEX IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA. add in a little alcohol and GOSH DARN IT, wouldn’t you now, things just didn’t quite go as planned.

we finally head out to the gentleman’s club and the rest of the evening was pretty good. see, i’m one of those girls who LIKES other girls. i think women are beautiful and i truly admire the dancers at the gentleman’s club. they are (with some exceptions) athletic, brave, sensual women who are damn smart and good at what they do. i’ve had many a conversation about this with men, women, and some dancers. they truly are damn good hustlers, sales women, business women and the best ones do this with little to no (visible) effort so that the drooling neanderthals around the stage think they’re being awesome getting this girls attention while she’s making bank and taking money that they’re willingly throwing in her direction. plus: boobies! yes, i said it.

i was able to enjoy a very nice lap dance from a beautiful woman which all the men were jealous of (yes, mine was longer than yours deal with it). i happened to run into a friend i hadn’t seen in way too long and was able to catch up on a little chatting amidst all the distractions. i got to watch boys be stupid boys which is always fun. finally i got to watch my date ingest quite a few more drinks which assured that i was safe from the sexy time at the end of the evening that he had been planning on.

so the “date” ended well enough but i want to point out a few things that really were a train wreck that i managed to ignore.

men: don’t EVER refer to your date as your escort for the evening unless you looked up an ad in the yellow pages, ordered her and had to put a credit card on reserve for the evening to happen. it is damn demeaning, angering, and honestly purely insulting. i understand that all you want out of the evening is the sexy time at the end and you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. one way to make sure it DOESN’T happen is to let me know up front in plain english that’s all you think i am/am good for.

don’t EVER let a woman know you can’t afford to take her out but you’re doing it anyway. nothing ruins the evening as quick as “i know i’ll hate myself tomorrow for how much i spend on you tonight.” AWE.SOME. and YES, this was actually said to me.

also, along the same line: don’t ever let your date know you had to borrow money to take her out. FROM. YOUR. MOM. this one didn’t happen to me but it DID happen to a darling friend of mine a few weeks ago. a guy actually had the half balls to say he wanted to take her out for a drink but had to ask him mom for a loan first. if you can’t afford it, find a different option. buy a sixer and rent a movie. it’s a LOT cheaper, less noisy, and more one on one time. plus you don’t have the whole awkward: “he borrowed money from his mommy” vibe the whole evening.

i understand having a few drinks or a little herbal relaxation to mellow you out before a date. WITHIN REASON. getting smashed before she even starts getting ready is NOT a good thing. really. nothing tells a girl you dont want to go out with her more than having to be blasted to go through with it.

NEVER. EVER. suggest car sex. EVER.

don’t complain that the girls lap dance was longer than yours. enjoy the fact that you have a woman who is excited to be at the club with you and that you even got to watch her getting a lap dance. i mean how fucking sexy is that? getting to watch a girl get a LONG lap dance and enjoy it? and you complained?

don’t make her wake up in the morning to you flogging the dolphin. wrestling the cyclops. choking the chicken. FUCKING MASTURBATING IN HER BED RIGHT NEXT TO HER.

hmm. sorry. probably should have given you a little warning about that last one.

*sigh* and people wonder why i’m single.

gone fishing...

i'm pretty sure i've posted something similar to this before. maybe not. maybe i've just thought it a hundred and twelve times but never written it out. a QUICK (i scanned) review of my last whatever blogs under the "dating" tag didn't make this sound like a repeat, so for all intensive purposes, unless you can prove me wrong, let's consider this a brand new shiny post. here we go:

so, as it turns out, i am either a) a complete idiot, b) a glutton for punishment, or c) both.

i have signed up, yet again, on one of those online dating websites. I’M BORED. ok? shut it. plus? you guys get all the good reading without any of the permanent personal trauma. you know you love me for taking this bullet for you.

there’s one thing that is abundantly clear looking at these sites: GUYS ARE DISGUSTING MONKEYS (no offense to any male readers, but you kinda are).

now i’ll admit it right up front: i’m a shallow, petty, snarky bitch. and when i say bitch, i mean: judgmental, catty, mean, and did i say shallow?

I WILL JUDGE YOU BASED SOLELY ON WHAT YOU CHOSE AS YOUR PROFILE PICTURE.

i’m not sorry either. if you can’t take the time to pick a decent picture, i can’t take the time to look at you in any way other than to make fun of you.

here’s what is NOT a decent picture:

anything showing JUST your bare chest/stomach. two strikes: if you have such a picture but list yourself as looking for a “serious relationship.” umm…BULLSHIT. you know you’re looking for sex. i know you’re looking for sex. just list that you’re looking for sex, call it a day and i won’t have to hate you for being an asshole liar AND a total douchecanoe.

any form of a wife beater in the picture. DOUBLE THAT if said wife beater has stains on it. REALLY? you couldn’t find a picture with a real shirt without stains to post as your profile pic? and you wonder why you’re still single? it’s a fucking mystery.

pictures of you sitting at your computer desk with a stack of laundry/dirty dishes/trash piles in the back ground. REALLY? and let me guess, our first conversation will revolve around which level you’re up to on w.o.w. nice. get off your damn computer. get outside. interact with other REAL people. vomit.

pictures of you with any other woman: REALLY? i don’t care if it’s your mom/sister/bff/kidney donor. NO. just NO. are you fucking kidding me?

duck face? it’s bad enough on women. on men? OH HELL NO YOU DIDN’T.

pictures of you with your kids. i get that you love them. do YOU get that this is a free site and any creepy pedo can jump on here and snag your precious spawn for their disgusting library? do you really want to put your kid at risk like that? i get that your world revolves around them and they’re your #1 priority and you’re a fantastic family man…you made sure to say it 900 times in the 3 sentences you posted about yourself. but PICTURES? REALLY?

bonus tip: i know that whatever’s in the picture with you is what will take top priority in the relationship be it friends, cars, pets, kids, family, whatever. if i see anything besides YOU in the picture, i’m skipping it. you on a mountain top? nice. well done. i’m not hiking up a fucking mountain with you, and it’s a sure thing that i’ll be asked at some point. no, i don’t care that you restored that car by sacrificing every weekend (and every penny) for 80 years. kinda figured that’s where the single thing came from. your MOM? cut the fucking apron strings already. save the freak show for a third date. let me get used to YOU first.

now, as to the actual profile: IF YOU CAN’T USE REAL WORDS IN REAL SENTENCES YOU’RE DONE. while we’re at it: YOUR, YOU’RE. i hate you already.

“i’ve never done something like this before…” i don’t give a fucking rats ass, you’re here now so let’s just start there.

“i’m not sure what to say about myself…” then i’m not sure i want to spend any more time even considering you. “i’m a pretty normal guy…” BULLSHIT. we’re all crazy to some degree. own it. fly that freak flag proudly.

“i’m just getting out of a long painful relationship…” i’m not dr. phil. fix your shit, THEN sign up on here. i’m not going to waste my time making you all better cause guess what? I CAN’T. that’s all on you freakaziod.

“no drama, no games…” cue freak show music. this means you’re ALL drama and ALL games. you just don’t want competition.

email: general rule of thumb: the number of words you type in your email is exactly equivalent to the amount of time i’ll spend considering you. if “hi” is all you can manage? GONE. “wuzz up?” PISS OFF. “you’re pretty hot.” DUH. FUCKING IDIOT. get the trend here? send me a REAL message and show me you can string together more than three syllables and form a coherent thought without hurting yourself. MAYBE then you’ll get a response.

i’m a being a picky selective bitch and is this probably why i’m still single?

yup.

of toothbrushes and men...

i’m sure you’re all sick already of hearing about the new guy already, but SUCK IT. i’m gonna do it again anyway…kinda.

more to the point: i have a hard time defining things. and i know not everything needs a definition, but I LIKE THEM. okay?

so. new guy: this isn’t a forever thing. it’s an “until it’s over” thing. we’ve already talked about getting too involved and being careful about emotions and all that crap since we both know it isn’t a forever thing. TRUST: several conversations on this have already happened. in a week. which has a tendency to make one wonder…

what’s that old saying? “before you try to convince anyone else, be sure you are convinced, and if you cannot convince yourself, drop the subject.” john henry patterson

who is he (are we) trying to convince? are we trying to convince ourselves or each other that we’re not getting attached? or both? is it possible to be attached after only a week (11 days, but who's counting...)? (ps: i did not just take the time to count the actual number of day. i will deny it FOREVER. hush up).

back to the point- i have a problem defining things. more specifically, i have a problem defining “attached” or “dating” or *yikes* “boyfriend”. the b-word…that’s a REALLY BIG word for me to drop…and i’ve retracted it since i thought about having to use it last week. at first i was all worried about the cultural aspect of things and needing things to be all status quo…yeah…not worried about that any more…so the b-word is still waiting to be dropped…back burner for that particular word…BUT…distracted again: defining things: attachments:

HERE’S MY RULE ABOUT ATTACHMENT:

it’s not serious until there’s a toothbrush involved.

crazy? yes. BUT, it makes perfect sense. it’s all fun and games until someone is staying at your house long enough to need a toothbrush. that implies that they’re there for a while. either that or they’re OCD about brushing. either way. if someone is at you house for enough consecutive time to need to brush their teeth THEN it’s an issue about getting attached.

a quick shower after sex? not a big deal. or a quick shower after work before heading on a date…same thing. staying overnight/breakfast in bed? it’s ok as long as they don’t stay through lunch because eating before brushing in the morning is acceptable but to make it all the way through til lunch? not so much.

an evening quickie and gone in the morning to get ready for work? PERFECTLY FINE. an evening quickie (or *cough* you know...not so quick *ahem*), sleeping over, then getting ready for work at your house, toothbrush and all? DANGER PANDAS!

pajamas for staying over? fine…i have an empty drawer…just make sure you leave in the morning like a good boy does BEFORE the brushing of the teeth.

see, it all revolves around the toothbrush. a toothbrush is a SERIOUS commitment people! i can count on TWO fingers the number of boys (of the grown up kind you understand) who have had toothbrushes in my house. TWO FINGERS. this is a big ticket item!

and see, the new guy and i (SERIOUSLY PEOPLE…HELP ME COME UP WITH A NAME FOR HIM ALREADY) have been joking (half joke/half serious) about him staying with me full nights while the spawns are gone the next two weeks…it’s all good and do-able (*snork* do-able…it’s a sex joke…get it?) AS LONG AS HE GOES HOME IN THE MORNING TO GET READY. NO TOOTHBRUSHES ALLOWED. although…he is a smoker…so a toothbrush might be handy…i mean…considering…no…wait…

NO TOOTHBRUSHES ALLOWED.

ps: if anyone can find this toothbrush holder for me, i will HEART YOU FOREVER.

TMI Thursday: the grooming edition

are you shuddering already? yes, that's right: TMI AND GROOMING together in one.

so. ladies. (was that creepy to anyone besides me?). you can sit back and just agree with me on this post. i'm addressing any of my men readers at this point (hopefully there's A LEAST one...if i can make the difference in ONE person's life...).

*ahem*

grooming: we all know i'm not one to beat around the bush, so i'll get right to the point. MEN: GO GET A MANICURE AND PEDICURE. or at least learn how to do it yourself. jesus fuck people. is anyone else sick of getting into bed with a tree monkey? as in YOU COULD CLIMB TREES WITH THOSE THINGS. ~vomit~

i mean...REALLY. i can't even discuss the feet issue...too gross for even me. just get it fucking taken care of. when your toe nails are a darker shade of yellow and thicker than a 2 pound block of tillamook cheddar...GET IT FUCKING TAKEN CARE OF. there is NO shame in getting a pedicure. any woman you ever get in bed with ever again will love you for it. ew. mental image. i just threw up a little.

now the fingers. ~sigh~ i know it seems gay in the not happy way to go in and get a manicure. I GET IT. but GET OVER IT. it isn't. and i'm not asking you to get all buffed and polished. you don't need to get flowers and hearts painted on your pinkies. i'm just asking POLITELY (or...you know...DEMANDING) that you have something less than wolverine claws when you *ahem* go there. and by there i mean: QUIT TRYING TO EDWARD SCISSORHANDS MY SPECIAL LADY AREA. holy christmas. jagged nails ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. rough hangnails and callouses DO NOT "add to the experience".

how would you feel if i had a jagged chipped tooth that i refused to have fixed? or if i went all hard core twilight junkie and sharpened myself some fangs? or if i wore sandpaper gloves to add to your experience??

GET IT FIXED. it's cheap, it's relaxing and enjoyable (there's a reason women do these thing all the time). you can go in the middle of the day when your guy buddies are at work so no one will see you. hell...go at night and make it a group thing. most salons have a tv in them...you can watch football while you're there. really, women will be SO HAPPY to see men getting it taken care of they won't complain about the football.

for the love of special lady areas everywhere. please. i beg you. MANICURE. PEDICURE. NOW.

(ps: DOUBLE the foot demand if you ever want to wear sandals out in public!)