Another Day, Another Dick

What Goes Around Comes Around

2009-12-11T17:00:00.000-08:00

LOLITA [very young, very intense admirer of mine] and I are attempting friendship, if for no other reason than the fact that we share friends. It just makes the get-togethers easier. She's been on pretty good behavior. We both attended a wine tasting the other night (she is old enough to drink!) and we sat together and caught up.

This all seemed innocent enough until I discovered that LOLITA has her own Lolita to contend with. A young, cute thing with a big fat crush on LOLITA.

LOLITA TWO was sitting across from us at a big table of lesbos, giving me the stinkeye for quite some time until LOLITA whispered "She likes me. A lot. She's a lunatic."

Fiveglasses of wine later, LOLITA TWO is doing that keep-your-enemies-closer thing. Friendly conversation topics like what do I do for a living, do I have a girlfriend, do I own a leather jacket (apparently, I look like the sort who wears one). We all giggled like girls until the end of the night, when LOLITA was dropping me off and looked at her phone, then showed me a new text message:

do you like her more than me? don't ignore me.

The First Date

2009-12-08T16:42:00.000-08:00

BOOM BOOM [the neon-clad drummer with whom I am going steady] and I have settled into a regular schedule of sleepovers and pancakes. The sex is inventive and passionate, and I'm coming around to the cuddling. It's agreed that we won't bone other people, and though we do not say it out loud very often, we care for one another.

Then an acquaintance asked if I am dating BOOM BOOM, after seeing us together at a party. I started to answer, then realized out loud, "I don't know. We've never been on a date."

I told BOOM BOOM the story and he argued that making pancakes on a thursday morning is most certainly a date, but suggested we go 'out' on a proper date soon.

We set the date for a few days later. BOOM BOOM picked me up wearing navy collared shirt, tucked into jeans, with dark boots. I looked him up & down in shock, and he nodded smugly, pretending to dust himself off. He had also showered, and was eager to point that out.

We rode our bikes to an old fashioned ice cream parlor and shared a giant carmel banana split. We walked the bikes home, and kissed outside my front door before going up to my place and fucking. The next morning we made pancakes.

The Tug

2009-11-11T16:50:00.000-08:00

I got a call from FONTAINE (the touring soundguy with whom I shared a moment in a mic closet during my trip to SXSW). The band he works for was coming through town and he hoped I'd come to the show. I said I'd go.

After hanging up, I immediately pictured BOOM BOOM in a leather vest & gold pants.

It's a rare event that I have reservations about juggling suitors, particularly in the case of the out-of-town-visitor-hookup. But something was tugging at my gut in the cab on the way to see FONTAINE.

I arrived at the show, and popped over to the soundboard for a hug. It was one of those Holy Shit, I Forgot How Hot You Are moments. He had a beard again, with moonbeams coming out of his eyes that whispered, "have sex with meeee...."

After the band's set, we sat backstage and talked over pizza & beer. Eventually I told him I was ready to go home, and he leaned over and kissed my cheek very slowly. It felt good, and he smelled like a campfire, but my gut started tugging again. "I can't," I told him. "I like somebody." He said he understood, and we said goodbye, lying about how we'd stay in touch.

Going Steady

2009-11-06T16:29:00.001-08:00

LOLITA continues to text me abbreviated versions of her feelings. This does not bother BOOM BOOM, with whom I am going steady.

That's right, I said it. We have yet to go on a date, but the other night when I stopped by his place around 1am for a typical bootycall, he sat me down on the broken-bench-seat-from-a-van he calls a couch and we had this conversation:

HIM: I like you.
ME: I like you too.
HIM: And I'm not running around with other girls....on purpose.
ME: Okay.
HIM: I don't want to fuck anybody else.
ME: Cool.

He was wearing a Chicago Bulls windbreaker circa 1993. Nothing says romance like the Three-peat.

She Who Will Not Be Ignored

2009-10-30T16:44:00.000-07:00

LOLITA is back (she didn't really leave).

I knew she was young, impressionable, and a little nuts. But I still made out with her. A bunch of times. She's pretty and she constantly tells me how amazing I am. It's a slippery slope?

But when LOLITA gave me a friendship bracelet (the homemade kind, with string, that children give to their friends), I should have walked away. When she casually mentioned "our wedding" the fifth time, I should have called it off. Instead, I gently told her that she was being a bit overbearing. But as usual, if I didn't call/text right back, she got upset. Lesson #192: You can never ignore a crazy person.

The texts/instant messages/phonecalls/emails got out of control, and I reminded myself that if a man behaved this way, I wouldn't be so gentile about it. So I told her off. I said she was needy and pushy, and that she needed to learn about boundaries.

LOLITA gave me a curt "I've never felt like such an asshole. You won't be hearing from me anymore."

A whole hour later, she texted:

i will not B ignored

The Cycle

2009-10-29T16:26:00.000-07:00

I told STRINGBEAN we'd schedule another date. That was days ago.

You see, I've been spending time with BOOM BOOM. Not a lot of time, which is perhaps perfect.

I'll start with our communication. We hardly speak. One-word text messages, or 1-minute phone calls, which usually happen after 24 hours of very lazy phone tag (we each make one call, without leaving voicemail messages, and then give up).

While we still have not been on a date, we do stop by each other's homes once or twice a week in the morning, before one of us is off to work. On those visits, we hug a lot. And kiss. And touch each other outside our clothes. And discuss the heres & there of the previous or current day. The visits last about 30 minutes tops and ends with a peck on someone's cheek and a smack on some else's ass.

The other get-togethers happen at night, usually late, after one of us has worked, recorded, or rehearsed, or in the rare occasion that we've gone out to a show together. BOOM BOOM says, "May I come over?" or "Are you coming over?" I say yes, we get into someone's home, and get to fucking right away. After fucking, we cuddle, talk about the day, and sleep. He is very cuddly. Sleep-cuddling has always been a no-no for me, but somehow his koala grip feels pretty good, even at 5am when he's stuck to my side and his sweaty head is in my armpit.

In the morning we fuck again, and kiss and hug some more. Then come the cheek-kiss, ass-smack goodbyes. The next day, BOOM BOOM calls me and I take about 24 hours to call him back. The cycle continues.

Boom Boom vs. The Hollywood Kiss

2009-10-20T15:07:00.000-07:00

STRINGBEAN is tall, skinny, and I've never seen him in anything but dress slacks, a sensible shirt & a tie. To accomodate weather, last night he added a sweatervest and sportcoat with corduroy elbow patches. Did I mention he is in grad school?

We met at a vegan restaurant downtown and shared beet sangria and he told me about his job, classes, and family. We ended up sharing grade school sex stories and concluded that I'd have been a perfect high school girlfriend for him. We laughed, he paid, then strolled down the street to a pub for a cocktail & more chatter. After, a walk to the water tower, where STRINGBEAN swept me into a hollywood-style dip kiss.

Perfect date? Yes.

When BOOM BOOM called on my way home, I told him I went to dinner with a friend. We made plans for later in the week, because I thought about him all night.

The Return of Boom Boom

2009-10-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

Around the time I received the cookie jar, I ran into BOOM BOOM [the fashion-forward drummer I shagged & made pancakes for this past spring]. He'd been on tour all summer, and I'd almost forgotten about him until I saw his teal jogging shorts and yellow tank top creeping toward me at a party. We attacked one another with hugs & kisses and agreed to get together "soon."

A few days later, BOOM BOOM picked me up to attend a mutual friend's Labor Day barbecue, wearing a hot pink Miami Vice tshirt and tight Wrangler jeans. We spent the afternoon talking to friends and stealing glances from across the front porch. He walked me home, and outside my door, we expressing mutual feelings:

HIM: I like you.
ME: I like you too.

...Which brings me to the present date. We've had a handful of sleepovers, incredible cuddling, quite a few laughs, and one quickie in a rock club's unisex bathroom. I'd say we're dating, but we have yet to go on a date. It's casual, which I enjoy, but how long can it stay casual? If I've learned anything, it's that The Fling has an expiration date. At some point, it gets real. He either becomes a boyfriend or somebody's feelings get hurt.

Thus, my date tonight. STRINGBEAN, a banjo player & snappy dresser with impeccable manners, came to a show of mine a couple weeks ago and asked me if I'd go dancing with him sometime. I said yes to the date, almost as a challenge to my 'relationship' with BOOM BOOM. As great as the cuddles and romps may be, spending time with someone else may convince me to get real with the dude in the teal shorts.

Lolita!

2009-10-15T16:51:00.000-07:00

No one has ever made me feel so old or so creepy, and yet I allowed LOLITA into my life. I told myself (and her) that we could be friends, that she was new in town. She was lonely. And maybe I was simply flattered.

But she attached herself to me and made it clear she was going to be more than my friend. And let me tell you, youth are vigorous communicators! There's no "Leave a message and then someone calls you back and then you talk." It's more like incessant calling, emailing, IMing, with the finale being these consecutive text messages:

i called u why haven't you called me back?

what are u doing tonight?

are you ignoring me please don't :)

i like you why don't u like me :(

I finally told her to stop all of it. The friendship couldn't work with her insatiable need for attention. I was angry and she was sorry. She said she'd leave me alone.

A week later LOLITA came to my work with a Wizard Of Oz-themed cookie jar. So I kissed her.

Lolita

2009-10-14T17:50:00.000-07:00

LOLITA is the young girl who walked into my office one day this summer alongside a coworker. We were introduced. I shook her hand and said hello, and she said in that sings-song tone of hers, "I can see your bathing suit under your dress."

The day after we met, she befriended me on the ol' Facebook, and sent me a message telling me she'd spent the previous night googling me, perusing photos.

When I'd run into her, she'd only say things like, "You're beautiful," or "I'm obsessed with you." She left a note in my office with a drawing of a mermaid, that said "I heart you." I never responded to any of these advances. I found myself stumbling on words, unable to look in her in the eye. LOLITA terrified me. She's the kind of girl who would burn your house down if you dumped her.

And so I gave her my phone number.

Back In The Saddle

2009-10-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

About a week after the breakup, I was asked on a date by GEORGE JONES, a friend of friends who was young, pretty, and apparently very interested in me. He found me on Facebook, and asked me to dinner via instant message. It was one of the lamest date offers I've ever received, but I took it. Sometimes you just gotta go on a post-breakup date.

We went to a very typical date restaurant. We dressed up, had two hours of getting-to-know-you conversation, laughed a little, GEORGE JONES paid, and he kissed me goodnight when we got to my bike. It was a pretty good kiss and he smelled like Old Spice.

In the two weeks that followed, we ate a few meals, and had a couple awkward sexual encounters.

One night we slept together, at his place, and I apologized for not being so 'into it.' I told him I wasn't ready to be back in the saddle, that I might need some time. He said he understood and kissed me on the cheek & we went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up in his apartment, alone, not a note in sight, and unable to unlock his back gate behind his apartment to escape. I eventually broke it and got the fuck out of there. GEORGE JONES didn't return my call that morning, or ever again.

George Clooney

2009-09-25T17:17:00.000-07:00

What had been a casual, easy relationship had turned into the hottest gossip in town. I was getting dirty looks and cold shoulders at every turn. A friend told me that he'd been backstage at a show, and overheard a somewhat-famous singer calling me a ho.

A ho!

MEDUSA was trying to destroy me (amongst lame alt-country musicians, but still). It seemed that THE CARPENTER was no longer even part of the equation.

A bit of rage was building up in me. One night, while on a bike ride, I pulled over and demanded he do the same. On a busy street corner, I threw off my helmet and asked him for an explanation. He claimed to feel bad about MEDUSA's actions, but he laughed when I told him about the arm-rubbing incident. He was reveling in the attention. Suddenly he was George Clooney and not the sweet southern boy who picked me flowers. In my mind, I heard him saying, "Ladies! There's enough of me to go around!" So I said something mean as a way of diffusing my own hurt:

ME: I don't love you, therefore I will not put up with your shit.

I hopped on my bike and rode away before the tears started.

Oh No She Didn't

2009-09-22T12:27:00.000-07:00

The morning after the lilacs: I slipped out of THE CARPENTER's apartment and he whispered, "You have a good day, little lady. Call ya later."

By the end of that week, THE CARPENTER had still not called, but played at the club where I work. I asked how he was doing, and he just said, "I'll tell ya about it later."

But he didn't need to tell me. Outside the club, I heard thunder strike and turned around to see MEDUSA [his ex] approaching.

MEDUSA's reputation precedes her - she's usually described as "scary." She is 7 inches shorter than myself, with brown hair down to her ass and the biggest breasts you've ever seen on a child-body. Her eyes are clear blue and she doesn't smile much. She'd be cute if she wasn't so fucking terrifying.

The surrounding crowd looked on in horror/excitement as she put her hand on my arm and her eyes burned up into mine. As much as I wanted to be the bigger person, I knew I was about to stoop to crazybitch level. This happened:

HER: I know what you did.
ME: What?
HER: (rubbing my arm) I feel sorry for you.
ME: Are you touching me?
HER: (rubbing my arm some more) I know what is going on.
ME: Bitch, I'm gonna make you cry if you don't stop touching me.

I then searched the club and found THE CARPENTER and threatened his life.

The Fling

2009-09-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

After being home for a day, THE CARPENTER asked me out on an official date. I invited him to my place, and he kissed and squeezed me as I cooked. After dinner, we went to a local diner for dessert and then sat in the car in front of my place, fumbling over whether he ought to stay over. He did.

The next morning, we talked about his ex. They'd broken up a few months before, and I'd heard all about the messiness through the grapevine. She & I are in the same professional circle, and I knew she was, uh...intense. He feared she would be upset about his 'new relationship.' I quickly added that we were just getting to know eachother, so there'd be no need to go public with this affair. It could just be a fun spring fling, right?

A month later, the sex got a little less like lovemaking, and alot more like fucking on my dining room table (and his back porch, and against any wall that'd hold me). We spent a lot of time together - cooking, listening to records, and finally started to go public with the affair in certain circles.

Over Memorial Day weekend, he asked me to meet him under the buckeye tree at a nearby park, where he greeted me with lilacs and told me he liked me, a statement neither of us had made until then. We sat under the starless city sky, blind to the impending wrath of MEDUSA.

The Dicks Continue

2009-09-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

I got buggered by the handful of you about the lack of posts. I assure you I have not been absent due to a lack of dicks. It's been a busy summer.

I'll fill you in on the rest of SXSW. It got good.

THE CARPENTER [The guy working in my building] happened to be passing through Austin on my last day there. He phoned me in the early evening and asked if I'd meet him on the east side of town for a party at an old posh hotel. An hour later, crossing the bridge, I saw his perfect face shining under a street lamp and knew I'd kiss it.

We sat on pavement with our feet dipped into a pool filled with flowers, listening to some country band who might have been terrible had my feet not been in a pool. We discussed books and friends and discovered we'd be on the same flight home the next morning.

The obvious option was to stay together (for the sake of convenience}, so we rounded up my bags and went to THE CARPENTER's hotel, where in a twin bed we had our first kiss and a slow, sweet fuck. I faked an orgasm and we slept on top of one another.

I squirmed when he arranged for us to sit together during the flight, and even more so when he held my hand. He was pretty and I told myself this was a nice way to spend vacation.

SXSW

2009-04-29T15:33:00.001-07:00

I attended South By South West, an annual music conference in Texas. It's like a Mardi Gras/reunion for people who go on tour and/or work in music. After a few years of doing either, one has about a thousand so-called 'friends' whose names we hardly remember, but hug and kiss nonetheless. Then there are a couple hundred folks we actually refer to as
friends, simply because we remember their name and their band. SXSW is where I hug all these people and drink for free. It's totally shallow pretty fun.

I planned a rendezvous with FONTAINE [the soundguy i kissed good-night after a show we worked on last summer]. He was working the festival, but we decided to meet up at the club where he would be all day, just to say a quick hello. He looked good - shorter hair, no beard, texas tan. I sat in the sound booth as he lept around the stage like a gazelle, occasionally winking at me. He finally came over and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, "I've got 20 minutes," then leading me by my elbow to a microphone closet. We kissed and touched eachother outside of our clothes until his coworker walked in on us.

We hugged and I left to find my 'friends' at another party touting free margaritas.

The Carpenter

2009-04-22T15:20:00.000-07:00

We've been having work done in my building for a few months. The same guy has been in and out of my apartment on a daily basis since Christmas, and we've sort of become friends. THE CARPENTER is gorgeous. Remember those diet coke commercials, where all those women were staring at that construction worker on his break and wetting their pants? He is that kind of gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome. And then on top all those good looks, he's full of manners and interesting conversation. We chat as he passes through my place in the mornings to borrow a wrench or knock down a wall. Over a few months, we've learned about each other's bands, discovered that we share friends, and somehow have become friends ourselves. I like hearing and watching him talk - a sweet southern accent, dark sincere eyes, expressive hands, and plenty of intelligent things to say.

We cross paths at shows or sometimes on the street. We joke around, maybe flirt a little, but it's innocent. THE CARPENTER is not my type. Too pretty for me. And maybe in a grander sense, too good for me.

Breakfast

2009-04-08T15:10:00.001-07:00

BOOM BOOM [the drummer with a penchant for neon] came over a few days later for a breakfast date.

Breakfast dates are perfect for we artsy folks. We're all working or being musical in the evenings, yet we never have to be anywhere before noon. And who doesn't want to eat pancakes and bone right after?

The following is an account of BOOM BOOM's Saturday morning date outfit:

-Red sweatshirt, bearing the Gucci logo circa 1982
-Matching red sweatpants bearing the same logo down the right leg
-Orthopedic nurse's shoes (white)
-Neon green windbreaker
-Yellow heart-shaped sunglasses

Yowzers. I have to admit, the brazen fashion sense really gives me a boner. It also gives me the green light on my own freak flag. On this date, I got to wear red running shorts and my favorite sequined tube top that no one likes.

It was a breakfast date, and I did make breakfast. Banana walnut pancakes. We listened to records and talked about our families and at some point during the dishwashing, he said, "That tube top is hideous," and pulled it down, all the way to the floor. I stepped out of it and welcomed foreplay on the buffet table.

We finished up in the bathroom, and proceeded to retrieve our respective clown outfits strewn about my apartment, dressed ourselves, and went off to our jobs.

It's Motherfucking Cuddle Time

2009-03-10T16:17:00.000-07:00

I vowed to be on my own for a while after things ended with the WIZARD - take some time to focus on work, read some books, go to the gym....that lasted two weeks. Enter BOOM BOOM.

BOOM BOOM is in a really great drummer I've been friends with for a while, although no flirting has ever taken place til recently. He's endearing, to say the least - beautiful blue eyes, homemade haircut, a bit shorter than me, a speech impediment, and the most ridiculous fashion sense you've never imagined.

He came to one of my shows, citing that he loves my band. Maybe it was the sudden attention from him, but when he walked in, I suddenly wondered what it would be like to have sex with him. He was wearing blue one-piece ski suit and pink sunglasses. Truly adorable. I scooted over to him when we finished playing and it seemed clear he was thinking about sleeping with me too.

The next night I had another show, which BOOM BOOM also attended. Afterward, we shared a glass of whiskey and talked about music. The top button of my blouse kept coming undone, and he finally said, "I'll consider that an invitation." We hailed a cab and went to his place.

In his bedroomm, he put on an album of Cambodian children's songs and we got right to it. My shirt obviously came off easily, and his glow-in-the-dark camouflage sweatshirt came off with some ease as well. It was late-night, somewhat-drunk sex. Not great, but I could sense the potential. We went at it a couple times before I announced that I was going to walk home.

HIM: No. You can't leave now. It's motherfucking cuddle time.
ME: But your apartment's cold.
HIM: Here. Put this on and come sleep next to me.

BOOM BOOM handed me a hot pink PEPSI sweatshirt, so I snuggled up next to him, listening to the screeching sounds of those Cambodian kids.

The V-Day Massacre of '09

2009-03-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

As you may recall from last year, I don't have the happiest Valentine's Day stories. This year was unfortunately more of the same.

Before my trip to see THE WIZARD, he booked a flight to visit me on Valentine's Day. We talked about honoring the plans, even though we had technically ended our relationship. What was wrong with spending a weekend together?

Of course, there is a lot wrong with this scenario, so we agreed to keep our distance. But his flight was booked, so he ended up in my city for the weekend, silently taunting me from a friend's place the next neighborhood over.

On V-day, I made plans to attend an infamous Make Out Party here in town with a friend. I put on a great outfit and danced with my friends, temporarily forgetting about the WIZARD. I even let SAM [the smarmy guy in a famous band I went out with last year] kiss me on the mouth for a second. I thought it just might turn into a decent V-Day.

The next day, I woke up feeling disgusting, from too much whiskey and a little bit of regret. I wanted to see the WIZARD. And apparently he wanted to see me. He asked me to meet him at the ice cream shop.

Amidst fluorescent lighting and squealing kids, many tears were shed. We unloaded all the feelings - anger, remorse, and some unrealistic ideas about our future... There was discussion of being in a very open relationship: staying in touch, and being together when we happened to be in the same city, and seeing if that led to something more serious. But it all seemed incredibly stupid upon some thought.

As we finished our banana split, I suddenly saw him as someone I wasn't falling in love with - he was a mess and his life didn't make sense with mine. He grinned at me, hiding his fucked up teeth the way he did when we first met. Poof. It was over. We said goodbye in the snowstorm:

HIM: Dude, I totally love you.
ME: I know.

Move Along!

2009-03-06T22:40:00.001-08:00

My trip to see THE WIZARD was contaminated before it began. This long distance thing was about to fall apart.

The sex was still pretty explosive, but the intimacy was gone entirely. A month before, while fucking on my dining room table, we locked eyes and said sweet things to one another. This time it was strictly dirty talk. That kind of emancipated sex used to turn me on, but in this case it made me a little sad.

We spent the weekend playing guitar hero, cooking, fucking, and not really talking. The night before I left, I drew up the courage to ask what changed his mind about me. He pretended he didn't know what I was talking about for a while, but then admitted to me that he was over it.

HIM: Dude, the long distance thing doesn't work for me.
ME: I like the distance. I get to look forward to seeing you. And phone sex is great!
HIM: Phone sex is depressing. Even seeing you is depressing, because I know it won't happen again for a long time.
ME: So that's it? I can't be in front of your face all the time, so you give up?
HIM: Yeah.

He took me to the airport and we kissed good bye in front of two security guards who yelled "move along!" over and over. I didn't cry until the plane landed in my city.

To See The Wizard

2009-02-17T16:58:00.000-08:00

A lot has happened. And I have not been writing. I apologize to my 4 readers profusely.

So. Here goes. I went to see the Wizard. But I should go back about a week before that.

We were in the midst of one of our text frenzies, where we go back & forth about really dirty sexual scenarios. Towards the end of it, he started texting some pretty sappy, cute stuff - something about wanting to hug me. So what did I do? I told him that he was grossing me out, which I thought came across as a joke.

He didn't call me for two days. And when he did start calling again, the conversations were short and lacking the phrase "I can't wait to see you." When I apologized for my coldness, he accepted it, saying he wasn't upset, but something had shifted.

And then I went to see him. I arrived on his birthday.

Walking through the airport, my stomach turned. I was nervous, whatwith the shift. But the stocking cap he stole from my house was on his head, and his extremely fucked up teeth smiled sweetly. I lept into his arms and bit his face.

We squeezed eachother's knees and kissed at every stop light during the ride back to his house, where we wasted no time tearing off clothes and boning in every way imaginable. We even did the awkward thing he'd seen in a porno and described to me a couple weeks before (I promise to dedicate a blog post to useless porn scenarios).

But afterward we sat on his floor, leaning against his sweaty bed and took a long look into one another's eyes and followed this look with a simultaneous shrug.

Goodbyes

2009-01-21T16:10:00.000-08:00

Sometime after discussing our status (we promise to refrain from fucking other people), THE WIZARD left town. It had to happen. The high-speed courtship needed a breather, whether we admitted it or not. So we packed up his one outfit and went to the airport.

Being a frequent participant in long-distance relationships, I have had a lot of goodbye moments in every kind of travel facility.

Trainstation goodbyes are mostly romantic, except when you're breaking up outside the Amtrak in Indianapolis. The mediocre saxaphone soloist makes saying goodbye in the bus station pretty tolerable. But the airport is very sterile. There is no sweet way to be sent off in a place inhabiting so many guns and cranky people.

I didn't hold THE WIZARD's hand as we walked through the security area, nor did I look at him or speak. Tears were sitting in my eyelids, just waiting for the right moment. Even though no one was paying attention, I felt like my weepy eyes were on a jumbotron. THE WIZARD stopped in front of a check-in kiosk and faced me.

HIM: Don't cry, you big baby.
ME: I'm not.
HIM: I will totally miss you.
ME: I know. I'm sorry I acted like an asshole during your whole visit.
HIM: Whatever, Dude.

Against all my convictions, we talk every day. We also have pretty great phone sex. It is cold where I live, so he sent me a warm blanket in the mail, which is wrapped around me constantly and I might daydream about corny things like spooning and slow dancing. I annoy myself to pieces.

I am paying him a visit this week.

The Talk

2009-01-18T12:48:00.000-08:00

After spending a couple weeks with THE WIZARD, I came to know and even appreciate all the little things - his ticks (humming constantly), fashion sense (Air Jordans no matter what the occasion), coffee preference (expensive beans, cream & organic sugar), his politics ('Obama annoys me'), hygiene (one shower per week tops) and most of all, the way he talks.

THE WIZARD's fucked up teeth and big lips create a lisp/whistle/mumble that make listening to him speak both challenging and endearing. He has the combination of common sense and life experience that makes even the most basic statements seem wise, however his vocabulary is limited to the following adjectives: rad, sick, lame, fucking, and harsh. And keeping with the surfer theme, all sentences are peppered with: like, you know, i mean, and totally. He has no reservations when it comes to dirty talk - anal sex is discussed at full volume in the supermarket. And regardless of the circumstances, I am addressed as Dude at all times.

On new year's eve, we played cards at the dining room table while waiting for cookies to bake. After I'd won the third game in a row, he took the cards out of my hand and with little effort, slipped his hands under my thighs and hoisted me onto the table.

HIM: Dude, it's almost the New Year and I love fucking you. I want to fuck you on this table and I don't want to fuck anybody else. Is that cool?

ME: Is what cool? Fucking on the table?

HIM: Well, yeah. But is it cool that I only want to fuck you? And then, you know, I kind of hope you only want to fuck me.

ME: What?

HIM: Just try to keep it in your fucking pants, okay? I think you're totally rad, so like, don't fuck it up by sucking some other guy's dick. Got it?

ME: Okay.

HIM: Dude, you are totally my girlfriend now.

Aliens

2009-01-16T13:50:00.001-08:00

I woke up around 5am to THE WIZARD yammering in his sleep, with his limbs all over me. My heart was racing. Why was he still here? How did I allow a human being to sleep in my bed this many nights in a row? His long crazy hair was wrapped around my neck and the sleep-talking was loud and hitting my last nerve. I was suffocating in this new (and extremely fast) relationship. "Please! I can't do this. Please get off of me." I shoved him away (a little too hard, probably) and he woke up.

HIM: Whoa! You are mean! Stop it. I know this is hard for you. I know. It's too much. I know! I'm fucking living here and you hate it. But you like me, okay? You do. So deal with it.
ME: I'm sorry. I'm a bitch.
HIM: Yes you are. But I get it. It's too much. I'll go on your couch for a while....

And then my stomach groaned. I had about six seconds to get to the bathroom. The salad I'd had earlier that evening turned into an alien baby who was trying to fight it's way out of every orifice of my body. In the bathroom, aside from all the explosions, all I could think about was that this man was in the next room, hearing every second of it. When I got back in bed, crying and shivering and sweating, I told him how mortified I was over and over. He wrapped a blanket around my head and asked where my keys were, then got dressed.

ME: Where are you going? I'm sorry I fucked up. I'm sorry for being a dick!
HIM: I don't want you to be embarrassed. You're sick. I'm going to the store to get some shit to make you feel better. It'll be easier to barf by yourself. Call me if you think of anything you want.

Then he was gone and I was barfing again, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Dude. Whoa.

2009-01-10T20:31:00.000-08:00

So, THE WIZARD [no nickname could better suit this hairy and wise man formerly known as WOODY] stayed an extra night. And then he stayed 22 more.

We said goodbye to the fancy hotel and and its pancakes, taking the affair back to my apartment. Bringing sex over the home threshold changed things quite a bit. After that one night in my home, we magically woke up in sweatpants with the desire to watch 'Lost' episodes. And for the first time in a while, I was into this hurried domesticity. Apparently, THE WIZARD was into it too, because that afternoon he cancelled his flight home... As in cancelled. Return flight TBD.

That's right, dear reader. What was supposed to be a casual romp became a human being living in my home for three weeks. And I liked it... Well, sort of.

The sex part was great, of course, simply because it was always there. We had sex several times a day. Food, sleep, and bathing were sacrificed for getting off in any way we could imagine. It was beautiful. Every fabric and surface in my home ought to be sanitized. But along with the sex, he was always there too. Suddenly I was cohabiting. And amidst all the boning, we talked. Personal details were spewed everywhere! By day 9, I was emotionally exhausted and officially freaking out about the level of intimacy. Sweatpants, television, childhood memories, personal politics...it was too much. So I did what I always do: I acted like a jerk.

I attempted to revert back to the root of this relationship. I had sex with him - the filthier the better - and shut down the intimate chats, cuddling, and excessive kissing sessions. He knew what I was doing, and just shook his head in disapproval at me when I'd roll over to 'my' side of the bed. It was around that time that I got food poisoning. There's nothing like emptying your insides to open your heart.

Dude

2009-01-04T10:12:00.000-08:00

I watched the snow pour down over my city from the 8th floor of the fancy hotel as WOODY/ THE WIZARD lazily packed his bag. The previous few days were a cuddle-sex festival of sorts. I didn't want this naked vacation to end, but now that it was over, I was gaining some perspective as to whether it was an affair or something special.

Just as my daydream drifted to long-haired, black jeans-wearing babies, WOODY/THE WIZARD threw a Sepultura t-shirt at my face and declared, "Dude, the snow sucks. I'm changing my flight. I'll leave tomorrow."

The Wizard: Round Two

2008-12-28T10:34:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago, that guy WOODY [the pancake-loving wizard] returned to my city for the aforementioned second visit.

I met him at the same hotel, a floor above where we'd met before. We kissed and hugged our way over the bed immediately, and flopped down to discuss how happy we were to see one another. Following this came more big-bed sex. No paintings were broken, but a few bruises were incurred, and the kissing was better than I remembered. I truly wanted to eat his sweet bearded face. Afterward, the 'I'm so happy to see you' talk continued til the morning, when we revisited the world's greatest pancakes.

We spent the next two days in that hotel room, only leaving once to buy some chocolate. We went from totally filthy sex to exchanging prom stories. I got to know him and let him know me more than I usually allow. There was something about him that made me feel wide open.

The last morning was a little sad. He said he wanted to get together again soon, and I said 'Let's just see what happens.' I wasn't quite open enough to make plans.

Pancakes

2008-12-12T09:41:00.000-08:00

WOODY [The wizard in the long underwear] and I went our separate ways for the day, after a 2-hour goodbye in my bed. He had friends in town to see, and I had to work. Toward the end of a busy day, he sent a text that said a fancy hotel's name, and 'midnight.' I twirled around and squeaked at the thought of getting him all to myself in an anonymous, sound-proof room.

Upon entering the bourgeois palace, WOODY asked if I wanted to go get a drink downstairs. "Um, okay," I said, but I knew that neither of us wanted a drink, so I began a long kiss that involved taking off his coat, Metallica t-shirt, pants, and the purple long underwear. Under it all, he was wearing pale pink underoo-style briefs, "because it's a special occasion."

We took our time, laughed, confessed & indulged in each other's kinks, broke the painting above the bed, and finally collapsed into a heap in the middle of the giant bed overlooking the city.

In the late morning I gave into his attempts to wake me and agreed to a big breakfast. The world's best blueberry pancakes were brought to the room and were devoured amidst excessive praise. "This is the best pancake ever." "Seriously, we should go visit the chef." "Let's live here."

A cab took me to my place, and him to the airport. There was excitement over seeing each other again, but no plans. It was too perfect to ruin with expectations.

... Then yesterday WOODY called to say he found a cheap flight back here for the weekend: "I need more pancakes."

Balloons

2008-12-11T19:30:00.000-08:00

WOODY [the wizard-y guy I met through work a month ago] met me last weekend at the local pub. The place was packed, and just as I scanned the room at third time, I saw him walk in the door - covered in snow, taller than I remembered, with those fucked up teeth beaming through the mop of stringy long hair. A big involuntary smile crept onto my face.

After a couple hours of shop talk and absolutely no flirting, WOODY said he could go for one more, so I invited him to my place.

Perched on my counter top, sharing a beer and eating figs, we discussed our blogs and all the volunteer work we don't do. Around 4am, we retired to my room, where I nervously asked if I ought to stay on the couch. He shook his head and calmly stripped down to his bright purple long underwear and Metallica t-shirt.

I turned out the light, undressed down to my slip, and crawled under the covers. We lay facing eachother, our feet touching, and he kissed me. I overreacted with a big "WHOA!" He mumbled something about wanting to kiss me right away when I smiled at him upon entering the bar... Ahem. Why must it take two adults 5 hours to make a move?

But oh, the kissing! Truth be told, kissing to me is what one does to get to the good stuff. I don't revel in it. But this was incredible. I wanted to eat him. It took a while to get those long johns off, but once they hit the floor, mayhem ensued. Our mouths smashed together and only came apart to announce that someone had been bad.

As the sun came up, we wrapped around one another and made plans to get together the following evening.

Jingle Bells

2008-12-03T13:49:00.000-08:00

The snow is here, which has led to an overflow of suitors and rampant innuendo. Cold weather makes everybody horny. It’s a fact.

I’ll start with WOODY, a tour manager I worked with about a month ago. He was pretty sexy in a wizard kind of way – very tall, long hair and crazy teeth. We just worked together for the one day, but he has emailed me a couple times since about business. Then he called last night to say he would be in town soon and wanted to ‘act out a romantic comedy’ with me. We’re having drinks this week.

RUSSELL HAMMOND [cranky guitarist I toured/slept with once] emailed me a few weeks ago to say hello. This man is all kinds of trouble: He is great in bed and he’s got a girlfriend. He lives far away and we rarely talk, but once in a while we catch up and imply filthy acts on one another. He invited me to visit his city and take a bath with him… A thousand sighs.

And then there is ELLIOT [funny friend I boned for a while earlier this year]. The fact that sex is always a possibility with him is both alluring and repellent. If he was just an easy booty call, I could be into it. But there is a hint of lovey-dovey in him that scares me away. He called and asked if I wanted to come over to ‘watch a movie,’ which for men everywhere (and yours truly) is code for ‘boner time.’ However, hurt feelings seem to be inevitable here so I am going to refrain for now.

This cold weather heat isn’t just happening to me. Every one of my single friends is getting some, or being trampled with propositions. It’s an exciting time. Happy Holidays to my libido and yours.

Precautionary Measures, Fatal Outfits

2008-11-25T15:41:00.000-08:00

As I prepared for dinner & a play with ELECTION DATE, I adhered to the typical third date rituals: clean sheets, shaven legs, condoms under the pillow. However, the rituals were more of a precautionary measure. I wasn’t actually sure about sex with ELECTION DATE. I suppose the fact that I was thinking so hard about it should have been my answer. But what if we had a really great kiss goodnight that I wanted to continue? We loose women tend to decide on these things last minute.

He picked up me up wearing the same gray hoodie and jeans he’s worn every time I’ve seen him. He could have at least put on a sweater - if not for the theater, then for me. I felt silly in my pretty dress. Things only got worse when we arrived at the restaurant and there was another couple there. A surprise-attack double-date! He forgot to tell me his friends were coming along. To top it off, they were wearing hoodies too. My boner was gone for good.

At the end of the night, I kissed ELECTION DATE and then told him I wasn’t inviting him up to my place.

HIM: Okay…. Why not?
ME: I don’t want to have sex with you.
HIM: Oh… I shouldn’t have asked that. That was weird. Sorry.
ME: That’s okay.
HIM: I still think you’re pretty.
ME: I still…No.

Moves

2008-11-14T16:38:00.000-08:00

After a decent movie, ELECTION DATE [sparkly-eyed co-worker/date for election night] and I went to the Mexican place across the street for dinner, where the conversation flowed and the silences never felt awkward. There were no overblown stories about his life to make him seem interesting, and yet not a lot of self-deprecation either. Just the facts, eloquently spoken. He mentioned school, and I asked if he was a writer, but it turns out he majored in eastern religion, which explained his easy nature on the spot.

After dinner, I walked with ELECTION DATE to his car. We stood on the quiet, foggy residential street, and talked about seeing each other again, and I wondered whether we’d have a kiss goodnight.

*A side note: Of all my ‘moves,’ I’ve found toe-tapping to be the best indicator of whether someone wants to make out. I tap my toe onto their toe, and then just look at them. No winking or smiling. I just wait for the kiss. Go ahead and try it.

Speaking of moves, I tapped ELECTION DATE’s toe, and this sweet, shy guy in a dirty sweatshirt instantly put his big hands on my back and firmly pulled me in, shifted me to one side into half-dip, and gave me hottest, sweetest second kiss ever.

Second Helping

2008-11-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

I got an email from PIZZA [the tv guy with whom I carried on a telephone/email affair, followed by one weekend romp]. He announced he’s coming to my city on business in a couple months.

We’d left our relationship where it was when I left his city a couple months ago: a really great weekend, with no further expectations. It just wouldn’t have made sense to pursue one another, considering our busy lives and the great geographical distance. PIZZA and I still talk occasionally in a friendly-but-still-flirtatious way, leaving the romance option open, without the pressure.

The emails about his trip are downright giddy. We’re already discussing where we ought to have dinner, and what kind of pajamas we’ll wear and take off immediately. I can’t stop smiling.

Meanwhile, I continue to court ELECTION DATE [my coworker & date for election night], and our first night of work since I’ve had a crush on him was managable. While I gave him some instructions in front of another coworker, his eyeballs were twinkling like mad and I had to look away. We were probably standing too close and I may have touched his elbow one time too many, but no one seemed to notice. I hope.

Goooood.

2008-11-07T19:41:00.000-08:00

The post-election dating world is on fire!

At a friend’s birthday party last night, I watched three love connections happen in under an hour. It seems that everyone is going to get laid this winter. And I refuse to be the exception.

While chatting with an acquaintance, I felt a kiss on the back of my neck. I turned around to find GALLAGHER, a large, loud firecracker I had a few dates with last year. He’s adorable, kissable, intelligent, but entirely overwhelming – always needs to be the center of attention, and doesn't take no for an answer. The fact that I continue to say no seems to be the main reason he perseveres. As hard as I try to blow him off for good, his ambitious brand of flirtation (and lack of pride) charm me every time. Our conversation last night:

HIM: Girl, what are you doin tomorrow?
ME: Um…
HIM: We’re goin out. Dinner. Anywhere you want. I wanna spend money on your fine ass.
ME: I have to work.
HIM: You always work! Blowing me off again! Don’t blow me off!
ME: C’mon. You always make me feel bad.
HIM: You got it wrong. I don't wanna make you feel bad. I wanna make you feel gooood.

I declined the date, but he's on the back burner. In the meantime, ELECTION DATE [sparkly-eyed coworker] has invited me to a play in a couple weeks. I am impressed that this shy man who wears the same dirty hooded sweatshirt every day has the wherewithal to think ahead, and plan something interesting at that. Still zero flirtation, though. Is it sad that I'm turned on by that? Am I GALLAGHER?

Helmets

2008-11-06T17:18:00.000-08:00

Before getting on my bike to meet with ELECTION DATE [um…my date for the election], I fussed a bit over my outfit in the reflection of a car window. I dug into my purse to see if I had something perfume-y until I remembered that every time I see this guy, he’s wearing the same grey hooded sweatshirt and mismatched argyle socks. So I shrugged and put on a helmet.

A bit of gossip: ELECTION DATE is the coworker crush. While I don’t normally drink the company ink, we keep having interesting & comfortable conversations. I love talking to him. And his eyes sparkle. They do! One of the last things we spoke of was politics, so I took a chance and invited him to share in this big night. It felt a little heavy-handed, like asking someone to prom. I mean, we’ll remember that night forever. But I got over it when he rolled up to my bike all sparkly-eyed.

We hugged a lot during the election brouhaha and he wiped some mascara off my face after I finished crying, but there was a clear line drawn, mostly out of nervousness. He is very shy and seems to think through his words and actions quite carefully. I followed suit and behaved as a coworker and friend. No flirting…Until we were saying goodbye.

We straddled our respective bikes side by side on a busy corner. A few hugs were shared, and I managed to touch his elbow or hand a few times to test the waters. Then while talking about how much fun he had, his eyes got so sparkly I couldn’t take it any longer. I put my hand on ELECTION DATE’s his cheek and leaned into his mouth and kissed it. Just once. Real quick. He was smiling when I pulled away, which I hope is a good thing. Then a drunken passerby said, “Aww. Look at the retards in their helmets. So cute.” ELECTION DATE nodded dutifully at her, as if to say, “Yes. We are retards,” and then pedaled off into the red, white and blue mayhem.

Happy Ending

2008-11-04T15:39:00.000-08:00

It’s not only the autumn weather that’s getting everybody frisky. Apparently, presidential elections get them hot & bothered too.

A friend just described voting with her boyfriend, in booths next to one another, and I couldn’t help but find it sweet. And somehow no one would be caught dead watching the results and speeches without a mate. The term “Election Date” is being thrown around, and suddenly I have that feeling I get before weddings and Valentine’s Day.

But there is something to all of this. The months leading up to the election are not unlike sleeping with someone special. You meet somebody, think about them non-stop, forget what their face looks like, tell everybody who listen how amazing they are, and then when you finally have sex, it’s a release of all that anxiety, whether the results are good or bad.

And maybe it’s a little romantic too. I can see the value in looking back 20 years from now and saying “You were conceived the night the Barack Obama was elected president.”

So, for the sake of my country and getting rid of that pit in my stomach, I’ve summoned my own very own Election Date.

Urge To Merge

2008-10-31T17:31:00.000-07:00

Remember ELLIOT? The friend of a friend who made me laugh a lot? We stopped making out, and a friendship seamlessly began…or so I thought. In recent weeks he’s been very flirtatious. I took it as a friendly gesture until today when he invited me to go to a show with him tonight by saying, “I am wooing you again. Go out with me.” With winter approaching, it is all too tempting to nest with a familiar character.

Apparently I am not the only one with this thought. Single people are rabid in this weather! Everyone is wearing their best outfit at all times, going out every night, and admitting their crushes within earshot of their crushes.

I must admit, I love every second of it. Not only am I enjoying the extra attention, but this big game of musical chairs is exciting to watch.

My sights are mildly set on NIELS [the artist living in France], but am entertaining mating season just a little…there’s a new guy at work I’ve been winking at here and there. And ELLIOT's advances are not entirely lost on me.

Bonjour!

2008-10-28T13:55:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend I went dancing with friends. Midway through the evening, the beautiful NIELS approached me and thanked me for the muffins.

NIELS & I were introduced by my coworker a week ago, and the following night I attended a birthday party that turned out to be his. When I arrived with muffins, I was pleasantly surprised to see him. But at the birthday party, we hardly spoke. He was broody and pretty and I avoided him accordingly.

When I ran into him again this weekend, we made eyes until he finally approached with a positive review of my muffins. Turns out he is an artist temporarily living in France, and is likeable despite this fact. He also laughed at my jokes, which of course makes him adorable.

At the end of the night, we shared multiple hugs and cheek-kisses. Phone numbers were exchanged and promises were made, regarding his visit next month. Until then, I relentlessly fantasize.

Her

2008-10-24T17:08:00.000-07:00

The other night MALCOM & I hung out and somehow we ended up discussing her. MALCOM told me a few facts about the breakup and how things had been going since, that he feels good about moving forward, and then it slipped right out of his mouth: “I don’t know if we’ll end up back together...”

He went on to say a few other things without skipping a beat. He may not have heard himself say it. Then a few sentences later he did it again: “I can’t say for sure if we will stay apart.”

Then he stopped looking me in the eye. I pretended I didn’t hear it - Just continued the conversation, eventually left his place, and have not called him since. I ran into him last night, and the guilt between us was palpable, yet neither apologized. We hugged and had some friendly small talk, and then I avoided him most of the evening. When he asked if he could take me home at the end of the night I said no, but I let him give me a goodbye kiss that lasted longer than one between friends should.

The Nurse

2008-10-20T11:39:00.000-07:00

I am the first person MALCOM [almost-divorced dad] has been with since her. Very often, these back-on-the-market guys are interested in meeting new people, staying out late, and casual sex. But that quickly wears off and they want the predictability of a relationship, along with the consistent sex. So they rush into something with the first girl who excites them, which in most cases is me.

I have been with a large number of these men. They break up with their woman of 5+ years, and come over to me within a week. Either word has actually gotten around town that I am the Breakup Nurse, or I send out some kind of I’ll-make-it-all-better vibes. I think it’s the latter. I patiently listen to their stories of how horrible she was, and accept their inability to maintain an erection. After they go move their stuff out of her place, I listen to heartbreaking details and tell them they are going to be okay. In other words, I am a friend.

I realize that I gravitate toward these guys as much as they do to me. It is an overused term, but they are “emotionally unavailable.” And maybe I like that. Rarely is The Rebound the one they settle down with. Something about this fact gives me great comfort, which makes me…psychotic?

It's Not A Big Deal. It Happens To Every Guy.

2008-10-17T17:10:00.000-07:00

After his kid went to bed, I went over to MALCOM’s [the almost-divorced dad] to watch movies, cuddle on the couch and eventually discuss our situation. It was agreed that we ought to take things slow, hang out once in a while, be casual, and definitely not rush into sex. About three minutes after he said, “I would like to wait awhile,” he was feverishly unbuttoning my blouse while I pulled his belt out of his jeans so fast that it knocked over a lamp.

We went into his room, and the calamity continued. For starters, the door had to be left open, “in case the kid wakes up (What? We want the kid to see Daddy and the Strange Lady?).” I got over this after seeing MALCOM’s adorable body clad in underoo-style briefs. After tearing those suckers off, everything moved pretty fast. We were excited…until he stopped being excited.

In case you didn't know this already, guys who have been with the same woman for a long time rarely keep it up for the new gal. The culprits vary – the way the new person's body feels, the way they kiss, the way they fuck, and mostly the ever-annoying condom. Casual sex seems real exciting til it’s numbed inside a sheath of rubber.

So. Neither of us got off, and we didn’t really care. We smiled and kissed and no one apologized. I felt fantastic…. until I went to the bathroom and sat on a potty training seat.

Hairy

2008-10-08T13:34:00.000-07:00

Why are men trimming their pubic hair? And why (WHY) are they getting rid of it entirely? I first witnessed Manscaping many years ago when a boyfriend and his buddies decided they would all shave for the summer (for cooling purposes). I was horrified. While the penis is always bit homely when seen out of sexual context, it is just alarming when the entire location is hairless.

Of course I encourage everybody to do with their bodies what pleases them. At the end of the day, we’re all going to bone who we bone regardless of what their hoo-hoos look like. In fact, that creepy-looking lack of hair makes for easy navigation and feels pretty amazing on commando days. But isn’t there something sexy about people who let it go? When I see a poorly maintained nether region, I can’t help but imagine all the interesting books they read instead of removing body hair.

While we’re on the topic: If a guy is so into maintaining that hair, why so les efaire about that shaggy ass?

By the way, I had sex with MALCOM [the almost-divorced dad].

Three

2008-10-06T18:33:00.000-07:00

Threesomes make great stories, and they usually offer a view into humanity that you cannot get elsewhere. But these escapades are risky, too. Aside from the awkward logistics (Who puts what where? When do I get to do that? What’s poking me?), there is the inevitable resentment that at least one person feels during and after, particularly when an established couple is involved. Somebody feels slighted and sometimes as though their mate has been unfaithful.

The first time I had sex with a girl was when her boyfriend was there too. At the time it seemed like the only way to get to her, so I agreed. I was able to pretend he wasn’t there for about 10 minutes, until his hairy arm appeared in the periphery and ruined it. Eventually they broke up and she became my girlfriend, but that threesome took a lot of romance out of our courtship. The only other threesome I had was with twin brothers, which, in hindsight, is disgusting. But they were hot and I was doing drugs. It wasn’t very satisfying, especially since the house we were in set fire shortly after we began and we had to escape out the 2nd floor window. But “I did it with the Mendoza twins” is funny cocktail party banter, if nothing else.

FLOYD [the friend who wants me to fuck his girlfriend and subsequently, himself] & I talked about the threesome a bit more after a few drinks at a very late hour. He buttered me up with compliments, and assured me that his girlfriend is ‘amazing’ in bed. But in the end I told him ‘no thanks.’ It makes for a decent story regardless.

One, Two, Three

2008-10-03T13:46:00.000-07:00

Yes, it has been awhile. Here are the updates.

1) I have been spending time with MALCOM [recently-separated friend] here and there. We are moving at a snail’s pace, which is appropriate for now. Have I mentioned he has a baby? We have a date at Ikea this weekend, too.

2) The last time I slept with MARC BOLAN [sexy guitar man] was the morning after we slept together. The following day was his birthday, and I did not attend the party, with work as an excuse. We exchanged a few text messages for a day or so and *poof* it was done. No goodbyes, no hard feelings (that I know of). I don’t know if I have ever had such an efficient casual sex relationship. I almost want to re-meet him so we can have this perfect little arrangement all over again.

3) And the real doozy: FLOYD [the not-so-close friend who wants me to fuck his lady] is on the prowl. At first, it was a mere suggestion: “My girlfriend thinks you’re hot.” Now he’s calling a couple times a week, inviting me to 'hang out.' I avoided him til last night, when he cornered me at a bar and said “We’re friends and I have always adored you and my girlfriend is so into you. It’ll be fun and it won’t be weird.” Have I mentioned I like girls? Probably not. I like to date women, but it is rare that I do so - the good ones are usually taken or hetero. So the proposition to have sex with this beautiful woman is interesting. I’d like to know her better before considering, but it isn’t so far fetched. What is not appealing is having sex with FLOYD. I cannot imagine kissing him, much less naked and writhing around and…gross.

Games

2008-09-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

It had only been about 3 hours since MARC BOLAN dropped me off at work, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the night before so I rang him up....

ME: What are you doing?
HIM: Napping.
ME: May I come over?
HIM: Make it snappy.

An hour later, following a near-perfect round two....

ME: I can’t stay.
HIM: Do you want to meet up later to play shuffleboard?
ME: What?
HIM: Shuffleboard….as in….shuffleboard. The game.
ME: What? Um…No.
HIM: Come on. Afterward we’ll come back here and wash eachother’s hair or something.
ME: What?
HIM: You heard me.

I didn’t see him that night, nor did I meet up with MALCOM [still-married friend]. Although, I have tentative dinner plans with MALCOM this week, and an open invitation to sex and/or a shower with MARC BOLAN.

My Dick's Tired

2008-09-14T15:25:00.000-07:00

There is something about a good compliment that goes a long way. Of course the ego boost is nice, but it's really the openness that is so attractive. I am a sucker for someone brave enough to tell me how much he likes me.

MARC BOLAN [super sexy guitarist I met at a festival over a month ago] called last night. We sat on the phone for an hour, discussing self help books until he suddenly announced that he was leaving his house and walking toward mine. I hung up, got dressed, and walked out the door to find him on my corner. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me, then pulled away, looking me up and down and said, “Nice shirt. You look really good.” Then he turned us around and we headed down the street.

An hour later we were at his apartment. He asked if I’d spend the night, adding, “I won’t seduce you or anything. My dick’s tired.”

But when we got to his bedroom, we lazily took off all of our clothes, as though we’d been together forever. Then he looked me up and down for almost too long and declared, “I like you and you are gorgeous.”

Sold!

It was one of the most relaxed first times I can recall. No surprises, nothing fancy, yet very good.

I might give MALCOM [technically-married friend] a second chance tonight with dinner and a movie, but first I am stopping by MARC BOLAN’s for round two.

Car On Fire #2

2008-09-13T15:27:00.000-07:00

The date with MALCOM [the recently-separated friend] happened. It was about as messy as one would expect a date with their (technically) married friend to be.

We went to a rock show… along with everyone we collectively know. A tiny part of me wondered if going to such a public place was his attempt at revenge on the estranged wife. But after a few judgmental glares, MALCOM whispered, “I should have known better than to bring you here,” which made me a little feel better.

Although he is usually very shy, he put back enough beer to allow him to ramble on aimlessly, while putting his hand on my waist or knee every so often. His affection felt good, and he looked so good too. But it was clear that he was not ready to be dating again.

When the cab pulled up in front of my house, he followed me out for a proper good-bye. There was a long hug, followed by a couple sterile cheek-kisses. Then suddenly, as I pulled out of the embrace, there was a huge bang behind me and we instinctively grabbed eachother and swung around to see what the noise was. A van had smashed into a parked car, sparking a small fire and MALCOM hugged me again, muttered into my neck, “Kinda looks like my life.”

He called a few minutes later to announce that he was home and that “next time” will be better, though I am not sure I want to find out.

Raining & Pouring

2008-09-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

The sexual revolution has hit the ground running....

1) MARC BOLAN called yesterday afternoon, only to say, "I want to see you this week, preferably with our clothes off."

2) Upon arriving home last night, I got a sketchy text message from FLOYD asking if I’d participate in a threesome. I’d consider him a friend, but not a close one. I only know her as his girlfriend. I see them a lot, and I can’t deny being taken with her, but the idea of sex with him is almost gross. We’ve been buddies too long to go down that road. I am considering a negotiation of sorts.

3) And this morning, MALCOM, a married friend I’ve crushed on for years called me and asked if I’d go to a concert with him this weekend. We don’t usually hang out one on one like that, and as my mind swirled around this, he blurted out, “We’re separated… I haven’t lost my mind. I know this is weird.”

Ask and you shall receive, apparently.

My Match?

2008-09-08T19:47:00.000-07:00

MARC BOLAN [the smarmy/sexy guitarist I want to sleep with] and I had plans for Saturday night. Then I bailed on the date. It was true that I had just returned from tour and had not showered, but the main reason was that after a month of chasing and avoiding one another, my excitement over him was fading... Until I asked for a raincheck on our date and he simply said, “No. Come over to my house immediately.”

I didn’t run over to MARC BOLAN's house, but I was definitely excited to see him the next day. We met at a quiet bar and played Boggle and Connect Four, all the while discussing our fathers, mothers and appreciation for great bass players. We teased each other and I stared at his amazing nose: kind of crooked, sitting perfectly under his eyes that are always half-open. Fucking adorable.

Afterward we walked through the neighborhood, where we found a car on fire, surrounded by fire trucks and neighbors. We stopped to watch the scene, until he very plainly stated, “This would be a good time to make out.” He turned toward me and I walked backward away from him. More chasing & avoiding that led to phenomenal kiss up against a fence. We eventually found my bike, where we kissed some more. Then he suddenly shoved me away, smiled, and said, “Pick up your fucking phone when I call you or I’m not going to sleep with you.” And off went MARC BOLAN down the street, not turning back.

He just called. I picked up.

I Hate You

2008-08-26T17:55:00.000-07:00

A few days after my return, I sent PIZZA a deep dish pizza by mail (did you know this is possible?). He called me to say thank you:

HIM: You are so wonderful. Pizza!
ME: Well, you love that pizza, right?
HIM: Yes. And I hate you for sending it. I really hate you.
ME: I know. I hate you too.
HIM: You are an adorable jerk who mails pizzas and I hate you.
ME: Okay, that’s enough.

Meanwhile, I’ve played phone tag and avoided a few dates with MARC BOLAN (the super sexy guitarist who is supposed to begin the Sexual Revolution). I am interested. And I think he is, too. But my schedule’s a bit wild for the time being. And I’ve had some residual pining over PIZZA. But enough of that. Moving on... for now.

Goodbye, Pizza. Farewell, Deep Dish.

2008-08-25T19:23:00.000-07:00

His nickname is simple: He loves pizza. Our first conversation was about pizza and we've discussed it often. So often that I call him PIZZA. It’s stupid, I know....

During the drive to the airport, we held hands and didn’t speak (I know, I know - hand-holding!). Any sort of gooey feelings disclosed at that point would have been futile and tactless. There are few acts in life more frustrating than a last-minute declaration of fondness at an airport/train station. Somebody has to get on the plane/train and everybody has to back to real life.

He walked me to the security area. We hugged and I said thank you and something about seeing each other again. Not “soon,” but “again.” He squeezed me and said “I will miss you the most, Deep Dish.”

Pizza Visit, Part II: The Dick

2008-08-22T16:16:00.000-07:00

We waited until after dinner that first night to get down to it. Though I’d gotten a feel for how PIZZA [the tv personality I've been phone-fucking for a few months] is in the sack from our conversations, I was still excited by how compatible we were. There was a rare sense of abandon: I felt sure that he wouldn’t be terrified if I said something filthy, which is a great way to start things off.

And his dick is enchanting.

As you know, I’ve been around the dick block a few times, but when I reached into his pants, I couldn’t hide my astonishment. I looked up at him, eyes wide, and asked “Really?!” It wasn’t the typical magnitude I expect from a tall guy. It was the…uh…circumference. And I didn’t realize just how big it was til I tried putting in my mouth. It took a few tries, but once I figured it out I was hooked. And this behemoth felt even better when I put it elsewhere. Days later, I'm still thinking about it. I’m seriously considering moving Fisting over to the ‘yes’ column.

Pizza Visit, Part I: Breaking Rules

2008-08-21T15:50:00.000-07:00

We laughed into our cell phones, running around the airport, searching for one another. Just when I lost my signal, I saw him at the bottom of an escalator looking up at me. We simultaneously put our arms in the air and yelled “Yay!” After scurrying down the steps, I threw my bag at him from a few feet away, which made him double over and holler, “You’re a lunatic!” as I jumped on him with a running start, causing him to fall back into a window.

During the painful hug he said something adorable into my ear, then held his arm around my shoulder as we walked to the parking garage across the street. At his car, I pulled him in and kissed his cheek very slowly, smooshing my face into his (a move I perfected in 6^th grade). We kissed on the lips - just a little one - and climbed onto his motorcycle for a tour of the city. The ride (and the weekend that would follow) was surreal and vaporous.

I held onto him, hooking my chin over his shoulder as he boasted about restaurants and terrain. Back at his place, cradled in the hammock, all kinds of touching and kissing ensued. It was comfortable, as if we’d been together a long time. But the cloud of caution hung over us, just as we'd planned.

Pizza Collision

2008-08-13T18:06:00.000-07:00

I will go to see PIZZA [TV guy] in a few days. We discuss the trip often and have had fun laying out the weekend’s most awkward moments. For instance, we have made First Kiss Rules:

1) It will happen in the airport (of course).

2) We cannot run towards each other. No running!

3) Yelling/waving in an embarrassing manner from far away is acceptable (encouraged?).

4) Crying, doe-eyes, and other displays of romantic emotion are not acceptable at the airport
pickup (dropoff rules TBD).

5) A moment must be allowed for me to put down my bag (stand on it? he’s is very tall).Then
we hug (butt touching is allowed for humor’s sake).

6) No talking until after kiss.

7) We must not smash our faces together at high speed like in movies.

8) He will not grab my face and pull it towards him. I initiate kiss.

9) Once first kiss commences, dirty things follow, despite public location & bad lighting.

10) No hand-holding at any time.

My Prince

2008-08-11T12:34:00.000-07:00

I spent the day with my sister & her family in their quiet suburb, swimming and playing checkers and watching Disney movies.

My nieces think everything I do is cool, particularly that I am in a band. I am proud to be the person who demonstrates a different lifestyle than what they are accustomed to – that not every woman has a man and children. Just when I thought I was making progress, TILLY [very mature 5-year-old] & I had a little chat:

HER: When will you get married? I want to be a flowergirl.
ME: I don’t really want to get married.
HER: Don’t you want to dance with your prince?
ME: I like dancing by myself.
HER: I don't like your life.
ME: I don't like yours either.

A Very Impressive Dick

2008-08-07T13:44:00.000-07:00

The first candidate for my Sexual Revolution is MARC BOLAN, the guitarist I just met at a festival where we both played. His set was under way when I arrived. The insanely sexy voice and incredible guitar playing were my first impressions of him. Then I got a glimpse of him from behind the stage. He had a wild head of hair and was wearing a seersucker suit. I didn’t need to see his face. I wanted to fuck him immediately.

An hour later I saw him in line for beer and pretended to wander over accidentally. He took my hand as I was ‘ignoring’ him and then:

HIM: You were great today.
ME: Oh, hi! So were you. I was really impressed.
HIM: I was trying to impress you.
ME: Oh, really?
HIM: Hm…You don’t remember me, do you? (How could I have forgotten this person?!) We met last year…

(Long pause, pretending to see someone I know...)

HIM: Listen. You’re cute. Can I have your number? And ask you out?
ME: Um…yeah?
HIM: Okay then.
ME: Are you sure we’ve met?
HIM: No. But you just agreed to go out with me. It was just easier this way.

I, Too, Would Like A Sexual Revolution

2008-08-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

My friend DALIA is in the midst of what she calls a Sexual Revolution: She’s having good sex with good men, in a constant rotation. They are friends, former lovers, strangers & acquaintances. Since our friendship thrives on discussing relationships and sex, I've heard a lot about her adventures. She’d previously been in a very long-term relationship and felt pretty down about the break up. And now she is radiating joy. And I'm jealous.

I'm convinced that I ought to have a Sexual Revolution myself. I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about having sex with someone I've only met once [PIZZA, the TV guy]. While the pending fling has satiated me, what will happen when I return from my PIZZA visit? If anything, I’ll be so riled up from all that great vacation sex (right?) that I will be a fiend upon my return.

Thus, I shall begin scouting for the Homecoming Revolution.

Phone Sex + PIZZA

2008-07-28T15:30:00.000-07:00

Mission accomplished.

Bonding

2008-07-25T17:17:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, VINCENT & I spent some time in his dark apartment experimenting with his deep-rooted curiosity about S&M. We met, had dinner once, and all I had to say was ‘blindfold’ and the next thing I knew I was bound to the fridge and calling him Sir.

It is a big responsibility to open up someone’s fantasies. Kink requires trust and a ton of courage. And it went well for a while, but we often had a hard time figuring out where the role playing started and ended. Things got confusing. When we broke up, he was angry, and not in the sexy pretend way. Now he ignores me, and I've blocked out our sexcapades.

He's hated me for years. I’ve tried to earn his friendship to no avail. What's worse is that my work & his cross paths often and we have been on a project together for a couple weeks. It’s been awkward to say the least.

Until....

The other night, while he was wrapping cables I suddenly remembered him awkwardly tying me up for the first time. It was so new and exciting back then and he was a natural. VINCENT caught me staring at him while he wound those cables around his fist, and I fumbled, “That’s a lot of wire,” to which he responded with a whisper: “If you’re not good, you may get strung up with it.” My mouth dropped open and he grinned at me for the first time in years.

If that's not the beginning of friendship, I don't know what is.

Phone Sex Attempt #14

2008-07-23T11:53:00.000-07:00

As PIZZA [the tv guy] & I have gotten acquainted, I’ve learned more about his work, but have yet to see his show. He finds it hilarious that I'm not curious about the show, since he admits to googling me regularly. I’ve promised to check out his work after I get to know him better, which is going pretty well. We’re talking all the time, and making lame attempts at phone sex:

ME: I was just at the beach.
HIM: Are you wearing a bathing suit?
ME: Yep.
HIM: Don't you want to take it off?
ME: I’m at the 7-11.

The good news is that PIZZA and I will be having face-to-face (or wherever we decide to put our faces) sex in a couple weeks. The trip is booked. No turning back now (what’s a good pun to put here?).

Dirty Laundry

2008-07-14T16:06:00.000-07:00

While riding in a friend’s car, we listened to ANDY’s [the heroin guy who says pussy and lives with somebody else I boned] new record.

ANDY & I were seeing each other when he was making the album, which is always a bad time to date someone. They can talk about little else than the record and they can be a bit cocky. And then there’s the possibility of your relationship being exploited in the songs. But I didn’t give it much thought when I was dating ANDY. I knew he’d write sweet things about me if he ever decided to use me as some sort of muse.

A few songs in, my friend turned up the volume and said, “I think this one’s about you.” I leaned in to hear the references to having sex all over house with an aloof woman and tried to ignore my friend's giggling and pointing.

Over the Phone: Attempt #1

2008-07-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

I was watching porn the other night and I thought I ought to call up PIZZA [The long distance T.V. guy]. What better way to initiate phone sex than to announce that I'm watching porn?

ME: Hi.
HIM: Hey! what are you up to?
ME: I'm watching porn.
HIM: Whoa.... Tell me everything.
ME: Well...
HIM: Wait! [a door closes, muffled man's voice in background] I'm back. Sorry. My dad's visiting.

Whatshername

2008-07-09T16:31:00.000-07:00

I spent the day with CAMERON. We met in the morning at a farmers’ market, where we ran into his former girlfriend and her husband.

CAMERON and the ex shared a hug that caused the front of his backpack to stab her somehow, inciting an overdramatic yelp followed by unnecessary apologies. We all recovered from this and then stood in silence, until her husband cleared his throat and I held out my hand to give whatshername a handshake and introduce myself.

She gave me a long once-over before accepting my hand. The husband asked what we were up to that day. As everyone’s responses overlapped hideously, I caught the ex-girlfriend looking me up & down again with her little lip curled. I met her glance when she got up to my eyes and smiled real big. It was probably snotty of me to do that. But then I didn't feel so bad when she spouted some all-too-serious opinions on CAMERON's facial hair.

Later that evening over dinner, I asked CAMERON what was up the ex girlfriend’s butt, and he said he was just as surprised by her blatant rudeness. “We broke up years ago. And she’s married. We are clearly over each other.” But there are some exes that don't ever fully move on, or at least that's what I'm learning.

Later he showed me his photography portfolio I'd been asking to see, which was overflowing with photos of the ex: In Japan wearing a kimono, on a mountain, just waking up, wearing a funny hat, surrounded by puppies, etc. It was disgusting, and perhaps another good reason for CAMERON & I to remain just friends.

Small World, Big Dick

2008-07-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

JACKIE [the bartender with the big dick] pulled up next to me during my ride to work. He looked gorgeous and summery. His hair is growing out and his face is beautiful as ever, all sweaty and smiling. I thought about grabbing his face and kissing it right there in the street.

When we went out a few summers ago, we rode bikes a lot and made out at every opportunity. We kissed together quite well. But he was a bit awkward once all the clothes came off, not to mention that enormous dick. Sex was clumsy, self-conscious, and neither of us came. The biggest disappointment was his inability to talk about it. That was the dealbreaker.

The summer after I went out with JACKIE, I dated ANDY [the guy I caught with heroin who sounds cute when he says ‘pussy’]. I am also still friends with ANDY and though I am tempted when he invites me over to bone, I always decline.

As my life would have it, JACKIE announced that he just moved in with ANDY. He then invited me over for dinner with them tonight, adding, “We’ll hang out and see where you end up.” I laughed nervously and yelled goodbye as I sped down the nearest street.

Get Some Fucking Tomatoes

2008-07-01T17:25:00.000-07:00

I had dinner with CAMERON [The possibly-gay man I recently broke up with]. He made one of his amazing meals and I let him do so without taking over. We talked about work, family, and of course our breakup.

Every time we’ve hung out since breaking up, we’ve discussed the break up. The relationship ended somewhat vaguely (blame me for that), and so questions arise when we’re together. A lot of “what if” conversations and “why did you” questions. Eventually, we’re both crying and apologizing and saying “let’s not fight anymore.”

This dinner was no different, but the reconciliation at the end seemed more solid than before. Perhaps the crying and blaming will lessen as time goes by?

Meanwhile, PIZZA [the tv guy] & I have a pact. Whenever I am at the grocery store or cooking or eating anything interesting, I call him. And he does the same. It seems to take away the pressure of when to call, or calling too much. Sometimes the conversations are very brief. The other night I called him up:

ME: I’m at Dominick’s. They’re playing my favorite Abba song.
HIM: What’s in your basket?
ME: Just carrots. I only got here a second ago.
HIM: Get some fucking tomatoes! Bye!

Fontaine

2008-06-26T14:04:00.000-07:00

I meet a lot interesting people through work. As much as I don’t like to get personal, crushes are tough to avoid when you spend so much time with certain bearded men.

FONTAINE is a sound engineer for a band who came through last week: A Texan with impeccable manners, a soccer player’s body, and long brown hair with a matching beard. We hit it off right away when I offered to carry a heavy case in for him. After I lugged it up two flights of stairs he said, “Well. I guess I like you a lot now.” We spent most of the night doing our jobs but when the show was over, he insisted I join the band for karaoke at a local bar and I surprised myself by saying yes.

One by one, the rest of the band went home and FONTAINE & I sat at the bar gabbing about drummers and our nieces and how cute he thinks I am... When executed just right, flattery can get a dude almost everywhere.

When I finally announced that I had to go home, I didn’t invite him to join me and he didn’t ask. I was sentimental enough about him to dismiss the possibility of a one night stand. And this way makes for a better story: When we walked out of the bar, he pulled me into him and kissed me for a long time and said, “This is wonderful. I’m better off if I see you again.” I pushed my lips into his cheek and pulled his hair a little before hailing a cab.

I kicked myself the whole way home.

Long Distance Dick

2008-06-19T16:16:00.000-07:00

PIZZA [The guy from TV] & I met a while ago when he was in town for work. He’s funny, hairy, not in a band, and I often thinking about hugging him in a sexual way. But we have yet to kiss or even talk about kissing. We only met that one time and spend time on the phone flirting rather innocently.

We have been loosely planning a first date. Since we don’t live in the same state, this would require travel and probably a hotel stay. Risky, I know. What if the date is awful and I am stuck in another city with this guy? But what if the date is awesome and I end up with the incredibly ideal situation of a long distance relationship?

All of my best relationships have been long distance. Besides trimming the fat of day-to-day life with one another, these relationships also allow for amazing sex. You get to talk about it all the time until it drives you crazy, and then you have sex marathons during the weekend visits. It’s ideal, I tell you.

Unfortunately, PIZZA and I have busy schedules. At the rate we’re going, this date won’t happen til Christmas. But I’m not giving up til we at the very least bone via Instant Messenger.

Weddings Part II

2008-06-17T13:56:00.000-07:00

The wedding I attended with ELLIOT was a success. He got along with my friends (no surprise) and was a good sport about letting me jiggle to 90s hip hop til the late hours with my friends, while he stood by politely at the fringes of the dance floor. Afterward we spent the night at his house, where I did not make out with him. The Talk is once again approaching and this time it’s for real.

And the weddings keep coming. Last night, an impromptu engagement party was put together for JOHN PAUL, an old beau of mine. He smokes more pot than anyone I know... At least I thought so until I met his fiance. They are a good match. The party was brimming with laughter and positivity and of course, smoke.

Afterward I attended the wedding (also spur of the moment) of two other stoners at a local pub. It was casual (obviously) and very fun. All the lovey-dovey feelings of a wedding without all the fuss. If only I could convince everyone else to get hitched on the fly at neighborhood bars on Monday nights.

Meanwhile, I just got an email from my boss with a link to an amazing bargain on Trojans.

And Why Don't You Eat A Dick?

2008-06-13T12:36:00.000-07:00

ELLIOT [The friend of a friend I laugh with] & I are still hanging out, and though his once-charming traits are starting to annoy the shit out of me, we still see eachother from time to time, mostly in a friendshippy manner. However, I did let him go down on me last week, which was quite pleasant. I was surprised at my ability to get off with some who says and does things that grate on my brain like a saw. But good sex is good sex and nobody got hurt. So.

I just attended a wedding with ELLIOT and he’s going to one with me soon, mostly for logistical reasons. We will have fun, but I suspect the usual awkwardness.

The truth is I’m not crazy about weddings. Though I am quite happy for my breeder friends & family, I also stress about these events quite a bit, being one of few single people in the crowd. I prefer to go alone, but I’m always tagging along with another couple, and don’t get me started on seating arrangements and hotel rooms. But bringing a date doesn't solve all the problems. In that situation, my guest is the wild card and most of the friends or family unintentionally (or intentionally?) ignore the new guy and thus ignore me. I understand why they do this - they don't want to waste their evening on some guy they'll never see again - - but it still makes for an awkward night.

When discussing an upcoming wedding with a friend recently, she asked in all sincerity, “Why don’t you just settle down with somebody? It would make all of this so much easier for you and everybody else?”

Return of the Dick

2008-06-03T17:02:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while, I know. But the time off is not indicative of demise in my lovelife. A floozie never loses her flooze.

When we last gabbed, dear reader, I was on the outs with CAMERON (sort of gay & almost my boyfriend). We are indeed broken up, and spending some time together becoming friends. He still drives me nuts, but now that he’s just my friend I am so much more patient with the nuttiness. I have occasional moments of regret, as I always do after ending something that had a lot of potential. But in the end, it’s not a good fit and I believe I'll have CAMERON as a friend for a long time.

Meanwhile, I’ve been hanging around ELLIOT (the super funny friend of a friend). We mostly watch the Discovery Channel and laugh at each other’s jokes, which happens to make for great dates. There have been a few makeouts, and two stellar oral sex performances, but other than that, I can’t seem to muster up sexual feelings for him. It can’t go on like this, so I guess we’ll have The Talk soon. I hate The Talk.

Most recently, there is a television personality currently wooing me who I’ll call PIZZA. I can't explain him to you til I've figured him out for myself.

The Girlfriend, Part II

2008-04-30T13:51:00.000-07:00

I bumped into LESLIE, the ex-girlfriend of RUSSELL HAMMOND [The moody guitar player with whom I had a glorious one-nighter last summer] at a party last week.

Although LESLIE lives in my city, I never knew her til I met her through RUSSELL when he was in town last year. It was one of those moments where everyone is pretending like nothing ever happened. And it went pretty well. She drunkenly rambled on about how she & RUSSELL were going to get married and I congratulated her while RUSSELL nervously checked his watch.

When we spoke the other day LESLIE (again, very drunk) told me all about their recent breakup. Apparently, RUSSELL can’t commit. Go figure. She ended the story with two snaps, followed by that chicken head move, and then one of those Single Woman Battle Cries that went something like “I am better off without him!”

I almost hugged her. I didn’t, but I considered it. I always feel a tiny bit sorry for the women whose boyfriends I sleep with. I want to befriend them and then tell them to quit being a doormat. But I guess then they’d have to tell me to quit being a floozy.

Sometimes I Am The Dick

2008-04-23T16:12:00.000-07:00

I see ELLIOT [The very funny friend of a friend] from time to time and though we have fun, I have yet to pull the trigger on anything physical. He’s been clear about his feelings, which go something like “I want to make out with you.” As touching as this is, I warned him that I don’t want a boyfriend and that sometimes I am a dick. I feel less guilty about being a dick if I warn them about it first.

Like every man/child I have ever been out with, ELLIOT finds it alluring that I would rather not be attached to him. I can hear their boners pop up when I tell them I hardly have time (much less desire) to have a committed relationship. But the reality of my indifference quickly turns them into babies. Within two weeks, they are upset that I can't spend Sunday afternoon in bed with them, nor do I want to see their friend’s shitty band. It’s always the same. A conversation from last night:

Him: I want to see you tonight or tomorrow.
Me: I have stuff to do.
Him: You have no time?
Me: I don’t think so.
Him: You’re being a dick.
Me: I warned you.

Sprung, Flown, Etc.

2008-04-15T18:25:00.000-07:00

Spring is here.

Not really, but the sun was out today. It got me thinking about how feisty I get when it’s nice out and how I usually end relationships around this time. When I began seeing CAMERON during the holiday season, a friend pointed out to me that people have an innate need to be ‘kept warm’ during the winter. While I don’t think about it, I suppose the primal ape in me wants to hibernate under some covers with another body when it’s cold out.

Looking back over most of my adult life, that friend is right. I counted 7 different spring breakups, and that was just off the top of my head. Apparently the ape in me wants to be a free bird when the warm weather hits, because once again this bird has flown. I’m on my way to CAMERON’s to talk some more and round up my hairdryer, bobbypins, navy nightie, tumeric, and tamarind paste.

I may leave the last two items there.

And They Were My Favorite Knickers

2008-04-14T19:48:00.000-07:00

I hung out with ELLIOT [The friend of a friend who makes me laugh so hard I wheez] last night. We sat on his bed and talked for about 6 hours.

The gist of our relationship until now was running into one another at the bar or a show amidst mutual friends. In my experience, relationships that begin in bars are doomed. It’s the countless distractions - the crowd, music, and the flighty nature of bar conversations. One can be swept away into something else so easily. And it doesn’t work out too well when I try to navigate a relationship in the same meandering fashion.

To my relief, we had as many laughs last night sitting on that bed as we’d had in the bar. We also discussed politics, family, career, and Bill Cosby. It was a good date.

That little voice in my head [whom I always ignore] told me I ought to be a good girl for once. While I did have a pair of knickers and my trusty red nightie in my handbag [both items as essential on a date as condoms], I called a cab and went home at a decent hour.

Curry

2008-04-11T17:30:00.000-07:00

CAMERON & I have had several breakup talks. Nobody is willing to call it. He has hope, something I admire a great deal, although he’d never believe that I actually appreciate his optimism. I am not very optimistic and he doesn't know that deep down I’d like to be.

He thinks I see his sense of hope as a weakness. Like most nice guys, he believes women love assholes. Personally, I love those nice guys. But I want them to stick up for themselves, to tell me to go fuck myself when I’m being a jerk. CAMERON might be learning to do just that.

That same night he made some of the best yellow curry I've ever eaten.

Me: I could eat this forever.
Him: Well, this curry isn't just gonna sit around and wait for you.
Me: What?
Him: That's what I said. This CURRY isn't going to just be here whenever YOU want it.
Me: Um...okay. I will try not to take this curry for granted.

S.O.S.

2008-04-09T15:40:00.000-07:00

Has anyone noticed that I have a boyfriend? If so, why didn’t anyone tell me?

Mean

2008-04-08T14:43:00.000-07:00

In the midst of a busy Saturday night, I ran into ELLIOT [The friend I flirt with who makes me laugh really hard]. The flirting gets bigger and weirder all the time. Our shtick is being mean to one another, and planning highly publicized fights to the death. At the bar, I sauntered over to ELLIOT and dropped my handbag in his lap and said “Hold my purse, asshole.” He shouted “Hello to you too,” and swung the bag and hit me with it. So it goes.

All the goofing around finally bit me in the ass. He asked me out. Well, he actually asked if I wanted to go to the Laundromat with him for some M&Ms and Spanish soap operas. Suddenly I was afraid of him and changed the subject back to tearing out his adam's apple with my foot.

CAMERON & I had a breakup talk over the weekend, which didn’t result in an actual breakup, but we’re on that road. It was similar to most of my break up talks, which go like this:

Me: I don’t want the same relationship you want.
Him: You are incapable of love.
Me: That was mean.
Him: You are mean.

Groupies & Girls

2008-04-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

While I don't participate in groupie sex, I have been known to get cozy when we are on the road. It's usually someone in a band we're playing with.

Last fall, I got cozy with RUSSELL HAMMOND somewhere in Kansas. After playing together for a few nights, we'd hardly spoke, but spent a lot of time making faces at one another across the room. On the last night of the tour, both bands went to a party, and RUSSELL leaned into me and said, "let's go get a room somewhere." We left and spent a pretty amazing night together in a shithole motel. I see him when I am in NY or when he's here (his ex/current girlfriend lives in my city). We talk about getting together again, but we won't. We had a secret, and we probably won't share it again, which makes seeing him all the more dizzying. RUSSELL HAMMOND will be in town in a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, CAMERON is not speaking to me. Again. Because I called him a 'fucking girl.' Again. In my defense, he was being a fucking girl. Again.

Tour: Part I

2008-04-02T16:43:00.000-07:00

I recently went on tour with my band. Aside from the excessive drinking, mild drugging, and intense fighting, there were actual 'groupies.' These girls travelled from city to city and drank our beer, sang along, and weaseled free cds out of us.
I've noticed that heterosexual male musicians are often charmed by fans and 'groupies.' Maybe it's because there's no challenge? Although I love flattery, there is a stink of desperation in the air when someone is hounding me after a show. Maybe I ought to take advantage, but then I ask myself the age-old question: What Would Joan Jett Do?

At the end of one night, I shared a smoke with CHELSEA, a really beautiful girl who'd been to all of our shows. She knew everything about the band we were touring with - musically and otherwise. She'd followed them before. When I asked if she'd fucked any of them, she shrugged and replied "I'm here to inspire. I'm not a groupie...." Then giddily added moments later, "Why? Do you think they want to fuck me?!"

Be Careful?

2008-03-21T16:13:00.000-07:00

BRODY is a major player in my dating history. We fell in love back in the beginning of college, dated for a couple years, broke up, and then went off & on for a couple years. It got very ugly for a while, but at some point we reconciled and I now consider him a good friend.

His fiancé & I volunteer at a non-profit together. While I wouldn’t say we’re buddies, we do get along quite well. She recently asked for my help in planning their wedding, since my company runs the place they plan to host a reception.

I was surprised at the disgust I was met with upon telling friends about it. According to my usually-wise sister, I’ll be at the wedding and suddenly realize that I used to be in love with him and lose my mind and set the bride on fire. Today I passed the event off to a coworker to save myself from cataclysmic insanity.

However, I questioned all these people who are looking out for me. They all relayed stories about how sad they were when their exes moved on. Am I the only one capable of fully getting over an ex?

Meanwhile, I've been given the following warning about CAMERON's ex: "She knows who you are. Be careful."

Pioneers

2008-03-19T17:06:00.000-07:00

This morning CAMERON & I had Cherry Sex. You know, when somebody has always wanted to do something, and then they finally get to do that thing. It’s special. I've popped all sorts of cherries and it never gets old. Being the first makes me feel triumphant - like a horny, limber superhero.

Afterward, I had to hurry out the door. At the coffee shop on my way to work, the woman behind the counter pointed at my chest (I was wearing a lowcut blouse), "Um...You've got a little something...."

And there it was. On my chest, in my hair, and a little on my chin. I pulled my scarf up to cover it all and couldn't muster any response other than, "oh...darn toothpaste."

Boners

2008-03-14T16:00:00.001-07:00

George (my sexy coworker) is back from tour. I told him I’d call him over a week ago and I have not. I’m still trying to avoid the company ink.

We caught eyes across the room, and walked toward eachother with arms outstretched, sort of joking. But when we hugged he held me tight and said into my neck “This is great.” And it was. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted us to be snuggling somewhere private where I might lose my face in his enormous beard. It was one of those times I’m grateful that women don’t get boners.

Lone Ranger

2008-03-10T18:37:00.000-07:00

CAMERON & I are back on speaking terms. He broke the silence with an invitation to watch a video of Cyndi Lauper covering John Lennon songs. We had dinner and Cyndi with no mention of the fact that I called him a ‘fucking girl.’

Then I was a Lone Ranger for a couple days [This means I didn’t answer phone calls and went out a lot, without making plans with anyone specifically. I do this to stall important conversations.]

The Lone Ranger days were spent at rock shows, where I was easily distracted by a friend of a friend named JED. We gravitate towards each other in social situations, and he makes me laugh hard enough for it to hurt. For a lead guitarist/singer, he’s awfully grounded – he aspires to be a firefighter, and is probably somebody’s favorite uncle. I daydream that we have kids together, but I have yet to think about sleeping with him.

I’m going see a show where CAMERON works tonight. I promised I’d go. It’ll be a tricky one. JENS (the experimental musician reminiscent of a wild animal) is performing and I want him to bite me.

Choices: For Better or Worse

2008-03-05T13:16:00.000-08:00

Someone recently gave me the following dating advice: “Narrow your choices.” I can’t get it out of my head.

Apparently, if I buckle down with one person, I will work hard at what is in front of me instead of moving on to the next person whenever I’m not completely satisfied. By doing this, I am supposed to achieve some kind of peace. I see the allure, and I have found comfort in that mindset in the past. However, where is the line? How much do you put up with and how hard do you work in the name of “trying?”

Yes, being in a relationship requires work. But we’ve all seen the bad couples who stay together. The ones who have the same arguments all the time, or they stifle one another or take eachother for granted, or the ones who just seem bored. Sometimes they get married. And sometimes they even claim to be happy. To them, the good stuff (there’s always good stuff) just outweighs the bad stuff. Is it really that simple?

CAMERON isn’t speaking to me. We argued because I wouldn’t make time in my schedule to meet his friend’s new baby. I’m not committing the way he’d like me to. After I told him he “acts like a fucking girl” he stormed off and that was that. I feel awful for saying it. But I don’t know if my desire for a bounty of choices can be remedied.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

2008-02-27T14:25:00.000-08:00

I went to Smiths’ Night, a monthly party that celebrates sentimental wimp music. Wimpsters come out in droves for this event. In case you’ve never heard the term, a Wimpster is a stylish, yet awkward man who bruises easily and both fears & adores women. Everybody love these freaks. I’ve dated hundreds of them.

I ran into NICK at the party. NICK is inherently mopey, has at least 5 Pearl Jam tattoos, and could accurately be compared to Lloyd Dobbler. We went out for a couple months, and broke up during the Pistons/Lakers NBA championship of ‘04 over Kobe Bryant’s rape trial. But now we are friends and I was really happy to see him out. We hid in a back corner of the bar discussing life while Peter Gabriel appropriately piped ‘Solsbury Hill’ into the room around us.

I also saw JAMES (the lead singer I went on one date with a couple months ago). I said hello and he clearly ignored me. This kind of behavior is annoying from an ex, let alone some miserable twat I went on a single date with. So I sweetly said hello again, to which he replied “Fuck off.”

The thing about Wimpsters is that they make great friends. They just need a little time to heal first.

Everybody Loves A Gay Man

2008-02-25T12:41:00.000-08:00

I took CAMERON to a friend’s wedding over the weekend. He is gorgeous in a 3-piece suit, and behaved perfectly with my friends. In a conversation about getting too drunk, CAMERON contributed: “One time I drank three pint glasses of Chocolate Martini… Boy, was I shitfaced!” Everyone laughed and turned to me with approving nods and nudges.

Bulletproof

2008-02-21T16:15:00.000-08:00

I went to a show last night at CAMERON’s work. He greeted me wearing very tight brown pants, a pink shirt with a deer on it, and a bulletproof vest. When I asked what the outfit was all about, he responded quite sincerely, “I was going to wear my cute little leather vest but it didn’t look right.”

GEORGE (the coworker I have a crush on) was there. He & CAMERON are acquaintances through various artfart-hippie endeavors. When the show ended GEORGE & I talked a bit about work and then he asked if I wanted to get a late dinner with him, which I accepted and then quickly declined. He then put his arms around me and started slow dancing and twirling me around. I looked over his shoulder, where I found CAMERON across the room, waving at me sweetly.

The Rules

2008-02-19T17:51:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, I try to avoid dating musicians. Though we have a lot in common, those commonalities lend to shoptalk and competition, not to mention the ego & insecurity that most of them carry around. However, between my job & the band, it’s difficult to avoid these people. Speaking of jobs, I also have rules about dating coworkers - I don’t do it. And speaking of dating, I don’t want to date people in my own band, or start a band with a beau. Those are really bad ideas, too.

This is where I introduce GEORGE, the new guy at work. I am extremely attracted to GEORGE and we started flirting from the moment we met. When we talk, even though it is usually about music, we stand close together and there is a lot of ‘accidental’ touching. A few days ago GEORGE asked me to play drums in his new band, which I am tempted to do.

Today he came in from the cold and put his hands in mine in an attempt to warm them up. Then he put his gloves on me and this somehow turned into a joke about bondage, and he may have asked me for a spanking.

Let's run down the rules I'd really like to break:

1. NO musicians
2. NO company ink
3. NO band boning

Meanwhile CAMERON has been out of town for a couple days, and I have completely forgotten he exists. Until just now. We have plans later. Shit.

Meeting the Friends

2008-02-19T12:22:00.000-08:00

I fear introducing dates to my family and friends. The commitment it implies is too much for me. After the beau meets the family/friends one time, I break up with them before another meeting takes place. It’s disappointing for everyone. My sister no longer speaks to my dates when I bring them over, telling me that she’s “been burned before.”

But I was going out for a friend’s birthday last weekend and when I arrived, they all asked if CAMERON was coming, so I called him up and asked him to come by in a fit of optimism. He showed up smiling & eager to meet everyone, thankfully not wearing sequins or a kimono. About an hour into the get-together, he leaned in and said ‘Your friends are really great.’ He must have seen the fear come over me because he quickly added, ‘But I’m not getting attached.’

Later on CAMERON told me that as he was saying goodbye to everyone, my friend Josh told him “Welcome to our little group.” It was a sweet gesture, but I’m going to murder Josh.

It's Valentine's Day

2008-02-14T14:26:00.000-08:00

Dating back as far as 8^th grade, I’ve never been without a beau on Valentine’s day. This would be fortunate if I actually liked this holiday. Sure I’ve had some good ones, but mostly bad. Some Valentine’s Day moments:

1993: My brother finds out that MARIO is in a gang and threatens to kill him. MARIO breaks up with me, which according to my brother is better than being killed in crossfire.

1996: High school sweetheart DENNY gives me Calvin & Hobbes book as a gift, right before I break up with him for a 22 year old rapper I met at a one-eyed anarchist’s birthday party. This is a savage move, for which I still have not forgiven myself.

2000: College sweetheart BRODY gives me the same Calvin & Hobbes book as a gift, and we break up a couple hours later, after one of our many horrible fights. I start smoking the next day.

2001: I go on a first date with GAVIN, who recently began stalking me again.

2006: The perpetually touring boyfriend LEVON has a break from his band for a month, so he comes to live with me. His flight leaves for tour again on Valentine’s Day. I sit in the subway with him, on a pile of suitcases. A bum/artist approaches us with charcoal sketch of the two of us crying. We break up via email a month later.

2007: In an attempt at S&M, MIKE ties me to a pipe in his bedroom and leaves the house, with the bedroom door open. I finally break free and while coming back from the bathroom wearing only underwear and bondage bracelets, I run into his supposedly-out-of-town roommate.

The Flowers

2008-02-12T15:12:00.000-08:00

Last night I got to CAMERON’s place and there were pink flowers in a vase on the table.

Ever since CAMERON somewhat-jokingly asked if I would be his girlfriend, I have been mean to him. I’ve convinced myself that he is suddenly very annoying and needy and now I snap every time he is nice to me, which is always. He might not actually be annoying or needy, but I am feeling a lot of pressure about the relationship nonetheless. He seems to recognize this pattern of mine and is dealing with it pretty well:

Me: Those flowers are pretty.
Him: They’re for you.
Me: Why?
Him: Because I like you.
Me: You shouldn’t give me flowers. It’s too much.
Him: Will you marry me?
Me: That’s not funny.

Limp Dicks

2008-02-11T15:49:00.000-08:00

Some of my best friendships started out as romances. One of those friends is LOU. Last summer we spent two filthy days together when his band was in town. He’s hilarious and very sexy, but he loves drugs, making him unreliable (and unconscious) when it matters most. Somehow, the traits I find unacceptable in the bedroom are more easily forgiven under the title of ‘friends.’

I saw LOU a couple months ago in NY, where he presumed we’d spend the night together. When I told him we ought to just be friends, he said yes, but asked if we could fuck one last time in the basement of the club where I was playing. I declined, but let him watch me change clothes. Thus, the beginning of our ‘friendship.’

LOU called me today. He is going through some rough times and needed to vent. At the end of our conversation he told me, “I’m really glad we’re friends... And I only thought about your nipples once during this whole conversation.”

Cheating, Part II

2008-02-07T11:33:00.000-08:00

When CAMERON asked if I’d ever been cheated on, I said I didn’t think so, but that I haven’t been in many relationships where it would be called ‘cheating.’ I told him of my theories about monogamy – that it is overrated and creates lots of problems. He conceded.

Then last night I called him to see if I should stop at the grocery store before going to his house. This is what was said:

Him: Let’s go out.
Me: Okay. Where?
Him: Let’s go out! As in, you should be my girlfriend. Go out with me.
Me: Are you fucking kidding?
Him: C’mon! It'll be fun.
Me: I don’t want you to say “my” when referring to me.
Him: What if I call you “girlfriend,” like I'm real sassy. You know. “Girlfriend! Damn, girrrlll!”
Me: Okay.

Defensive Dicks

2008-02-06T11:53:00.000-08:00

I saw PAUL the other night at a show where his band was playing. I two-timed PAUL for about a year, carrying on a long distance relationship with somebody else the entire time we went out. Both boys reluctantly agreed to be involved in the open relationship. While on tour once, PAUL received a blowjob from another man. When I heard about it (from that other man) I asked PAUL if he thought he might be bisexual. He broke up with me immediately and starting seeing a woman.

When I approached PAUL at the show, his girlfriend gave me a venomous once-over and asked him “Isn’t that the girl who cheated on you?” I pretended I didn’t hear her, introduced myself, and told PAUL his band sounded great and that I like the new record.

JAMES (the lead singer I had one date with last month) was also playing. I said hello and apologized for not calling him, explaining that I started seeing someone else. His response: “It’s cool. I’ve heard about you.”

Cowboy

2008-02-04T18:59:00.000-08:00

CAMERON & I got together on Sunday to watch Brokeback Mountain. He’d never seen the movie and with Heath Ledger’s recent passing, thought we ought to watch. About halfway through the movie:

Me: It’s funny that we’re watching this movie during the Super Bowl.
Him: The Super Bowl? When is that happening?
Me: Um… The Super Bowl is happening right now.
Him: Shit. I am a gayest cowboy in this room.

My Friend's Dick

2008-01-31T16:33:00.000-08:00

My friend WALT & I slept together once when his girlfriend was out of town. There was always a little bit of sexual tension between us, yet I was still surprised when we started kissing and pulling clothes off. He left the next morning before I woke up, which I gave him shit about, but understood nonetheless. Later we talked about what we’d done, and rationalized it a bit: We were friends, it was fun, nobody was getting hurt, etc. I didn’t feel guilty or uncomfortable until he got engaged a couple weeks later.

Years have passed, and WALT is still my friend. In fact, I often relay my sexual/romantic exploits to him, and he dishes with me like one of the girls, offering useful insight. He encouraged me to document my escapades in a blog. One of my arguments against writing this blog was that it would jinx me. I feared that as soon as I started writing about being a floozy, I’d meet somebody and settle down.

Meanwhile, CAMERON gave me keys to his place, along with a shelf in his bathroom stocked with conditioner, a little dish of bobby pins, and a hairdryer.

Dirty

2008-01-30T14:22:00.000-08:00

After making me wait almost two months and incessantly using the word “intimate”, I feared CAMERON would turn out to be vanilla in the sack (or the kitchen). To my delight, he likes having sex with me and wants to do it all the time. The suggestive text messages and emails have begun to flow in and when we're together the conversation immediately turns to sex, which means we’re entering The Dirty Phase. This is when two people have established a comfort level and fondness for each other, in conjunction with some positive sexual discovery. Thus, anything is possible... Almost. A recent conversation:

Me: So, is anything off limits?
Him: I refuse to poop on you, or let you poop on me.
Me: Alright.
Him: Uh, that was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh because it’s so obvious that we wouldn’t poop on each other.
Me: Well…
Him: What? You want poop?
Me: No, but you shouldn’t assume! What if I wanted poop and you hurt my feelings by making jokes?
Him: I’m so afraid of you.

Jesus and The Straight Man

2008-01-29T14:31:00.000-08:00

Last night at a show, I ran into JESUS (jee-zuss). JESUS looks & smells like a homeless man from under the viaduct, only sexier. We fell hard for each other this summer at a music festival where we were both performing. Both fresh out of breakups, we pursued a casual sexual relationship. We had fun, doing dirty hippie things together. After a couple months, we were more friends than lovers and slowly fell out of touch. While we caught up last night, I thought I missed dating him. But then I realized I just missed his mouth, and the oral pleasure I got from it. I considered going home with JESUS for about a minute and then CAMERON called.

Today I asked CAMERON to be my date to a wedding coming up. His response: “I will go with you as long as you don’t verbally agree with your friends when they suggest that I am gay.” After I promised to defend his supposed heterosexuality, he said, “What are you going wear? You should wear that blue vintage dress you just bought. There’s plenty of time to make alterations!”

Some Of Us Are Born This Way

2008-01-28T13:29:00.000-08:00

I had brunch with my friend Ann and her two daughters. Amidst dirty diapers and spilled milk, we discussed our opposite lives. When I mentioned CAMERON [the one I finally had sex with] she didn’t know who I was talking about. “What about Jim? And, uh… whatshisface?” I probably tell Ann about a new beau every time we talk and she politely tries to keep up, but clearly has more important things to worry about. After a group of contstruction workers walked in, Ann’s 4-year-old Kate leaned over to me and whispered “A bunch of guys are over there. We should go meet them.” I nodded conspiratorially and Ann snapped “Hey! You & your Auntie can flirt with boys when you’re older,” and Kate whined “But those ones really like us!”