Context: This is a SMS conversation between myself and the male friend mentioned in my previous post. He's happy to be single again because he gets to tell stories like this one.
Male Friend: funny story last night
Showing posts with label Zima. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zima. Show all posts
Friday, September 7, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Male Friend's POV on Dumping a Terrible Girl
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
What Separates Men From Boys
The following is an excerpt from a text conversation I had earlier with a guy I was seeing for a few weeks. The back story: he's great on paper -- smart, funny, has a great job, owns a car. In practice however, he's rather timid, somewhat shy, and incredibly awkward, which I found endearing... until I didn't. He has a big dick, he lasts a long time, and he knows how to use it and his fingers, but not once in the handful of times we had sex did he so much as attempt to take his mouth anywhere below my chest. He also nearly cried when there was a little blood on the condom once. Definitely wasn't going to work.
Last night he started asking me for dating/girl advice, as when I broke it off with him I told him "I think that you're perfect for someone, it's just not me," and as all nice guys do, he wanted to stay friends. He's tried a bit of online dating that's led to nothing, and he doesn't really know how to approach women IRL, but he says that with his new great job, he's finding himself wanting to settle down more and more, (keep in mind, still lives with his parents. Settle in the basement? I don't know.) He's also decided that he wants to date older women. Right.
I gave him some tips, and then went to meet my friend for a few drinks. He texted me more while out, and eventually I felt that this was the appropriate response:
Me: Alright, I'm going to give you the best advice you'll ever get: IF you are going to try dating older women you're going to need to get over your fear of blood, and you're going to need to start going down on them - and I mean that honestly for your own advancement, and in no way as an insult.
Me: Not necessarily at the same time.
Him: I had 2 gut-wrenching experiences in that department, so I'm not sure
Me: In which department?
Him: Going down...
Me: So? You think your spunk tastes like jolly ranchers or something?
Him: I don't know.
Me: Well, it doesn't.
Him: Okay
Me: It separates the men from the boys. And women want men. Otherwise you may as well stick to dating teenagers.
Last night he started asking me for dating/girl advice, as when I broke it off with him I told him "I think that you're perfect for someone, it's just not me," and as all nice guys do, he wanted to stay friends. He's tried a bit of online dating that's led to nothing, and he doesn't really know how to approach women IRL, but he says that with his new great job, he's finding himself wanting to settle down more and more, (keep in mind, still lives with his parents. Settle in the basement? I don't know.) He's also decided that he wants to date older women. Right.
I gave him some tips, and then went to meet my friend for a few drinks. He texted me more while out, and eventually I felt that this was the appropriate response:
Me: Alright, I'm going to give you the best advice you'll ever get: IF you are going to try dating older women you're going to need to get over your fear of blood, and you're going to need to start going down on them - and I mean that honestly for your own advancement, and in no way as an insult.
Me: Not necessarily at the same time.
Him: I had 2 gut-wrenching experiences in that department, so I'm not sure
Me: In which department?
Him: Going down...
Me: So? You think your spunk tastes like jolly ranchers or something?
Him: I don't know.
Me: Well, it doesn't.
Him: Okay
Me: It separates the men from the boys. And women want men. Otherwise you may as well stick to dating teenagers.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Wise Words from the Kitchen #1
"If you're too drunk to hook up, just smoke some pot and drink a lot of water. At least then you're having high, hydrated sex and not pruney, dehydrated sex."
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Breaking Up, Starting Over, and Fishing.
Hello internet!
A lot has happened since my last post, whenever that was. The aforementioned long distance lover and I called it quits and I experienced my first real, gut-wrenching, sit-in-bed-sobbing heart break. I cancelled the flights I had booked out to see him (and even worse, I didn't get to see Houston!) and I sat and thought about what in the world I was going to do next, and about how stupid I felt. It sucked.
For all of a week.
My quick and much-needed rebound came in the form of a crazy ex-lover in from Vancouver to visit family for the week. The timing was perfect. I inboxed him with my current phone number, and he met me (and Zaza, Muffy, etc) for wine - we shared a litre, I put my hand on his thigh, he said "Yep." and that was that. He spent the remaining nights of his trip at my place, and I noticed that he'd picked up some... interesting sexual habits in the 5 years since we'd last been together, although that is another story entirely. He went back to Vancouver a few days later, and that was perfect too because truth be told, I was already sick of him.
Following my little rendezvous with Mission: NSA ex-sex I felt renewed - a new woman entirely. I bought a new skincare routine, I got my hair did, I felt fantastic. My roommate and I were both single at the same time for the first time in the 3 years that we've known each other. Life was going to be good - and it was. She and I, along with Zaza had decided to become really "fun" and start going to popular clubs in the City instead of our usual hipster dive hang-outs; attention-grabbing tight dresses, heels, the whole shebang. It felt amazing.
Now, the only issue with it is that I went through a bit of a dry period. When I say a bit, I mean 2 months now. That's a long time for me. I realized that it had been an awful drought last weekend, when I (drunkenly) gave my number to an exchange student who just wouldn't leave me alone at the bar last Friday. Sunday evening, looking back on Muffy's luck with online man-hunting, I started a POF.com account with the following profile:
"Headline: Acqua di Gio Need Not Apply.
About me: I like fine wines, partying, and stomping on egos. I love Nicolas Cage movies, and I hate people that are too pretentious to admit that they watch them. Goal in life: professional sword swallower.
If you want a serious reply, please message me with the name of the last cologne you purchased.
...JK! I don't like any of those things, and I really don't aspire to be a professional sword swallower - amateur at best. Well, alright, I do like fine wines, Face//Off IS a pinnacle of cinema, and clearly I think I'm funny. I'm pretty low-key, but I take care of myself, I dress well, and I like to get dolled up. I am kind of a jerk, but only in the most charming sense, I assure you. Actual interests include old movies, contemporary art, fragrances, and the Oxford comma.
First Date: Ideally it wouldn't end with either of us slapping each other in the face and then storming off.
...Or maybe it would?"
Not expecting anything to actually come of this, I was (hilariously) in awe when literally within minutes I had received 10 different responses. Were any of them worthwhile? Not terribly. By the next day, however, I had received nearly 500 views (POF.com emailed me to tell me this) and had received 100+ responses, some who got the joke, and some who really didn't. To my dismay, not one person made a comment about sword swallowing - I really thought that would be the winner.
So far, the best stupid responses I've received are the following:
The extremely romantic:
And of course, the classic:
Essentially, it was a bleak and terrifying wasteland of bizarre people I never saw on the street.
However, Monday night, after sharing a few litres of Sangria with Muffy and Zaza, I decided to sift through the masses and see if there was anyone worth contacting myself. After I sent a message making fun of a guy with a cat on his shoulder for pandering to the reddit crowd and naming his dog after an Arcade Fire song, and a few witty back and forths, he asked if we could move to facebook, I thought that sounded harmless enough, so I added him and we spent an hour chatting. He then asked if I'd be interested in getting coffee, I said sure, and we ended up settling on 7pm the next night.
Tuesday night we met up at a popular local coffee bar, he ended up being more attractive than I thought he was going to be and he had a firm handshake - a good start. We talked and finished our coffee, he suggested a walk. We walked for a few blocks, he suggested food. We grabbed a couple of beers and shared a poutine at one of my haunts and watched the hockey game. We hadn't yet run out of things to talk about. He suggested another walk. We walked a few blocks, he swiftly put his arm around me, saying "if you don't mind." I didn't. We neared the coffee shop we'd met at and he suggested tea. We had tea and talked until the barista kicked us out for closing time. He drove me home, we talked a bit more and asked me if there'd be a second date, to which I responded with a fist-bump. He thought that was hilarious and asked if he could kiss me, to which I said, "obviously." We made out a little in his car, and in an effort to be a classy lady (that's a lie, I hadn't shaved my legs and my bedroom was a mess,) I cut it off after 10 minutes and said "to be continued." as I exited the car.
Although it was a little bit the date version of The Never-Ending Story with less magical flying dog, I had a lot more fun than I could have ever expected I did on my first blind internet date. And, while I am completely and totally on my guard for something completely weird, he seems incredibly nice, intelligent and we have a great chemistry.
Starting over is difficult, but date #2 should be easy enough.
A lot has happened since my last post, whenever that was. The aforementioned long distance lover and I called it quits and I experienced my first real, gut-wrenching, sit-in-bed-sobbing heart break. I cancelled the flights I had booked out to see him (and even worse, I didn't get to see Houston!) and I sat and thought about what in the world I was going to do next, and about how stupid I felt. It sucked.
For all of a week.
My quick and much-needed rebound came in the form of a crazy ex-lover in from Vancouver to visit family for the week. The timing was perfect. I inboxed him with my current phone number, and he met me (and Zaza, Muffy, etc) for wine - we shared a litre, I put my hand on his thigh, he said "Yep." and that was that. He spent the remaining nights of his trip at my place, and I noticed that he'd picked up some... interesting sexual habits in the 5 years since we'd last been together, although that is another story entirely. He went back to Vancouver a few days later, and that was perfect too because truth be told, I was already sick of him.
Following my little rendezvous with Mission: NSA ex-sex I felt renewed - a new woman entirely. I bought a new skincare routine, I got my hair did, I felt fantastic. My roommate and I were both single at the same time for the first time in the 3 years that we've known each other. Life was going to be good - and it was. She and I, along with Zaza had decided to become really "fun" and start going to popular clubs in the City instead of our usual hipster dive hang-outs; attention-grabbing tight dresses, heels, the whole shebang. It felt amazing.
Now, the only issue with it is that I went through a bit of a dry period. When I say a bit, I mean 2 months now. That's a long time for me. I realized that it had been an awful drought last weekend, when I (drunkenly) gave my number to an exchange student who just wouldn't leave me alone at the bar last Friday. Sunday evening, looking back on Muffy's luck with online man-hunting, I started a POF.com account with the following profile:
"Headline: Acqua di Gio Need Not Apply.
About me: I like fine wines, partying, and stomping on egos. I love Nicolas Cage movies, and I hate people that are too pretentious to admit that they watch them. Goal in life: professional sword swallower.
If you want a serious reply, please message me with the name of the last cologne you purchased.
...JK! I don't like any of those things, and I really don't aspire to be a professional sword swallower - amateur at best. Well, alright, I do like fine wines, Face//Off IS a pinnacle of cinema, and clearly I think I'm funny. I'm pretty low-key, but I take care of myself, I dress well, and I like to get dolled up. I am kind of a jerk, but only in the most charming sense, I assure you. Actual interests include old movies, contemporary art, fragrances, and the Oxford comma.
First Date: Ideally it wouldn't end with either of us slapping each other in the face and then storming off.
...Or maybe it would?"
Not expecting anything to actually come of this, I was (hilariously) in awe when literally within minutes I had received 10 different responses. Were any of them worthwhile? Not terribly. By the next day, however, I had received nearly 500 views (POF.com emailed me to tell me this) and had received 100+ responses, some who got the joke, and some who really didn't. To my dismay, not one person made a comment about sword swallowing - I really thought that would be the winner.
So far, the best stupid responses I've received are the following:
"hahaha. I wont slap u on your face. u look good. hw was your weekend"
The extremely romantic:
"wow ur just damn cute :) Shakespare said" there is nothing more beautifull than moon" but I said u proved him wrong. so whats new going on in ur life"
And of course, the classic:
"Hi what's up?
We should fuck ?"
Essentially, it was a bleak and terrifying wasteland of bizarre people I never saw on the street.
However, Monday night, after sharing a few litres of Sangria with Muffy and Zaza, I decided to sift through the masses and see if there was anyone worth contacting myself. After I sent a message making fun of a guy with a cat on his shoulder for pandering to the reddit crowd and naming his dog after an Arcade Fire song, and a few witty back and forths, he asked if we could move to facebook, I thought that sounded harmless enough, so I added him and we spent an hour chatting. He then asked if I'd be interested in getting coffee, I said sure, and we ended up settling on 7pm the next night.
Tuesday night we met up at a popular local coffee bar, he ended up being more attractive than I thought he was going to be and he had a firm handshake - a good start. We talked and finished our coffee, he suggested a walk. We walked for a few blocks, he suggested food. We grabbed a couple of beers and shared a poutine at one of my haunts and watched the hockey game. We hadn't yet run out of things to talk about. He suggested another walk. We walked a few blocks, he swiftly put his arm around me, saying "if you don't mind." I didn't. We neared the coffee shop we'd met at and he suggested tea. We had tea and talked until the barista kicked us out for closing time. He drove me home, we talked a bit more and asked me if there'd be a second date, to which I responded with a fist-bump. He thought that was hilarious and asked if he could kiss me, to which I said, "obviously." We made out a little in his car, and in an effort to be a classy lady (that's a lie, I hadn't shaved my legs and my bedroom was a mess,) I cut it off after 10 minutes and said "to be continued." as I exited the car.
Although it was a little bit the date version of The Never-Ending Story with less magical flying dog, I had a lot more fun than I could have ever expected I did on my first blind internet date. And, while I am completely and totally on my guard for something completely weird, he seems incredibly nice, intelligent and we have a great chemistry.
Starting over is difficult, but date #2 should be easy enough.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Well, Don't Quote Me On This...
Hello Blogosphere!
It's been a while. I've been around, but my sex life has not. For those of you (presumably anyone but the coauthors of this blog) who don't know, my relationship is current long distance because the other half of it is in another city finishing school. I don't know how I got into this situation either, but I guess we really like each other, (I'm just kidding, we love each other madly, etc, etc). Anyway, he's back in town as of earlier today but because of my work schedule (retail Christmas = late nights, BUZZ. YOUR LIFE. WOOF!) and his holiday family obligations we weren't sure if we'd see each other until later in the week. Today I managed to switch tomorrow's shift into ending a little earlier, and so I strongly suggested that we see each other tomorrow night in a way that I feel the internets should read,
Boy: Okay, I'm exhausted so I think I'm gonna crash right away... I'll see you soon :)
Me: alright, sleep well
Me: OH, so, p.s. if you don't find anything better (: P) to do tomorrow night, i am now off work at 10 because I am awesome. Soooo... you know
Me: goodnight!
Me: (and if you do to manage to have something better to do, I'm just warning you that Wednesday I will be a poor conversationalist because I won't be able to hear anything over the sound of my vagina screaming that we've been in the same city for 48 hours and I haven't seen you yet)
Boy: hahahaha ewwww
Boy: ewwwwwwwww jesus
Boy: screaming vagina
Me: Yeah whatever, don't even try to pretend that's not the greatest thing a girl has ever said to you.
It's been a while. I've been around, but my sex life has not. For those of you (presumably anyone but the coauthors of this blog) who don't know, my relationship is current long distance because the other half of it is in another city finishing school. I don't know how I got into this situation either, but I guess we really like each other, (I'm just kidding, we love each other madly, etc, etc). Anyway, he's back in town as of earlier today but because of my work schedule (retail Christmas = late nights, BUZZ. YOUR LIFE. WOOF!) and his holiday family obligations we weren't sure if we'd see each other until later in the week. Today I managed to switch tomorrow's shift into ending a little earlier, and so I strongly suggested that we see each other tomorrow night in a way that I feel the internets should read,
Boy: Okay, I'm exhausted so I think I'm gonna crash right away... I'll see you soon :)
Me: alright, sleep well
Me: OH, so, p.s. if you don't find anything better (: P) to do tomorrow night, i am now off work at 10 because I am awesome. Soooo... you know
Me: goodnight!
Me: (and if you do to manage to have something better to do, I'm just warning you that Wednesday I will be a poor conversationalist because I won't be able to hear anything over the sound of my vagina screaming that we've been in the same city for 48 hours and I haven't seen you yet)
Boy: hahahaha ewwww
Boy: ewwwwwwwww jesus
Boy: screaming vagina
Me: Yeah whatever, don't even try to pretend that's not the greatest thing a girl has ever said to you.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
That's One Way of Putting It
Last night's text message conversation concerning my upcoming trip to Toronto to visit a certain significant other at school (as well as Houston and our other mutual friend):
Me: "Okay, so [I'll be in town] the 18th to the 25th it is!"
Him: "Great! Can't wait to meet you at the airport. : )"
Me: "Well, I don't know if you've ever had sex in an airport bathroom, but..."
Him: "BUT THERE WILL BE COOKIES???"
Me: "...Airline cookies. :("
Him: "Still okay with that!"
Me: "Okay, so [I'll be in town] the 18th to the 25th it is!"
Him: "Great! Can't wait to meet you at the airport. : )"
Me: "Well, I don't know if you've ever had sex in an airport bathroom, but..."
Him: "BUT THERE WILL BE COOKIES???"
Me: "...Airline cookies. :("
Him: "Still okay with that!"
Monday, September 12, 2011
At the Scene of the Crime
Note: I had meant to post this a few weeks ago following the actual events and was recently reminded of it by Muffy, as such, here it is:
Crime scene sex.
I can feel the collective shudder the world just gave me as I typed out those 3 words. We've all been there. If you haven't, well, some day you will. Those of us who have been there can tell you that it's really the same as any other sex, but with a little more... well, colour. Neither of you needs to be a hero about it, it's all just bodily fluids. Just, maybe skip the white sheets and go for something a little darker that night unless you're a prodigy of getting tough stains out. This post, however, is not about laundry.
Let's be honest though, as long as you are prepared for it, it's great. I'm in the opinion that if he's down, I'm down (and if he isn't, he's probably going to get dumped. Fast.) Last week, however, I managed to have SURPRISE crime scene sex. Rather, it was a surprise for me, because he didn't mention anything until afterwards - why this is, I have no idea. We've been together for the better part of a year, so it's not like we haven't done it before. Granted, he probably thought that I knew, although I am usually thoughtful enough to warn him first - I firmly believe that communication is key in such situations.
Regardless, a man who is okay with doing things to you while you're bleeding is a good man. Especially if you can find one that will willingly go down on you during it without any coaxing or collateral head. He is said man.
So, we do it. It's as mind-blowing as usual. We finish. He's passing out on his back with his arms beneath his head. I go to sit up and he casually looks over and says:
"Babe, I don't know if you want to do that - you've been bleeding the entire time and those stains are a bitch to get out."
Down with the crime scene AND cares about the colour of my sheets? Be still my heart.
Crime scene sex.
I can feel the collective shudder the world just gave me as I typed out those 3 words. We've all been there. If you haven't, well, some day you will. Those of us who have been there can tell you that it's really the same as any other sex, but with a little more... well, colour. Neither of you needs to be a hero about it, it's all just bodily fluids. Just, maybe skip the white sheets and go for something a little darker that night unless you're a prodigy of getting tough stains out. This post, however, is not about laundry.
Let's be honest though, as long as you are prepared for it, it's great. I'm in the opinion that if he's down, I'm down (and if he isn't, he's probably going to get dumped. Fast.) Last week, however, I managed to have SURPRISE crime scene sex. Rather, it was a surprise for me, because he didn't mention anything until afterwards - why this is, I have no idea. We've been together for the better part of a year, so it's not like we haven't done it before. Granted, he probably thought that I knew, although I am usually thoughtful enough to warn him first - I firmly believe that communication is key in such situations.
Regardless, a man who is okay with doing things to you while you're bleeding is a good man. Especially if you can find one that will willingly go down on you during it without any coaxing or collateral head. He is said man.
So, we do it. It's as mind-blowing as usual. We finish. He's passing out on his back with his arms beneath his head. I go to sit up and he casually looks over and says:
"Babe, I don't know if you want to do that - you've been bleeding the entire time and those stains are a bitch to get out."
Down with the crime scene AND cares about the colour of my sheets? Be still my heart.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Illustrious "Dramatic Reunion Kiss in the Rain" Clichée
I was lucky enough to experience one of these earlier this evening - thanks to the aforementioned return of the boyfriend, and some otherwise terrible weather. Honestly though, it was great. He picked me up and spun me, there was blind groping, amazing chemistry, and we both ended up completely soaked. It was like something out of a Nicolas Sparks book turned into movie. I recommend that everyone have at least one of these in their life. Add it to your bucket list, ladies.
It's worth mentioning that while searching for pictures of Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard at the end of Breakfast at Tiffany's, I came across this gem of a blog:
How to Kiss.net
It features articles on how to kiss, the dos and don'ts and what to do with your hands during. There is also a featurette on how to kiss like Spider-man, which, well, let's be honest: what girl doesn't (atleast secretly) want that?
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
FINALLY (and an apology)
The man in my life (cited here under the tags "goodbyes," "sighs," and "vaginal sobbing.") will be home on Monday. For those on the outside: he has been in France since the middle of May.
We are going to do terrible things to every surface of my apartment. If I do the math, at the rate we were going before he left we have roughly (at least) 100 hours to make up for.
Consider this post a public apology to my poor room-mate. Even though I'm not really sorry.
We are going to do terrible things to every surface of my apartment. If I do the math, at the rate we were going before he left we have roughly (at least) 100 hours to make up for.
Consider this post a public apology to my poor room-mate. Even though I'm not really sorry.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Where the Boys are in... San Francisco.
Well, to be honest, I didn't completely figure it out myself. I was there on business and really just had three evenings after 6pm to even attempt and figuring it out, which really amounted to almost nothing. What I did luck into, however, is a charming little bar in the Financial District (on Kearny between Sutter and Bush) that goes by the name of "Rickhouse":
Huge liquor selection, spanning probably 20 feet and another 20 to the ceiling. The bartenders climb on ladders to pick one from time to time, and they specialize in classic Southern drinks (Mint juleps anyone?) made with fresh fruit and ingredients and no artificial sugars. The layout, as you can see, is completely beautifully dark mahogany bourbon-soaked wood from floor to ceiling. So charming.
The real charm, for myself anyway, is that the bartenders are decked out like it's the 40s (and so cute!), we're talking button down shirts, slacks, suspenders and page boy caps with their ties tucked into their shirts. Hot? So very.
Huge liquor selection, spanning probably 20 feet and another 20 to the ceiling. The bartenders climb on ladders to pick one from time to time, and they specialize in classic Southern drinks (Mint juleps anyone?) made with fresh fruit and ingredients and no artificial sugars. The layout, as you can see, is completely beautifully dark mahogany bourbon-soaked wood from floor to ceiling. So charming.
The real charm, for myself anyway, is that the bartenders are decked out like it's the 40s (and so cute!), we're talking button down shirts, slacks, suspenders and page boy caps with their ties tucked into their shirts. Hot? So very.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
This Town is Small
[Muffy] 11:25pm
funnny story
so i am on okcupid, as per usual
and this guy starts IMing me and he is older, 37, and he works in film, and his name is M******
and we are chatting whatever
and i realize it all seems very familiar
[Samsamsam] 11:25pm
......
GRAVEYARD?
[Muffy] 11:25pm
and i look at his picture again and said "you fucked me in a graveyard once."
and then i gave him my number...
[Samsamsam] 11:26pm
oh my god
[Muffy] 11:26pm
i know
he said he was hurt that i ignored his calls
and i said i was hurt by the number of bug bites on my ass the next day
funnny story
so i am on okcupid, as per usual
and this guy starts IMing me and he is older, 37, and he works in film, and his name is M******
and we are chatting whatever
and i realize it all seems very familiar
[Samsamsam] 11:25pm
......
GRAVEYARD?
[Muffy] 11:25pm
and i look at his picture again and said "you fucked me in a graveyard once."
and then i gave him my number...
[Samsamsam] 11:26pm
oh my god
[Muffy] 11:26pm
i know
he said he was hurt that i ignored his calls
and i said i was hurt by the number of bug bites on my ass the next day
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Wait what?
I felt this deserved its own entry rather than a mere edit and post-script:
Not a minute after I had hit post on that last entry, a boy with whom I had a drunk one night stand that I scarcely recall in my first year of art school sent me the following facebook chat message:
"dookie duty"
Make of that what you will.
Not a minute after I had hit post on that last entry, a boy with whom I had a drunk one night stand that I scarcely recall in my first year of art school sent me the following facebook chat message:
"dookie duty"
Make of that what you will.
Something's Always Gotta Give
So the wonderful boy I've been seeing since January is off to France for 3 months in a couple of weeks, really in a matter of days, to pursue a really awesome job opportunity. While I am extremely happy for/proud of him for it, my vagina is crying already. How wonderful is this boy? We're talking extremely funny, polite, intelligent, loves going down on me, penis for days*, and insists for some reason on paying for everything and enjoys going to art house cinema, gallery openings and theatre AND can hold a conversation. It has made the first third of my 2011 year entirely so great, and that's without factoring in our intense sexual chemistry**. With the chemistry factored in, well, fuck. Or lack thereof. I'm pretty sure that the withdrawal from all of the sex we've been having for the last 4 months is going to make me take up chain-smoking.
Oh well, two more weeks of magic and then it will be back to the average boys of this city with their average penis sizes, average lasting times and below averagely talented tongues. Until he comes back for 2 weeks in August*** before moving away for school again. Remind me to never date smart, ambitious boys ever again. From here on out, it's losers for life.
On the plus side, I'll probably have a lot more content with which to contribute to this blog. After all, summer in the city has not even begun.
* The contents of my waste basket are composed of magnum wrappers.
** We are talking hot, wild sex in which I pull muscles and glasses get broken and blankets get ripped for hours on end intense here.
*** At which time we will fuck on every possible surface until we hurt.
Oh well, two more weeks of magic and then it will be back to the average boys of this city with their average penis sizes, average lasting times and below averagely talented tongues. Until he comes back for 2 weeks in August*** before moving away for school again. Remind me to never date smart, ambitious boys ever again. From here on out, it's losers for life.
On the plus side, I'll probably have a lot more content with which to contribute to this blog. After all, summer in the city has not even begun.
* The contents of my waste basket are composed of magnum wrappers.
** We are talking hot, wild sex in which I pull muscles and glasses get broken and blankets get ripped for hours on end intense here.
*** At which time we will fuck on every possible surface until we hurt.
Monday, February 14, 2011
What IS the proper word, anyway?
[Hillary]7:52pm
i can't decide what word to use for penis in my new blog post
dick was my first choice, but it sounds vulgar...
[Sam]7:52pm
dingle?
rooster?
woody??
[Hillary]7:52pm
both terrible suggestions.
[Sam]7:52pm
make that alllll 3
[Hillary]7:52pm
woody isn't the worst...
johnson?
peter?
[Sam]7:53pm
marvin.
member.
superman?
[Hillary]7:53pm
it will be used in the same sentence as "mom and dad"
[Sam] 7:54pm
bahahahaha
that makes no difference
you're still talking about a penis
[Hillary]7:56pm
i went for cock.
i added some humour at the end to soften it
[Sam]7:56pm
i can get behind that
i can't decide what word to use for penis in my new blog post
dick was my first choice, but it sounds vulgar...
[Sam]7:52pm
dingle?
rooster?
woody??
[Hillary]7:52pm
both terrible suggestions.
[Sam]7:52pm
make that alllll 3
[Hillary]7:52pm
woody isn't the worst...
johnson?
peter?
[Sam]7:53pm
marvin.
member.
superman?
[Hillary]7:53pm
it will be used in the same sentence as "mom and dad"
[Sam] 7:54pm
bahahahaha
that makes no difference
you're still talking about a penis
[Hillary]7:56pm
i went for cock.
i added some humour at the end to soften it
[Sam]7:56pm
i can get behind that
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The Boys... Might Just Be Hanging in Your Past?
Remember that guy you used to work with, maybe 3 or 4 years ago? You know, the one who was on his way to being really attractive, had a winning wit and charm about him, and was maybe even smart? Yeah, the one who had just turned 18 at the time and still had the weird, bitchy high school girlfriend?
Not that Molly Ringwald was ever weird, and/or bitchy.
Yeah, that guy.
Well, I knew that guy, and at age 20 I hadn't really matured to the point at which I could accept dating a younger guy - and of course, definitely not one with the weird, bitchy high school girlfriend. A couple of years later, however, we've gotten back in touch thanks to a handy little internet tool I like to call "Facebook," and after a few weeks of exchanging posts and messages back and forth, we progressed to texting, and finally we had a nice little get-together of drinks at a local pub planned yesterday although I wasn't entirely sure whether or not it was officially "a date."
This is what internet flirting looks like.
Of course, in my current job I work with the general disgusting public and not so conveniently came down with an ugly plague-like flu on Thursday, meaning that I had to postpone. He expressed, to my glee, great disappointment and we are now not only going for drinks, but also to a local art gallery on Wednesday. This one is a date for sure. Win!
Enjoys being a GENTLEMAN. Get it? I'm hilarious.
Anyway, my point, ladies, is if you have been having trouble meeting appropriate suitors lately, think back to your crappy college job 3 years ago. Maybe there is one that you've already met. Granted, chances are that all the boys you worked with then probably still work there and have no real future, but maybe, just maybe, one of them moved out of town for a few years and got into post-modern literature, enjoys going to the theatre and being a gentleman. Maybe.
Not that Molly Ringwald was ever weird, and/or bitchy.
Yeah, that guy.
Well, I knew that guy, and at age 20 I hadn't really matured to the point at which I could accept dating a younger guy - and of course, definitely not one with the weird, bitchy high school girlfriend. A couple of years later, however, we've gotten back in touch thanks to a handy little internet tool I like to call "Facebook," and after a few weeks of exchanging posts and messages back and forth, we progressed to texting, and finally we had a nice little get-together of drinks at a local pub planned yesterday although I wasn't entirely sure whether or not it was officially "a date."
This is what internet flirting looks like.
Of course, in my current job I work with the general disgusting public and not so conveniently came down with an ugly plague-like flu on Thursday, meaning that I had to postpone. He expressed, to my glee, great disappointment and we are now not only going for drinks, but also to a local art gallery on Wednesday. This one is a date for sure. Win!
Enjoys being a GENTLEMAN. Get it? I'm hilarious.
Anyway, my point, ladies, is if you have been having trouble meeting appropriate suitors lately, think back to your crappy college job 3 years ago. Maybe there is one that you've already met. Granted, chances are that all the boys you worked with then probably still work there and have no real future, but maybe, just maybe, one of them moved out of town for a few years and got into post-modern literature, enjoys going to the theatre and being a gentleman. Maybe.
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Boys Are... Waiting Tables at Chain Restaurants
GIRLS, the next time you are at a chain restaurant and your waiter is a completely adorable, (and better yet, named Miles,) charming young man who you spend a good amount of the evening eye-fucking, just go for it! When he brings you the bill, pay with credit, leave him a generous tip and write "So what's your number?" on the bottom of the receipt. Chances are, you will get a number and a smiley face on your copy.
And then everyone will think you are a hero.
NOTE: This is especially true if you are out to dinner with your 16 year old sister and your mother. That way it's more of a surprise.
And then everyone will think you are a hero.
NOTE: This is especially true if you are out to dinner with your 16 year old sister and your mother. That way it's more of a surprise.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A letter to the cute Australian UPS guy from this afternoon,
It's harder to find a picture of a cute UPS guy
than one might think.)
Thank you for laughing at my terribl(y unprofessional)e jokes about waiting for sacks of balls. I was so thrown off by how maddeningly attractive you were when I opened the receiving door that I could not think of anything sensible today. Please come back again soon so that I can further seduce you with my winning personality and charming sense of humour, because clearly you somehow enjoy it. And I think I'm in love with you.
Or maybe it's just your accent and your tawdry brown shorts.
Much love and balls,
The girl at a certain unnamed cosmetics retailer wearing really bright lipstick.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Only?? Boys Here Are Too ~*~*HxCORE*~*~ for Me
One of our friends has been having really good luck with the boys here this summer. Being that I was elsewhere overseas, I had been having trouble figuring out how she'd had this sudden turn of man-luck in our dingy little city until this past weekend when I learned that the secret elixir was this:
hard-core kids.
Grungy, long-haired, often shirtless but sometimes well-mannered, the headbanging hxcore is something I'm just not sure I could ever bring myself to do, (both because of my aversion to greasy long hair and my theory that they have no idea what to do with a woman - which, yes, I realize that this is probably an overexaggeration). And besides that, this photograph right here is a really good example of why not:
yeah.
But on the other hand, how many girls do you see in that crowd? It's a veritable goldmine of sausage party heaven just longing for a feminine touch. So just because I'm still too attached to hygiene and shirts (and my eardrums for that matter,) doesn't mean you can't partake in the hardcore cake. So girls, go get your hardcore boys!
hard-core kids.
Grungy, long-haired, often shirtless but sometimes well-mannered, the headbanging hxcore is something I'm just not sure I could ever bring myself to do, (both because of my aversion to greasy long hair and my theory that they have no idea what to do with a woman - which, yes, I realize that this is probably an overexaggeration). And besides that, this photograph right here is a really good example of why not:
yeah.
But on the other hand, how many girls do you see in that crowd? It's a veritable goldmine of sausage party heaven just longing for a feminine touch. So just because I'm still too attached to hygiene and shirts (and my eardrums for that matter,) doesn't mean you can't partake in the hardcore cake. So girls, go get your hardcore boys!
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