High School

Back story:

I knew a guy in high school. Let's call him Bob. He and I were both sarcastic to the point of no return. We acted like we hated everything about one another. Of coarse we all know that, in high school, that's code for "I'm totally in love with you".
Anywho... Junior year, I asked him to the turnabout dance. He accepts. We act like fools all night long. I might have accidentally gotten our entire party lost in the city of Chicago while attempting to go out to eat at some overpriced restaurant that night. Everyone seemed eager to bitch about it. I, on the other hand, found it to be quite a fun adventure.
At the end of the night we all head back to my house for a slumber party. Girls only. But before that occurred, Bob and I had a moment to ourselves, to chat about the night.
He was a funny guy, but there was nothing funny about him telling me that he basically had an awful time. Which is what happened. Now, granted...he was sarcastic...but I wouldn't think that sarcasm would be appropriate for that moment. He then proceeded to go in for a kiss. I turned away. I'm certain that I pissed him off. I didn't care. He pissed me off.

Fast forward 10 years:

I didn't go to my high school reunion. I didn't give a shit. I hang out with the people that I want to hang out with from high school. I'm Facebook friends with the rest. One of those Facebook friends includes Bob. We had been friends on the site for as long as it's existed. The sassy past was water under the bridge and we didn't talk much. He had some swanky job and bought himself a house out in the middle of nowhere. If it weren't for the distance, I would have considered hanging out with him again. But no.
All the meanwhile, I'm on a shitty dating site and I stumble across.....(you guessed it)....Bob's profile. He immediately sends me a message, calling me a stalker. I can see that times haven't changed much. We proceed to be jerks in love with one another. So we chat about hanging out. I tell him to come to the city. He tells me to come to the middle of nowhere. I win and he winds up in the city.
We hung out for about 4 hours. Just chatting about high school and laughing our asses off about how ridiculous we were....and still are. It was swell to see him. There was nothing lovey dovey. So I immediately had the thought, "It's cool. We are friends. He doesn't like me like that anymore. I've become a mini water buffalo. I get it. No worries. No concerns. Moving on."
The end of the night went as expected. I asked if he comes to the city often. He said no. Cool. He then says, "See ya in another 10 years." (hysterical)


One week later:

I...might...have...

Well...ya see....

I get a text at 7pm from Bob...

...and although he said he was not EVER in the city, he happened to be...again...

...so he asks if I want to hang out....

(Duh)

So he comes over.... and we have a really fun/ hilarious time (per usual)....

...and then he brings up the turnabout dance that ended awkwardly....

...and then he basically hints at wanting to try that over again....

...and then I tell him that I think he's funny.

...and then he tells me, "I'm going to lick your face." (I. SHIT. YOU. NOT.)

Then he does so.

Which then leads to a very awesome makeout session.

During which, he says, "Be honest. How long have you been waiting for this?"

To which I reply, "I fucking hate you, Bob."

So he laughs out loud and I interrupt to say....."I'm sorry. I meant to say.....about three hours."

He said, "Shut up. You mean 10 years."

Hahahahaaaaa

So then I proceed to be funny and I asked him when he's moving in with me.

He says, "I can hear the truth in your sarcasm."
(silence)
"I can't move here. I have to be closer to work. You need to move in with me out in the burbs. The dogs will love the yard."

GAH! No! THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE!!!! No no no no no


..........and NOW I'm sitting at work thinking about how awful it would be to have a relationship with someone who lives in the super far fuckin' suburbs .....and how terrible the Metra ride would be.......

.....and how I might be completely willing to consider it because I have loved/hated Bob since high school and want to have his Polish/ Italian/ Mexican babies!

Just murder me.

Merry Fucking Christmas

External Monologue

I assume none of you are still reading this blog. So I'm completely aware that my ramblings are simply for my own amusement, at this point.

Anyway...
I think I use to be a bit more lovey dovey about meeting new potentials. I'm not sure when I completely gave up but I feel like I'm viewing every new love interest as a future failure. That sounds terrible, right?! I don't really give a shit. It takes a lot to impress me nowadays.

It has come to the point where I found myself telling my roommate, "He seems nice but it's date #2 he is already boring me. He has been talking a big game in regards to sex, so I think I might just hit it and quit it."

You know it's bad when it's an hour after dinner and I'm making excuses of "not feeling well" in order to just leave his apartment due to lack of excitement. I mean, come on! Why am I still fully clothed???

Aren't boys suppose to understand that "hang out" means "make out".....and that "hang out" on date #3 means "wild sex"?!?! Duh.

So I just did what any sex-crazed floozy would have done. I told him that I was ready to leave. He promptly pushed me onto his bed and got me naked. (Goddamn! I'm gonna use that line more often.)

In other news: I seem to have acquired a new boy who seems hell bent on sexting me dick pics, like it's his job. (Awesome!)

Hot & Heavy

The man and I were (once again) rolling around naked yesterday. He had been working and then hanging out with his dude friends prior to coming over for the night. Usually he strolls in and quickly inquires if I'm hungry. This is largely due to the fact that he's an eating machine. Last night was different. We started recapping our days out loud and while I was talking about random shit that happened to me, he was talking about random shit he had eaten.
So he tells me that he had a roast beef sandwich for dinner. Who cares, right?
Moving on....

So chatting quickly turns into heavy petting.

It was at this point that I began to feel a burning sensation in my nether regions.

I grabbed his hand from my crotch and holding back a moan of pain, I asked him if he had opted for jalapeno peppers on his roast beef sandwich that he had eaten for dinner.

He said, "Yes"

I asked, "Did you wash your hands afterward?"

Before he could even say anything I shouted, "I'll answer that! NO! You didn't...and now my VAJAYJAY IS ON FIRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"

I ran to the bathroom and quickly hopped in the shower. I came back to bed and proceeded to sit spread eagle for about 20 minutes after that.

So this is love....(la da da daaa)

I’ve been out of the blogging loop. Sue me.

I met a dude I really like. He really likes me too. (Cue: Applause)
This man is pretty much the most socially awkward dude I’ve ever met. You know it’s bad when you find yourself comparing his behavior to that of Napoleon Dynamite. But all the same, he’s my socially awkward man.

He’s really quiet…..almost mute. I question what he’s thinking most of the time. We’re polar opposites. I feel like I’ve always been searching for someone as loud and as outrageous as myself, and always seemed to find myself terribly heartbroken and disappointed in the end. So, needless to say, I’m quite surprised that this little love affair has been going on for over 4 months already.

I was even more surprised when this dude uttered the phrase, “I love you” the other day.

I admit, the last time I said that to someone it ended up pretty disastrous, so I hesitated and stayed silent. My first thought was, “Oh shit…..just kiss him….maybe he won’t notice that you didn’t respond”.
Then he said it again…..and again.

SHIT!

I had to just come right out and say it, “I feel the same way but I’m not ready to say it back yet.”

I thought I had certainly just broken this guy’s heart, but he looked me in the eyes and said, “I don’t need you to say it back right now. I don’t want to pressure you into saying anything. When you feel it…..if you ever feel it…. just say it. But you should know that I don’t say things like this….but I do….I love you. ”

Note: If we weren’t already naked, this would be the point where clothes would fly.

You guys…..seriously…..I think I’m in love with Napoleon Dynamite.

tales of a shit bag

GUEST POST

Some days you’re just so thirsty for some pussy, that you’d do or say anything just to get your tip in. Or maybe that’s just me?
(My tendency is to want what I can’t have.)

So when a girl I’m dating dry humps me 'til the veins on my cock are about to burst, refusing to fuck me until I take an STD test, I’ll lie.

I’ll tell her how I set up a doctor’s appointment. A few days later I'll text to say that I made it to said appointment and a few more after that, another text apprising of the green light for some good old fashion fucking.

When she asks to see the results, I’ll let her know “I’ll bring them buy tomorrow, framed and matted”. Then instead, I’ll ignore her calls/texts and never speak to her again.

Or maybe a girl really wants to fuck but I refuse to use lifestyles condoms because I rip straight through them; I’ll lie and inform her that I had a vasectomy. Luckily, I have this wicked scar that trails from my taint to my balls, crediting my deception.

But come on, you should see these girls (!) with their gloriously monstrous asses and tits the size of my head, spewing suggestions of things they would do to me.
Purring lines you’d only hear in Hustler editorials.

They had it ‘cumming’.
(Did you see what I did there?)

I'm a scumbag.

get out that tiny violin for me and start playing now

So I'm on a date the other night and we're drinking bourbon in hot mulled cider -- it held my regard, my date however did not.

He talked a lot which helped because he didn't notice that I wasn't paying attention.
The bartenders laughed, I rolled my eyes, they engaged me with videos on their phones. I got drunk enough that I thought I was entertained.
We went for dinner after that. I paid.

After I'd dropped enough money and was ready to go home he kissed me, shoving his mustache hairs in my nose. It was early and I was bored so I decided I'd take him home to see how big his penis was.

I couldn't find it.
Sigh.
Never again.

leave zoo sex to the french

Tuesday begins, guest posts!
The first in this series by a male friend, a self-proclaimed, lovable-scumbag.
...........................................................................................................................

At the peak of my pussy-pursuing days, online dating sites were my number one source of guilt-free sex. For every ten messages I’d send out there would be at least three or four replies to work with. Pretty good odds if you ask me. Not only that, but every so often I’d get an unprompted message, which would of course do tremendous things to my (already inflated) ego.

The number of women I’ve bedded through my online conquests remains unknown to me; although I'm sure I have a list somewhere.

Let's begin.

I’m not the biggest animal lover in the world.
My love for creatures can be summed up to simply, cats, turtles and hamsters.
That’s it.

I especially hate dogs.
HATE DOGS.

I especially hate little dachshunds.
Little dachshunds whom you insist should stay in the room while we’re trying to get it on.
Yup, you insist on leaving it the room while I’m trying to go down on you.
You want to know why I hate this? Sometimes, it invites itself in on the (oral) fun.

You know what makes it worse? What I especially hate?
I hate that you let it happen.
You say, "Oh it's ok, I let him do that sometimes"
Fucking really?

Threesomes are cool.
Threesomes with your hot dog are not.

full release

DEEP IN THE ARCHIVES
The beginning of a series about a man I call Indy. Formal introduction to this period of my life and our relationship still to come.

It's summer of 2007 and we're hanging at his house one afternoon, playing video games and drinking. I soon bored of the tv, like I do, and began undressing us before straddling him on the futon.

I love riding men on futons because the bar in the back allows for a sort of leverage, allowing me to lean into them in ways my core muscles aren't robust enough to. While mounted and riding cock in bed, I often wish there was a bar was installed on the wall so that I could accomplish this same acrobatic feat without having to own that horrid piece of furniture that is, the futon.

Anyway, we're listening to Aesop Rock's All Day mix for Nike, which I should add is a fabulous 45 minute track for fucking, if you're not familiar, try it out. I gave him a zealous ride, easing into him and then bouncing us hard depending where the beat took us. I love a good soundtrack, it picks the rhythm for you, takes you to places.

He leaned his head back at one point and said, "you're so crazy". I remember this distinctly, not because of what he said but rather the voice he said it in. He had a tone when I fucked him right that I never heard any other time. It was like a cookie to me; you've done good pig.

After I'd come several times and he'd blown his load between our bodies, I smashed against him, sliding my body against his chest, feeling his cum drip down between us. We enjoyed the requisite post-coital make out and then jumped in the shower.

When we came back to the living room refreshed and ready to play some more katamari, he noticed a stain on the couch.

I fucked the man so good he shit his couch.
Yup, shit on his couch.

to be continued..

ah, everyone loves a good black out

So I drunk dialed someone I haven't talked to in about 3 years the other night. He popped back into my life about a month ago but interaction was mostly mid-day IM'ing about not wanting to be at work.

He called me the next day to follow-up on a date we had planned; I didn't remember anything about it. I also apparently said some pretty explicit things, he didn't even want to repeat them.

Him: You were ridiculous last night. I laughed for an hour straight and then you were gone.
Me: Sooo, I said...?
Him: Well for one, you said that you weren't going to have sex with me, probably. However I could fuck you with your dildo and if you squirted on my face, you'd lick it off.
Me: Sounds like me.

go bold or go home

I actually met someone on the train this week.

(Scenario)
We catch eyes. We smile.
Repeat.
I typed "call me, xxx-xxx-xxxx" on my phone, tapped him on the shoulder and held it up.
With a smirk and a nod, he clicked at his phone.

A short while later I was walking into work when I got a text, "This is _______, that was ballsy. What made you do it?" I replied, "It was a 'just do it' moment"

Around lunchtime he calls to tell me that he has a girlfriend, who lives with him but his intrigue was too strong to ignore me. He was excited that something 'interesting' had happened.

Later in the week, he met me on the train platform, with coffee. Kinda sweet. I have this strange, totally platonic breed of adultry going on, it's called 'the train date'.

new era

Sorry readers! My portion of the blog has been on hiatus.
The majority of the missing time was spent in a brief but wonderful love story, a subsequent shattered heart, followed by a super fun stint with the most colorful village bicycle on this side of town.

I've been both brazen and a hussy since May.
Lessons have been learned and here I am, more jaded, more guarded, and more emotionally unavailable than ever before.

The two most important things I learned:
1. Don't fuck your friend's ex
2. Don't fuck your readers

This begins the 'go bold or go home' initiative where I take life, men, and my projects by the balls.
Anyone in the mood to be spanked? I just waxed my paddle.

Indeed

Seasonal Internship Position Available

The Brazen Hussies are currently accepting applications for fourth quarter boyfriends. Please review the requirements listed below. Those who do not meet the majority of these requirements need not apply.

1. Please be up to date on all of your shots
2. Must have bachelors degree or higher (PhD preferred)
3. Self starter, highly motivated with an excellent credit history
4. Must be able to clean up after himself
5. Must look glorious in a three piece suit
6. Witty bantering skills (70 wpm. No mumblers)
7. Must bathe regularly (with soap- we can't emphasize that enough)
8. Must have full-time job and be willing to pay for a meal once in a while
9. No children from previous relationships (no exceptions)
10. No criminal history
11. Must be skilled in the art of mingling
12. Please be able to handle your booze responsibly
13. Fix-it men are a plus
14. Should be willing to make the first move (and it better be a damn good one)


Please note that this is an unpaid internship lasting Fall to Winter of 2010, with the possibility of becoming a full-time position in the future. Availability of at least 25 hours a week is a must (generally after the hours of 5pm).

Benefits included: home cooked meals, endless supplies of cuddles, handmade scarves, intelligent conversation, and lots of chandelier swinging sex

Please submit resumes and photos (preferably nude) to:
itllbebetternexttime@gmail.com

We look forward to hearing from you.

I couldn't even go 3 days

Got caught at the airport the other day with my dildo.

The TSA woman asks,"what's this?" while gesturing the curve shape of the toy with her hand.
me: a dildo ma'am

her: a what?

me: a DILdoooh ma'am

her: ???

me: a sex toy!

her: step this way ma'am

Man standing next to me makes an awkward look of disgust and shakes his head.

She proceeds to pull me aside and with gloved hands begins to dig through my bag. It was at the bottom and she took her time. When she got to it, she pulled it out and asked, "this???"

me: yes ma'am, that's it

her: (to the other ladies she works with) Have you ever seen anything like this?

Lady 1: What isssss that?

Lady 2: How would you use it?

me: FML

They put it though the xray machine a few times, taking turns pulling it back out and squealing. Mothers in line were covering their children's eyes, everyone staring at me. I tied my shoe.

The TSA agent comes back, holding it at shoulder height, away from her body with two fingers - I was allowed to put it back in my bag. If it wasn't stainless steel and able to be boiled, I think I would've thrown it out.

However, this won't stop me from bringing it again. I'd rather become a pro at embarrassment.

you know you're a hussy when

You're talking to a friend about a past lover, and come to the realization that one of their past lovers and one of your past lovers, have also been lovers.

A poor young lady was dating the professor and fell for him.
Meanwhile, I'm seeing the professor in a different capacity.

She really started to like him at a Cubs game.
I turned down attending that same Cubs game first.

She didn't want to have sex with him because when she does have sex with men, they typically don't call her again. The professor was no different and their time together was over after the third date.

I found out from my friend that as it turns out, this poor young lady happens to have a hairy ass. Like, really hairy.

We all know why the men don't call back. The question is, why hasn't she figured that out?

Rear Window

I'm beginning to suspect that my neighbors think I'm a total slut.

They always seem to be "gardening" or "barbecuing" when I have my guy friends over to hang out.

For all they know, these "guy friends" could be gayer than a handbag full of rainbows.

Am I schtupping these guys?

....Of coarse....don't be silly.

Do I care what the neighbors think of me?

....not really, but it would be nice if they could go in their houses for a change. There's only so much gardening and barbecuing a person can do in a week.....and I'm pretty sure that they're putting in overtime just to see who I'll bring home next.

Thank God for curtains!

He's Just Not That Into You

Even after weeks of trying to make something truly special last, I find myself in the same vicious cycle. I don't ask for much. A call. A text. An email once in a blue moon. But in the end, I find that I put far more effort into things than the "truly special" party ever does.

Am I needy? Kinda.

I require attention. Although I've been claiming that it's my fatal flaw, I'm now thinking otherwise. If you like me, you would be calling me, texting me, and emailing me. Why waste someone's time, right?

I'm just saying, girls get hung up on the "he's not calling me", "he's not responding to my texts"......well guess what?....it's probably because he could care less.

Move on sweetheart.

Someone who truly "gets" you is out there. Someone who wants to be with you every hour of the day, loves your silly moments, anxiously awaits your calls, and can't help to laugh at your terrible jokes is out there. Searching for that person is a lost cause. Your paths will cross when it's the right time.

...but until then....life goes on.

(And Yes....that was entirely a pep-talk for myself...but I figured others could relate and needed to hear it.)

Honor Code- Established in 1817

What What.....in the butt.....

I’ve got a best “dude” friend. We’ve never smooched. We’ve never been secretly in love with each other. We’ve just been good friends. Not exciting, right? Our major bond is tied to the fact that we’re both single and have outrageous dating stories. Horrible dating stories! On occasion I feel that our dialogue is sitcom worthy.

Dude (friend): You should date Bob.

Me: He's okay. I think he might be an alcoholic though.

Dude: I think he likes you.

Me: So make it happen.

Dude: Well...he did have too much to drink the other day and asked me if I wanted to come over to his place.

Me: .....to drink?

Dude: No! That was the thing! We got all the way over to his house and he goes 'Oh I don't have any alcohol'. So what the hell were we going to his house for?!

Me: He wanted to put it in your butt.

Dude: What?!

Me: Totally wanted to put it in your butt.

Dude: I mean....I guess he has some gay tendencies from time to time.

Me: Right up the butt.

Dude: He told me to sleep on his couch.

Me: I'm surprised he didn't tell you to get in his bed.

Dude: Stop it!

Me: Well...it looks like I'm never gonna allow you to fix me up with any of your friends from now on.

Dude: What? Why?

Me: Well if you don't have the gaydar to weed out the flames, then I'm just gonna end up in the same situation that I'm always in! You know the gays love me!

Dude: I guess you're right.

Me: I am. I'm always right. I'm Italian.

Dude: I hate you.

Me: I love you.

Dude: I love you too.

Me: I know.