Archive | February 18, 2012

Who’s at the door?

Normally I would freak out if a guy showed up on my doorstep unannounced, but not tonight.  I spent most of the day doing boring cleaning stuff and writing.  I was about to get in the shower when Art sent me a text saying he was walking home in the rain.  I told him he should have called to ask me for a ride.  Not that I wanted to move my car, because it is Mardi Gras and finding parking is a bitch now.  For him though, I would have taken that chance.

Two minutes later I heard the buzzer.  He was downstairs!  Oh dear Lord!  I had to rush to get my clothes back on and looked like a hot mess, but I couldn’t leave him standing in the rain.  So I rushed downstairs to let him in.  I was happy to see him, but I wished I didn’t look like I did.  Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind.

He came upstairs and said he had worked all day and just needed to get out of the house.  He had run some errands and decided to stop by and see what I was up to.  Of course I immediately wondered if he was just checking up on me to see if I was here alone.  He doesn’t seem like that type, but you never know.  Either way I was happy to see him, but he couldn’t stay for very long.  He had to go back home and work some more.  😦

Now I’m here alone again, horny as hell, and bored to tears.  It seems like no matter how much time I get to spend with him it is never enough.  He’s just so much fun to be with.  Shit.  I’m so screwed.

Is it too early to put my Christmas request in to Santa?  All I want for Christmas is that boy.

Happy humping!

I need a little sugar in my bowl

Valentine’s Day may have been full of confusion and disappointment, but the rest of the week was so much better.  You all were right.  Communication is the key to understanding what the hell people are thinking and avoiding confusion.  Manwhore decided that he was going to move in with his new “girlfriend” and he let me know via text last weekend.  I told him that was fine as long as he paid me back for the deposit on the apartment.  He agreed to that, so overall I had no problem with him moving out.  I’m not particularly fond of having to find another apartment and move again, but I’m sure I’ll find something in this area that I can afford on my own.  I’m sure as hell not moving out of New Orleans now that I’ve met Art.  I want to at least see where it goes and I also like my new job.  So the Whore Parade may be over, but that’s certainly not the end of my new life in the Big Easy.

I went to hear Art play and sing at a local bar Wednesday night.  Yes, he’s a musician too, not just an artist.  He’s a very well-rounded gentleman.  He even dedicated a song to me, Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain.  My eyes are green, not blue, and I wasn’t crying, except maybe from laughter, but it was raining.  😉  He did a great job on it either way.  It’s not very often that I have a song dedicated to me, so I was ready to pounce him after that.  Even though he did tell me to raise my hand so everyone would know who I was, and he announced that I was a huge Willie fan.  That wouldn’t have been so bad except we were in a bar full of mostly gay men, so of course the double entendre was not lost on them.  I’m sure I blushed, but it was all good.  When he told them that I had “a room full of Willie,” which referred to a conversation he and I had when he came over to my place the first time, someone yelled out, “So you’ve been in her bedroom already huh?!”  Everyone laughed.  I don’t mind a laugh at my expense every now and then. 🙂

After he got through performing he sat down with me and a friend of his and we had a drink and talked.  His friend had warned me earlier that Art was to be cut off after three glasses of wine because any more than that and it would be like Art amplified.  I didn’t see how that could necessarily be a bad thing, and it turned out that it wasn’t.  He’s just funnier and hornier.  Those are never bad things.

I was sort of anxious to see his place because he had been to mine but I still hadn’t seen his yet.  I was curious to see how my little starving artist lived.  He had warned me that it was sort of a hole in the wall.  We left the bar and went to his place.  It really wasn’t that bad.  He said he’s renting it from a friend of his who is also an artist.  There is all sorts of artwork all over the walls and it has a very New Orleans hippy feeling to it.  I like it.  It didn’t take us long to end up naked and doing things that would make Madonna blush.  To be completely honest, I Continue reading