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Babe, I’m gonna leave you

I promised a follow-up to my last post.  Better late than never, right?

For the past two months I have seen Doc Oc occasionally, usually once a week.  About one month ago he came over one evening and as we were sitting on the couch he said he needed to tell me something. I immediately got nervous, thinking that maybe he had a girlfriend or wife.  No such luck.  He told me that he was moving back to his hometown, which is over four hours away.

My heart sank.  I thought I had finally found a guy in this crappy state that I not only could tolerate, but actually liked.  And now he’s leaving me.

Of course this is the guy who I thought could possibly be a serial killer.  He isn’t, of course.  However, he’s a very quiet person, much like myself, but even more so.  I told my sister that now I know what it’s like to date me, and it’s awful.  And I don’t mean that negatively against him.  I just know that quiet people are difficult nuts to crack.  We hold in so much.  All of our emotions and feelings, hopes and dreams, thoughts and beliefs.  Introverts can be extremely complex people.  Personally, think I do better in relationships with extroverts, even though those are the one’s that usually don’t work out.

Anyway…Oh!  I haven’t even described Doc Oc to you yet.  He’s sexy, in a nerdy hipster subdued kind of way.  Think Robert Downey, Jr. meets young James Spader.  His ass though.  Thank you Jesus for this boy’s ass.  It’s so grab-able.  He’s also intelligent and funny.  It’s just that he doesn’t open up and talk much, which I do wish he had done.

Oh, well.  The good ones always go away.  Or I go away.  Someone always goes away.

My prayer for the day:

“Jesus, just send me Bruno Mars…or Sting…I’d accept Sting also.”

Because I could fuck the hell out of some Bruno, or Sting, right now.

Until next time…”It’s only half past the point of no return.”

Peace, love, & happiness.

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Goodbye sweet Adonis

adonisI think I’m done with Mr. 7am, my beautiful Adonis.  I know I said I was going to give him a chance, and I did.  However, he blew it.  His schedule and his inability to have the common courtesy to let me know that he isn’t going to be coming over, as planned, is just too much for me to deal with.  Yes, he did look amazing standing naked in my living room, but that’s just not enough anymore.

His schedule got changed again this week so he was able to come over Tuesday night to hang out for more than a couple of hours.  I was nervous about it because I wasn’t sure if we’d have enough to talk about, and we didn’t, but he does make me laugh and of course the sex was awesome.  Again, it just isn’t enough.  I need someone who I can hang out with, talk to, get to know, not just drink beer and then have lots of sex.

devilgirlThe sex is addicting, and yes, it’s hard to give that up.  That doesn’t change the fact that I find myself stressing out over how shady he is sometimes and over the lack of an intellectual connection.  The sex is supposed to relieve stress, but if he’s causing me more stress in other ways then it’s just not worth it.  I don’t need any extra stress in my life.

Men.  Damn men.  As much as I love them, they drive me crazy, and not always in a good way.  They tell me they want me to do one thing, then when I do it, they tuck tail and run.  So who’s the real coward here?  At least I’m out there trying.  I’m looking for something deeper and something meaningful.  I may not always go about it in the best way possible, but at least I’m trying.

So in the spirit of not becoming a hermit who sits at home on the couch all the time, I’m about to get ready and go to my local watering hole for some dinner, drinks, and live music.  Of course I’m hoping DC might be there, but even if she’s not I’ll be fine.  I’m going to go relax and enjoy the show.  NO stress, NO man, NO problem.

Happy humping!

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99 problems but a prick ain’t one

So, I had an interesting night.  It started out that I was just supposed to ride to a neighboring city to hear Teacher‘s band play.  I’m friends with a couple in the band and my friend Bacchus was nice enough to offer me a ride.  Everything was fine until I found out that TB was supposed to be going also.  TB, short for Talker Bitch, is batshit crazy and everything that comes out of her non-stop mouth reeks of bullshit.  I noticed all this when I first met her a week ago, but I was drunk and was trying to have an open mind and make some new friends.  Damn.  That was a terrible idea.

So she rides with us to the bar.  We get there and Teacher’s band hadn’t started playing yet, so he was outside smoking with all of us.  While we were there he made a snide remark about E.B. and asked what time he was coming.  I didn’t take to that very kindly and quipped back that I had a very heavy purse in my hand and his head makes for a very large bald target.  TB quickly got all hyped up and kept telling me that I shouldn’t let him talk to me like that.  First of all, it was a joke.  I knew that.  Given the opportunity and the right mood, I would probably have done the same thing.  No worries.  I was fine.

As the night progressed, and TB drank more beer, she became an attention whore to the tenth degree.  That was fine.  I was sitting at my little table drinking my Diet Coke and minding my phone.  Oh yeah, by the way, I was the designated driver, hence the “no alcohol for me” thing.  This was probably only the second time in my life that I have been assigned “Designated Driver” duties and I took it seriously…well, seriously enough.  I had one drink because someone brought it to me, but that was it.

We did listen to the band for a while once they started.  Teacher was awesome as always.  No surprise there.  Then during the break we went back outside to smoke.  Somehow during the conversation, TB came over to me, grabbed my hair, and pulled.  I almost lost it.  I said, “What the fuck! Not cool.”  Of course she and Bacchus tried to play it off.  She especially.  She said, “I didn’t pull it.  I just did like this.”  Then she proceeded to gently run her fingers though my hair.  That just made my temper flare even more.  Hasn’t this damn girl ever heard that you don’t fuck with a redhead?  She needs to be schooled.  I was tempted, but I didn’t school her.  Oh, my God, I wanted to choke the bitch.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.  I overcame.  I was proud of myself.

Then once back inside, there was this whole other drama with this meth head bitch who looked like Twiggy, if Twiggy was raised from the dead a hundred years from now.  But of course, a lot of the guys thought that she was easy prey and tried their best to get in her pants anyway.  Even though she was high as hell and crazy as hell.

Then there was the narcissistic chauvinistic fat-ass lawyer who thought he was hot shit.  He gave me the creeps big time.  I just backed away slowly and went back into the bar like a good little girl.

If all that wasn’t enough to kill my mood, then the next part completed it.

I walked inside to go to the bathroom.  The bar was closing up and Teacher was taking down the equipment.  He came up to me and said, “Would you mind driving me home?  I’d really appreciate it.”  Without thinking I said of course I would.  First, and I told him this, TB was about to give me an aneurism, and second I didn’t want him driving if he was drunk.  I do still care you know.

Well that didn’t go over too well with TB and Bacchus.  I honestly thought Bacchus would be ok to drive, but I guess I was wrong.  They got pissed.  I freaked out, but I didn’t let them know.  I said I’d see if Teacher would want to just ride with us.  So I went inside to tell him what was going on and he told me not to worry, just to take them home because I had already promised them.  FUCK.  Confession: I almost teared up when he told me to go ahead and take them home.  I’m not sure why.

I drove them back here.  I thought they were going to fuck in the backseat while I was driving the 45 minutes back, but that was mainly because that’s what happened the last time I was the “designated driver.”  I don’t think they did, and when we finally made it back I just wanted out.  We were waiting on her mom to meet us and pick her up, which was taking forever.  I was tempted to get out and just walk home from there, but I knew Bacchus wouldn’t let me do that.

Eventually, like this post, it all ended.  I got home, got some sweet tea, pulled out the laptop, and started writing this.  So there ya go.  Like the song says, ” I got 99 problems but a bitch prick ain’t one.”  She was definitely my top problem for the night.  No more TB for me.

Ahhhhhhhh.  Sweet silence.  It’s just you and me, girls & guys, just like it should be.

Happy (quiet) humping!

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P.S.  Yes, I’m actually writing a P.S.  My 40th birthday is next week.  Expect my 400th post on my 40th birthday to be one you’ll never forget.

How to make the Preacher’s Daughter’s panties fall off

First, take me to a nice dinner & for drinks after.  It doesn’t have to be anything too fancy, but definitely not McDonald’s or the Sizzler.

Second, take me to a Bruno Mars concert.  (I get chills just thinking about that man.  Funny, sexy, talented.  The trifecta that I love.  His bass player is pretty hot too.  Mmmm bass.)

Third, watch as my panties fall to the floor, and then prepare to have the best sex you’ve ever had…once we get back to the room.  I ain’t no ho.  It’s not like I’m gonna bang you in the bathroom or anything.  Maybe a little head in the cab though.

Note: This is not the only way to make my panties fall off; it’s just the best way.

Happy humping!  (Shake that ass! Show me whatcha workin’ with!)

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Awaiting Endymion

I had to reschedule with Endymion.  He’s on his way here now.  I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with this little 24-year old boy.  I’m sure I’ll think of something though.  Hahahaha!

Happy humping!