I’m thinking about underwear a lot, and I know myself well enough to know that this is a sign. It actually started last week, as I had two dates with two different guys, and in each case it was an “I’m very likely to fuck him tonight” date, so I started thinking about my underwear. And his. And what else would be under there. Continue reading
Telling your ex that he has a spectacular penis and you don’t know how you’ll live without it is not necessarily the best way to break-up. Especially at the end of an “I swear to god, this is the last time we’re ever doing this, so let’s go all out” fuck session. Talk about strings attached. Big, hard, throbbing strings that you put in his hand and say, “here, pull this, you can probably get me back.” Smart. Continue reading
And no, this has nothing to do with the fact that the ex once again came over for a seemingly legitimate reason yesterday and we wound up fucking the afternoon away. It’s sweet that he knows when my kid gets back from soccer though, right, so he could keep an eye on the clock. I really do need to stop this. Continue reading
I needed this chick weekend. After the exlapsing, and finally shipping him 2,000 miles away to the West Coast, I needed girl time, big time. And I got it, big time. But it made me want a guy, big time. I finally broke down in a sex-toy store, holding a flogger. What can I say, I’m weak. Continue reading
Tonight was date night. After a few days of relapsing with the ex – and squeezing in one last lusty lapse before moving on – I was ready to close the chapter on him by having a hot date with someone who was very promising indeed. I’m not a multi-tasker, so the best way for me to move on is to do it literally. Continue reading
I had to go to a wedding over the weekend. I’m divorced and in my forties. Most of my friends are either divorced and in their 40’s, or unhappily fat and married in their 40’s. Weddings are like a fatal explosion of cynicism and fantasy at which we all drink too much and pretend it’s not us – neither the cynicism or the fantasies. The only thing I like about them is that it is a good chance for to realize how hot I am, and feel a little sanctimonious about it. Sanctimony is a great defense against cynical depression. Continue reading
The not-really ex came over yesterday to get all his stuff. He’s a not really ex, not because we’re not doing “it” anymore – we aren’t – but because he never admitted we were having a relationship in the first place – we were. But in 5 months, a lot of crap accumulated in my house. Continue reading
When you meet guys through work or friends, you can run a basic background check. Nothing major, but some basic, “is he crazy” stuff. With online dating, it’s a crapshoot, but I guess you’re playing the odds, so that makes sense.
There have been some seriously dodged-bullets. Like the really cute guy who Continue reading
I get that the whole idea behind dating is that you meet lots of people, get to know them, give them a chance and hope that somewhere, in all of that energy, you find a good one. This is the same logic that causes people to pan for gold, bent over and knee-deep in a river. Or pray, just in case there’s a heaven.
I am neither a gold-digger nor a magical thinker. I just want some no-drama good times that include good sex. But that voice that says, “give him a chance, be nice” wins over now and then. And that, my friends, is how I wound up on a date with a Teletubby. Wishing it would end. Continue reading
I used to joke that I would never fuck a guy who didn’t have condoms with him. Even if I had them, I figured he was generally unprepared and who knows what he decided to stick it in during a heated moment, like the one I imagined us in, when he didn’t have condoms. Seemed like a simple rule. Until the other night, when I was out with a guy, and totally wanted to fuck him. Continue reading