The Dream Genie Sucks

Sorry I've been AWOL lately. I'm still attempting to do this on my psychotic laptop, as well as start a business, do business plans, and the mirade of other crapola that goes along with it. I'm just hoping like hell that this venture takes off. Crossing fingers.. and maybe toes... if it does like it seems its going to.. I'll be busy buying my dream computer. Right now weighting if that would be an investment or a luxury.

But back to men.. and dating... and me being a little crazy.

I've been having dreams lately. Those sexy dreams.. the ones where you start picturing them naked, and thinking of all the things you want to do with them. Yeah those dreams.

And.. Pierce has been making a regular appearance. Which means I do (damn it) like him... but it also is problematic.

See.. my body/brain knows I like him. There's still that odd hope of "this might be something".. which means until its really something, until I've actually seen him naked or until I've completely ruled him out as a possibility.. My mind refuses to actually undress him or imagine much of anything that isn't readily seen... aka I've pictured his bare chest, because the last time I saw him his tshirt was so "fitted" that there was little left to the imagination.

So while my dreams start off sexy, and you know darn good and well that they're headed to Nakedtown, they never actually make it there.


Last night, I had this fantastic dream (which I might write up later) setting Pierce and I up for a very hot romp.. and then when it came to the hot romp itself.. The dream would die, or start over at the begining.. it did end up going to a sex romp later, but it wasn't with Pierce, just some nameless faceless guy. *sigh*

Even my dreams won't give me satisfaction. This sucks.

Guilty & Ready For My Beating

We all like to judge. We judge ourselves. We judge others. We even sometimes enlist other people to judge us.. because we obviously don't get enough judgement throughout our day.. or we hope the verdict will be different.

We tie ourselves into knots, and we enlist the help of others in this as well.

No where is this more prevalent than in dating. We are constantly bombarded with "do this" and "don't do that" .. that by the time we actually manage to find someone to accompany us, we've got ourselves convinced that we are other than we are.

Some of us convince ourselves we're more of a catch than we are. Our perfect maintenance. Our perfect manners. Our perfect set of rules and regulations.

Others of us convince ourselves that we're not a catch at all. We have too much hair or not enough, imperfect teeth, undesirable bodies, horrid careers.. and so on. We convince ourselves that we aren't social adept enough or interesting enough. We chide ourselves as losers for not being able to follow simple "rules" of dating.

Whats even worse than this.. is that we ask others to bolster these opinions. We specifically choose to go to people who we know (darn good and well) will give us the praise or tongue-lashing that we feel we deserve.

This post by Moxieinthecity has been bugging me for days, and I've come to the conclusion of why.. or conclusions maybe?

To start.. I'll be honest. My first reaction to Moxie's post was offense. I felt judged, because like the poster.. I've had sex on the first date. I like sex. I give in occasionally to the moment.. sometimes encouraged by TOM (hormones are evil) and alcohol (decreases my inhibitions, aka makes me horny). I don't necessarily think this is something that should be held against me.. though I fully understand that often it is.. and I sometimes worry about men's intentions after the fact.  Are they going to call? If they call are they only calling for a bootycall?

But thats not why it stuck with me. I fully grasp that by sleeping with said person I've made my choice to take a huge risk that he won't want to see me again. (In my past, I did this often out of self-sabotage. I figured he'd leave once he got sex, might as well make it sooner than later.)

Why it stuck with me was this... I related to.. and felt sorry for.. the girl.

I felt sorry for her because she was so full of self-doubt that it was hampering her ability to just enjoy her choices. Instead of embracing her choice to have sex, she was beating herself up, and judging herself for it.  Running doomsday scenarios of why he was calling rather than finding out for herself.

Secondly, I felt sorry for her.. because not only was she judging herself.. she actively sought out Moxie to help tongue-lash her... and Moxie did. 

Moxie let her have it in ways that .. well.. make me want to find the OP and give her a hug.

"You didn't really accept the consequences. If you had, you'd never have sent him that text. Now, had you sent him a text one night when you were feeling frisky and wanted to grab some wine and a shag?"

To me this says... if you have sex on the first date, don't bother trying to be anything to him other than a bootycall. Which is wrong.. so wrong.. Sure sure.. sex on the first date does decrease the chances in most men's minds that you'll ever be more than casual.. but not all men.  If he really likes you, sex on the first date isn't going to matter (trust me I've got a couple marriage proposals to prove it).

Sending a "thank you" text the next day.. is good etiquette. Just is. Always.

I just wish we could stop beating each other up. Stop beating ourselves up, for things that come naturally and are consensual. Whether we like it or not, we have to deal with the consequences.. and when it comes to sex.. those consequences aren't always what we expected. Sometimes they're good, and sometimes they're disaster.. but they're always unpredictable.

Enjoy your life.. Take each day as it comes.

Not Your BootyCall

Sometimes I can't tell if I'm a mental case, saying I want one thing and in reality wanting something else... or if the standards I have for what I want are just wrong or unreasonable. Or?

Hock texted me at 3am.  I knew he'd been out all night drinking and having fun because we follow each other on Twitter and thus I see his Foursquare posts. That he was out all night, I didn't care really and it mattered not. It was merely just twitterfeed.

But am I out of my mind to be "offended" or otherwise upset for him texting me at 3am wondering what I'm doing so he can ask me to get together to screw around?

I am highly sensitive to feeling like someone's last choice or "well if there's nothing else, she'll do".. and I do not bear it well. Which is exactly how I perceive a 3 am bootycall text.

At first, I thought he was drunk and was merely going to tell him to go get some sleep. If he was drunk, I could forgive it or at least give him some leeway. But he assured me he was sober and driving home past my place.

Trying to get a booty call from me at 3am.. Never going to happen.

I told him I wasn't the "booty call kind of girl". 

He apologized. We texted a bit more, but now I'm even more not sure if I should go to that party he invited me to..

Do I go and make nice and be "friends" and forgive him?  Or do I stay home, and let things fade completely?

I was up most of the night (insomnia not related to this) and pondered this because well it really upset me. I really didn't expect him to think that that kind of behavior was acceptable. The more I thought about it the more upset and pissed off I got.

No one calls or texts someone they barely know at 3 am for any reason other than a major emergency and they can't get a hold of anyone else. 

Had we had a long history of bootycall behavior in which him calling me last minute for sex was known to be ok, I could have bore it better. But we don't. We actually never discussed bootycalls at all, and were only together once. Not wanting a serious relationship does not indicate that courtesy and respect goes out the window, or at least it shouldn't.

Had he called me or texted me earlier in the evening and set up a "sex date", I'd have been more willing to say yes or at least considered it without being this offended/upset. But, no no, he texts me as he's driving home at 3 am hoping that I'm awake and horny. 

Right or wrong, his actions indicate to me that he doesn't really respect me as a person and I feel cheap.

As angry at him that I am, I'm equally angry with myself..  justly or unjustly I blame myself.

It's little events like this that make me never want to open my legs again.

Girls Just Want To Have Fun

The other night I went out with some friends. These are newish friends and are a lot of fun. 

So anyway, they invite their friends. I invite my friends. Its a friends of friends of friends party essentially.

And I meet men. Plural.

As statistics go, it was about normal. Most were married. Some were gay. A few were single.

One of the married men is a friend of mine already. We've been flirting innocently for months. I've met his wife and think she's pretty awesome... well when she's not on a soapbox.. but then I suppose I'm not all that awesome when I'm on mine either. They're a great couple though, and the flirting is just a little fun. Though I have to say, should he suddenly be single.. that might change. (insert sly wink here)

I do have to say though that when she joked about trading him in for a younger model, I nearly grabbed him and put a dibs on him myself.  I was a little tipsy at the time. Luckily just a little tipsy. He's taken. I get it and I admire it. Doesn't make him any less eye candy though.

The gay guy was well.. wow. He wasn't over the top gay. Just looking at him he looked like any ordinary completely gorgeous manly athletic straight man. Seriously HOT. And then he spoke.

He didn't have a huge lisp or a feminine voice really, so it wasn't a huge giveaway to the general public.  However, he was all about "fabulous" with the appropriate inflections, and friendly in a platonic fun way that only happily married men and men who completely aren't interested in you and have no concerns at all that you might be. He was fun and engaging, and I soooo want him.. as my new best friend. :) 

However almost immediately after entering the bar, I noticed this guy. He was dressed like I like em. Button down shirt, slacks, nice shoes. Yes I totally get off on business attire. Shut up.

He however looked like he was good friends maybe more with a friend of mine. So I backed off initially. He was buying her drinks and I assumed they were together. 

We talked a bit about his job which is unrelated to anything I do, and Hock immediately was in his wallet and giving me his card. I didn't ask for it nor did I show extra interest in what he did thus provoking a card. He just gave me one.

This got my thoughts going, and I started doubting that they were more than friends. Maybe I was crazy, but I felt slightly hit on. I shrugged it off and moved on to mingle elsewhere.

My girl friends however were way ahead of me drinking. They were off flirting and groping strange men and men they knew. 

"So you're having a butt grabbing game?"

"Yes, you should join us! Go grope someone.." they replied as they scoped the room looking for a victim for me.

"Umm I'm way not drunk enough for that yet. Let me go catch up."

Thus the tone of the night was set, and I got tipsy despite all efforts at self-control. Ok, there wasn't much effort at self-control.

I mingled. I flirted. Single. Married. Gay. I flirted, and I drank.

Then I ran into Hock again. This time we talked more, played bar games together, and flirted. 

We drifted apart each mingling in different areas of the bar, and met up again. Flirted, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. He put his arm around me.

This is where things got fuzzy. Up until this point, I wasn't sure if he was or was not into me. He was laid back, relaxed, and non-aggressive. I normally assume this to be not interested. 

However our exchange while our bodies were close and touching was anything but platonic. He'd mentioned several times in absolute seriousness that he was just out for fun right now. I got the impression that there was more to it, some kind of lingering pain or psychosis that he'd not worked through yet. But fun.. sounded fun.

He asked if I wanted to take this somewhere else. I honestly can't remember if the question was go somewhere else like another bar, or if it was a go have sex question. I know I answered it as the latter.

"How about your place?"

"Ok. Let me close out." 

He was sweet and polite, and it confused me. I think I might be a little jaded. I waited while he went to the bar to close out.

He was polite the entire way out. We left arm in arm and he walked me back to my car as he told me his address. Not once did he ask for my number. So I assumed this was one night stand fun. I'd already figured that out by his mention of just wanting to have fun.

He then began to "sell" me on himself in an awkward insecure kind of way. Essentially telling me that he's more than financially sound, and talking about his political beliefs (which were sexy btw)... I honestly felt like telling him..

"Dude I'm in this for the sex. Your trust funds, stock portfolio, or whatever matter not. You said fun, not dating. Are you changing your mind now?"

But I didn't. I merely told him that his finances mattered not at all to me.

We get to my car and we kiss. He's a good kisser, but kind. Gentle. I know I'm a good kisser, and I know I know how to provoke a man into being an animal. So I tried. We were getting hot and heavy, but the more I tried to provoke him the more docile he seemed to get, and the more turned on.

I admit having power over a man sexually is pretty damn awesome, but on a one night stand kind of fun thing.. I'm not used to being in charge. I'd much rather the guy pin me to the wall and take me. But the more I tried to encourage it, the less it seemed to happen.

At one point I even remarked to him about it, hinting that I thought he was taking the backseat, being a submissive, or whatever. If he'd have verbally owned it, I'd have taken charge.. but he insisted that he could be the animal just not in the public setting we were in. He promised if I came to his place that he'd show me.

So after about an hour or so of making out and causing a public scene. More than once being told to "get a room". No clothes came off.. just kissing. I told him I'd meet him at his place. I reminded him that he didn't have my number, and he replied with, "well you have my card right?"

Weird.

So I go to meet him at his place but stop off at my apt quickly first to freshen up. My makeup is all over the place and my nose was beet red from his 5 o'clock shadow. I needed some major fixing. I also slipped on some sexy lingerie.

I also felt my "illness" acting up.. the one I've mentioned in previous posts. Its actually a "condition" not an illness, so not communicable.. but nevertheless I took my meds and hoped that would put an end to the symptoms and let me have a good couple hours of sex. He promised just a fun thing, so I figured I just needed to be symptom-free for a few hours.

I get to his place. He apologizes for its state (which is cleaner than my place btw). We resume kissing and find our way to the bedroom.

What happened was not what I was prepared for.. and maybe you readers can help me by letting me know if this is normal or if I'm crazy.

I tease and taunt, but still he's being docile and sweet. I began to wonder where this animal in him was hiding and if I was ever going to see it. I initiated him taking his clothes off and he did. I took my outer clothes off and left my lingerie and bra on, he never bothered to take off either one and left it completely up to me. I don't know if I'd have left them on if he'd ever have initiated me removing them. As it was, it was I that initiated and removed my own bra and panties, but the lacy camisole stayed on out of my own curiosity if he'd ask me to remove it. He did not. It was strange being so in charge of everything. Yet he told me constantly how hot I was and how sexy he found me.

He was sweet the whole time, so much so that it tugged at my heart and I thought about dating him. He'd mentioned that he'd not done this in a long time, and the way he said it made me believe him.

The sex was awkward. He would get going. I'd get going, and just as I was really getting going, he'd stop. He did this once, twice, threetimes.. I started to get very fucking annoyed.  So I asked him about it, and he said he was doing it on purpose to tease me.. 

"I wondered when you'd notice"

Seriously wanted to beat him, but he knocked it off and go going. Still it felt more like we were trying to make love rather than fuck. It was weird.  The roughest he got was with sucking/biting my neck, which he ended up giving me a hickey.

When we were finished, he wanted talk. Chat. Chit Chat. Converse. He wanted me to ask him about himself. To get to know him. WTF? After sex, I'm lucky to be able to form words. He told me how beautiful and sexy I was.  (He did amit after sex that his whole starting/stopping thing wasn't intentional. I didn't ask for more details but I should have.)

Then he wanted to cuddle. Really cuddle. Not just that after sex little cuddling thing, but cuddle like you would in a real relationship. Sweetly.

My head was seriously trying to wrap my mind around it. I wanted to lecture him that he can choose "fun" or a "relationship" but he really needs to be more clear about what he wants.

He wanted me to spend the night. He wanted to sleep cuddling. I tried to acquiesce but I am not a sleeping cuddler.  I'll cuddle. I'll sleep. But unless I'm dead tired, I don't do both at the same time.. especially not without being in a real relationship.

Finally I tell him that I need to sleep and I roll away. He falls asleep before I do, and starts snoring. Adorably he sleeps with a pillow over his face to muffle the sound. Seriously how adorable is that?

Then my "condition" started acting up. I could feel it was going to be bad. My stomach started to hurt, and I was going to need to use the restroom. More than that though, I was holding onto a fart that was going to be huge... if it was just a fart, might be more disgusting than that.

There was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to let it go at his place. He was sweet and nice, and if I wanted any hope of this happening again or possibly some kind of relationship thing in the future... I needed to go home. But I also didn't want to be that person that ditches someone.

I had to wake him up, and I felt like a bitch for doing. I tossed all sorts of reasons of why I couldn't stay around my head. Telling him I had a huge fart was not going to happen.

So I woke him telling him that I couldn't sleep and needed to go home. He insisted I could sleep there, pleading. I insisted that I needed to go home.

I felt like an ass.

He got up and showed me out. Giving me a tender hug and a kiss as we said our goodbyes.

He still didn't ask for my number.  I did email him the next day with a thank you and my number. We've text flirted a bit since and hinting at doing it again someday.

But this was not what I'd call a "fun thing", and I get the impression that he's much more of a relationship man. Maybe I'm wrong.

A Little Slutty

In light of DateDaily's article about the guy who broke up with his girlfriend solely because she had too many partners...

I thought I'd do a confessional to scare off any and all would-be suitors. 

I just want you all to know... all you guys out there.. I've been with 40 men myself (around there anyway).

*pausing for you all to start the name calling and get it over with*

My marriage did not end because I couldn't keep it in pants. I can. I went a whole 5 solid years of marriage abstinent out of respect for the marriage... and trust me.. I like sex. 

Yet, people are still assuming stupid things based on a number.

I have never had an STD, VD, whatever. I've never gotten crabs either. I've checked.  I do have Herpes simplex 1? The cold sore one. I got it from my mother at birth. Though I've never in my life had a cold sore. I'm always extra-safe as I do not and never have used birth control pills. (I know *gasp*, but funny how you mention you're not on the pill how much more willingly guys don a condom)

Just so you all know.. Most of that 40 have been one night stands, whether I liked it or not. Some of those one night stands were first date sex where I really just went with the moment and he never called again.  Some were guys that I wanted to bed, but a relationship would have been out of the question. Some were just moments of drunken insanity.. like the time I slept with the lead singer of a band traveling through town. (He was hot, shut up.)

Since my ex left over a year ago, I've had 5 partners. Six if you count the guy who couldn't get it up. Four of those within the first 6 months after. (yes, I like to get right back up on the horse)

Am I completely done with one night stands? Have I moved past that period in my life?  

For the most part, yes.  But that doesn't mean that one of these times I might get carried away with some guy and just do what feels right in the moment.

I'm no longer the naive girl I once was, sleeping with men to win their love or to keep a relationship. 

I've grown up. I've learned. I know what I need. I know (for the most part) what I want.

And every notch in that bedpost has lead me to where I am now. Each notch is special.

So throw your stones if you will. It doesn't matter to me.

I am who I am. Thats not going to change because you think I should be someone else.

Hair On Men Is Sexy

Some days I think that I'm from a different world. I wonder how I got here, and exactly what happened.

I grew up with the only required maintenance being shaving your pits and legs. Maybe tweezing some facial hair if needed.

Nails were done at home, and hair was always done at home. Sometimes even haircuts.

Men never got manicures or worried about trimming or shaving anything but their face.

Over the years though.. things have changed.

Hair anywhere but your head.. is evil and must be removed at all costs. Salon mani-pedi is almost required. And getting your hair done at a salon is completely normal.

I may have been raised in the dark ages.

Some of these "improvements" on natural beauty, I totally get behind. Like male manicures. I actually was terrified of my ex's jagged nails being used in certain places.

But other things.. I'm not so sure about.

Do I really want a man who shaves everything? I thought the point of a man was to be manly. Chest hair and all. Sure sure a trim down there would be nice if he wants me to attempt anything downtown.. but its not a deal breaker.

Do men really want a woman who is completely bald down there? Isn't some hair down there at least a sign that she is a woman not some pre-pubescent girl?

When did we start to hate our bodies so much?

I really love a man with chest hair. I really do. It makes me feel feminine, and remind me of his masculinity. I'm not a big "carpet chest" kind of girl, but a decent amount of hair is just perfect to me. Hairy arms is good as well... again.. not carpet, but hair is good.

My own upkeep is negotiable. There's upkeep I do for myself so that I feel comfortable or feel pretty or hygienic. Shaving my legs for wearing a dress or shorts is a must (mostly because of other people's looks if you don't), tweezing my brows is a must-do, and shaving my pits is completely non-negotiable. I could never be one of those armpit-hair-growing girls unless I really did not own a razor. But scaping down there, I don't have a "set" standard other than I will never go bald. Sorry, not going to happen.

But the other day, I learned that I'm an oddity. I learned to love men as they are naturally (well except I still don't like an uncircumcised penis or backhair), and evidently there aren't any natural men anymore.

The Surprise Outing

Last week, I was supposed to go out wednesday, but when a friend begged me to go to Speeddating on Thursday, I decided to just go out on Thursday instead. Then Thursday fell through, so when Friday came around I was looking for something to do.

Evie called and wanted a ride to a birthday party. This girl's birthday party was a "surprise" affair as she'd just posted its occurrence that day on FB on her status. Didn't email anyone, didn't actually send out invites, but just posted it on her FB (this evidently is how social things are "done" among this particular section of my circle). Most people missed the status invite, and instead found out about it because one of their mutual friends called them to see if they were going. This is how I learned about it.

I wasn't even actually a FB friend of this girl. I've mentioned her before as someone I wasn't sure I even liked. I'm still not sure I do. Sure sure she's nice enough and friendly enough, but she gives me this sense that she's not so easy to get along with once you know her. Actually, mega-bitch is how I see her under her mask of uber-friendly party girl. She's friends with most everyone I know, so I went to her birthday party. I also added her on FB later. Superficially she's great company, but I have absolutely no real desire to get any closer to her.

Anyway, so Evie and I go. We see all our friends. Say Hi.

Don was there. He's got a new girlfriend. They're all happy and chummy. She seemed nice enough and she's pretty. I did my best impression of "I'm just a friend, I totally never had any kind of crush on your boyfriend." I either performed my part really well, or I can be insulted. She reacted to me like I wasn't even any kind of competition.

After dinner, the party moved next door to a bar where most of us girl's got our flirt on with Hottie McSteamy (not my invention) the bartender whose real name is Steve. We instead would yell "Hottie" when we needed him and if another bartender came over to serve us, we'd insist on them going to get "Hottie". Because yes, the we girls were in an obnoxious mood. Someone had to be the laughing stock of the bar, it might as well be us. :)

The girls I was with (I barely know) Melanie and Jasmine? were totally feeding off each other. Next thing I knew they'd dragged some Irish bloke over and made him talk to them. He then dragged his friend, Mr. Perv-Irish-Douchebag over to us. EWW.

There really weren't many good looking guys in our section of the bar, but we made do with those around us. I kept connecting eyes with this really hot guy who kept walking by. (we were stationed by the bathroom, so maybe he had reason) But nothing ever became of it.

Then Mr. Sexy-Geek walked in with a bunch of friends. I have this thing for a certain kind of look. I never ever manage to date anyone with this look, but I find it really hot. Let me post some celebrity's with this type of look.

David Krumholtz
Nicolas Wright (his pics from Accidentally on Purpose)
Zachary Levi (actually if you look at Levi's main photo.. omg melt)
Joshua Gomez

Ok.. so I was from afar drooling over this guy who looked like a combo between Zachary Levi and David Krumholtz. I didn't approach the guy because he was with a mixed group of girls and guys, and I'm not really an approacher anyway. I can be, but I usually just don't.

Then this other girl from our group came up and started complaining that there weren't any good looking men around. I told her there were a few, and pointed out that I thought this guy was hot. Of course with the caveat that I happen to like geeky looking guys. She sees him and her eyes pop. She agrees that he's hot, and then drags me over there by my arm and whispers something in his ear. I have NO idea what she said.

She then hands his hand to me, and I shake his hand yelling my name into his year as he yells his into mine. We chit chat for a little bit. Basically he's works in computer software (duh) and is from Brazil. He does not look latino, but hey sure ok. He has a very heavy accent which was hard to understand.

After my ex, I am no longer interested in dating anyone from a foreign country. If all their family is here, maybe, but there's going to be some major cultural differences which I am not ready to sign up for again.. any day soon.

So other than taking him home that night and banging him silly, I wasn't interested and I could see he wasn't either. But the girl that dragged me over there, insisted I stay despite that she was hitting on a married man. Yes he even said he was married and his wife was somewhere in the bar. This girl was never going to be high on my list of people to hang out with again.

So I went over to Evie and talked to her and her boyfriend. Jasmine mentioned that they were sickeningly cute, and they were. I told them they were making me sick (in a joking manner mind you), and her boyfriend said he had a friend to fix me up with, and promised to fix Jasmine up with someone as well. Ok, you couples.. Thats exactly how you treat your single friends when they're ready to puke from your cuteness. You appease them with possible sex with someone potentially fantastic, even if it never comes to pass.

Anyway, he left for a few minutes and Evie started talking to Jasmine about how she had this ex that Jasmine just had to meet. He was into (list of kinks here) and would be....

I interrupted her right there. "Oh my god, Evie you've been holding out on me?"

Evie turned completely white. She didn't realize I was overhearing it all for one, and secondly by her reaction she obviously did not think I was into anything like that at all. She even flat out said to my face that I wasn't into it.

I laughed my ass off. Evidently I've perfected the prudish look to the general public. Yeah baby.

She went on to defend herself by saying that this guy was way into it, and liked to do all this, and that, and whatnot. I of course am asking detailed questions that only those into those things know the answers to. Evie is back-peddling so hard that I'm surprised she didn't have a panic attack. I honestly don't know if she was panicked that her boyfriend would find out about this ex (we were sworn to never tell him about that conversation), or if she was shocked that I was kinky at all, or if I'd called her bluff and there really was no ex into that stuff.

Jasmine of course was all about being my best friend after that. Dirty minds think alike of course. (I of course had to tell this story to my friends who know that side of me, and they laughed heartily. They all know full well how dirty my mind works.)

All in all it was a good night. No new guys, but I got several girls numbers which is extremely odd to me.

Discovering Landmines

Its been a *headdesk* day for me, or better yet a "Foot-in-Mouth" day.. maybe even a talking out of my ass day. It all started with this tweet.

"Wonder if there's a greeting card for this holiday? RT @avflox: Guess what, you guys! It's International Quickie Day! http://bit.ly/1hBfON " - by Harry Lang

I attempted to be funny in my own warped way of being:

"Oh no! Its the male Valentines day! RT @harrylang RT @avflox: It's International Quickie Day! http://bit.ly/1hBfON " - By Maruska

Which .. well then prompted this:

"International Quickie Day is "male Valentine's Day"? @maruskamorena does quickies a gross disservice. What do you think?" - by Av Flox

Which prompted this post. If you're a long time reader, you know I have a few sexual hang-ups. Most everyone does by this age anyway.

What I didn't expect was just how bitter I found myself to be. I don't know if I've been repressing it or if its just something about today. (The ex somehow made it into my thoughts this morning.) But as soon as I saw the tweet from Av Flox, I knew I needed to do some soul searching.

Why would I think that "quickies" were merely male desired? I, myself, am not that closed minded am I?

So I began to think about my past, which is really not a good thing to do sometimes, and I realized that based on my past history.. Quickies have never ever been a good thing.

Don't get me wrong. I love sex. I enjoy casual sex and commitment sex. I like good sex and great sex.. and sometimes even bad sex is better than no sex.. sometimes anyway.

But I've never had a good quickie. Oh sure the quickie itself was fine. It was what happened after it that wasn't.

There were the "I'd like some quick sex, but I'm going to break up with you right after." or the "I can't wait til after the party, I have to have you now.. followed by a night of completely ignoring me in public" or many variations of that. Quickies in my past have all been "Lets get this over so I can ignore you." or "I've already got the sex today so I don't need to even try anymore."

As I'm typing this, I realize just how completely sad that is. How wrong it is, and how much crap I put up with without a single complaint.

I really really hate finding those emotional landmines in me. I hate that they're there. But in discovering them, I am now aware of them and can heal them. In time anyway.

In Time.

Sexual Healing

"If you don't know the things you're dealing

I can tell you, darling, that it's Sexual Healing" - Marvin Gaye

Saturday Night

After Friday night's fiasco, I really wasn't sure being social was a good idea. So when Getty called (she's the one that sat my dog) and wanted to do dinner, I hesitated. Then I thought about it, food is good and Getty can't possibly be as bad as Jessie. Plus keeping a dog-sitting friend happy is always a bonus. She hinted that after dinner we should hit a bar or two. A drink.. yes I needed a drink.

I really didn't have high expectations for the evening as Getty tends to get paranoid tirades, and doesn't really socialize at bars. So basically it'd be just her and I tossing back a few beers talking to each other. I figured worst case I'd have to listen to her rant while I drank a beer. I can do that.

So we both got gussied up, went for a steak dinner, and went to a bar. She drove so I figured I could drink more than I normally would. Yeah! But I stayed sober mostly. I'm not easy to get drunk nor is it usually cheap. The bar we started at was pretty dead except for a few genetic wonders obviously needing to be bred out of the gene pool. So after a couple beers, we left in search of something else. We don't live in bar central (downtown) so selection was slim. We decided to check out a karaoke bar.

On our way to the bar, she got on her phone and called a friend of hers. Who? I didn't know at the time. And invited said person to join us. After she hung up, she told me who it was. Some young guy she knew who hooked her up with pot.

Now my stance on drugs is pretty rigid. I don't like them, don't want to be around them, and don't want to be around people when they've done them. Getty and I have talked about this before, and she knows this about me. I know about her use of it, and supposedly she only smokes a little at night to get to sleep. What you do in your own house is your business.

So I was a little apprehensive about this meeting at the bar. Then she told me all about this guy. She met him when he was 19 and a huge druggie. They'd had a small fling thing. (she's about 50, he's 19. interesting, but I also read off-limits). He'd cleaned up his act and now only did pot (and I found out later smokes cigs as well). He was 21 now, got a job and has been responsible. He was tall, dark hair, blue eyes, and gorgeous .. she said.

In my head I was bitching at her. Sure sure.. You're going to introduce me to a male version of crack, and I can't even play with him? Bitch. I'm a huge sucker for tall dark haired men with blue eyes. It's not easy to find tall in Austin.

So we get to the karaoke bar, and its horrid. Some group of girls is murdering a song and a cat at the same time. We leave and go next door to the pool hall which has a small bar. She calls him and says to meet us there.

We sit down for a drink, but before we can order.

"Denny's HERE!"

I turn around to see some grizzly looking man enter and Getty hug him. He was totally not what I'd been picturing which was a good thing since he was off limits. He was tall I'll give her that, but gorgeous he was not. He was the right build that I like. Big enough without being too bulky. But he had a full - I do mean full - beard, and looked like he'd just gotten finished with a 6 month camping trip in the woods where there was no razors. His dark hair was hidden slightly under a cap, and had Getty not introduced us, I would have avoided him in any way possible.

We said "Hi" to each other, and sat at the bar. Getty on one side of me, and Denny on the other, with Getty and Denny conversing over top of me. It was strange, but at this point after last night, and the lack of eye candy, I just relaxed and said "Screw it". Gimme the liquor.

The bartender didn't have the liquor I wanted so I debated. He recommended something called "Firefly" sweet tea vodka. I thought yuck, but Denny and the bartender assured me that it was excellent and went down like lightly sweetened tea. (I hate sweet tea really) It also was supposed to be a "stool tipper" and would get me drunk fast. I wasn't driving so what the hell.

I drank one. It tasted somewhat sweet, kinda like tea, but pretty good. I felt nothing. I argued with the bartender that there wasn't any alcohol in it. He assured me it was a full shot of alcohol mentioning what "proof" it was as it that should convince me. All I knew was that I wasn't drunk like promised.

So I drank another. And another. And another. Still not getting anywhere. Getty, Denny, and the bartender looked at me like I was lying.

"Am I slurring?" I got up and walked, "Am I walking funny? Do I in any way resemble buzzing?"

They agreed I wasn't drunk and showed no signs. (When I tell you I can hold my alcohol, trust me.) However, Denny was looking cuter. Part of that I suppose was the alcohol, but part of it was that he was just really nice. Considerate. Sweet. Gentle. He didn't come off as threatening in any way. He even seemed to be flirting with me, which I wasn't entirely sure if he was just being friendly or ?

So with Getty's encouragement and reminding me that I wasn't driving home, I decided to see if I could get plastered. I switched to Tito's on the rocks and drank two like they were water. Finally a buzz!! But it was just a little buzz, but a buzz nonetheless.

The bar was closing, and Denny living nearby invited us over offering us beer. We decided to go. I figured I'd drink and get a buzz while she and Denny did whatever. She'd been hanging on him most of the evening, so I assumed she was wanting something other than a pot refill.

We get to his place look around. Its pretty clean for a bachelor pad. I was told later that it was his roommate's fault. So we take a seat on the couch. Getty on one arm, and me on the other. Denny grabs us a couple beers and sits in the middle.

At this point, Denny is not really being subtle with his flirting. He's definitely flirting with me, and I'm drunk enough that despite my best efforts I was flirting back. He was still Getty's ex, so I was freaking out majorly and about to ask Getty to drive me home.

Denny got up to get more beer. I was getting really drunk by this time. A cocktail at dinner, 2 beers, 4 Fireflys, 4 Tito's, and a beer. Evidently beer is my kryptonite. So I lean over to Getty and say:

"He's really hitting on me big time. I'm sorry. Are you ok with that?"

Getty laughed, "Yeah, thats Denny. He's a good guy. You should go for it."

"Naw you sure? I mean he's your ex.. I don't wanna step on toes. I'm not like that."

She laughed some more. "Him and I just barely had more than a one night stand. You're not stepping on anything. Seriously."

I still looked at her like she was from Mars. From Jessie the other night, to Getty tonight.. I was pretty sure I must be doing crack.

Denny returned shortly, tripped and spilled almost his entire beer all over me. When I gasped and bitched about being covered in beer, he apologized and said he'd clean me up.. and began to lick it off. IN FRONT OF GETTY.

Getty got up off the couch and moved to a nearby chair. I thought I was majorly in for it. I had tried to tell Denny to stop, but well it was a lot like telling a very cute cuddly dog to stop licking you. It wasn't really going to happen, and he meant no harm.

Denny then got up to use the restroom. Getty turned to me.

"Go ahead if you two want to have sex, no biggie. I'm fully entertained with the tv. Feel free to go back in his room."

Seriously looked at her like she'd grown 3 heads. WTF? I'd pretty much at this point decided that I was going to sleep with Denny. (I should probably mention that when I get drunk I also get friendly, horny as hell.) But as much as Getty was being all nice and encouraging, I just could not be so rude as to ditch her to go have sex with her friend. Principles baby.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't. Not while you're here. It wouldn't be right."

Denny came back and we snuggled a bit on the couch. His roommate came home then, and Getty and him began flirting. His roommate was much more type except for physically, he was clean cut, well dressed, metrosexual. I told Getty that, she told him. And we all flirted and joked around.

When the tv show was over, Getty got up and said she was leaving. Being thoroughly drunk it took me a bit to get off the couch. I got my purse, and went to follow her, but by the time I got across the room she'd already made Denny promise to drive me home. She asked me if I was ok with that, and of course I was.

I still was feeling a bit guilty about Getty, but I figured that could wait til morning. Denny then went into his bedroom and called for me to join him. His roomate was sitting on couch looking all adorable and abandoned.

"I'm sorry. If it was up to me, you could join in. But I gotta go." I cooed as I walked into Denny's bedroom. His roommate looked at me like he wanted to kill Denny and have me to himself. Its surprising how brazen I can get when drunk, and I honestly don't know what I'd have done if his roommate had joined in.

For having just met both of them, I really felt comfortable and safe. Partly I think because I know Getty and I know they know Getty. If they did hurt me, she'd be out for blood. She's an ex-biker chick. She's tough.

Denny was waiting for me. Impatiently patient in a sweet way like a puppy waiting to go for a walk. He was adorable, sweet, and yet had a backbone. One of those sweet teddybear kinda guys that you know will bend over backward to make you happy, but won't let you walk all over them. Trust me, he bent over backward.

It was a night of wild abandon which can only be adequately described as wild monkey sex. Since my divorce, I've been looking for a night like this. With 5 yrs of celibacy, I felt unsure, hesitant, unskilled, and just like a clown in the bedroom. I just wanted a night of anything goes to get back in the groove of it. Maybe learn a few new things.

I'm not sure I learned anything new, other than I still got it and that there are still a few men who know how to have sex, and at least one man that can go more than once in a night. I also learned that there is at least one man who is kind and gentle and polite during sex. If I said no to something, it was no. He didn't get huffy or discouraged, just tried to find a common ground for mutual pleasure. He asked before doing things, and asked if I liked certain things.

By a few hours into it, I was so relaxed with him that when he asked if I sucked cock, I didn't immediately brace up, but simply answered "no". He took it as if he'd asked if I wanted coke or diet pepsi, and I'd said coke. He didn't seem to care and moved onto something else. It was this that gave me confidence to try. I didn't try long, as I didn't want to risk me having an episode.. but I tried long enough to know that it wasn't horrid and that with the right person I might be able to do it. It was healing.

Actually the entire night was healing. He did nothing but make me feel wanted, and sexy, and like a queen. We entered his room at 3am, and finally forced ourselves to stop so he could get some sleep at 7am. We slept for a few hours, then he drove me home on his way to work.

I collapsed into my own bed. When I woke, I could barely move. Every muscle hurt, even muscles I didn't even remember using. Somehow I'd also managed to bruise my finger tips. I still don't know how I did that.

Getty called then and wanted to meet for a late lunch. After 'ditching' her the night before I couldn't very well say no.. so I went. I also wanted to make sure things were ok with her.

We met at Panera and had a good lunch. She smiled and asked about how things went, and said she felt a little guilty about last night. I was puzzled.

"I feel like I kinda pimped you out."

I laughed my ass off. If that's what pimping me out gets me, honey sign me up. I assured her it was fine. I just didn't tell her HOW fine it was, or that I felt like I owed her big for that setup. But what she doesn't know won't kill her. Besides if she feels a little guilty, she might be more willing to sit my dog again.. no?

Denny & I never exchanged numbers, and I doubt I'll ever see him again, but there's a place in my heart where he'll always be. Thanks Denny for everything.

Date or Sex Buddy Audition?

Ok.. I knew there was something I was forgetting yesterday when I was posting updates..

Do you remember Mr One-Arm Hug date that I went on last week? The one I was waiting on an email and was certain it was pretty much a failure?

He emailed me on Friday. He stated that he had a good time and

"Maybe we could get together again sometime."

Which I took as, the equivalent of letting me down easy. And being in a bitchy mood about his two-day wait to email me, I decided to wait to email him back. I finally emailed him last night (nearly a 3-day wait).

He happened to be online when I emailed him, and he emailed me back straight away asking if I had a hot tub at my place, and that he'd really like to get together again, grab a drink and soak with me.

Alarm bells are going off in my head. Am I just a pessimist? Maybe I am, but I'm getting the impression that he just wants sex. Maybe I'm wrong. I suppose I should take it as a good sign that he at least wants to see me in less clothes and a more intimate setting.

I'm heading to California to visit some friends for a week, so I wrote him back saying that no I don't have a hot tub and that I'm going to be out of town for a while and maybe we can get together once I get back.

He switched to IM. He really wants to get together soon, and asked the date of my return. Once I told him, he wanted to get together as soon as I got back. Which I'd take as a very damn good sign, if I could get the thoughts of "all he wants is sex" out of my head.

He was very excited about the possibility of a hot tub, and said, "If I find a hot tub, will you soak with me?"

I thought about it. Thought some more. Then figured.. oh what the hell.. if all he wants is sex its better to find it out now. So I agreed.

He's currently on a mission to find one. (I'm seriously hoping that he fails. Anyone else think that he just wants sex?).

-- On a separate note, my workaholic sex-buddy contacted me and wants to get together. We may or may not get together tonight (depends on his work). Some days I really love being single.

Damaged

I think I might be crazy. Really. Yesterday I had a relatively innocent conversation with a guy online and I started crying. Not in a bad way, but in a relieved sort of way.

I looked back over the conversation later trying to find the point that set me off, and couldn't find one. It was simply just a regular conversation between two people talking about their lives, and briefly mentioning their divorces.

I think it was the briefly mentioning the divorces that got me initially. I rarely talk about my ex any more, and bringing up those memories tends to bring up some of my issues.

I remember we ended up talking about sex and how towards the end of his marriage he wasn't getting any. (He wasn't mentioning it in a creepy I need sex kinda way, but in a discussion about how dating has changed it was a brief mention) So I mentioned that I understood it since the last 4 yrs of my marriage was completely sexless.

Looking back, I can't believe I went that long without sex as if it was just something normal. I'd accepted it as part of my life and how my marriage just was. It wasn't my decision really, but something that just developed because of unresolved issues on his part.

It wasn't until we separated that I started to truly grasp just how messed up all that time had made me. How much I'd sacrificed needlessly. How much of myself I'd shut down and turned off. I was a husk of a woman really.

Talking to this gentleman about it, even ever so briefly, brought back to mind all those emotions and feelings.. and even the slightest thought that someone somewhere might actually understand what I went through.. thats when the tears let loose.

Its just one of the things I gave up for my marriage.. just one. Is it any wonder that when people try to get me to give up anything now that I run like the wind?

I've actually met some great guys, but they all want me to change something, or give something or compromise something. Whether its give up too much of my free time, or be free whenever they think I should, or dress a certain way, or grow my hair out, or cut my hair, or get a tan, or simply paint my toenails a different color.. it doesn't matter. The minute I feel constricted is the minute I want out.

I've tasted freedom, and I like it. I like it a lot!

Not As Good As I Remember

I "went out" last night with Steven (mentioned in Yes I Am A Masochist post). We "went out" as per usual, meaning that he came over, we watched something on the TV, and we had sex.

I had approached this date as I would a good friend. I barely got fixed up. Of course did the requisite "pre-sex" shower and shave, but put on some regular shorts and a $5 tank top. I put just enough makeup on to hide any blemishes, and a spritz of perfume, but thats about as far as I went.

I was still mad at him actually from the "incident" on Friday. On Friday night, I was 2 blocks from his apt with a friend at a local pub. I of course had been drinking, but not enough to impair me. Since I was so close to his place, I sent him a txt and invited him to join us. He'd previously stated he was bored at home and just watching TV and playing XBOX. Since I also knew he was poor and scraping to get by, I offered to buy him a beer. He asked me all about why I was there, and where, and what.. and who, but never said "Yes I'm coming." or "No, I can't make it". So I waited, while drinking a beer of course, for the answer.

After about 45 minutes, I finally txt'd him saying, "Could at least let me know if you're coming or not?"

He txt'd back. "Sorry, I didn't know you were waiting for a response." and then "No, I'm not coming."

WTF???? I was mad. Seriously, a girl asks you out for a beer and you don't think it needs a response?

So by the day before yesterday, I was pretty much unsold on him, but I still remembered that hug and the sex we'd had before. I really wanted sex, and since my normal "Friend with Benefits" was busy til next week when I'll be busy, I decided that Steven might be a good solution. So I invited him over.

The thing that I really love about Steven is this. He cuddles platonically. He'll hold me while we watch TV and not push it into more. I honestly can't remember the last man I was with before him where I felt that safe. Having endured molestation as child, one of the bigger issues in my relationships is generally around my not wanting to be touched. And its not really that I don't want to be touched, its just that most men don't understand the difference between a safe cuddle and a groping one. When in the past I've tried to explain it, they get offended as if I don't like their touch. *sighs* So it was extremely great that Steven was just naturally a platonic cuddler.

So we cuddled for a while. It was truely platonic, as I'd seemed to lose any real romantic ideals about him. He wasn't going to be a long-term thing, and I was pretty certain he wasn't going to be a short-term thing either. Just merely a friends with benefits thing, maybe.

And maybe it was my emotional state or outlook, but when we did finally have sex, it wasn't as good as I remembered. Maybe I was just sex starved before, maybe I'm just over him, or maybe I'm just seeing things without my rosy glasses.

Though there was a funny moment. Or at least it was funny to me. I actually had to keep from laughing.

After we'd finished having sex and cleaned up, we were lying in bed and Steven starts talking. Normally after sex, men just stop talking. I vaguely remember after our first bout of "dating" that Steven and I would talk a little after sex, but I don't remember much conversation. This time Steven was off on a monologue.

His phone got shut off. He only owes $180, last time it was $300 before they shut it off. He wanted to win a small lotto, like $10k and then he'd be able to pay off all his debts. He then admitted that even if he won $10k that he'd probably be stupid and buy a new camera (he's a photographer part-time, and works a cashier job as well) or some new computer gadget. He complained that he needed to get more motivated and find a real job in his area of study. (He has a bachelors degree) That maybe then he'd get paid more and be able to afford things. He complained about the people who came in and purchased $3k in appliances. They pissed him off, because he can't do that.

He went on and on for what seemed like ages, and I was about to fall asleep the minute we finished with sex. So I almost started laughing at his chatter. Here I was being the man and wanting to fall asleep after sex, while he was being the woman and chatting up a storm.

I'm not sure if I'll see him again. I might in a moment of loneliness need some human contact, but he's not on my first choice of people to call. Maybe I am a man after all.

Yes, I Am A Masochist

Damn it, I'm still a girl.

I have no idea why, but this guy is kryptonite to the walls around my heart.

Originally I saw him on Twitter. Something about his picture, his aloof tweets.. just snagged me and I had to meet him. I twitter-stalked him. I watched his tweets, watched for his likes, his dislikes.. I wanted to know more. I then began replying to his tweets, at first coyly, then semi-provacatively.

We began to chat. He'd give me crap about things I was doing, places I'd go, or laugh at my silly twitter jokes. I'd tease him with places I'd go, invite him last minute when he had other plans, and otherwise annoy him.

We played cat and mouse for about a month on Twitter before we finally met for a date. He is 13 yrs younger than me, and in many ways not a viable candidate for a long term relationship. At the time, I had just gotten separated and while I wanted something stable, I was trying to keep my mind open.

We went to a local restaurant at which he barely looked at me. He played with his iPhone constantly. SMSing his roommate. I persuaded him to show me the txts, and saw...

"So how's your date, is she hot?"

To which I stole his phone and replied, "Oh hell no, she was a dog, so I ditched her and am macking on some hot chicks I met at the bar."

He voted me "Awesome Sense of Humor" and the three of us had a good laugh. After that, he was on his phone much less.

We have little in common otherwise. He likes horror movies, and action flicks.. I like brainy movies, and chick flicks. He's just barely out of the beer-bong parties, and I'm into wine and cheese.

But when I'm around him, all I want to do is be around him... naked. (sigh)

We went out (I use this term loosely as we mostly just stayed in and watched movies and had sex.) for almost 2 weeks, then he flipped a switch and started being a total asshole. We broke up "officially" on my birthday. (Yeah I know, happy birthday Maruska!)

That should have cured me of him, but it didn't. I missed him, but I let it go.

A couple months later, after he heard my divorce was final, he began messaging me again. Stressing how much he wanted to get back together and how he regretted letting me go. I let him sweat for a week or so, before I finally agreed to meet him for lunch. We had a good lunch. He walked me to my car, and hugged me.

I was a goner again. The hug was all it took. Something about being in his arms, the smell if his neck, the way he looks at me with his eyes.. SHIT.

I messaged him that I had a good time, he replied that I looked good and it was great seeing me.

Weeks pass and I don't hear anything from him.

Then he messages me that he has a bunch of free time coming up and he wants to spend it with me, but when the time comes up I hear nothing more.

So a couple weeks pass, and I bitchily message him. "So what happened to your wanting to get together?"

He replies that he's been busy. Then messages again that he's lying, he's had loads of free time, but has been out of sorts describing a kind of depression to which I can relate.

A few days later, he messages me. He has a free afternoon and wants to spend it with me. I of course am non-commital and slightly uncooperative. These months of being apart, and the crap he put me through, had nearly drowned out the pleasant memories. It wasn't until we were actually supposed to meet that I decided to go.

I suppose if I'm really honest with myself, I decided to go the minute he messaged me, but I pretended to argue with myself and talk myself into it for the next 48 hours. I wanted to see him again. Mostly because I wanted to torture him. I wanted him to see what he'd been missing and could have had all these months. I wanted him to suffer.

So the day of our meeting, I procrastinated getting ready. I procrastinated messaging him back. I did courteously message him to tell him I was going to be late 1:53 p.m. (I was supposed to arrive 1:30-2 p.m.). Then took my time responding to his "When do you think you'll get here?", but replied with an accurate time frame.

We were just going to hang out and watch a movie. He makes little to no money, and has a touch of pride where I'm not "allowed" to pay more than half, and a sneaking suspicion that I'm not really allowed to pay for that. So we were to meet at his place, which in all our time together I was never allowed to see. I was excited to see his lair, and excited at the thought that for once he'd have to clean his place.

So I dressed accordingly in shorts and a t-shirt. However, since I wanted him to suffer, the shorts were short and tight, and the t-shirt was so low cut that it barely covered my bra. I had on my good cleavage bra as well which pushed them up to the point of saying "Yes, I do have very large tits." and "You wanna come play with me?" I might have been technically dressed for a casual afternoon, but my outfit said "You know you want me", and I liked it.

I promised myself that I was not going to sleep with him, no matter what happened. Yet, I showered and shaved. When dressing, I made sure to put on my sexy underwear. (I seriously have a mental condition when it comes to this guy.)

I arrived at 2:20 p.m. and I walked in as if I wasn't late and didn't apologize for it. He welcomed me in, and showed me around. It was a decent apartment for a bachelor pad, and actually cleaner than my apt right now.

He however took the remote for the tv, and got me back by flipping through the channels for a few minutes, watching hockey for a few minutes, and otherwise being as annoying with the remote as possible before he started the movie. He didn't ask my input or opinion on what to watch, though I'd have spoken up if it was something too horrid. I hadn't seen the movie he picked out, and it wasn't on my "Hell will freeze over before I'll watch it" list, so I sat and tried to enjoy it.

Watching Eagle Eye together for the first time, really is a bonding experience. We were both shouting at the tv "WTF" several times throughout the film.

When the film was over, we had a few awkward moments of "What to do now?" He showed me his room. It was much cleaner than he'd ever described it, and when I commented on it, he said he'd cleaned and shoved it all in his closet. It was so "little boy" that it was cute. The room was small as we saw its entirety from standing in the hall way and peered in. A small desk, a lamp, and a twin sized bed.

He was self-conscious about that bed. It was small and not good for entertaining women, but from the size of the room, he couldn't fit anything bigger. He was nervous about my reaction to seeing his room, and it was endearing. He was being open and letting me see a part of him, a part that he was scared would run me off.

He never made a move to touch me the entire time I was there. Over the last few months, I'd convinced myself that he was only out for some casual sex relationship. While his behavior didn't totally negate that, it did leave me confused and a touch hopeful that he wanted something a little more than that.

As I left, I watched to see if he would want to touch me, or if he was signaling that he wanted a kiss. There was nothing. I was on the other side of the door, and could have fled down the stairs uninhibited, when I stopped and motioned that I wanted to hug goodbye.

I could have. I should have walked away. I should have gone down the steps untouched. Up until this point, he was just a guy. Some friend. Who cares.

We hugged. As his arms went around me and held me tight, there was no place on earth I would have rather been. It was like coming home. It was like being wrapped in a large comforter on a cold night. The scent of him was clean and fresh and delectable. I wanted to kiss his neck. I never wanted him to let go. This wasn't some animalistic "I must have you" lust, but something more along the lines of 'instant love'. I would have had sex with him, but all I really wanted him to do was to hold me.. Forever.

The hug ended sooner than I wanted, and I felt a bit of my heart tear as we parted. By the time I got to my car, I was officially sad. Tears would have come at any time if I'd have let them. My brain was spinning a broken record of "WTF".

I pulled myself together, and went to run some errands. About 10 minutes later, he txt'd me.

"It was good seeing you. You smelled great and looked good. Wish we could have spent more time together."

I replied that it was good to see him as well, and see his place.

"Maybe next time, you can stay later. Spend the night in my small bed."

This last text followed by several more joking about the size of his bed (maybe it'd be better to spend the night on my bed), and how much he wants to see me again.

So I'm half-convinced all he wants is sex, in which I'll get my heart torn to shreds. But he also likes me enough that he wants to "spend the night".

I should run like the wind. But I know I won't. I really am a masochist.