I am not sure what’s wrong with men. (I accidentally typed “me” instead of “men”, but I’m 99% sure that I’m okay and they’re not.) I went to a munch earlier this week and met a friendly, submissive-switch guy. We hit it off well enough to chat for most of the evening about kinky things and mull over the possibility of playing together. I have to be honest; as I’ve written about before, my interest often stops at the mulling stage, and I’ve learned not to be distressed that others actually want to act on their impulses.
What distressed me a leeetle was that when the guy went to leave, he asked me for a ride to his car, which was, by his choice, parked nearly a mile away from the bar hosting the munch. It was bitterly cold, so I did the nice thing and drove him, although I would liked to have lingered longer. When we got to his car, I figured there might be a peck on the cheek or something. (I’d told him about Robbie.) Instead, he turns to me and says, “Well, a kiss seems a little inappropriate, so how about I masturbate and you watch?”
Yeah. No. No thanks.
I informed him that the kiss was about 10000000% more appropriate than jizz would be, and so he gave me a very nice, sweet kiss. Chalk up one for me in the “articulating my wants and desires” column.
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I’ve started a few other writing projects in other places, which is distracting. Every morning I get up to work on of the 15 short essay-lettes I have planned, and every day I end up staring at the computer screen jumping around from thing to thing to thing. So, lots to say here, and hopefully I can pick up the pace a bit.
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I had a huge lunch today at a famous restaurant and it really wasn’t that good. (Don’t go to this famous restaurant whose name you don’t know, if you’re ever near it.) I’m feeling ginormous post-holiday and I really, really want to get in better shape. It’s a new year cliche, but I’m really hoping I can make some changes there. I will never have legs like this woman–although I did once get to fuck a woman who had legs like this–but it’s not really a contest. Feeling better in my own body is where it’s at.
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Blah blah blah me. Okay, well, that’s pretty much a post.
Cool pics by Franklin Obregon. And if you really want to know, I steal most of my stuff from Sex in Art (as in this case), or ponyXpress, or the like.
January 31, 2010 at 8:12 am
Well done! Proud of you! 🙂
January 31, 2010 at 11:37 am
[sigh…]
Men.
The only reason I will ever finish my current large writing project is that the sadist forced me (yes, really forced me) to write a schedule and an outline and a new schedule every 2 weeks and I damn well better keep to it.
It’s working so far.
February 2, 2010 at 12:06 pm
Woman. Every time you feel like lamenting your legs, just remember your boobs and feel good about life instead!
February 2, 2010 at 11:31 pm
I am sure you will get into a groove and produce at a rate that pleases you.
But as for your date…hunh? *shaking head*
February 7, 2010 at 1:05 am
PF – Thank you!
oatmeal girl – yes, men . . . can’t live with them, can’t get anywhere on your writing projects without the Sadist giving you deadlines. 😉 I empathize.
Jo – Thank you so much, that cheered me up enormously. I will count my booby blessings.
Liras – Agreed. I know how to fix the writing problem–no idea how to deal with the guy! Whatever!