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Laser Beams

2 May

One of the most fun parts of hooking up with someone new is discovering their body for the first time.  It’s like unwrapping a present – you never know what you’re going to get until all the wrapping is off.  I tend to be like a kid a Christmas, ripping all the packaging off the gift and diving right in.   Usually you’ll get an a “Oh! I love it! It’s just what I wanted!” from me.  On some occasions there may have been an “Oh.  Not what I was expecting, but it will do.”  Mind you, the last reaction is never spoken aloud.

The reaction to the package, so to speak, isn’t just about size or shape.  Much of it has to do with the grooming which has or has not taken place.  I appreciate when a man takes care of his business.  Rifling through a forest of pubic hair is not my idea of a good time.  Just as we ladies are expected to keep our lady parts groomed, I expect my men to do the same thing.  Manscape the shit out your stuff, dudes, it’s common courtesy.  No one wants to be choking on pubic hair during a blowie.  Hooking up with 3D was like being lost in a deep dark forest, I forgave him because the package he carried was pretty substantial and he knew what to do with it.

In this most recent round of dating I’ve found men to be far more concerned with the way they present their junk, and for that, I say “thank you.”

We ladies have all sorts of options these days: stay full, trim it, landing strips, bald eagle.  You have to figure out the best way to make your lady bits shine in the way they should.  Maintenance can be a bit of a chore, but it’s always worth it.  You can shave it, tweeze it, wax it, or laser it.  Shaving is great on day 1, then the damn little red bumps make their appearance.  Waxing makes me want to die on the table, and when it’s time to regrow the hair it’s so damn itchy.  It’s what I imagine crabs to be like, only more uncomfortable.  Tweezing takes an eternity and you end up with the same regrowth issues as with waxing.  And that, my friends, is why I have decided on laser hair removal.

Two weeks ago I had my initial consult.  It was quick, they showed me lots of pictures of options (bikini, landing strip, full Brazilian), we talked about the process, and I signed on the dotted line.  6 sessions, every 2 months to kill all those pesky hair follicles.  Ridiculous amount of money to get it done, but it will be worth it.

Last week I went to my first appointment.  I was dead nervous as during the consult I had been told it the process would take 40 minutes.  I’d read the sensation felt like rubber bands snapping on skin, and that sensation on my most sensitive parts for 40 minutes didn’t seem like something to look forward to.  People, it was worse than snapping laser bands.  There are certain parts of your lady bits which are super sensitive and the technician told me it would feel really “spicy”.  It felt like someone was pinching as hard as they possibly could – I don’t know about you, but I’m not down with pinching my privates.  There I was on my back, naked from the waist down, legs akimbo with a complete stranger, trying not to sweat and cry.  Kind of like a first hook up only not as fun.  All because I want to be properly groomed when I hook up.  Talk about vanity.

Thankfully, the process only lasted about 10 minutes.  There was no pain after the session.  I was told it would take about 2 weeks before the shedding phase, then I’d be hairless for a few weeks, and then the sleeping follicles (they go through growth cycles) would activate.  I’ll keep you posted on progress.  We’ll see how things go.  So far, I’m not seeing anything new.  Monsieur le Baguette is eager to see how everything works out.

Operation #laseredladybits is in progress!

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How do you say “kiss me” in French?

15 Mar

You guys.  YOU GUYS!  I like this one.  I mean like this one.  It’s going to happen, I can feel it – in the same way I could feel that #4 was going to end up in my bedroom (on more than one occasion).

Monsieur le Baguette and I are going to happen.

Sunday we had the greatest date in the history of great dates.  Prior to that, I would have said my best date had been the first official date with 3D. It was the Sunday before Memorial Day.  He invited me over to his house for a cookout.  He made tacos to celebrate my Mexican heritage, we played board games, we made smores in the firepit, we made out in his pick up truck, we took a midnight stroll across a college campus, he was a dreamboat.  It was great fun.  Then I got sick, ended up in the hospital, and almost died.  Let’s forget that part since it was after the date.  Let’s also not factor in that I slept with someone else the morning of the date.

That date with 3D has been bumped down to #2 because Monsieur le Baguette now gets the distinction.  We spent 14 (12 really) hours together.  We had an amazing brunch, went whiskey tasting, sat outside and drank together, he kissed me by the water, we drank some more, we flirted, we laughed, kissed again, I took my shirt off in his hotel room, and he spooned me.  Obviously some other stuff happened in between too.  And we laughed, so much.  He’s so funny.  Doubled over, crying laughing.  We just clicked.  Lock into key, 2 puzzle pieces, whatever, we clicked.  He’s so funny and cute and has dreamy blue-green eyes and he likes me and he’s so adorable!  His eyes.  Those dreamy blue-green eyes that look right into your soul – le sigh, people.

While we were sitting by the water enjoying our drinks, he said to me, “this is going to happen, isn’t it?” Duh, totes going to happen.  We dove into the conversation – listen, I’m down.  I like him, but we’re going to have to take it slow here.  He’s 7 months out of a 10+ year marriage.  I told him he had to rebound with someone else, work it out of his system, go and sleep around, and then come back to me.  I don’t think my heart could take it if I was the rebound – too painful.  I don’t need to know about it, he just needs to work that shit out.

The sad part about all of this romance is he lives over an hour away, it’s okay, we’re going to figure it out.

Lots of texting since Sunday.  He’s smitten, I can tell by when he tells me he misses me, or he can’t wait to see me, or whatever.  In some respects the distance is good because we’d both jump in with both feet and we need to  s l o w  i t  d o w n  or it will fizzle fast.  Last night he left the country for a long weekend.  He called me from the airplane to say goodbye, and he text messaged me this morning.

You guys, it’s happening.  I’m going to be his little spoon.

Talking bodies

26 Feb

Dear friends and family who I am close with.  Look away.  This post is not for you.  This is a post about sexy things that you don’t need to read about.  Go away.  You do not want to read any further than this.  Trust me.  Too personal.  You’ll never look at me the same way.

You’ve been warned.

Go now.

I’m particularly talking to you, my sister.  Stop fucking reading.  You do NOT want to read.  I’m going to talk about naked things.  Casually walk away.

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Protected: Small town dating

23 Feb

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What’s app with that?

7 Nov

Oh, 3D.  It’s been almost 10 years since we met, and 9 years (ish) since we last knocked boots.  I haven’t seen him since I was still in my 30’s (which feels like a hundred years ago).  I moved out of state, out of the country, then back home.  He moved away to be closer to his family.  I have grown into who I am meant to be.*  He has a new career and looks after horses or something like that.  I don’t know.

Anyway, it’s clear that I left quite an impression on him.  Vangelina Jolie rocked his world. How do I know?  Because after all these years he keeps reaching out.  Emails, text messages, and most recently, What’s App.  Oh, he’s special. Most of the time I don’t bother responding.  Sometimes in a moment of weakness I engage and then regret it a few minutes later.  Kind of like when I decided to sleep with him on the sly and then ended up feeling like absolute shit [you can read about that here].  Okay, maybe not quite that bad.

It’s been about a year since the last time I responded to his message.  Instead, I save what he sends to me so I can share the messages with my friends and we can giggle about his horse teeth and how much he loved turkey subs.

Please note the string of random messages.  Like the random request to see if I’d like to “communicate”.  By “communicate” pretty sure he’s asking if I want him to touch my cervix with his peen.  No.  On both counts.  Oh, or maybe you like the most recent dream he had about me?

Some of my friends have asked me why I don’t block him and wish him good riddance.  Well, fine readers, if I did, then I’d miss out on the gems that he sends and the opportunity to use his messages as conversation starters when I’m out drinking with my girlfriends.  And maybe, just maybe a little bit, the slightest bit, maybe not so slight, it feels good to still be wanted.  After years of being single, it’s nice to know that there’s someone out there who still thinks of me.  It’s not someone I want to be with, but at least I know that I mean something to someone in “that” way.

 

*HAHA!  JK. I’m still an asshole and hate being an adult.  LOLS (and you have to say “lols” not “el oh el”)

Too. Many. Feelings.

11 Apr

There is a limit to how many feelings a dude should have, and that limit is four: hunger, thirst, love, and happiness.  That’s it.  That’s about all I can tolerate.  Dating a dude like this guy, is way too much…

My friends have often joked that I should have been born a dude – I have a very low tolerance for too many feelings in a relationship.  Yes, I have feelings.  No, I don’t want to talk about them.  Feelings are meant to be felt, repressed, and or eaten.  They’re not meant to wallow in, or talk about for four hours at a time.  What is there to talk about?  You have feelings and are feeling them.  Great.  Move on.  There’s shit to get done.  Nothing makes me roll my eyes faster than having some dude want to sit down and talk about his feelings.

3D thought it was necessary to tell me everyday how much he liked me BUT in return he demanded that I do the same for him.  Every. God. Damned. Day. That’s way too much.  You can’t force that kind of shit.  For reals, yo.

And then there was Hairy McBacksweat.  Jesus Christ, I swear to God that guy had more feelings than all my girlfriends combined.  When we broke up, he cornered all my friends and asked them to talk it out with him – because he needed closure.  Who knew that closure meant replaying every single instant of a relationship with all of your ex-girlfriends besties.  That’s a lot of closure.

In the end, the lesson I’ve learned is that if the dude has too many feelings, we’re better off cross stitching and watching reruns of “Sex and the City” than dating one another.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to eat my feelings about still being single while I analyze what the hell is wrong with me.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

22 May

Ever notice how when something goes shitty in life then one of two things happens: either something even more shitty happens, or the universe send you a lifeline.  I got a mix of the two today.  Shitty, because of who it’s from.  Lifeline because it’s a reminder of how fucking amazing I am.

Get this.  No, really, GET THIS!!  My ass should be a natural treasure, because you know why?  When dudes tap it they get totally hypnotized and can’t let go and four fucking years later they still email and text you and try to get you to sleep with them.  You know who I’m talking about?  Yeah, you know who I’m talking about.  3 fucking D.

It’s been two months since the last exchange of text messages, and out of the blue he sends me a message.  I’ll admit, I’m in a vulnerable place so I go ahead and respond.  Check out the messages below (he’s in the white bubbles, and I’m the green).

20120522-210414.jpg

Can you fucking believe that shit??