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Asking for a friend

19 Feb

Is it possible to get pregnant over text message?

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Le Swoon

13 Feb

You guys!! YOU GUYS!!  That gif was totally me at the end of my date last night.  Holy Lord almighty.  Swoon.  SWOON, you guys!!  Are you swooning?  I’m still swooning.  I want to spend the entire day just melting and turning into a giant puddle on the floor.  Then I’ll pick myself back up and melt all over the place again.

God bless, #4.

We met up at a restaurant near my house.  I was early, as per usual, and was the only customer in the place.  He walked in and I thought to myself, “hot fucking damn, he is fit as fuck.”  He knows how to fill out a polo shirt.  Looked way hotter than in his pictures.  Like, I felt my ovaries beating hot.  I had to restrain myself from asking him to father my children.  He sat down and immediately faced the bar and I thought, “Fuck, he’s totes not into me.”  Whatever, we’ll have a few drinks and then I’ll go home and line up the next date.

We drank, we ate, we talked politics, family, dating, traveling, pizza, drinks.  I don’t know.  We talked, and he was interesting, and smart, and funny.  And I poked him in the arm and it was rock hard and then I thought, “stop touching him!  He doesn’t like you,” because he was facing the bar.  AND THEN he nudged my leg and I thought, “I’m going to touch his body.”  And then we talked some more, and then I poked his arm again and my ovaries started beating again.  And then he lodged his leg next to mine and my immediate impulse was to pull it away and I thought, “do not move your fucking leg.  You will leave it there touching his.”

But then he asked for the check.

[SAD FACE]

It was a little after 7:30, we’d been there for 2 hours – I could have sat there for 2 more days.  Okay, fine.  Read all the signs wrong, clearly if he wanted to leave then that meant that he was over it.  He was naturally charming, and was being polite in hanging out, and he was ready to go.  And I was bummed.  Then he said, “can I walk you home?” Obviously, I said yes.

So here’s this handsome, younger gentleman walking me home and I had that inner dialogue with my slutty self.

  • Slutty Self (SS): You should just sleep with him.
  • Rationale Self (RS): Do not do that.
  • SS: Don’t you want to see him naked? Imagine what he looks like under that shirt?
  • RS: You playing the long game here, or do you want him to touch you all over and then never hear from him again?
  • SS: Is that a bad thing?  Because look at him?  Invite him in the house.
  • RS: Do not invite him in the house.
  • SS: Don’t you want to touch his peen?
  • RS: If you wait, maybe you can touch it more than once…

There we were on my porch and he was looking at the house, and I know that he wanted to come in – but I was not going to invite him in.  Instead, he kissed me on the porch.  I wanted to maul him.  To climb him like a god damn mountain.  I restrained myself.  So he kissed me again, and my inner slut yelled to me, “you’re five feet from the couch, you could be on top of him in less than 2 minutes.”  I thanked him for a good time, bid him adieu, and went into my house where I melted onto the couch.

Of course I needed to immediately start thinking, “WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NOW?? IS HE GOING TO CALL ME?? WHAT IF I NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN??”

Five minutes later he sent me a message in the dating app (because I hadn’t given him my number) thanking me for the date and saying even if I wasn’t sure about a 2nd date, that the kiss is something important to check out.  I immediately wrote back and told him I had a great time and gave him my number.  And in the first few official text messages he wrote, “You were as good a kisser as I imagined.” And that’s when I died. I am dead.

I mean, like what?  WHAT JUST HAPPENED??

Of course my head told me to take a deep breath and calm down, my throbbing ovaries were making plans for where we were going to do it, and my heart is making plans of its own.  Here’s the thing: this (if there is a this) will be a casual thing.  It will be nothing more than that.  It will burn hot, and it will burn fast.  We all know that the hotter the flame the faster it burns, and I need a slow burn. As much as I may want it to be more than casual, it will not be. So I’m going to keep going out there, and meeting other guys.  Date #3 and I are going out again tomorrow.  I will not get my hopes up (haha, who am I kidding?).  I will let this play out.

And I’ll keep checking my phone to see when he’s going to respond to the text that I sent him this morning.  It’s been 2 hours and he hasn’t responded.  I’m never going to hear from him again.

I ordered a few new bras.  You know, just in case.

Why hasn’t he responded to my text?? Oh wait.  He just did.

Light the Spark

26 May

Light it up, people.  Light.  It. Up!!

What the fuck does that even mean?  I don’t know.  Who cares??  Because you know why?  You know why??  Because my DREAMY secret boyfriend with the bedroom green eyes came to visit me at my desk today.

I mean, yeah, whatever, he may have actually been stopping by to see someone else and then just popped over to say hello, but whatever!!  AND he confessed to stalking me on Facebook.  That happened.  He just mentioned a picture that I posted in October of 2014.  Um, hello, we’ve only been Facebook friends for like a month.  You know what this means, right?  It means he wants in my knickers!!

And you know what else??  He is single!!  And employed!!  And have I mentioned how dreamy his green eyes are??

So what if he’s a little bit younger than I am.  In the grand scheme of things 11 years isn’t that big of a difference.  I mean, sure, he was 10 years old when I graduated from college.  But, you know, whatever.  He has a penis, I have somewhere for him to put it.  It’s like a match made in heaven.

And who cares if like technically it would be sexual harassment if I asked him out since I’m considered “senior” and he’s very (very) “junior”.  We don’t need to tell anyone about it, right?  RIGHT!!

The writing is on the wall, people.  We all know exactly what’s going to happen next – I’m going to pursue him LIKE MAD (but not really, more like I’ll just kind of happen to cross paths with him as often as possible), and then he’ll start dating someone and I’ll end up alone on my couch with a pint of ice cream and my fat pants.

Where Can I Get One of These?

16 Jan

Um, ladies, have you seen Wes Brown?  Have you seen his hot body and terrible acting in “Deception”?  I don’t know what’s worse, the script of the acting.  Regardless of how fucking TERRIBLE the show is, I will continue to tune in to stare at the deliciousness that is Wes Brown.

Imagine him NAKED!!

Imagine him NAKED!!

Dear writers of the show, here’s a tip: you’ll increase your viewership if you have a very naked Wes Brown traipsing around the scene.  Do it for your viewers.  DO IT!!

All in favor of seeing Wes Brown naked??

AYE!

Bring in the Big Guns

16 Nov

There is something wrong with me.  Seriously wrong with.  I know what you’re all thinking, “We know, we know, you’re totally wrong in so many ways.”  You’ll never guess what I did today.  NEVER GUESS!!  No, I didn’t make out with a 27 year old hotty who has a girlfriend in the elevator.  Nor did I jump into someone’s Mustang and proceed to face rape him in the front seat of his car.  It doesn’t even have anything to do with purposely wearing a low cut blouse when I knew I was going to have a meeting with one of my work secret boyfriends.

Oh, no.  No, no.

Today I took a page out of the Cougar Handbook and full on molested my secret boyfriend.  Not molested like there were tears or he was going to feel dirty or if anyone saw it they’d report me.  Not THAT bad.  Though that would have been awesome to because as I suspected, his body is TIGHT.

Dreamy Blue Eyes and I have been working on a project together for about eight months.  Yes, it’s true, the only reason I offered to work on the project is because I knew he was working on it.  This has all worked out in my favor because I’m the one he calls when he needs help, or he needs to be talked off the ledge, etc.  A few weeks ago we went into Philadelphia for a meeting.  I drove, he sat in the front seat with me, and there were two people in the back.  Not sure what we were talking about, but the project manager in the back commented that she felt she was watching an episode of “Friends” just based on the exchange we were having.

Blah blah blah.

Anyway, he was on the verge of a major meltdown today so he called me and asked me to help him work through something.  Of course, I said yes.  Thankfully I was looking pretty hot today, all down to the black pencil skirt and heels.  If only my top had been lower cut.  Oh well.  Just as I showed up at his desk a cock blocker came to interrupt our conversation – or so I thought.  Turns out I couldn’t have asked for a better interruption.  The cock blocker was talking about the project and I could see Dreamy Blue Eyes on the verge of freaking out.  So I did what any soon-to-be-Cougar would do.

I pounced.

I leaned forward, grabbed Dreamy Blue Eye’s arm (with both hands), and told cock blocker he was going to make Dreamy Blue Eyes cry and we needed to work some stuff out.  People.  People of the blogosphere.  PEOPLE!  Holy fuck his arm was AMAZING.  I could feel every single muscle underneath his sleeve.  Hot.  Cut.  He clearly has a smoking hot body trapped underneath his clothes.  Unreal.

Unforch, I won’t be the one to peel off that shirt and give him chest to chest rub down I dream of.  That is left to his wife.  His stupid, petite, wicked cute, and smart wife.  I hate her.

But I love him.

In related news, I need to get laid.

My Spicy Man Meat

29 Jul

I mentioned several weeks ago that my friends and I have decided that we are all too freaking fat and that exposing our bodies to tourists in Mexico would be unlawful and we’d immediately get sent to the States.  Operation Mexi Melt is in full swing, and everyone has been doing well.  Boom Boom and I have become dedicated to fitness.  Several times a week we drag our plump butts to the gym and work up a sweat.  Typically, the thought of this would make me feel like killing myself 12 times, however, I have found my inspiration: spicy man meat.

There is this dude that works at the gym that is seriously one of the hottest guys I have ever seen.  Ever.  In my life.  Ever.  Ever. Ever.

Ever.

Hottest dude ever.

In the world.

Ever.

This guy’s body is sick.  He’s tall, has just the right muscle tone, broad shoulders, great hair and  a tight ass.  Me want him. Unfortunately, his stupid tiny blond girlfriend is usually in tow.  I don’t know the girl, but I fucking hate her.  She is a whore. The luckiest whore in the world.  You can imagine my delight on Tuesday when I was sitting on the stationary bike, cursing my, when he suddenly appeared – without his girlfriend. I literally sat there for an hour and just gawked at him. I watched him run around the track, lift weights, sweat, and totally avoid eye contact.

I ended up moving to an elliptical that faces the track, and that’s when the magic happened: he started doing wunges (walking lunges, which are usually lamer than shit) right in front of me.  He was lunging so deep that his ball sack was practically hitting the floor.  It was so hot I almost fell off my elliptical.  I swear I had to go home and change out of my workout pants afterwards, creamy good times.

Hottest guy ever.

Protected: Widgets & Cock

17 Jun

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