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Fire drill

25 Mar

I think I’m like many women in that I’d love to have a steamy, torrid love affair with a spicy hot firefighter. Or at least a dirty romp. It would be stupid hot, right?

Technically, I had one once. But it didn’t really count. He was a friend (with benefits) from college. Years after we graduated he came to visit and we ended up naked in my room. He was a paramedic at the time, and training to be a firefighter. It was hot, yes, but we got together because we’d already been together.

You can imagine my delight when Tinder presented the 34 year old, 6’6″ fireman. Swipe right!! Even better, we matched!!

We started messaging and it was anything but hot. It’s like a fucking job. Dude gave me nothing to work with. Usually there’s some kind of back and forth when you message someone. Trying to get him to engage is like pulling teeth. After a few days, I stopped responding for fear he’d bore me straight into a coma.

Guess who decided to message me again yesterday and today?

Ok, I’ll bite. Know what? He’s still boring.

Why can’t he be hot and interesting so I can play out my fireman fantasies while Monsieur le Baguette works on his rebounds?

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This could take all night

9 Mar

Next time I invite a hot almost stranger to get naked in my bed, please remind me to kick them out by midnight.

Sweet Jesus am I tired.  Tired of rolling around with someone 10 years younger than I am.  For FOUR hours.  Because I am a sex panther.  A sex panther with a hot body – according to the 34 year old.  I mean, he has a name, but who cares?  Actually, it’s occurred to me that I have zero idea what his last name is and I don’t think I’ve heard him utter my name.  How slutty.  Hurray!!

Did I mention he smelled really good?  Because he did.   In case you hadn’t heard, his body was hot.  I mean, I feel like he pretty much knows that I’m just using him for his body, right?  Because, come on.  His body is hot, that’s his most redeeming quality.  Then again, apparently mine is too – which was a shocking revelation I never expected.

Know what’s not so hot?  The bags under my eyes.  Not at all.  They’re not cute in the slightest – like if I ran into anyone I wanted to flirt with it would be the end of everything.  They’d think I had some strange auto immune disorder which was draining away all my energy and causing me to have purple skin under my eyes.  They kind of look like I had mascara on and then it crept under my eye and I never bothered to wash my face.

I just want to close my eyes and go to sleep.  It feels like I’m hungover.  Then again, I probably am hungover.  My dinner consisted of 2 glasses of wine and a cocktail (like an actual cocktail, not, you know, peen- that was more like dessert or a snack).  Four hours of sleep and I’m expected to function at work.  Not possible.  I can’t wait to go home and immediately climb into bed.  It’s going to be the greatest Friday night of all time.

I am…

9 Mar

A bonafide cougar. RAWR!! I mauled the 34 year old Civil Servant. His body was spicy and hawt. Clearly he spends way too many hours at the gym.

Oh, and fun fact, apparently I “have a hot body,” and he couldn’t wait to hook up when we met. Please note he said this after clothes were discarded on my bedroom floor. That means he would have seen all my rolls and run his hand up and down my thighs by that point. I’d like to thank the dim lighting in my room, the 2 drinks he had before we came home, and my hot body.

He also enjoyed when he came over, right before we left for the bar when I said, “yeah, so we’re going to have to make out before we go since we didn’t on Saturday.” And we did. Had to get that out of the way and all. Didn’t want things to be awkward. Then I pushed him off me and said we had to go for drinks.

Fun night. Better than I thought. The time at the bar was great! Not as great as the four hours in my room, but great.

I am a sex panther. I touched him below the waist. He was fully naked. I did not sleep with him tonight.

The one thing I found really surprising was that he wanted to snuggle. Like real cuddling. Tight hugs. Real spooning. Um, no. You don’t do that with casual. You lay next to each other, not wrapped around each other. I went along with it, because I’m a chick and I love being the little spoon.

He’s in love with me now. It’ll be awkward when I have to break up with him because I have a date with my future boyfriend on Sunday. In like 6 – 8 weeks my new boyfriend and I will be official. Civil Servant and I will take a trip to Bone City before that. I expect him to make an appearance at my house next week-preferably after Aunt Flow has left town.

Reset the counter.

**Clappity clap**

A long distance dedication

1 Mar

Civil Servant (#7) is lined up for Saturday afternoon.  Working on #8.  Both are 32.  I’m considering this an important social experiment.

Should it happen, I’m dedicating my “adventures” with #8 to my friend, Grey Goose, Dirty.  You’re welcome.  Feel free to expand the post to see what he looks like.

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Protected: Thanks, that was fun

28 Feb

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Asking for a friend

19 Feb

Is it possible to get pregnant over text message?

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.
  • Rational 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 knew 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.  The Tutor 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.