It's never been this bad before, and I'm pretty sure it's seriously clouding my judgement.
Smart people who study this kind of stuff state that women hit their sexual peak at or around the age of 30, and WHOA BUDDY are they right! I finally understand what it must feel like to be a 16-year-old boy.
I don't want this feeling to ever go away...
Now, you'd think with my exuding this intense sexual energy that I'd have men falling over themselves trying to get some of this. I mean, I am a total hottie and all. But the city of Portland is a strange, strange beast. In reality, I feel that my confidence and powerful sexuality is quite frankly scaring the piss out of these poor little city boys. Maybe I should work on toning it down a bit.
Nah.
For, I have some exiting news. DRUM ROLL PLEASE...
THIS GIRL FINALLY GOT LAID!!!!!!!!!!!!
And it wasn't half bad, either.
I know, I know, I know. You all are screaming, "DETAILS! I WANT DETAILS!"
I love you ladies.
Ole Blue Eyes, we'll call him.
Ahhhhhhhh, Ole Blue Eyes. I could have gazed into those blue eyes for eternity.
Dammit. Why can't I just always have what I want all the time, exactly when I want it?
So, I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but I met the guy at karaoke. Again. This one, however, I do not regret. Even a little bit...
Scenario. Friend in town, and we're just coming off of an auh-MAZ-ing trip to the coast and back through wine country. God I love this state. And I'm sure at this point you all know what, in my mind, is the perfect way to cap off the night. Yup. Karaoke!!!!!!!
I saw him at the bar and I lost my breathe. Tall, slender with broad shoulders, beard, cap, rolled up jeans, scarf tucked into a zip up hoodie. And the biggest, bluest, most sparkling eyes I have ever seen. Oh, ladies! Those eyes! They say the eyes are a portal into the soul, and I saw some major possibilities in those eyes.
After briefly making eye contact I, of course, blush beet red, and practically run back to my seat in the other room. I whisper excitedly to my friend, "CUTE GUYS AT THE BAR!!!!" Within minutes, those "Cute Guys at the bar" became the "Cute Guys sitting in front of us", then the "Cute Guys asking us to borrow a pen", then the "Cute Guys sitting with us", then the "Cute Guys getting drunk and dancing all night with us."
Hells yeah.
My friend, who had spent the entire week coaching me on confidence, whispers in my ear, "You should invite them back to the apartment." And so I do. Old Blue Eyes' friend declines, but Ole Blue Eyes says yes.
Yessssssssssss.....
He comes back, we crack beers, listen to music, and talk. He's from Nebraska via Eugene (ah! A recovering hippy!), he's 25 (I'm going to ignore that part...), he's a musician (of course he is), he's here in Portland to work on a musical project with his friend (my heart is melting), and his eyes are as blue as a summer sky (you will notice a certain theme starting here). I'm sorry, what was I talking about? My brain just went numb...
Eyes...So...Blue...Can't...Focus...
Whew. Sorry. I'm back.
So he leaves that night, and insists that I take his number and call him, not the other way around. OK, sir. I will do whatever you ask, just promise me I can gaze into those eyes again.
I'm getting pretty good at this part. I waited 3 days and then called, and my message was much less dorky than most of the others.
But alas. Nothing.
Until 2 weeks later when I'd completely forgotten that I'd even called him in the first place.
"Hey there! Sorry it took me so long to call you back, I've actually been killer sick and I'm just starting to feel better, so I thought I'd call to see if you wanted to go out for lunch tomorrow."
Wait. Are your eyes still that crystal shade of blue? Then yes, hell yes.
So we meet for lunch. And to be completely honest, ladies, I didn't have all that good of a time. The conversation was awkward and felt forced. Despite that, we still ended up hanging out for over 3 hours, wandering around after lunch and just talking and talking about nothing in particular. Hugs goodbye, and I think, "Well, that's that. Painful, but good to know right off the bat that this just isn't meant to be."
Except that a second date happened that following Sunday evening. I'm not even really sure how, but I found myself having one of the best dates I've had in a long time with the guy that I'd just had the most awkward date with in a long time. I was like a rock star. Mojo was on the loose, big time. I was funny, witty, and totally kicked his ass at darts. By the end of the night, we were playing footsie under the table at the bar, and both couldn't wait to get back to my place.
Now now, don't everybody get all excited. Didn't happen that night. But we did keep seeing each other. And what I started noticing was that he seemed to take a lot of pleasure in doing whatever I asked or needed him to do. I got a flat tire, and he carted me around the city getting it fixed. He actually picked up tabs when we would go out for drinks or dinner. He took me to and picked me up from the airport when I traveled. He made me delicious meals. When I got stressed out from working too much, he took me out of town to hike in a remote part of Oregon.
Oh yeah, and the sex was FANTASTIC. Eventually. Took a while to get comfortable with each other. I got this definite sense of shyness mixed with a little insecurity and inexperience from him at first and I had to learn to be much more assertive and in control. But once we got there, ladies, man oh man. Let's just say that lots of good sex does wonders for this girl. I was less stressed, more productive, and overall, just happier. If I were I doctor I would prescribe a daily regimen getting laid to every woman out there!
The one possible side effect of having lots of really good sex, however, is that sometimes it can be distracting in the sense of maybe you might not notice a slight change of behavior from your partner. For example, like maybe after a month or so, Ole Blue Eyes started dropping off the face of the earth for 4-6 days at a time, and he started turning down opportunities to hang out. There became this air of reluctance about him. I totally didn't see it coming...
Ah, shit ladies, let's face it. I totally saw it coming, and just chose not to do anything about it cause I didn't want to give up the good sex. Simple as that.
The following an example of an average week of rest of our relationship:
Day 1: Man! We had such a good time last night! Let's grab coffee or lunch, then go our separate ways for the day!
Day 2: Nothing.
Day 3: Nothing.
Day 4: Nothing.
Day 5: Nothing.
Day 6 (in my head, of course): GOD DAMMIT!! THAT'S IT! I'm done! This is SO FREAKIN disrespectful. I'm calling him right now and calling it off!!!!!!!!!!
- (in the form of a call or text) "Hey! I think we need to talk. Wanna get together tomorrow for coffee or something?"
Day 7: Aww, this is so nice. We're here having coffee and talking and you're so sweet, and MY GOD, your eyes are so blue, and... umm... where am i?... huh?...
Oh. What was is that I wanted to talk about, you say? I completely forget. Must not have been that important. So, wanna go back to my place and watch a movie?
Sigh.
Until one day we were driving in his car, and he looked at me and said, "So..."
And I smiled uncomfortably and said, "So..."
And the talk finally happened. We held hands. We both talked about how unready we were for a relationship, and at first I thought I was lying to him to make him feel better about calling it off. But as the conversation progressed, I realized that I was being honest. I'm not ready either. Weird.
We both had different reasons. He needed to go out and experience more of life, and I had to face some difficult questions I'd been ignoring about life. Sometimes the right thing to do isn't the easiest thing to do. Sometimes it hurts your insides a little...
So, ladies, I think I will digress here a bit. I'm gonna get slightly existential on your asses. It bothers me more and more everyday that there are 80some emotions and feelings for which we ascribe one word. That word, of course, being the word "Love".
Love is supposed to feel good. Great even. It's supposed to bring on senses of giddiness. It's supposed to make your chest feel full instead of empty.
But I will say that despite the fact that letting him go hurt my insides a little, I was displaying my love for him. And possibly even more important, I was displaying my love for myself. Wow. I know, right? Totally nuts.
So, goodbye, Ole Blue Eyes. Till we meet again.
Blah. I think I'm done with boys for a while.
Hee hee. Yeah right...
I don't want this feeling to ever go away...
Now, you'd think with my exuding this intense sexual energy that I'd have men falling over themselves trying to get some of this. I mean, I am a total hottie and all. But the city of Portland is a strange, strange beast. In reality, I feel that my confidence and powerful sexuality is quite frankly scaring the piss out of these poor little city boys. Maybe I should work on toning it down a bit.
Nah.
For, I have some exiting news. DRUM ROLL PLEASE...
THIS GIRL FINALLY GOT LAID!!!!!!!!!!!!
And it wasn't half bad, either.
I know, I know, I know. You all are screaming, "DETAILS! I WANT DETAILS!"
I love you ladies.
Ole Blue Eyes, we'll call him.
Ahhhhhhhh, Ole Blue Eyes. I could have gazed into those blue eyes for eternity.
Dammit. Why can't I just always have what I want all the time, exactly when I want it?
So, I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but I met the guy at karaoke. Again. This one, however, I do not regret. Even a little bit...
Scenario. Friend in town, and we're just coming off of an auh-MAZ-ing trip to the coast and back through wine country. God I love this state. And I'm sure at this point you all know what, in my mind, is the perfect way to cap off the night. Yup. Karaoke!!!!!!!
I saw him at the bar and I lost my breathe. Tall, slender with broad shoulders, beard, cap, rolled up jeans, scarf tucked into a zip up hoodie. And the biggest, bluest, most sparkling eyes I have ever seen. Oh, ladies! Those eyes! They say the eyes are a portal into the soul, and I saw some major possibilities in those eyes.
After briefly making eye contact I, of course, blush beet red, and practically run back to my seat in the other room. I whisper excitedly to my friend, "CUTE GUYS AT THE BAR!!!!" Within minutes, those "Cute Guys at the bar" became the "Cute Guys sitting in front of us", then the "Cute Guys asking us to borrow a pen", then the "Cute Guys sitting with us", then the "Cute Guys getting drunk and dancing all night with us."
Hells yeah.
My friend, who had spent the entire week coaching me on confidence, whispers in my ear, "You should invite them back to the apartment." And so I do. Old Blue Eyes' friend declines, but Ole Blue Eyes says yes.
Yessssssssssss.....
He comes back, we crack beers, listen to music, and talk. He's from Nebraska via Eugene (ah! A recovering hippy!), he's 25 (I'm going to ignore that part...), he's a musician (of course he is), he's here in Portland to work on a musical project with his friend (my heart is melting), and his eyes are as blue as a summer sky (you will notice a certain theme starting here). I'm sorry, what was I talking about? My brain just went numb...
Eyes...So...Blue...Can't...Focus...
Whew. Sorry. I'm back.
So he leaves that night, and insists that I take his number and call him, not the other way around. OK, sir. I will do whatever you ask, just promise me I can gaze into those eyes again.
I'm getting pretty good at this part. I waited 3 days and then called, and my message was much less dorky than most of the others.
But alas. Nothing.
Until 2 weeks later when I'd completely forgotten that I'd even called him in the first place.
"Hey there! Sorry it took me so long to call you back, I've actually been killer sick and I'm just starting to feel better, so I thought I'd call to see if you wanted to go out for lunch tomorrow."
Wait. Are your eyes still that crystal shade of blue? Then yes, hell yes.
So we meet for lunch. And to be completely honest, ladies, I didn't have all that good of a time. The conversation was awkward and felt forced. Despite that, we still ended up hanging out for over 3 hours, wandering around after lunch and just talking and talking about nothing in particular. Hugs goodbye, and I think, "Well, that's that. Painful, but good to know right off the bat that this just isn't meant to be."
Except that a second date happened that following Sunday evening. I'm not even really sure how, but I found myself having one of the best dates I've had in a long time with the guy that I'd just had the most awkward date with in a long time. I was like a rock star. Mojo was on the loose, big time. I was funny, witty, and totally kicked his ass at darts. By the end of the night, we were playing footsie under the table at the bar, and both couldn't wait to get back to my place.
Now now, don't everybody get all excited. Didn't happen that night. But we did keep seeing each other. And what I started noticing was that he seemed to take a lot of pleasure in doing whatever I asked or needed him to do. I got a flat tire, and he carted me around the city getting it fixed. He actually picked up tabs when we would go out for drinks or dinner. He took me to and picked me up from the airport when I traveled. He made me delicious meals. When I got stressed out from working too much, he took me out of town to hike in a remote part of Oregon.
Oh yeah, and the sex was FANTASTIC. Eventually. Took a while to get comfortable with each other. I got this definite sense of shyness mixed with a little insecurity and inexperience from him at first and I had to learn to be much more assertive and in control. But once we got there, ladies, man oh man. Let's just say that lots of good sex does wonders for this girl. I was less stressed, more productive, and overall, just happier. If I were I doctor I would prescribe a daily regimen getting laid to every woman out there!
The one possible side effect of having lots of really good sex, however, is that sometimes it can be distracting in the sense of maybe you might not notice a slight change of behavior from your partner. For example, like maybe after a month or so, Ole Blue Eyes started dropping off the face of the earth for 4-6 days at a time, and he started turning down opportunities to hang out. There became this air of reluctance about him. I totally didn't see it coming...
Ah, shit ladies, let's face it. I totally saw it coming, and just chose not to do anything about it cause I didn't want to give up the good sex. Simple as that.
The following an example of an average week of rest of our relationship:
Day 1: Man! We had such a good time last night! Let's grab coffee or lunch, then go our separate ways for the day!
Day 2: Nothing.
Day 3: Nothing.
Day 4: Nothing.
Day 5: Nothing.
Day 6 (in my head, of course): GOD DAMMIT!! THAT'S IT! I'm done! This is SO FREAKIN disrespectful. I'm calling him right now and calling it off!!!!!!!!!!
- (in the form of a call or text) "Hey! I think we need to talk. Wanna get together tomorrow for coffee or something?"
Day 7: Aww, this is so nice. We're here having coffee and talking and you're so sweet, and MY GOD, your eyes are so blue, and... umm... where am i?... huh?...
Oh. What was is that I wanted to talk about, you say? I completely forget. Must not have been that important. So, wanna go back to my place and watch a movie?
Sigh.
Until one day we were driving in his car, and he looked at me and said, "So..."
And I smiled uncomfortably and said, "So..."
And the talk finally happened. We held hands. We both talked about how unready we were for a relationship, and at first I thought I was lying to him to make him feel better about calling it off. But as the conversation progressed, I realized that I was being honest. I'm not ready either. Weird.
We both had different reasons. He needed to go out and experience more of life, and I had to face some difficult questions I'd been ignoring about life. Sometimes the right thing to do isn't the easiest thing to do. Sometimes it hurts your insides a little...
So, ladies, I think I will digress here a bit. I'm gonna get slightly existential on your asses. It bothers me more and more everyday that there are 80some emotions and feelings for which we ascribe one word. That word, of course, being the word "Love".
Love is supposed to feel good. Great even. It's supposed to bring on senses of giddiness. It's supposed to make your chest feel full instead of empty.
But I will say that despite the fact that letting him go hurt my insides a little, I was displaying my love for him. And possibly even more important, I was displaying my love for myself. Wow. I know, right? Totally nuts.
So, goodbye, Ole Blue Eyes. Till we meet again.
Blah. I think I'm done with boys for a while.
Hee hee. Yeah right...
No comments:
Post a Comment