Don't Sell Yourself Short

Two of my male friends (one of which has been a good friend for many years and the other a more recent friend) are very open and honest about their perceived “inadequacies”.  In other words, they go around freely and openly telling the world they have small weenies.

I am all for full disclosure and I absolutely abhor lying.  Anyone who knows me well can attest to this fact.  Further, it would be ridiculous to tout a John-Holmes-size penis only to be discovered otherwise in the bedroom when the time comes.  I mean, there are some things you just can’t fake.   BUT, don’t kill your game before it even starts!

For example, I was out with a group of friends and (inevitably) the conversation turned to sex. During that conversation, my male friend basically stated for all my girlfriends to hear, that he is completely under-endowed. I just looked at him. Dude, you are your own cock-blocker!

Yes, in many of my blogs I joke around about wanting a big shlong (It's a girl thing; like men joking around about chicks with big boobs). But in reality I have been with men of all sizes and have been just as satisfied with both.  

 All of that being said, the following is my opinion on the whole tiny Johnson subject:

In a nutshell, sex is a sales game. I don’t necessarily mean “slimy used-car salesman” sales wherein you lie, cheat and steal your way into bed with someone (although there are definitely those that take this approach); but rather, a sales game in that you are selling yourself (Disclaimer: you are not actually going to get paid at the end of it - unless you have made pre-fuck arrangements). 

If you are looking for a one-nighter, you are selling yourself as a lover (“Baby, I can rock your world”).  If you are looking for a long-termer (Yes, that IS a word because I just used it in a sentence!), you might take a different approach (“Baby, I can rock your world AND make you a bangin’ omelet for breakfast in the morning”).  Either way, it’s pretty much all the same: you are selling yourself as a lover to get someone into bed with you. 

It’s almost like a job interview.  You wouldn’t walk into an interview and in the first 5 minutes state that you have a habit of being late every day (well, maybe you would but then you’d be an idiot: an unemployed idiot). The same goes with sex.  If I were hitting it off with a guy to which I clearly had a connection, and he said, “I am terrible in bed but wanna screw anyway?”  NO. No, I don't. But thanks for asking. 

Guys have the advantage of…well….clothing.  It is very difficult for a girl with an “A” cup to walk around telling everyone that she is a “D” cup.  It’s pretty damn obvious that she is full of shit. But guys, unless you are wearing a speedo (and I highly recommend against that), no one knows of your endowment - or lack thereof - until the time comes. 

So what does a guy do to sell himself in the bedroom without lying about his humongous dick? My suggestion is to work your other abilities into the flirty conversation as it becomes clearer that you will be ending the evening with a “big bang”.  For example, rather than “Let’s go back to my place, but I must warn you I have a tiny little pee-pee”, how about “Let’s go back to my place, but I must warn you that I LOVE giving cunnilingus”. Or, “Let’s go back to my place; I have an awesome toy that I am dying to use on you.”  (OK, I really feel the need to stop here for a moment and explain to you men that women typically do not like USED toys. I may have said this before but it is important.  Please have a nice selection of unused toys to choose from. Yes, they can be expensive but do you want to get laid or not?   If you get a lot of game, might I suggest a “Dildo of the Month” club?)

If you have confidence in your other bedroom abilities and you know it, you can still walk with your head held high and get laid regardless of the size of your organ.  Women love confidence. But let me be clear: if you boast about your other talents, you’d better have them because you can’t fake that either. Practice on some fruit or something; do a Google search on “how to perform cunnilingus”. (There is much to choose from but be warned: you will also get many porn sites doing that particular search and unless you remember what you are looking for, you will become distracted and have learned nothing sitting there with your dick in your hand).  You can also search “how to use a dildo on a chick”.  This is the information age, People! Stupidity is not a defense (and will not get you laid).

The point is, there are ways to overcome short-comings and disclosing them to an entire room of potential partners is not one of them.

I would love to hear from my readers on this subject.  As a girl, is it important that the guy be well-endowed? As a guy, if you are less-than-average in the penis department have you figured out a way to compensate for that? Did it work? I would love to hear anything else that anyone has to add about on this subject!

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Swingers

So I’m out having a couple of drinks with some friends one night to celebrate another friend’s return to our home state and we are laughing and dancing and having a grand old time when another “friend” (whom I shall call Dicky) decides to step into the “bitter barn” and starts bitching about his soon to be ex-wife.   I (being of sound mind and loose tongue) immediately blurt out, “doesn’t your chosen lifestyle lend itself to your wife leaving you?”  SCREEEEECH.

It kinda felt like one of those movies where they say something really loud and inappropriate right when the music stops and the entire bar turns and looks. Yeah. Like that. It seemed like even the people dry-humping in the corner stopped groping each other to stare at me in awe that I had actually kicked the guy when he was down. 

I looked around, “WHAT???”

Let me explain:  Dicky is a swinger.  I didn’t know this when Dicky friend requested me on Facebook.  I accepted Dicky’s friend request because we had graduated high school together and had many mutual friends.  I didn’t remember Dicky in high school but we had a very large graduating class and I was pretty much stoned for most of my high school career so it didn’t surprise me that I didn’t remember him.  It took me about a month to figure out what Dicky was up to (sometimes I am not too swift on the intake).

The first telling piece of information was all of the pictures Dicky kept posting of himself with beautiful (but trashy) looking blonds.  Now Dicky is not an Adonis. He is short and stout (Yes, like the little teapot) and a little pudgy and I could probably put him in my pocket if I didn’t wear my pants so tight.  So the fact that Dicky had been married for 20+ years and kept posting pictures of himself (and occasionally his wife), with blond bimbos was a little confusing at first. The second piece to the puzzle was that Dicky kept inviting me to numerous parties that he would have and he would have them A LOT.  Like more than once a week there were pictures of him at various skanky-looking soirées to which I had been invited (but thankfully did not attend).  

The last piece of the puzzle (and when the SWINGER marquee finally hit me upside my head) was when I began receiving friend requests from couples in far-off places (“Bob/Liz Smith from Texas want to be your friend.”  How many couples do you know that SHARE a Facebook page??)  After I denied the third couple’s request, l started wondering what the hell was going on and quickly realized that the only thing I had in common with these people was Dicky.   HELLO SWINGERS!

Now (obviously) I am no one to judge how people lead their sexual lives and I have been in a ménage or two in my time but it seems to me if you are in a long-term committed relationship and you are encouraging your spouse to fuck other people, you are playing with fire.  It’s a numbers game, idiot.   At some point in 20+ years, if your spouse is screwing numerous people, he or she is going to find someone that looks better than you, fucks better than you and reads the funnies on a Sunday morning better than you.   It’s pretty much inevitable.  It is the extremely rare case that whatever “special connection” you have with your spouse is the only “special connection” your spouse is going to have in a lifetime, especially when you throw sex into the mix. 

I have met guys that acted like they were the shit because they were “Oh-so-open-minded” to let their wives boink someone else and I come to find out it was purely out of selfish reasons.  They themselves were bored or horny or whatever and under the ruse of being open-minded, simply wanted permission to screw someone else too.  So while he was busy patting himself on the back for letting his wife screw that guy over there, his other hand was firmly planted in some other chick’s Hooha.  Nice.

Even if it isn’t for selfish reasons, and he isn’t looking to fool around with another girl (or guy), which I highly doubt, it’s probably not going to end well.  I speak from experience:

About 25 years ago, I was dating a guy in Florida that wanted to take me on a vacation to his friend’s house in the Keys.  The entire week prior to the vacation he kept telling me how good looking his friend was and how awesome his friend was and that if I wanted to have coitus with his friend he wouldn’t mind.  At first I thought this was some kind of a faithfulness test, so I was adamant that I wasn’t interested.  He kept insisting that he would be fine with it and he and his friend and he were very close and “shared everything” (like a stick of deodorant??).  I told him I understood his point but that I really wasn’t interested because I loved him.  The whole ride down he kept up his song and dance that he would be O.K. with it, should I change my mind.  We pull into the driveway and his shirtless friend comes out to greet us.   Holy. Shit.  Mind changed. 

I’m not really sure what my boyfriend had in mind, or why he was so insistent (looking back I think maybe he either wanted to see what his friend was packing or make his friend jealous of what he had every day), but I’m pretty sure things didn’t transpire the way they were supposed to in his mind. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been clear to set the boundaries or the scenario or the scene so that I knew what was OK and what wasn’t and a few nights into our short vacation, he and I got into an argument.  He was being a dick and ignoring me while I was trying to speak to him about whatever stupid disagreement we were having and so I got the shits of trying to talk to him and went to see what his friend was doing in his bedroom.  Needless to say, boyfriend got his wish. Or not.     

At some point my boyfriend actually came looking for me, saw what was going on, and turned around and left (personally, I took that as a “carry on”).  I am guessing by his reaction afterward that things didn’t go the way he thought they would because (wait for it….) he was PISSED.  Yep.  We all could have seen that coming. Needless to say, our relationship was never the same and he treated me as if I had cheated on him (and I treated him like the idiot that he was).  Moral: Be careful what you wish for, People.

How about this idea: If you want to screw other people, STAY SINGLE.  Trust me, it works.

I would like to hear other’s opinion on this subject.  Are you married and have you ever done or considered swinging? Do you know anyone that does and has it worked for them in the long-term?  As a single person would you consider getting involved with a married couple?

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A Quickie

One of my girlfriends and I were having a conversation via Heytell today. (If you don’t have Heytell you should totally get it! It makes your cellphone into a walkie talkie!)  The conversation pertained to an art gallery opening that we are going to this weekend (because I am all fucking cultured and shit).  And the conversation went like this:

Me:  Is there a cover charge?   (Because while I believe in supporting the arts, I need to make sure I have drinking money.)

Her: Nope! And they will have food and wine!

Me:  My favorite! I LOVE food and wine!

Her: Ohhh  and there will be hot chicks too.  Maybe we can find [our guy friend] a girlfriend!

Me: Oh my God, that would be awesome!  What about guys? Will there be guys there?  (Because while I want my friends to be happy, let’s talk about what’s important here: ME)

Her:  There should definitely be guys there.  Maybe you could fulfill your Cougar dream.

Me:  Funny you should mention that!  I looked up a Cougar website the other day just to see if there were any and there were. But, they seemed to be more like gigolo type of things.

Her: OH MY GOD!! PLEASE sign up for the Cougar dating website, if only for your blog! I mean, take one for the team, Gina!  Do it for your art!

Me: I will take MORE than ONE for the team, girlfriend! MORE. THAN. ONE.

Her:  Whore.

Me: Yes and a very happy one at that…..Hey, don’t judge me. You read Perez Hilton and I fuck.  It’s a choice.

Her:  Hahahaha! You need a T-shirt that says that!!

Me: I'm not sure I could get away with that.

Sheath Thy Sword, Kind Sir

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Creepy Quiet

So have you ever been sitting around with a friend on a weekend night and you two are like bored outta your minds cause there is nothing on TV and your board games are all the way downstairs in your basement which seems really far? You don’t want to go out driving because you are broke or you have had a few drinks (or you are broke because you bought a few drinks), and you are like sitting around looking at each other all bored and shit and to kill the boredom you decide to have sex?   NO?   Huh.

Well I found myself in this situation awhile ago and as it turns out my friend - who ordinarily can’t seem to shut the fuck up - turned out to be so quiet it was fucking creepy. (Which I have now dubbed a new sexual affliction called “Creepy Quiet.”)

Hey, I’m not looking for a screamer to blow my house down.  I’ve actually had that before and it was very hard to concentrate on the matter at hand with all of the noise going on. I was also quite worried that my neighbors were going to break my door down to rescue the poor fucker being murdered in my bed (another blog, another time). But in this particular case, mum was the word (at least it would have been had he said anything).

It’s always nice to get a little positive feedback, isn’t it? I mean whether a person is working at a job, helping the homeless or having a little spontaneous sex, it’s nice to hear the occasional “atta girl”.  I would accept an appreciative moan or grunt, a happily garbled word; even a loud pant would be acceptable. SOMETHING just to let me know he is still in the game (and wouldn’t rather be playing Scrabble).

Eventually, one really begins to wonder if he is thinking of his grocery list or what the next microbrew is going to be at his favorite bar while he is screwing.  I mean seriously, give a woman a clue.  Are you enjoying it? Does it suck? Are you enjoying the suck?  Would you rather go back to watching infomercials? Because I am ok with that as long as I know that’s the deal. The occasional “that feels good” might be in order in this situation or even a little directional advice (in the timeless words of David Lee Roth, “a little more to the right.”).  For the love of God give me SOMETHING!

I know! How about a compliment? A compliment might be nice.  I mean after all, I was too lazy to walk down the steps to get a fucking board game but I did actually get off the couch and take my clothes off.  And now I am even exercising with him.  That should have gotten me something.

So, I guess talking dirty is out of the question; not to mention role playing. How does one role play with a silent person? He could play the quiet pilot, but eventually would be required to say something when, as the slutty stewardess, I presented him with the question of, “Coffee, tea or me?”  He could always play a mime. He could pretend to be a mime and I could pretend to be the dirty girl that was trying to get him to break his “Code of Mime-Silence”; a mime-fucker, if you will. But I imagine even that would get old eventually as I would never win the game. 

After it was over and I had blurted out, “Wow! You are really creepy quiet!” I suggested getting him a T-shirt (as a public service message) that read “I am Creepy Quiet”. The shirt was simply so that other girls in the future would know in advance and not take it personally. There I go again being all thoughtful to my fellow human beings! He didn’t go for it.

The perfect example, and what reminded me of this situation, was the other night when I was watching the HBO show “Girls”. In this particular episode the main character, Hannah, was having the most awkward sex I have ever seen with a guy she had just met.  It was more awkward than new sex ever should be but that is part of why the show is so funny.  Anyway, during the awkward sex, the new guy blurts out, “What are you doing? Please don’t put your finger in my asshole!” to which Hannah responded with “You weren’t telling me what it was that you wanted at all so I was just trying to guess what you wanted.  You are allowed to just tell me what it is that you want.”

And that, my quiet friends out there, is your lesson of the day: Creepy Quiet can get you a finger up your asshole.  

A Gay Crossdresser With the Wrong Parts

My world was turned upside down today as I found out that apparently: I am not a girl.  I know!! I am as surprised as the rest of you!

Here I was happily living my life thinking I have the world by the balls in an “I-am-woman-and-I-got-what-they-want” power-kick and I was floored to discover that I must be a gay crossdresser with the wrong parts.  This all came to a head (which I am still looking for, by the way) when I was checking out the free dating site and scrolled down to the bottom of the page to see the following:

Women’s Top Ten Favorite Ways to Have Someone Flirt with Them

1. Talk about things she likes or dislikes, making comments and showing interest

Yes, showing interest is great.  I recommend it to every human being trying to have any kind of a relationship with any other human being (or a pet for that matter).  Unless you are the Unabomber, you should probably know this.

2. Display concern for her, her feelings and well-being

“Hi! My name is Joe. I hope you don’t have cancer or some other horrible illness.  I hope you aren’t manically depressed and sitting at home deciding whether you should reply to my email or kill yourself.  Write back if you decide on the first one, ok?”

3. Share jokes or amusing anecdotes with her  

“Hi! My name is Tony. So, an old lady and a goat walk into a bar…”

4. Compliment her on her screen name, attitude, personality and appearance  

One must tread lightly about this one.  Too many compliments early on makes one appear to be a bull-shitter, or desperate, or a desperate bull-shitter.  For example: my current screen name has my zodiac sign in it. I have been contacted by guys that were very (and I mean overly) excited about my particular zodiac sign.  So whether he is really hippy-dippy and wants to read my palm or he is just trying to get me excited that he is excited; either way, I don’t want him. 

 On the converse side, just so you guys know, “I think you massive boobs are awesome” is NOT a compliment.    

5. Send her special/cute email messages  

The problems with this one are vast.  First, one man’s “cute” is another woman’s nightmare.  Second, men don’t typically know or do “cute”.  It usually turns into creepy really fucking fast.  Third, what is a cute email message exactly? 

“Hi, Snookiebear! Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you! My name is Bob.”

 Just so you know, “cute” messages from a virtual stranger make most women want to back away slowly from the computer and hide in a closet.

On the other hand, if you have been emailing back and forth with a particular woman on the dating site for awhile, and you are at the point where you are sending “cute” messages through the site and not on her cellphone; you should really move on because she’s either not interested or married.

 6. Makes an effort to contact her in some form most every day

Contacting someone you barely know on a daily basis is not flirting.  It’s stalking.  Get it right.

7. Chats with her when you are online at the same time 

The problem with chatting is that you either chat with the entire world or you don’t chat at all.  There is no in-between. You have to hide yourself from chatting with anyone or you get 35 invitations to chat at the same time.  Nine times out of ten, that is the last thing I have time for when I jump online to check my emails. 

I even had to hide myself on Facebook for God’s sake, and I KNOW those people!  Prior to hiding myself on Facebook it never failed that when I was about to walk out the door I would jump online for a second to check my notifications (for the 47th time today) and 12 people wanted to chat.  I then felt obligated to acknowledge each one and tell them that I don’t have time to chat and by the time I was finished with that I had already missed 2 cheap drinks at happy hour.  No thanks.

8. Discusses seriously the traits she desires in a partner

This one I agree with as it works for women and men alike.  I just haven’t figured out a nice way to say, “How big is your dick?” early on in the conversation. I am working on that one.

9. Show her your daring or mischievous side 

Again, this one is perception. What is a guy supposed to do to show his daring or mischievous side without looking like one of the buffoons from “Jackass”??  You can’t do sarcasm in writing without a sarcasm font (and when the HELL is someone going to come up with that?) so that isn’t going work.  Should he suggest a romantic bank robbing?  I don’t understand.

 10. Emails her greeting cards, gifts, pictures songs or fun attachments

We have already discussed this in a previous blog: http://anticsofaserialdater.blogspot.com/2011/12/living-in-virtual-world.html.  I think virtual gifts are virtually stupid.

I would like to note here that the last time I checked (in a “Fried Green Tomatoes” moment) I was female. However, after reading the above list of what I, as a female, am supposed to like and the fact that I physically flinched at each and every one of those “flirting ideas,” I am beginning to wonder…

Porn is in the Eye of the Beholder

I (along with apparently most red-blooded American women) recently finished the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy by E.L. James.  Personally, I loved them.  Not because they are so well written that Ms. James is going to win any literary awards (although she could buy any award she wants); but because the subject of the books is sex with a little mystery pulling up the rear (heh heh heh).  I am not afraid to admit it: I love a good smutty book. The only problem with reading smut is the quantity in which I read it.  It must be taken in small doses in order to not walk around like I am in heat.  The other day, after a weekend of reading a particularly dirty book, I found myself practically panting at the elderly postman.  Clearly it was time to step away from the kindle. 

Anyway, I was in the nail salon last week and we were discussing the “Fifty Shades” books.  The majority of the ladies had read and enjoyed them but when the receptionist was asked if she had read them yet her response was, “I don’t read porn”.  I thought it a shame to be so closed minded about something so open to interpretation (she must be a lot of fun in bed) but more so, it made me think about the definition of porn.

I never really thought of the written word as porn.  I know the media has labeled this trilogy “mommy porn”, but they have to have a teaser title for everything:  “The Storm of the Century” (which apparently happens every year) and my recent favorite: “Snowmageddon”.  My friends and I have labeled a series of vampire smut books that we were reading as “vampire porn” but it was more a nickname as there are many books in the series.  I just always pictured porn as..…well..…pictures.

Being the open-minded sort (and having been around awhile) I am familiar with porn.  I have seen it in many different forms: videos, magazines, strip clubs, fetish, gay, straight, etc. While some of it did nothing for me and I couldn’t necessarily understand the appeal; who am I to judge what happens between two consenting (human) adults? Isn’t there a saying that goes “All’s fair in love and sex”? If there isn’t, there should be.

 It would seriously be a good mantra for most of the men out there that act like you are killing puppies if you even mention “male on male” anything (actually I think they would be more comfortable with the puppy-killing topic) but those same men get turned on by anything lesbian.  (Hello, Double Standard! How are you?) Just because YOU wouldn’t do it doesn’t make it wrong or disgusting or vomit-worthy (methinks thou doth protest too much).  Personally, I find a man that is secure enough in himself and his own sexuality to understand that sex is sex and it’s all good whether it’s something he would do or not, to be sexy as hell.

But back to the question at hand: what is porn? Is it anything that turns someone on? If that’s the case, I have a whole closet full of porn in many shapes and sizes to the shoe-fetish guy, not to mention a drawer full of porn to the lingerie lover. 

Does porn have to be graphic pictures of people getting it on or can it be a written story of people screwing? What about people screwing missionary style? Perhaps it’s the word choice that makes it pornographic? Is “the tip of his heat throbbed as he entered her slick, wet core” considered porn as opposed to “they made love”? (Wow. I nearly fell asleep just writing that last quote.)

Either way, I highly recommend the reading of smut to any woman that wants to spice up her sex life (or get one).  It is a well-known fact that men are visual creatures when it comes to sexuality and women are thinkers.  Accordingly, what’s the harm of visualizing your partner as the hot pirate dude from your latest dirty novel for a minute or two? Whatever it takes to get the job done if your sex life has gotten mundane, in my humble opinion.

I will say that I have not seen a penis- in person or in porn- as glorious as the one in my mind’s eye while reading it's description in a good smut book.  That could be a problem.

Thoughts on your definition of porn?

SPOILER ALERT

If you have NOT read the Shades of Grey trilogy but plan to: Stop Here.

Below are some quick comments on the books themselves and there might be a spoiler or two:

I was reading some reviews of this trilogy and ran across one from a man that described himself as “a retired gynecologist”. Apparently, with nothing but time on his hands, he chose to read some “Chick Lit” and in his review went into somewhat of a long-winded diatribe about how unrealistic Anastasia Steele’s first sexual experience was with Christian Grey.  NO SHIT. I don’t know about you, but my first time was NOTHING like Anastasia Steele’s first time.  In fact, I am not aware of any female on this planet that had multiple orgasms while having her cherry popped for the first time.  That’s why they call it FICTION.

On the other hand, what heterosexual female on this planet wouldn’t want to feel an actual physical spark with a sexy, rich guy upon your first meeting - and then have it be reciprocated?!? (“ Oh NO, hotter-than-hell rich guy with more money than God, I couldn’t possibly take a brand new car as a graduation present.” Right.)

What female wouldn’t melt for a guy that said with conviction (and not threat) “YOU are MINE”??

These books are the shit that dreams are made of!

He Was So Hungry He Could Eat A Horse

While perusing Facebook the other day, I ran across a headline from my local newspaper that I refer to as a train wreck: incredibly disturbing but you just can’t look away (a lot like the Anna Nicole Smith show when it was on). The headline read as follows:

“Man accused of breaking into Perry County barn, performing sex act on horse”

Personally, I draw the line at bestiality (see! I do have boundaries!).  But disgusted and dismayed nonetheless, I clicked on the article to see what kind of sick fuck wanted to screw a horse.  Obviously sick fucks (aka Zoophiles) aren’t new.  The history of bestiality is long and sorted from the cave drawings depicting bestiality (circa) 8000 BC to the “sheep shaggers” in Ireland today. So while very little shocks me anymore when it comes to the sexual depravity of man, (or woman- don’t get your boxers in a bunch) this one actually did.  The article reads as follows:

“State Police say a man broke into a barn early today and performed oral sex on a female horse.”

No. Seriously.

Now, I do not profess to know all that much about horses other than one should feed them apples or sugar with a flat hand in order to not get one’s fingers broken when the horse chomps down; therefore, I would not know for a fact where the female horse’s genitalia actually is other than really, really close to its asshole (danger zone! danger zone!). But let’s say for sake of argument this guy is more knowledgeable of the anatomy of a horse than I.  The bigger question here is: sexually speaking, what would this do for the guy?

I mean, I understand the enjoyment and feeling of power one gets for giving pleasure to another, but not really in this particular case. How does he know he is doing it right, much less that she even feels it? After all, the phrase “hung like a horse” is a phrase for a reason.  Maybe the guy felt that he needed practice in fellatio and no one else was available? On the converse side, this idiot is brave, I’ll give him that.  If the horse were to decide she did not enjoy it, I would imagine the kicking that he would receive would get him over his fetish real quick.

So my friend and I were discussing this "incident" this morning over coffee and she tells me I didn’t read far enough.  She insisted that I read some of the comments made by the readers in response to this article.  I have to admit, they did not disappoint.  

The following are some of the better comments:

         “Was this witnessed or did he confess? either way, it is downright disgusting. Get a room!”

To which some smartass responds:

                             “not many rooms you can get that allows a horse...”

This one is my personal favorite:

          “Neigh means neigh.”

Another:

               

“Channel 21 posted this story with the last line, "The name of the horse is being withheld." 

That sound you hear is the earth slowly spinning into the sun.”

This person had a good question:

                “Was it an on-going relationship or just a one-time fling?”

And lastly:

                “The horse was underage. More charges to come….”

                               

You just can't make this shit up.

Benny Hana

Every year when I was young and my birthday would roll around I would ask my mother to take me to Benihana’s Japanese Restaurant.  I friggin loved that place.  I loved every single course it offered, the soup that looks like dishwater, the salad with the ginger dressing and the main meal -even the vegetables! I loved that there was entertainment while I waited for my dinner, that I could get a Shirley Temple with an umbrella in it, and my favorite thing was when they sang “Happy Birthday” to me in their native tongue.  The whole thing was awesome. Even as I am older, every year as my birthday rolls around, I think fondly of my younger years that I spent celebrating my birthday with knives whipping around my head and a whole bunch of strangers sitting at my table and inevitably, my thoughts go to a chef that I picked up at the restaurant in my later years.  As I do not recall him name, I will call him “Benny”.

I was around 20 or 21 years old and I came home from south Florida for a visit.  It must have been around my birthday- or perhaps it wasn’t- but in any event; my mother wanted to take me out to dinner and as I could never afford such a meal living on my own, I chose Benihana.

As the chef walked to the table, I was curious.  He wasn’t one of the old men that barely spoke a lick of English that typically cooked my meal. He was young! And cute! He seemed rather tall (or maybe it was the chef’s hat) and understood me when I spoke (bonus!) and I will admit that if I need to flirt with the Hibachi Chef in order to get an extra shrimp or two, that’s what I’m gonna do. So by the end of the night, as I finished my extra food, we exchanged phone numbers and made a date.

I don’t recall a whole lot after that, whether we hung out a couple of times or not (it couldn’t have been an awful lot as I was on a timeframe, having to get back to Florida and all that), but I do remember the end result.  We ended up in the sack.

It was literally the ONLY time that I had no idea where we were at in the process.  Was it in? Was it out? Was he done yet? No fucking clue. Literally. That poor guy was hung like a mouse.  Here I was all proud of myself for my first “United Colors of Benetton” experience and lo and behold it was completely anti-climactic. Poor Benny; he had no idea whatsoever that he hadn't rocked my world that there was no way in hell that I was going to waste my time with *that* again. He called and called my mother’s house trying to get another date with me prior to my leaving but I was really very busy visiting with my friends and family...or filing my nails...or watching paint dry....you get the idea.  

At the time, I was young and still pretty naive when it came to men and I thought maybe it was a nationality thing.  I kept thinking to myself that Japanese women are pretty tiny so maybe they are getting more out of it than I did. I mean, clearly it must work for them as there didn't seem to be a reproduction issues in Japan- it's not like they were on the endangered animal list. 

That being said, while it was not my last Benetton experience, I was never presented with the opportunity to bed another Japanese man; which still left me quite curious.  So of course, I Googled it. 

And this is what I found:

Click on the link:  Fascinating!!

Any thoughts?

Cowboys and Indians

Have you ever felt that the universe is trying to send you a message?

Lately it seems that the universe is trying to tell me to date a cowboy. Cowboys are now trendy.  You now hear country music on pop stations, flannel is apparently the new black, and worst of all; last week, my favorite dance club went county. While I am not averse to dating a cowboy; it is a rather new concept for me.  Furthermore, I don’t eat dead mammals; that seems like it could be an issue.

Looking back at the westerns that I have watched over the years (admittedly, not many), whether the antagonist or the protagonist when it came to the stereotypical “cowboys vs. Indians” storyline, I would typically root for the Native American.  Even when the depiction of the Indians was of cruel savages I assumed they had good reason to be - having gotten the wrong end of the shaft- I overlooked their savagery and rooted for the cowboy’s demise (mostly because the Indians were half naked, hairless and hot, but I digress). Granted, I am a big “rooter for the underdog”.  I mean how fair is it that a cowboy simply sauntered into Oleson’s Mercantile (Little House in the Prairie throwback! Holla!), purchased his premanufactured gun and bullets and was hereby armed?  How lazy!  On the other hand, the Native American spent hours making their weapons (while shirtless, bronzed, and glistening in the sun) from the unused part of the animal they killed for food! I LOVE a man that recycles.  Furthermore, cowboys always looked filthy.  They were dirty and dusty, bearded from their long days in the woods or on the trail or wherever, and they needed a bath.  Native Americans looked quite clean with their hairless faces and chests and their shiny long black hair, freshly bathed from the local river… (Excuse me for a second, will you?).

Lately, however, due to the lack of Native American’s in Pennsylvania, I have been forced to see cowboys in somewhat of a new light.  As it is now “in” to be country, (and I am nothing if not trendy) is it as if the universe is cramming cowboys down my throat (heh, heh, heh).

It all started when my daughter turned country.  One day it was Lil Wayne and black eyeliner and shortly thereafter it was camouflage and Miranda Lambert.  My next stop in “countryville” was the University of Oklahoma.  Oklahoma seems to have an abundance of cowboys and while I looked high and low I did not see an Indian in the bunch (at least none that was readily apparent in fringed leather pants, hair feathers, and little else).  On a side note, although it has always been one of my fantasies, I have never had the opportunity to bed a Native American.  I imagine, in my mind, that it will be fucking phenomenal in a very organic kind of way with waterfalls, waving fields of grain and rhythmic guttural chants.  That being said and with my “it’s never too late attitude”, it is on my bucket list (or in this case: my Fuck-It list). 

Back to the cowboys:  If I am going to date one he can’t be a pseudo-cowboy (I draw the line at posers).  He needs to be a full-blow honkytonk, bareback ridin’ (uh huh) cowboy with a ranch, in full cowboy garb (minus the dirt, thank you very much).

As you all know by now, this important decision requires a pros and cons list:

Pros:

1.       Fresh eggs for breakfast.  
2.     I get to pet the pretty horsies (and if I grow a pair, I may even ride one).
3.     I get to see if it’s true that a cowboy only takes his hat off for sex.
4.     The thought of “wranglin” with a cowboy peaks my curiosity.
5.      I can yell “Ride ‘em, Cowboy!” and it actually means something.
6.      If he is a rich cowboy I can quit my job and twirl in fields of poppies (see blog dated January 2, 2012).

 Cons:

1.     Not only do I NOT eat dead mammals, I would probably befriend the animals on the farm and give them names only to find out that he has cut their throats and is eating them for dinner.
2.      Cowboys are renowned for being dirty and I don’t like dirty men (unless it’s minded).
3.       I need to be able to understand them and if they are too twang-y that might be an issue.
4.       I am not sure I can endure the hard-core country music songs that will make me want to shoot myself in the head with a 12 gauge (shut up, I’m sure I could figure it out).
5.       If I have to attend a rodeo with him I will probably feel sorry for the animals that are being treated cruelly and try to set them free. He might frown upon such action.
6.       I am guessing most cowboys do not allow the woman to wear the pants/chaps in the relationship. That might be a major issue.

Well, it seems to be even.  I guess if a hot cowboy came knocking on my door, I might try him on for size.  In the meantime, if any of you run into Tonto, have him call me. 

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes

It’s been a few weeks since my daughter announced her college of choice.  Oklahoma.  Yes, the state. The one out west.  Way out there in the wild, wild west.  Oklahoma.  Where apparently,  the winds go sweepin’ down the plain.  Oklahoma is only 1292 miles away from our little town in Pennsylvania.  That’s it.  Only 1292 tiny little miles.

Oddly enough, I had been under the impression that the last few weeks have been typical with one exception: my neck has been rather immobile. This is not incredibly unusual as I oft have neck issues.  It’s either too much head -banging in my heavy metal days or too much head-giving for a lifetime. I am not sure which as I never had it looked into by the medical professionals.  Either way, I didn’t find it all that usual.  Until a friend pointed out to me that not only have I been pretty much a hermit for the past two weeks, I have barely been on Facebook (completely unheard of), I have not written a blog and my neck issues started when my daughter made her announcement.   I wonder if there is a correlation.

Like it or not, it appears that it will soon be time for my life to switch gears a bit.  As I have spent much of my time of late lying flat on my back (and not in a good way), I have had lots of time to think.  I have been contemplating what I am going to do when my daughter moves over 1000 miles away and I have started to make a list:  

 1.    Clean my house

2.    Intall new carpet

3.    Install a sex swing in my daughter’s old room

That’s all I got. 

Do not despair my friends, I have also considered what I do the second week. Well....more in the long term. I was thinking one of two things: I will either go back to my promiscuous ways or become a crazy cat lady, both of which involve pussy so that when I make my final decision my slogan should be relatively easy.

Strange Introductions

I know I haven’t written a blog in a while. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks which included a trip to a college in Oklahoma (more on that later, but I did learn that cowboys can be cute!). Just so you all know, I think of you often and dream of the day when I win the lottery and can stay home and write all day.  In the meantime, I will leave you with these introductions I received from a few guys on the dating sites (as always, copied verbatim):

 Apparently, this guy likes blue:

Love the BLUE Finger nail polish in photo 4 . Please dont get me wrong here , your very attractive ... but I like the Blue . Been out with some boring people from this Site . So tired of misrepresentations from people . Im not a Gem , but I am respectful and very good people . I guess I figure I dont misrepresent myself ... why should you . 3 meetings in the past 2 weeks . Nice people but just not anything like the presentation . As to the blue .... The most captivating things I find in a woman I approach . ...Eye contact , shape of mouth , and Hands . I love seeing a woman carry herself strongly and eye contact spells that clearly . The mouth , better said her lips ..her smile Great Stuff .. And her hands say alot about how she tends to herself and her expressions of herself . Dont care for nail biters AND Blue , my favorite color . Regardless if you ever write back ( and obviously Id like that ) Your beautiful , your profile was very nice and seemed genuine , and it would be my pleasure to get to know you .

Another one:

I was told once that you should never "need" another person in your life to be happy. That may be true. But there are moments in life meant to be shared with a special person with whom you can communicate without talking; a person whose touch chases away dark clouds of gloom and brings sunshine when the sun is not shining. I want to share simple things like coffee at the kitchen table on a Saturday morning when there is no place you need to go. To prepare meals together and talk and laugh and drink good red wine while you do it. Someone to collapse with on the sofa when the last guest at a party that we will all remember fondly has left. Do you like the smell of wood smoke in the fall when the leaves are changing color? How about the feel of a warm spring breeze on your bare arms after a long winter? Or the chemical reaction when summer sunshine plays on your body? Let's stop and experience these things together. Call me sensuous.   (I will call you sensuous or gay, one or the other – Gina)

And another:

I have blonde hair , deep green eyes, [Im not related to Freddy] 165 lbs and full of pressure, So im told..... I m easy get along with , very understanding, Love the outdoors and different types of music but mostly country. I Like motorcyclen,4x4s, Mustangss, long peaceful walks, bicyclen, Mines, caves, Of course the Juniata river and Raystownlake, amusementparks and all that good stuff. Always willn try new things. I ma hard workn man, Very affectionate! I live alone in my own house, My match: some one honest and careing , not afraid to be themself , down to earth and affectionate, Petite

Ok. That one just confuses me:

1. Is he signing his name as Petite?
2. I assume Freddy is someone from a movie that I have never seen. 
3.The fact that he is “full of pressure” doesn’t sound good in any way.
4. Mines collapse, Idiot. Look it up. (Oh, and speaking of looking things up…SPELLCHECK.)

And this last one had a picture of the guy holding a fencing sword toward the camera:

Looking to meet new people. No expectations, just a chance to get to know each other. Life is a journey and everyone we meet opens a world of possiblities. It is interesting to see the world through the eyes of someone else. I try not to have a plan and take each moment as it comes. If life is a ride, you might as well drive it like you stole it. True wealth is the experiences we have and the people we love. These are the treasures we carry inside. Let's enrich one another.    

It’s like he had a book of clichés and picked some out, mixed them in with some others and went with it.  At least he can (mostly) spell and punctuate.

Unfortunately, that’s it for now.  To my faithful followers, thanks for reading!

Hugs,

Gina

Penes Are Not Pretty

Personally, I don’t believe in regrets.  I look back on my life and believe that the majority of it has been pretty damn awesome and from the stuff that wasn’t; I have learned valuable lessons.  The problem is I can’t leave well enough alone.  I have the hardest time leaving the past in the past and not contacting people with whom I used to be friends or lovers.  In the past 6 months, I have come in contact with two ex-boyfriends.  One was my fault and the other wasn’t.

The first was a guy I dated hot and heavy on and off when I was living in south Florida.  We kept in touch for a number of years afterward but hadn’t spoken in over 10 years.  I had looked for him on Facebook for years and then about 6 months ago, there he was.  I sent him a friend request, so excited that my years of persistence had paid off.  He accepted my friend request and responded back with a message that seemed as happy to find me as I he.   Everything pretty much went downhill from there.    

We exchanged cell phone numbers so he could call me later and he did.  Did he ask me how I have been for the past 10 years? How my daughter is doing as she was then a child and is now an adult? Did he ask how my parents were doing? Nope.  All he wanted to do was talk about sex.  Here we were 10 minutes into the “conversation” and I am trying to ask him if his parents are still alive and well and he is asking me if I remember our various sexcapades in miniscule detail.  I was really annoyed. I let him have it about his obvious lack of interest in my life and ended the conversation. Shortly thereafter he started texting me pictures of his dick.

The second guy I ran into while out at a club.  Our short relationship had not ended well because after a few dates, I started receiving texts from a girl that claimed to be his wife.  Wanting nothing to do with that I ended it.  When I recently ran into him he asked me for my number to keep in touch.  We were in a really loud club and I was with friends so I decided I would give him my number and deal with getting rid of him later. He texted me and texted me for a date.  While I felt that I was very clear that I would not date him again; he wouldn’t seem to get it.  He asked me to meet him for a drink and I agreed figuring that I could be much more clear about my position (or lack thereof) in person.  We met at a local bar and I was succinct in telling him that it was never going to happen and stated that we had always a good time together and could remain friends.  His response was, “I have enough friends.”  Alrighty then.  Decision made.  I thanked him for the drink, excused myself and went home.  And then he texted me a picture of dick.

Penises are not pretty.  Don’t get me wrong, they are definitely functional and I enjoy them but they are not really the most attractive things in the world.  Does a guy really believe that a picture of his johnson is going to make me forget all of the negative feelings I have for him and make me scream “OH MY GOD, I *MUST* HAVE THAT!!”??  Wow.  Some guys are really dumb.

Perhaps if he wrapped a flower around it or put it into a little penis tuxedo (hopefully not too little) before he took a picture of it that might be ok. It wouldn't make me change my mind but it might make the penis more attractive.  Maybe.  Perhaps if it’s lying on a bed of colorful feathers; or better yet dipped in chocolate?  I’m not really sure  any of that would help; I’m just throwing stuff out there.   

Granted, there are famous penises out there that we have all know and love.  That doesn’t make them attractive, it just makes then famous.  Take for example Michelangelo’s David with his little twig and berries out there for all to admire. Yes, it does look like he just came out of a cold pool to pose for that; but it’s considered art so that’s ok. That being said, please keep in mind that taking a picture of your schlong and texting it to someone is not considered art (in any medium).

 Even vibrator companies know that a penis is not attractive.  That’s why they make them in pretty colors and give them cute little animal names like “The Rabbit”, “The Dolphin” or “The Butterfly”.  

Although I am willing to concede that giving a real penis various vibratory speeds would help to make it more attractive in general.

Opinions please?

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

A new year is supposed to be a time to reflect and renew; a time to be insightful, change and grow. It is a time to pick yourself up off of the bathroom floor and crawl back into your bed while swearing you will never drink again.  See??  Change and growth.

Personally, I find New Year’s resolutions to be entrapment. Essentially, you are setting yourself up for failure (except that you are doing it with great fanfare!).   Why, for example, if I didn’t have the motivation to go to the gym three days ago, do I suddenly have it now? Is it because I got a new calendar? I really want to know where you people are getting your calendars because I bought mine at Big Lots and it doesn’t seem to have the same power.

I think that rather than setting myself up for impending failure, I am going to work into these changes slowly.  One shouldn’t rush into change.  Afterall, it takes 9 months to incubate a baby until it’s ready to come out.  That is a good long time to get used to the idea that you just gave away the next 18+ years of your life.

So while I typically don’t do resolutions, I will agree to consider the following:

1.       I will pull my weights and yoga mat out of the deep recesses of my closet, dust them off and place them in a central location where I can look at them often. This will make me have to pick them up (at least weekly) to clean around them.

2.       I vow to fight with my teenage daughter less.  This one will be easy as she is leaving for college in the fall, insuring that we will fight less after August. 

3.       I will drink more water by adding seltzer to my alcoholic beverages. Hydration is important.

4.       This year I will try to be less cynical. This resolution might be a little bit more difficult than the others, as I am cynical by nature.  I will have to make a plan and start slowly. Maybe I will start with the drycleaners; although dry-cleaning seems like a racket to me so maybe not.

And lastly,

5.       I resolve to begin to consider the fact that it might be possible that I could maybe have a few issues with relationships and men.  I mean, just because I have a tendency to look at every man I meet as a spirit-stealing succubus that is trying to “cage the wild animal” and change everything about me doesn’t necessarily mean I have major issues, does it?  Does the fact that sometimes when I see a hot guy I consider him to be a conquest to be chewed up and spit out (rather than the love of my life) mean that I have issues?  Is it possible that I need to be more open to letting myself fall in love (as opposed to a deep profound like or a very healthy lust)?  I guess I could try to be more open to skipping and twirling in a poppy field with that special someone (and not want to want to stab him in the neck because it drives me insane that he isn’t skipping or twirling right).

I think I will start thinking about these changes tomorrow……or maybe the next day. Hell, I could really wait until spring for that last one since there are no poppy fields in the wintertime anyway. 

One has to work into these things slowly.