Joseph emailed me this morning. I'd emailed him a link to a site where there was apparently a ticket to my place $50 than we'd found it anywhere else. However, it required an overnight flight. I emailed it to him anyway.
He's not thrilled about the overnight flight, and he's even less thrilled about the fact that he was out sick from work a few days the past week or two, and so does not have the extra cash he was banking on to buy the tickets. At this point, it's looking less and less likely that he'll actually make it out here - which is no surprise, really. Maybe I just have low expectations; maybe I just attract loser guys, but I would be much more surprised if he actually did make it out here.
It's hard to wish him luck as well, especially when I'm still so soured on the idea. There is only one man out there that gets to use the possessive on me (so far, I think I hope) and Joseph ain't him.
So instead I will make a contingency plan. If I don't roadtrip for a week this summer, I do not have plans to cry my eyes out. Instead, I will look into summer skiing options. Because dear god, I love skiing. And besides, Switzerland has always sounded nice to me.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Don't know when
I'm taking a train back to my house some time this afternoon, having spent the weekend out here with Vinnie and Mike. I've known Vinnie long enough that when he is over at my house, or I am over at his, we literally make ourselves at home. I know where things are, I help myself to what I need, I take what space I need, etc. and so on. It makes for a comfortable weekend - no worrying about being "on" in front of your hosts - being socially acceptable and whatnot.
Well, I wouldn't worry about being socially acceptable with Vinnie and Mike anyway. We're usually not. Vinnie and I are bad enough, with our snarky comments and horrible, horribly funny jokes. But Mike can really come up with some fucked-up shit. Usually in public. I feel that one day, the three of us are going to come up with something particularly fucked-up, and the wrong person will hear it. Hasn't happened yet, though, and it's not like we didn't try. So instead I'll just be happy with the being doubled-up with laughter that usually happens when I'm around them.
I also got to see Vinnie's parents, which is always a pleasure. Scattered around the country are the parents of my friends, most of whom I view as a sort of adopted parents. Luckily, they view me in a reciprocal fashion. We had a barbecue out at their house for Father's Day. In typical fashion, I forgot my swimsuit, so Vinnie's mom lent me one (hey, it was family, no need for high fashion here). His seven-year-old cousin was there as well. I remember when she was born, which is just a little bit scary for me. She's a cutie though. Thought that Mike and I were dating, which is just hilarious.
I was also the only woman around the entire weekend, including for the soiree on Saturday night. There were eight guys, and then me. I also loved that, because I wasn't there as a woman, I was there as one of the guys. We drank and played games and made stupid comments and witticisms and had a grand old time.
All in all, I needed this weekend desperately. Sure, I got to sleep in Vinnie's un-air-conditioned living room on a couch, but I got to sleep. And not use an alarm in the morning. And just relax and be me.
Well, I wouldn't worry about being socially acceptable with Vinnie and Mike anyway. We're usually not. Vinnie and I are bad enough, with our snarky comments and horrible, horribly funny jokes. But Mike can really come up with some fucked-up shit. Usually in public. I feel that one day, the three of us are going to come up with something particularly fucked-up, and the wrong person will hear it. Hasn't happened yet, though, and it's not like we didn't try. So instead I'll just be happy with the being doubled-up with laughter that usually happens when I'm around them.
I also got to see Vinnie's parents, which is always a pleasure. Scattered around the country are the parents of my friends, most of whom I view as a sort of adopted parents. Luckily, they view me in a reciprocal fashion. We had a barbecue out at their house for Father's Day. In typical fashion, I forgot my swimsuit, so Vinnie's mom lent me one (hey, it was family, no need for high fashion here). His seven-year-old cousin was there as well. I remember when she was born, which is just a little bit scary for me. She's a cutie though. Thought that Mike and I were dating, which is just hilarious.
I was also the only woman around the entire weekend, including for the soiree on Saturday night. There were eight guys, and then me. I also loved that, because I wasn't there as a woman, I was there as one of the guys. We drank and played games and made stupid comments and witticisms and had a grand old time.
All in all, I needed this weekend desperately. Sure, I got to sleep in Vinnie's un-air-conditioned living room on a couch, but I got to sleep. And not use an alarm in the morning. And just relax and be me.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
I'm a...
I keep mentioning my "class" that I have to take, but I haven't gone into any detail, so it's time to get that off my chest. Sure I'm on "vacation" down here with Vinnie and Mike, but they're still sleeping and I feel like blogging. I shouldn't be allowed to take my laptop on vacation EVER. Note to selves, I need a wireless card.
Anyway, as a prerequisite to my graduate studies, I have to take an introductory statistics course. I took an intro stats course as an undergrad, but it was six years ago, and the cutoff was five. So I dutifully signed up, figuring the review would be good for me, I'd get to meet some of the people in my incoming class, etc. and so on.
Now, I am by no means a stupid person (except when it comes to emotions, but we're talking academics and intellect here). I'm tooting my own horn, and I don't care, but I'm pretty fucking intelligent, and have the proof. That being said, this class is the most ridiculously pathetic I've ever taken.
There is no real math in this course. It's basically an introduction to statistical results you might see in a scholarly publication. In fact, one of the stated goals is to make people "more comfortable with reading journal articles." My instructor even asked "Have you ever seen an article, and then saw the diagrams in it, and put it aside because they were kind of scary?" and people nodded their heads. At this point, bitchy as it makes me, I nearly raised my hand and asked if I could bring in a few journal articles with my name in them and be exempt from the course.
We've had three class sessions so far. Coming in to the third, we were almost a week behind. We spent over an hour of our second class session going over the items in our first class session. Over. An hour. And then she gave us a quiz. And then, and then, one of the students, who is so frightfully ignorant that everyone hates him, was asked by the teacher to leave the class because he was asking too many questions during the quiz and apparently hadn't done the readings. He apparently did not understand that there were readings assigned, because he didn't hear her mention them the eight thousand times the week before, and hadn't seen them on the syllabus emailed out to everyone a month ago.
I actually like some of the people in the class though; they're not stupid, they're just not from the same background, so yes, this material is new and strange to them. And that's okay. They get it, once you explain it to them. And I've been doing a lot of explaining. I figure I'd rather go through five minutes of explaining now, than five hours of explaining once we all get to research methods. It's an ego boost to hear them say that I do a better job of teaching this stuff than our instructor. But this other guy, holy crap, I would never want to calculate the density of his head, because there is nothing in this world large enough to hold that number. It's pretty bad when you have social workers ragging on you.
I forsee a lot of hand-holding in my graduate studies though, which kind of irritates me. I'm fiercely independent (shocking, I know), and got used to doing things my way as an undergrad. I don't know how well I'm going to handle all this touchy-feely-ness I see coming up. Bah.
Anyway, as a prerequisite to my graduate studies, I have to take an introductory statistics course. I took an intro stats course as an undergrad, but it was six years ago, and the cutoff was five. So I dutifully signed up, figuring the review would be good for me, I'd get to meet some of the people in my incoming class, etc. and so on.
Now, I am by no means a stupid person (except when it comes to emotions, but we're talking academics and intellect here). I'm tooting my own horn, and I don't care, but I'm pretty fucking intelligent, and have the proof. That being said, this class is the most ridiculously pathetic I've ever taken.
There is no real math in this course. It's basically an introduction to statistical results you might see in a scholarly publication. In fact, one of the stated goals is to make people "more comfortable with reading journal articles." My instructor even asked "Have you ever seen an article, and then saw the diagrams in it, and put it aside because they were kind of scary?" and people nodded their heads. At this point, bitchy as it makes me, I nearly raised my hand and asked if I could bring in a few journal articles with my name in them and be exempt from the course.
We've had three class sessions so far. Coming in to the third, we were almost a week behind. We spent over an hour of our second class session going over the items in our first class session. Over. An hour. And then she gave us a quiz. And then, and then, one of the students, who is so frightfully ignorant that everyone hates him, was asked by the teacher to leave the class because he was asking too many questions during the quiz and apparently hadn't done the readings. He apparently did not understand that there were readings assigned, because he didn't hear her mention them the eight thousand times the week before, and hadn't seen them on the syllabus emailed out to everyone a month ago.
I actually like some of the people in the class though; they're not stupid, they're just not from the same background, so yes, this material is new and strange to them. And that's okay. They get it, once you explain it to them. And I've been doing a lot of explaining. I figure I'd rather go through five minutes of explaining now, than five hours of explaining once we all get to research methods. It's an ego boost to hear them say that I do a better job of teaching this stuff than our instructor. But this other guy, holy crap, I would never want to calculate the density of his head, because there is nothing in this world large enough to hold that number. It's pretty bad when you have social workers ragging on you.
I forsee a lot of hand-holding in my graduate studies though, which kind of irritates me. I'm fiercely independent (shocking, I know), and got used to doing things my way as an undergrad. I don't know how well I'm going to handle all this touchy-feely-ness I see coming up. Bah.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Excuse me, mister
Part of the plans for Joseph's visit were a road trip and gallivant through the part of the state where he used to live, before he moved away. In his message to me about this, he had said "You'd better have the car and the time, and if you don't have the car, you can ride a damn bus with me". So I admit, part of the reason I took the plunge of buying a car was so that I didn't have to ride a bus in July. What can I say; I am easily influenced.
When I bought the car, I called him up and informed him of this. He was on his way home from work, and we briefly talked, but he also spent time talking to one of his coworkers, who was giving him a ride. During the conversation he referred to me as "his slut" or something along those lines, a few times.
I absolutely bristled.
Honestly, I didn't quite understand my reaction at the time; all I knew was that it really put me off, and I got cranky with him, which he took as simply a reaction to the word. He tried to explain it as that he didn't mean to smash my dignity, etc. I replied that I said nothing about dignity whatsoever.
Having thought about it, I didn't mind the word so much, as the fact that it was him using it. It pissed me off. He doesn't get to call me that. I am not his. True, some of the things I've done with him can be construed as slutty, as can some of the things that I have considered doing with him. But since when does he get to call me a slut? That's right, he doesn't. Much less his. Fuck that, good sir, you do not own me.
And apparently I'm still a bit angry about it. I more or less hung up on him - although I continued to search for airline tickets for him for a bit. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I'm perversely happy that airline tickets are so gawdawful expensive for him to fly out here, because it decreases the chances that he will. And right now, that makes me happy.
When I bought the car, I called him up and informed him of this. He was on his way home from work, and we briefly talked, but he also spent time talking to one of his coworkers, who was giving him a ride. During the conversation he referred to me as "his slut" or something along those lines, a few times.
I absolutely bristled.
Honestly, I didn't quite understand my reaction at the time; all I knew was that it really put me off, and I got cranky with him, which he took as simply a reaction to the word. He tried to explain it as that he didn't mean to smash my dignity, etc. I replied that I said nothing about dignity whatsoever.
Having thought about it, I didn't mind the word so much, as the fact that it was him using it. It pissed me off. He doesn't get to call me that. I am not his. True, some of the things I've done with him can be construed as slutty, as can some of the things that I have considered doing with him. But since when does he get to call me a slut? That's right, he doesn't. Much less his. Fuck that, good sir, you do not own me.
And apparently I'm still a bit angry about it. I more or less hung up on him - although I continued to search for airline tickets for him for a bit. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I'm perversely happy that airline tickets are so gawdawful expensive for him to fly out here, because it decreases the chances that he will. And right now, that makes me happy.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Sweet jesus!
So, I'm buying a car tomorrow. I've been working up to doing it for a while, and I finally took the plunge. She's meeting me at my work to drop it off. It's pretty awesome. And it was pretty cheap. And I'm stupid excited.
That's pretty much all I have to say about that.
That's pretty much all I have to say about that.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Stupid stupid stupid
It's stupid o'clock in the morning, and I'm awake because I have to be in at work shortly. Normally I work Thursday nights, but I'm doing the mornings all this month because of a class I have to take for grad school. That in and of itself could be the subject of an entirely different rant, but I think I'll see how this one goes before I post about it here.
Meanwhile, one of my acquaintances found a link to an online forum where apparently, bug-chasers are pussies. (If you don't know what a bug-chaser is, you probably don't want to read any further. Hell, you probably don't want to read further even if you do.) These are guys who get off on bare-backing guys who are HIV-, and intentionally trying to infect them. They lie to the guys, saying they're neg, or use condoms, but the condoms have holes poked or cut in them. There are guys who are trying to make a resistant strain of virus, by signing up for drug studies, taking the drugs the first few weeks, then completely throwing the protocol out the window. There are guys who deliberately try to get infected with as many strains of the virus as possible.
That, to put it succinctly, is some fucked up shit. And how am I allowed to say that? Because they are deliberately harming themselves and others by this behavior. Ergo, fuck them. Or rather, don't.
This hits doubly-close to home, as I've participated in an HIV vaccine trial. I can't understand the motivation of trying to fuck that shit up. HELLO, WE'RE TRYING TO SAVE PEOPLE HERE, MAYBE YOU COULD NOT FUCKING INTERFERE. Christ. When I was reading excerpts from the forum yesterday, I was starting to get physically ill. It was like the world was reminding me, oh yeah, there are some fucked-up things out there. And here I thought I was all internet-tough and thick-skinned. Obviously not.
The other tie-in is, well jesus fuck, who can you trust? Maybe I'm just a stupid girl, but I take a certain amount of pride in the fact that I am completely clean. I don't even have HPV. I got nothin'. I'd like to stay that way. And when I read stuff like this, it gets harder and harder to even think about having sex with people. How the hell am I supposed to trust them, when stuff like this happens in the world?
Anyway, now that I've ruined everyone else's day (including my own, again) by talking about this stuff, time to move on. Work calls, and then class. Hopefully this one will go better than the first; which had me so angry I was swearing on the phone with my mother, and I flipping never do that.
Meanwhile, one of my acquaintances found a link to an online forum where apparently, bug-chasers are pussies. (If you don't know what a bug-chaser is, you probably don't want to read any further. Hell, you probably don't want to read further even if you do.) These are guys who get off on bare-backing guys who are HIV-, and intentionally trying to infect them. They lie to the guys, saying they're neg, or use condoms, but the condoms have holes poked or cut in them. There are guys who are trying to make a resistant strain of virus, by signing up for drug studies, taking the drugs the first few weeks, then completely throwing the protocol out the window. There are guys who deliberately try to get infected with as many strains of the virus as possible.
That, to put it succinctly, is some fucked up shit. And how am I allowed to say that? Because they are deliberately harming themselves and others by this behavior. Ergo, fuck them. Or rather, don't.
This hits doubly-close to home, as I've participated in an HIV vaccine trial. I can't understand the motivation of trying to fuck that shit up. HELLO, WE'RE TRYING TO SAVE PEOPLE HERE, MAYBE YOU COULD NOT FUCKING INTERFERE. Christ. When I was reading excerpts from the forum yesterday, I was starting to get physically ill. It was like the world was reminding me, oh yeah, there are some fucked-up things out there. And here I thought I was all internet-tough and thick-skinned. Obviously not.
The other tie-in is, well jesus fuck, who can you trust? Maybe I'm just a stupid girl, but I take a certain amount of pride in the fact that I am completely clean. I don't even have HPV. I got nothin'. I'd like to stay that way. And when I read stuff like this, it gets harder and harder to even think about having sex with people. How the hell am I supposed to trust them, when stuff like this happens in the world?
Anyway, now that I've ruined everyone else's day (including my own, again) by talking about this stuff, time to move on. Work calls, and then class. Hopefully this one will go better than the first; which had me so angry I was swearing on the phone with my mother, and I flipping never do that.
Monday, June 05, 2006
This is how you remind me
As I mentioned in my last entry, Joseph is flying out here for a week in July. When notified of this development, Vinnie had this to say:
Oh dear. Pills and condoms, girl. This man has previously successful sperm. And you know how I feel about sleeping with people with SO's... not your sin. Now, I'd suggest letting him make the first move (although flying out to spend a week with you is quite a first move, you know what I mean) and whatever you do, don't let yourself fall in love. If you're going to have sex with this loser, do it to resolve sexual tension. And remember, he's got a kid and a woman he should make honest, and he lives far, far away.
I love when he gets all pragmatic on my ass. And it truly is good advice, especially since I can't see myself in a relationship of any consequence with Joseph at all. Oh true, there's ye olde tonne of sexual tension there, but relationship sparks? Nah.
Then again, I do have high standards there.
Anyway, I haven't decided whether I'll fuck him or not. Probably will. Might not. Definitely dangerous.
Oh dear. Pills and condoms, girl. This man has previously successful sperm. And you know how I feel about sleeping with people with SO's... not your sin. Now, I'd suggest letting him make the first move (although flying out to spend a week with you is quite a first move, you know what I mean) and whatever you do, don't let yourself fall in love. If you're going to have sex with this loser, do it to resolve sexual tension. And remember, he's got a kid and a woman he should make honest, and he lives far, far away.
I love when he gets all pragmatic on my ass. And it truly is good advice, especially since I can't see myself in a relationship of any consequence with Joseph at all. Oh true, there's ye olde tonne of sexual tension there, but relationship sparks? Nah.
Then again, I do have high standards there.
Anyway, I haven't decided whether I'll fuck him or not. Probably will. Might not. Definitely dangerous.
panic!
Found out this morning that Joseph is flying out here on the 22nd July.
I asked for the week after off as well, because I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll need it before going back to work.
I asked for the week after off as well, because I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll need it before going back to work.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Predictability
Joseph naturally has dropped off the planet again. I desperately want the attention from him, but not enough to make a fool out of myself and message him or email him begging for it. If he wants to pay attention to me, fine and dandy, I would love it. I just know that I'll have to be patient for that to happen again.
On the positives side though, it does make me less crushingly-obsessed with him. It's a bit of a cool-off period so that things don't get too intense. And the thought that just occured to me is that he's doing it deliberately, so that he has the same time to cool off.
Interesting interesting.
As for me, it's back to working too much. I signed up for an evening at work today, so shortly I'll be out the door and on my way. I'm also taking a class this summer in preparation for grad school; it's shockingly easy and the people in it are shockingly slow on the uptake. I was so frustrated with it that when describing the class, I swore on the phone with my mother, which I never, ever do. It truly was that horrid on Thursday. I don't care if it makes me a stuck-up bitch, but come on, a handout entitled "How to Read a Journal Article"? Are you fucking serious.
Work calls. Damn them.
On the positives side though, it does make me less crushingly-obsessed with him. It's a bit of a cool-off period so that things don't get too intense. And the thought that just occured to me is that he's doing it deliberately, so that he has the same time to cool off.
Interesting interesting.
As for me, it's back to working too much. I signed up for an evening at work today, so shortly I'll be out the door and on my way. I'm also taking a class this summer in preparation for grad school; it's shockingly easy and the people in it are shockingly slow on the uptake. I was so frustrated with it that when describing the class, I swore on the phone with my mother, which I never, ever do. It truly was that horrid on Thursday. I don't care if it makes me a stuck-up bitch, but come on, a handout entitled "How to Read a Journal Article"? Are you fucking serious.
Work calls. Damn them.
Friday, June 02, 2006
I am growing cilantro.
Jay spent last weekend over here. I'd been promising him for about a month that if he picked me up from work on a Saturday, we'd get to sleep in on Sunday, and I kept signing up for shifts on Sunday (in fact, I'm signed up for one this week as well). So finally, this was our chance.
He picked me up Saturday, and we decided to go to Ikea, because they were having a sale and I'd had my eye on some chairs there for a while, and I finally had enough disposable cash to get them. He immediately was impressed by the entire concept of affordable furniture packed to be easily transportable. I bought the chairs, some rugs, some excellent glass containers, a couple of other things. It was a good time.
While we were on our way out there, Elizabeth called me, to remind me that I'd said I was going out with her tonight. It was the birthday of one of the women in one of her grad classes, and she'd invited me along for moral support. "Mind if Jay tags along?" I asked, sure that I would get the affirmative reply that I did. So Jay stopped at his house for real clothes, and we went back to my place to get ready.
After Ikea, I kind of wanted to just curl up and sleep already, but instead I dolled up for the bar. I even wore a skirt. It was some impressive shit. Unfortunately the night was a bust, and I was home and in bed by 1.
Jay and I did sleep in on Sunday. And that's about all we did. I seriously think I was awake for all of three hours that day. And we slept in late on Monday, too. The two important things to note: that was the best, most refreshing and relaxing sleep I've had in a while, and I also had no desire to have sex with Jay. None.
Plenty of fantasies about Joseph though, hoo lord.
Anyway, on Monday night, after going back to Ikea to return some things and failing, Jay did tie me up and attempt to fist me. We came to the same conclusion as last time; namely that it likely won't work until I've popped out some kids. Unlike last time, I didn't feel the need to apologize, and the event was followed by a seriously excellent conversation and aftercare. Honestly, it's one of the most open, honest, and serious conversations I've ever had with Jay.
It was nice to be able to spend the weekend with him, and not feel guilty for being attracted to someone else, not feel torn about getting back together with him, not being unsure of where I stood. I more or less solidified some of my feelings about Jay - I care about and for him, deeply, but I am not in love with him, nor do I feel the need to be.
It's about time that got settled. It makes me a much happier person when I know at least a little bit of what's going on.
As for the title - I am growing an herb garden. I bought a kit, because I am lazy. But I am growing cilantro, even though I have no idea what I would use it for, just to get Joseph's goat. He fucking loathes cilantro. I can't wait to see his reaction when he finds it growing in my house.
He picked me up Saturday, and we decided to go to Ikea, because they were having a sale and I'd had my eye on some chairs there for a while, and I finally had enough disposable cash to get them. He immediately was impressed by the entire concept of affordable furniture packed to be easily transportable. I bought the chairs, some rugs, some excellent glass containers, a couple of other things. It was a good time.
While we were on our way out there, Elizabeth called me, to remind me that I'd said I was going out with her tonight. It was the birthday of one of the women in one of her grad classes, and she'd invited me along for moral support. "Mind if Jay tags along?" I asked, sure that I would get the affirmative reply that I did. So Jay stopped at his house for real clothes, and we went back to my place to get ready.
After Ikea, I kind of wanted to just curl up and sleep already, but instead I dolled up for the bar. I even wore a skirt. It was some impressive shit. Unfortunately the night was a bust, and I was home and in bed by 1.
Jay and I did sleep in on Sunday. And that's about all we did. I seriously think I was awake for all of three hours that day. And we slept in late on Monday, too. The two important things to note: that was the best, most refreshing and relaxing sleep I've had in a while, and I also had no desire to have sex with Jay. None.
Plenty of fantasies about Joseph though, hoo lord.
Anyway, on Monday night, after going back to Ikea to return some things and failing, Jay did tie me up and attempt to fist me. We came to the same conclusion as last time; namely that it likely won't work until I've popped out some kids. Unlike last time, I didn't feel the need to apologize, and the event was followed by a seriously excellent conversation and aftercare. Honestly, it's one of the most open, honest, and serious conversations I've ever had with Jay.
It was nice to be able to spend the weekend with him, and not feel guilty for being attracted to someone else, not feel torn about getting back together with him, not being unsure of where I stood. I more or less solidified some of my feelings about Jay - I care about and for him, deeply, but I am not in love with him, nor do I feel the need to be.
It's about time that got settled. It makes me a much happier person when I know at least a little bit of what's going on.
As for the title - I am growing an herb garden. I bought a kit, because I am lazy. But I am growing cilantro, even though I have no idea what I would use it for, just to get Joseph's goat. He fucking loathes cilantro. I can't wait to see his reaction when he finds it growing in my house.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
I've seen it before
Last night I wound up conking out for sleep by 11:30, which is rather early for me. Considering that normally I'm working until 11, that's wicked early. Still, I'd only gotten three hours of sleep the night before, and I had been up early, so nothing worrying.
I fell asleep with the full knowledge that I'd miss Joseph if he came online, and while that ensaddened me, I went to sleep anyway. I alluded in my last post to some history there, and what that was really about was that any time he and I get pseudo-eInvolved in any way, I get all crush-y and romantic. Well, as romantic as I get, anyway.
Now, I'm fully aware that he lives with his girlfriend (maybe ex? who knows) who happens to have borne his child. That, naturally, complicates things for me. I despise the thought of being "the other woman". But at the same time, it rather entertains me. He was attracted to me long before he met her, after all, and that attraction, as far as I can tell, has done nothing but intensify. Besides which, ultimately it's his problem if he runs in to trouble there; we're all adults, after all, and responsible for our own actions.
I am an awful, awful person. Except I don't feel that way.
Anyway, this morning my sleep cycle was all kinds of messed up, since I'd retired so early last night. Thankfully, I woke up around 6, to discover my power had gone out. I was wide awake, and decided to go back to sleep. I woke up three more times before my alarm at 10, and each time, it was from dreams of Joseph. Lovely dreams, really. The kind of dreams that make a woman smile and feel luxurious and langorious. And hopefully harbingers of what could happen this summer, if he flies out here to visit. I want them very much to come true. I'm back in the throes of my crush. Perhaps not as bad as it's been in the past (and it's been downright awful), but oh, it's there.
Still, I need to reassert the practicalities of the situation. He lives thousands of miles away, with the mother of his child (mother of his child, did I mention that? And that the kid is not even preschool-aged? Okay) and is older than me and blah blah blah. Right now I don't care. He's attractive anyway, and knowing that he's got the hots for me, as they say, just makes him more attractive. I think I'll spend my commute daydreaming.
I fell asleep with the full knowledge that I'd miss Joseph if he came online, and while that ensaddened me, I went to sleep anyway. I alluded in my last post to some history there, and what that was really about was that any time he and I get pseudo-eInvolved in any way, I get all crush-y and romantic. Well, as romantic as I get, anyway.
Now, I'm fully aware that he lives with his girlfriend (maybe ex? who knows) who happens to have borne his child. That, naturally, complicates things for me. I despise the thought of being "the other woman". But at the same time, it rather entertains me. He was attracted to me long before he met her, after all, and that attraction, as far as I can tell, has done nothing but intensify. Besides which, ultimately it's his problem if he runs in to trouble there; we're all adults, after all, and responsible for our own actions.
I am an awful, awful person. Except I don't feel that way.
Anyway, this morning my sleep cycle was all kinds of messed up, since I'd retired so early last night. Thankfully, I woke up around 6, to discover my power had gone out. I was wide awake, and decided to go back to sleep. I woke up three more times before my alarm at 10, and each time, it was from dreams of Joseph. Lovely dreams, really. The kind of dreams that make a woman smile and feel luxurious and langorious. And hopefully harbingers of what could happen this summer, if he flies out here to visit. I want them very much to come true. I'm back in the throes of my crush. Perhaps not as bad as it's been in the past (and it's been downright awful), but oh, it's there.
Still, I need to reassert the practicalities of the situation. He lives thousands of miles away, with the mother of his child (mother of his child, did I mention that? And that the kid is not even preschool-aged? Okay) and is older than me and blah blah blah. Right now I don't care. He's attractive anyway, and knowing that he's got the hots for me, as they say, just makes him more attractive. I think I'll spend my commute daydreaming.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Otis Redding Cover
I typically enjoy being non-stereotypical, so when I'm forced to admit that I'm a pretty standard female in some area, it's been known to irritate me.
One of my hangups, if you can even call it that, is that, in stereotypical female style, I very closely associate sex with intimacy. I'm self-aware enough to realize that they are not equivalent, and you can have one with the other. In fact, I've got a few examples up my sleeve of intimacy without sex. But none of sex without intimacy.
In fact, the entire thought of having "unattached" sex is... well, somewhat uncomfortable and abhorrent. Oh, I'm not condemning anyone who chooses to do so. After all, I'm a flaming liberal pagan social worker; so long as you're happy with your choice and it's not hurting anyone, rock yourself on. But for me? Uh... I'll pass?
The worst part is, fairly often I think to myself how much fun it would be to have gratuitous, non-emotional sex. Whether with strangers, or simply a fuckbuddy, whatever, I think it might be nice to have just some straight-up sex, without getting all those pesky emotions tangled up in it. I just think I'd feel desparingly guilty afterwards, which would rather defeat the purpose. And I also think I'd be stuck on trying to pursue a "relationship" with the male in question, which again, defeats the purpose. See also: history with Joseph. We haven't even had actual sex, but damn if I didn't catch myself acting like a jealous girlfriend once in a while with him.
Of course, I could be wrong. I'm rather hoping that I am, or else my plans for this summer involving Joseph are going to be a lot less enjoyable than they could be.
One of my hangups, if you can even call it that, is that, in stereotypical female style, I very closely associate sex with intimacy. I'm self-aware enough to realize that they are not equivalent, and you can have one with the other. In fact, I've got a few examples up my sleeve of intimacy without sex. But none of sex without intimacy.
In fact, the entire thought of having "unattached" sex is... well, somewhat uncomfortable and abhorrent. Oh, I'm not condemning anyone who chooses to do so. After all, I'm a flaming liberal pagan social worker; so long as you're happy with your choice and it's not hurting anyone, rock yourself on. But for me? Uh... I'll pass?
The worst part is, fairly often I think to myself how much fun it would be to have gratuitous, non-emotional sex. Whether with strangers, or simply a fuckbuddy, whatever, I think it might be nice to have just some straight-up sex, without getting all those pesky emotions tangled up in it. I just think I'd feel desparingly guilty afterwards, which would rather defeat the purpose. And I also think I'd be stuck on trying to pursue a "relationship" with the male in question, which again, defeats the purpose. See also: history with Joseph. We haven't even had actual sex, but damn if I didn't catch myself acting like a jealous girlfriend once in a while with him.
Of course, I could be wrong. I'm rather hoping that I am, or else my plans for this summer involving Joseph are going to be a lot less enjoyable than they could be.
Until the daylight
As I was noodling around online, preparing to go to sleep around 1:30, Joseph pops online.
We chat a little, flirt a lot, and suddenly I'm sneaking into my living room, past the sleeping guest of Rabbit, to reset my modem so that I can use my webcam.
What?
It was probably a poor idea, as I only got three hours of sleep last night, but there's something intensely satisfying in knowing that somewhere, there is a male person who is not unattractive who is getting off to one's self.
Meanwhile, earlier in the night, I got this message from Jay:
So, this coming weekend I think I'd like to tie you up, stick the gag in your mouth, spread your legs, and slowly and gently introduce my entire hand into your vagina.
*blink*blink*
Well okay then.
We chat a little, flirt a lot, and suddenly I'm sneaking into my living room, past the sleeping guest of Rabbit, to reset my modem so that I can use my webcam.
What?
It was probably a poor idea, as I only got three hours of sleep last night, but there's something intensely satisfying in knowing that somewhere, there is a male person who is not unattractive who is getting off to one's self.
Meanwhile, earlier in the night, I got this message from Jay:
So, this coming weekend I think I'd like to tie you up, stick the gag in your mouth, spread your legs, and slowly and gently introduce my entire hand into your vagina.
*blink*blink*
Well okay then.
she talks to angels
Lately I've been working six days out of seven. This past week, all but one of those days required me to get up at or near sunrise. Consequently, I fell asleep at 8:30 last night and didn't get up until 10:30 this morning. I also spent most of the day in my pajamas.
It was flipping glorious.
Unfortunately, it's back to the grind tomorrow; my work-week starts on Tuesday with a lovely bout of meetings from 9 am to 3 pm - but then I get to go home. Although tomorrow, instead of going home, I'll be heading over to buy a pair of skis - I found a pair on Craigslist for $50, which is impossible to pass up. Impossible, I tell you.
Sure, I should be saving money for a car, and definitely for grad school, but skis. For cheap. Which means no rental fees, which means more lift tickets.
Now to get that car with the roof rack so I can go skiing whenever I want.
Is it skiing season yet?
It was flipping glorious.
Unfortunately, it's back to the grind tomorrow; my work-week starts on Tuesday with a lovely bout of meetings from 9 am to 3 pm - but then I get to go home. Although tomorrow, instead of going home, I'll be heading over to buy a pair of skis - I found a pair on Craigslist for $50, which is impossible to pass up. Impossible, I tell you.
Sure, I should be saving money for a car, and definitely for grad school, but skis. For cheap. Which means no rental fees, which means more lift tickets.
Now to get that car with the roof rack so I can go skiing whenever I want.
Is it skiing season yet?
Monday, May 15, 2006
Impulse buys
Rabbit and I went back to the closing K-Mart today, to buy more cheap shampoo and girly products. We currently, between the two of us, have more personal hygeine products than our hated roommate. We did a little dance to celebrate, and then ragged on him some more.
On our way out, I noticed the condoms, and that the sign on them said "Family Planning 25% Off". I thought about buying a case, since I can just FSA them, but thought the better of it when I realized that between K-Mart and grad school tuition payments, I'd already spent more than half of my paycheck.
Still. 25% off condoms, that are then reimbursed from an FSA. About the only way they could get better would be if I had a coupon.
On our way out, I noticed the condoms, and that the sign on them said "Family Planning 25% Off". I thought about buying a case, since I can just FSA them, but thought the better of it when I realized that between K-Mart and grad school tuition payments, I'd already spent more than half of my paycheck.
Still. 25% off condoms, that are then reimbursed from an FSA. About the only way they could get better would be if I had a coupon.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
FUCK yarn.
No, seriously, fuck yarn. I will stick to tying knots in it and glueing it on to pages I've colored at this rate.
See, it's not enough for me that I can embroider. Nooo, I keep seeing people crocheting and knitting all the time, and all the time, I think to myself "hey, that would be fun and cool to do."
It started a few years ago with crochet. I was in Target one day and they were selling these little kits that touted themselves as "Crochet for Beginners! Crochet the project inside in hours, from start to finish! EASY EASY EASY OH GOD IT'S SO EASY" so naturally I bought it.
I excitedly opened the package when I got home, to find a little crochet hook, and instructions, and a ball of pretty gold yarn. I was thrilled, and immediately started learning how to crochet.
An hour later, I still hadn't gotten the hook of making a second row, so I put it away in disgust.
It took me four months and five more attempts to manage to actually get a second row started, and it looked bloody awful.
In frustration, I haven't touched it in six months. I always go back to embroidery - I'm fucking good at that shit. The results are immediate and recognizable, the movements aren't awkward, and it's more intimidating anyway.
So today I was shopping in the local K-Mart, because I didn't feel like waiting half an hour for a bus and they were having a store-wide clearance. I got some normally expensive shampoo for not-cheap-but-definitely-affordable prices, and wandered the rest of the store to hunt out bargains. I'm pretty sure the sale just started, so the prices weren't that low, but lo and behold, I came across the section with sewing notions.
I briefly thought about buying a rotary cutter and cutting mat, and realized that I have used my mother's and hated it, so I passed. Besides, the whole "making a quilt" thing is unrealistic. I'd love to sew more often, but I also know how lazy I am.
Anyway, I came across a little kit touted as "Knitting 101: Beginner's Knitting Kit - Learn to Knit in One Day! Clear Instructions with Pictures!" and I liked the color of the yarn, so of course I bought it.
How hard can it be, really? I'm an intelligent person. I'm relatively dextrous and coordinated. I'm a crafty bitch, damn you, I am learning how to fucking knit.
Fuck knitting though. Casting on is at least easy. I have that down. It's the actual knitting shit part that does not work. And gives me cramps in my hands. And keeps falling out of my hands and fucking up. And is making my eyes tired, looking so closely to make sure that I'm not fucking it up oh god was I supposed to do that it doesn't look like the picture (which isn't as clear as it damn well could be, ass) fuck this.
I am going to give it one more try before I pack it up and chuck it across the room in the direction of my sewing table, which is currently covered in books and bedsheets and curtains. Fuck yarn. Fuck it up it's wooly ass.
See, it's not enough for me that I can embroider. Nooo, I keep seeing people crocheting and knitting all the time, and all the time, I think to myself "hey, that would be fun and cool to do."
It started a few years ago with crochet. I was in Target one day and they were selling these little kits that touted themselves as "Crochet for Beginners! Crochet the project inside in hours, from start to finish! EASY EASY EASY OH GOD IT'S SO EASY" so naturally I bought it.
I excitedly opened the package when I got home, to find a little crochet hook, and instructions, and a ball of pretty gold yarn. I was thrilled, and immediately started learning how to crochet.
An hour later, I still hadn't gotten the hook of making a second row, so I put it away in disgust.
It took me four months and five more attempts to manage to actually get a second row started, and it looked bloody awful.
In frustration, I haven't touched it in six months. I always go back to embroidery - I'm fucking good at that shit. The results are immediate and recognizable, the movements aren't awkward, and it's more intimidating anyway.
So today I was shopping in the local K-Mart, because I didn't feel like waiting half an hour for a bus and they were having a store-wide clearance. I got some normally expensive shampoo for not-cheap-but-definitely-affordable prices, and wandered the rest of the store to hunt out bargains. I'm pretty sure the sale just started, so the prices weren't that low, but lo and behold, I came across the section with sewing notions.
I briefly thought about buying a rotary cutter and cutting mat, and realized that I have used my mother's and hated it, so I passed. Besides, the whole "making a quilt" thing is unrealistic. I'd love to sew more often, but I also know how lazy I am.
Anyway, I came across a little kit touted as "Knitting 101: Beginner's Knitting Kit - Learn to Knit in One Day! Clear Instructions with Pictures!" and I liked the color of the yarn, so of course I bought it.
How hard can it be, really? I'm an intelligent person. I'm relatively dextrous and coordinated. I'm a crafty bitch, damn you, I am learning how to fucking knit.
Fuck knitting though. Casting on is at least easy. I have that down. It's the actual knitting shit part that does not work. And gives me cramps in my hands. And keeps falling out of my hands and fucking up. And is making my eyes tired, looking so closely to make sure that I'm not fucking it up oh god was I supposed to do that it doesn't look like the picture (which isn't as clear as it damn well could be, ass) fuck this.
I am going to give it one more try before I pack it up and chuck it across the room in the direction of my sewing table, which is currently covered in books and bedsheets and curtains. Fuck yarn. Fuck it up it's wooly ass.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Do anything
One of the things I've noticed, now that I've been seeing Jay more often again, is that it's very, very easy to slip right back to where we once were.
When we were still dating, we, in large part, took each other for granted. I knew he'd be there when I got home from work; he knew I'd eventually go grocery shopping; we both knew that we'd fall asleep together and that there was always another night to have sex and be crazy again.
Now that we've been broken up for almost a year, I find that I really, really hate that.
The worst of it is, since it was such a habit before, I find myself doing it again. Perhaps more correctly, I find him doing it again. He came over a few weeks ago, I cooked him dinner, and he didn't try once to seduce me; instead we sat around, he was silent, and I more or less did nothing. When we only saw each other once a month, we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. It was thrilling, it was exciting, it was titillating. Now we're just kind of there.
I told Jay this, that I didn't want us to just be "there", and didn't really get a response from him. Or if I did, it was so unremarkable that I didn't bother to remember it. I don't want to be complacent. For that reason alone, I know that I am not ready to be in a relationship with him.
There's some half-remembered quotation floating about my brain, about repeating the same action and thinking the outcome will be different. I fear that it is far too applicable to this situation.
When we were still dating, we, in large part, took each other for granted. I knew he'd be there when I got home from work; he knew I'd eventually go grocery shopping; we both knew that we'd fall asleep together and that there was always another night to have sex and be crazy again.
Now that we've been broken up for almost a year, I find that I really, really hate that.
The worst of it is, since it was such a habit before, I find myself doing it again. Perhaps more correctly, I find him doing it again. He came over a few weeks ago, I cooked him dinner, and he didn't try once to seduce me; instead we sat around, he was silent, and I more or less did nothing. When we only saw each other once a month, we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. It was thrilling, it was exciting, it was titillating. Now we're just kind of there.
I told Jay this, that I didn't want us to just be "there", and didn't really get a response from him. Or if I did, it was so unremarkable that I didn't bother to remember it. I don't want to be complacent. For that reason alone, I know that I am not ready to be in a relationship with him.
There's some half-remembered quotation floating about my brain, about repeating the same action and thinking the outcome will be different. I fear that it is far too applicable to this situation.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Waiting for me
The title is a typo, but I decided I liked it better than the actual lyrics that should go there.
Anyway, Jay picked me up from my volunteer position on Thursday evening to take me out to dinner. All week he'd been saying that he wanted to take me out to dinner and "do something", the something being anything but going back to my place and probably falling asleep. Me being me, I kept asking him what the something was. I wasn't too surprised when Thursday dawned and he didn't have anything.
We went out to a nicer Italian place, about twenty minutes from my house. Maybe my palate is just a philistine, but I was less than impressed. The breadsticks were good though? And the raspberry martini I had wasn't bad either. But for as much as he paid, I would have liked to enjoy my meal more. Seriously. I might be a schlub, but I like Bertucci's better.
While I was there, I was so completely the dominant female. It was interesting, really. Jay didn't do much of the talking; I was the one interacting with the hostess, the waitress, etc. I walked in before he did, I sat down before he did, I did the ordering for the most part, I made the decision to have dessert, and when the waitress came over, she asked me if everything was okay, not Jay. It was as if he were invisible, almost. I took over, and was the smooth, in-control adult woman. It was fun, if a bit shallow on my part. That part of my personality exists, sure, but the way I was doing it was a bit too smooth and black-cocktail-dress-and-diamonds-on-everything, if you know what I mean. And here I am saying that I want a guy to Dom me!
The other thing that struck me was that everyone else in the restaurant was talking, and we were silent. Jay and I said about ten words to each other during the course of our meal. Now, it's nice to have someone with whom you can be silent, sure. But it feels like we have nothing to say to each other. My friends (and anyone who reads this blog) know that I can be a wordy, chatty bitch. Hell, I go out to dinner with Elizabeth, and we don't shut up, ever. With Jay? Nada. I resorted to watching the mock NFL draft on ESPN that they had on, and god knows that was fucking ridiculously boring. I said a prayer of thanks when a baseball game came on instead.
It was the same after dinner. We got into his car, and started driving, and I again asked him what his plans were. All he could come up with was driving an hour south to where his parents' cottage was, to show it to me. Not inside, just the outside, as he didn't have a key. Yes, he was serious as he said this. I about smacked him, but restrained myself. Don't get me wrong, I like driving, but what the fuck. He then asked me where we should go, and I suggested that we go someplace that I wasn't familiar with driving - figuring we'd get lost in one of the suburbs, which I used to do when I had a car, to my great and never-ending entertainment. Instead he drives straight west on a highway I drive all the damn time, and we wound up going past where he works. He pulled into the parking lot to show me. I could barely contain my glee, let me tell you.
I was so irritated - well, not precisely irritated, but for lack of a better word, irritated - when we got back to my house that when we parked, I got out of the car and started walking without him. I took a certain amount of satisfaction in hearing him run to catch up to me (what good are long legs if you don't put them to use?) I was so intent on walking away that I nearly walked past my own house. Not a good sign. I really think that he takes my coming back to him at some point as a given. Sure, there are days when I think that too, but there's a lot of them when I don't, and I don't think he's gotten the memo yet - despite the multiple copies I stuffed in his mailbox.
He wound up falling asleep and not going back home; his parents called in a panic at 6:15 because his car wasn't there. He got up and went to work; I went back to sleep to avoid the world for a little longer, him included. He seemed pretty happy with life; I've been trying to change mine again, in spectacular fashion.
Anyway, Jay picked me up from my volunteer position on Thursday evening to take me out to dinner. All week he'd been saying that he wanted to take me out to dinner and "do something", the something being anything but going back to my place and probably falling asleep. Me being me, I kept asking him what the something was. I wasn't too surprised when Thursday dawned and he didn't have anything.
We went out to a nicer Italian place, about twenty minutes from my house. Maybe my palate is just a philistine, but I was less than impressed. The breadsticks were good though? And the raspberry martini I had wasn't bad either. But for as much as he paid, I would have liked to enjoy my meal more. Seriously. I might be a schlub, but I like Bertucci's better.
While I was there, I was so completely the dominant female. It was interesting, really. Jay didn't do much of the talking; I was the one interacting with the hostess, the waitress, etc. I walked in before he did, I sat down before he did, I did the ordering for the most part, I made the decision to have dessert, and when the waitress came over, she asked me if everything was okay, not Jay. It was as if he were invisible, almost. I took over, and was the smooth, in-control adult woman. It was fun, if a bit shallow on my part. That part of my personality exists, sure, but the way I was doing it was a bit too smooth and black-cocktail-dress-and-diamonds-on-everything, if you know what I mean. And here I am saying that I want a guy to Dom me!
The other thing that struck me was that everyone else in the restaurant was talking, and we were silent. Jay and I said about ten words to each other during the course of our meal. Now, it's nice to have someone with whom you can be silent, sure. But it feels like we have nothing to say to each other. My friends (and anyone who reads this blog) know that I can be a wordy, chatty bitch. Hell, I go out to dinner with Elizabeth, and we don't shut up, ever. With Jay? Nada. I resorted to watching the mock NFL draft on ESPN that they had on, and god knows that was fucking ridiculously boring. I said a prayer of thanks when a baseball game came on instead.
It was the same after dinner. We got into his car, and started driving, and I again asked him what his plans were. All he could come up with was driving an hour south to where his parents' cottage was, to show it to me. Not inside, just the outside, as he didn't have a key. Yes, he was serious as he said this. I about smacked him, but restrained myself. Don't get me wrong, I like driving, but what the fuck. He then asked me where we should go, and I suggested that we go someplace that I wasn't familiar with driving - figuring we'd get lost in one of the suburbs, which I used to do when I had a car, to my great and never-ending entertainment. Instead he drives straight west on a highway I drive all the damn time, and we wound up going past where he works. He pulled into the parking lot to show me. I could barely contain my glee, let me tell you.
I was so irritated - well, not precisely irritated, but for lack of a better word, irritated - when we got back to my house that when we parked, I got out of the car and started walking without him. I took a certain amount of satisfaction in hearing him run to catch up to me (what good are long legs if you don't put them to use?) I was so intent on walking away that I nearly walked past my own house. Not a good sign. I really think that he takes my coming back to him at some point as a given. Sure, there are days when I think that too, but there's a lot of them when I don't, and I don't think he's gotten the memo yet - despite the multiple copies I stuffed in his mailbox.
He wound up falling asleep and not going back home; his parents called in a panic at 6:15 because his car wasn't there. He got up and went to work; I went back to sleep to avoid the world for a little longer, him included. He seemed pretty happy with life; I've been trying to change mine again, in spectacular fashion.
Friday, April 28, 2006
My life is boring
Pretty much all I've been doing for the past week is sleeping and working. This is different from my normal schedule of sleeping and working in the fact that I'm doing the working part longer, and on more days. This makes me tired, and not interested in much.
The other thing occupying my mind has been finding a car. See, taking public transportation to work is completely doable, and in fact, I have been doing so for well over a year. It just takes me an hour and a half, at least, each way. Plus, my graduate school is about forty-five minutes in the opposite direction... so taking public transport from work to school would probably take about two hours. This is not acceptable, so I am working on remedying the situation with a car.
Yes, yes, cars are expensive, blah blah, you can do homework on the bus, blah blah, but let's be realistic. As an undergraduate, I also took public transport, and I never, repeat, never did homework on the bus. I was always way too interested in my iPod, or in the emulated NES games on my laptop. Plus, that hour and a half home really cuts into my unwinding and sleeping time.
So right now I'm looking at a few beaters in the area; I don't have that much money to buy a car but I do have some. So I'm scouring the classifieds, online and off, for something cheap and reliable. I've got a few leads, so with any luck, by this time next week I'll be driving to work.
Other than that, I really don't have much going on. Jay is still trying to date me, Peter shot me an email apologizing for being so busy, and a few other guys have expressed interest in me, and I'm still in the middle, completely indecisive. About the only thing that's changed is that now I'm irritated and upset about my indecisiveness. That is a ridiculous amount of fun, let me assure you.
Bah, work calls. Time to stop sitting around and moping in my pajamas and get ready to head out for the day.
The other thing occupying my mind has been finding a car. See, taking public transportation to work is completely doable, and in fact, I have been doing so for well over a year. It just takes me an hour and a half, at least, each way. Plus, my graduate school is about forty-five minutes in the opposite direction... so taking public transport from work to school would probably take about two hours. This is not acceptable, so I am working on remedying the situation with a car.
Yes, yes, cars are expensive, blah blah, you can do homework on the bus, blah blah, but let's be realistic. As an undergraduate, I also took public transport, and I never, repeat, never did homework on the bus. I was always way too interested in my iPod, or in the emulated NES games on my laptop. Plus, that hour and a half home really cuts into my unwinding and sleeping time.
So right now I'm looking at a few beaters in the area; I don't have that much money to buy a car but I do have some. So I'm scouring the classifieds, online and off, for something cheap and reliable. I've got a few leads, so with any luck, by this time next week I'll be driving to work.
Other than that, I really don't have much going on. Jay is still trying to date me, Peter shot me an email apologizing for being so busy, and a few other guys have expressed interest in me, and I'm still in the middle, completely indecisive. About the only thing that's changed is that now I'm irritated and upset about my indecisiveness. That is a ridiculous amount of fun, let me assure you.
Bah, work calls. Time to stop sitting around and moping in my pajamas and get ready to head out for the day.
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I'm a 20-something feminist switch who tends toward the sub side, living with my hetero life mate/fellow switch/husband, and just trying to figure out what the hell's going on. This is a sex blog, but not strictly a sex blog, because sex is but a part of my life, even though it all ties together. Since I do talk about sex and other related topics, this blog is for adults only, please.
