if its wrong, i dont wanna be right
As common as it is for older men to date younger women, anytime someone even a day older goes for some hotter, younger male tail, its a problem. This is why I’m struggling to keep my latest conquest under wraps. Don’t worry, he’s legal (but just barely–he turned 18 three weeks ago) but there is one major problem: he is currently still a high school student.
I met M through my cousin, who is his close friend. M is cute, funny, adorable–all the things I normally look for in a future fuck. The only problem is that while I’m trying to jump start my career with yet another internship, this bitch is still planning his prom weekend. What to do?
M has proved to me that he’s definitely experienced WAY beyond his years on our little date last night. We went bowling (which meant that he mostly bowled; I mostly drank beer). On the drive home (okay, he at least has a license!) he leaned in for a kiss with the confidence of someone much older. Suddenly, I was in the middle of a hot makeout sesh with someone that just weeks before I could have gotten arrested for hooking up with. He KNEW what he was doing. Seems like the Northeast’s public school systems are doing something right. 
fleet week should be a national holiday
Honestly, ladies. What better time of the year is there for New York girls than Fleet Week? Hot, cute, polite sailors are in town for a solid week ready to charm with their “Yes, ma’am”s, make out with you and then head off into the sunset and leave you with only good memories before they ruin a perfectly sweet, brief relationship.
I, myself, had never experienced a Fleet Week such as this one. I had never taken full advantage of all that this wonderful event had to offer until last Wednesday, when fortunately I was thrown full throttle into the joys of being a military girlfriend…if only for a few nights. I was bartending at my sometimes job (I like the tips and the free booze) when my manager warned me that it would be a busy night. Girls were drinking for free and Navy boys would surely be trickling in any moment now.
I was in no way prepared for what would occur next. Suddenly, the bar was swarmed with dozens of adorable midwestern young guys with adorable accents in crisp white uniforms. And they’d be gone in a week! TRUE LOVE. It was in my shelling out Long Island Ice Teas during the night that I met Jake, a super cute 19 year old from Ohio who was cute, shy and my new target for the night. I couldn’t abandon my post behind the bar to flirt like a girl really should, but I think I made it clear (by ignoring all the other customers) that I was really into him.
He asked for my number, so I wrote it on a napkin (how 1954!) and sent him on his way so he wouldn’t miss curfew. The next morning, slightly hungover and still smelling like a bar room floor, I was actually shocked to see that Jake had texted me wishing me a lovely morning and asking if “I don’t mind me textin’ ya”. No, I did not mind at all. Throughout the day we exchanged flirty text messages and I found out that he was leaving the following day bright and early. I had to beat the clock! I couldn’t let the poor boy go back out on duty without showing him just how wonderful New York could be. It was my patriotic duty.
I met up with Jake wearing espadrilles and a dress, trying my best to do an impression of a WW2 army wife. Jake and I spent the night in one of the best bar crawls in history, drinking martinis (me), whiskey (him) and making out as if he was going off to war (both of us, because he actually was). Finally, after a few hours of this, we realized that Jake’s curfew was creeping up on us. I walked him way back to the west side, and watched him walk of into the darkness, just like a good military girlfriend is supposed to. And I’ll be waiting for Jake the next time he drops in, ready to show him a good time. I just can’t promise that I won’t have kissed a few sailors and negotiated a few peace treaties with other entities of my own in the mean time.
faux pas?
So, there is one code in girl world that one must absolutely, positively, never ever break. Of course, last Tuesday (it was finals week, for God’s sake!) I made that cardinal error–I hooked up with one of my best friend’s former hookups.
I know, I know. It was a huge mistake, but let me explain the circumstances of how a girl can lose all willpower and go against girl code.
Let me just preface this by saying: it had been a horrific day. I had learned that my ex-boyfriend was dating someone new via Facebook (gotta love technology!) and had just seen Evan (yes, the object of my affection the night I almost decided to roofie a boy) with his brank spanking new and may i add UGLY girlfriend. I was not in good spirits. All this taken into account, I decided to bring a bottle of warm, cheap white zinfandel with me to my job on the school paper and down it as I completed some of my end of the semester duties.
Drunk off a bottle of cheap ass wine, I stumbled my way back to my friend Mark’s apartment where Brandon, my roommate’s Sadie’s former fling, lives, too. They’d only hooked up once or twice, but he’s her go-to guy whenever she’s drunk and needing to text someone for some flirtation.
I’d inadverantly stumbled into a pseudo-party. Twenty of my closest acquaintances were at Mark’s smoking, drinking and grinding to the most random collection of music. An average Tuesday when you’re a sophomore in a Manhattan university. Suddenly, Evan appeared out of nowhere (he happens to be good friends with Mark, too) to smoke some chronic and toss back a few beers. Suddenly, I couldn’t take it anymore. Here, in a city of 8 million people, the very boy I was trying to avoid and drown out with cheap alcohol was right in front of my face.
It was gross, but I needed to feel validated by a guy. Evan had rejected me for some frumpy blonde who carried her belongings around in a weird potato sack. I needed a man to make me feel like a hot piece again. Now, the only available males in the apartment happened to be Mark and Brandon. Mark, a flaming homosexual wasn’t going to solve my problem. I zeroed in on Brandon.
We kept making eyes at each other all night (probably due to the copious amounts of Il Bastardo consumed). Within minutes, we were pushing past Evan to get to Brandon’s bedroom. Suddenly, I realized that I was ripping off the clothes of the man that just the night before I had been encouraging Sadie to rekindle things with. FUCK. What was I doing??????? I was having sex is what I was doing. Fun, drunk, sloppy, validation sex.
OH MY GOD. I had just FUCKED Sadie’s go-to guy. What the hell kinda person was I???? Minutes after Brandon fell asleep, I threw my clothes back on and made my way back to my apartment. Stumbling back into my bedroom, I ran into Sadie in the living room.
“How was your night?” she asked, oblivious to who had been on top of me just half an hour before.
“Uhh, fine,” I answered.
The next morning, I woke up with a MEAN ass headache and a wave of guilt that has completely consumed my mind the past few days. What the hell should I do? Have I finally crossed the Smut line?
“keeping my options open”
So, last night was my roommate Kadence’s birthday, and we decided that the proper way to celebrate this occasion was by having a pseudo-kegger. We had made jungle juice, bought four cases of beer and cleared out the entire contents of our living room to make room for beer pong and and flip cup tables. Most importantly, we had invited every straight boy we know and VERY IMPORTANTLY, the senior at my school, Evan, that I’ve been trying to hook up with for the past two semesters. The stage was set for the epic hookup of all time. His best friend, Liam, was even committed (or convinced?) through several drunken facebook messages to hit it with Kadence. It was perfect.
Well, almost perfect. Unfortunately, Evan had not been so thourougly convinced, or even convinced at all to hook up with me. My uber advanced come ons, including the ever so suave inner thigh rub, were brutally rebuffed. Sad day. Evan finally became so uncomfortable with my jungle juice encouraged pick up lines that he decided to high tail it out of there before I roofied his drink. (The theme was a kegger, so it wouldn’t have been entirely ridiculous!) Sadly, he dragged Liam away with him (bromance?), so not even Kadance was able to “tap the bottle and twist the cap”, if you know what I mean.
Allowing myself to be brought down to reality for about .2 seconds, I finally realized that I had to reshift my focus. Yes, my night with Evan had not worked out as planned, but that didn’t mean that some other poor, innocent boy couldn’t be my victim for the night. I settled on Joe. Not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but decently attractive, and with a personality loud enough to make Evan notice that he was hitting on me before he made his way out of the party. Score. I alerted Kadance to my new plans, pushed Joe into an empty room in our apartment and was about to have my way with him when he asked probably the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been asked in a sexual situation (other than that time that one guy asked if I’d ever been diagnosed with an STD. Kidding, of course).
Joe: “So, wait a second. Were you trying to hook up with Evan earlier in the night? I saw you talking to him a lot before.”
[Awkward silence.]
Me: “Uhhhhhh. Uhhhhhh. No, not really. I’m keeping my options open. Now that’s enough talking for now.”
where have all the men gone?
It’s been a while since I’ve updated, as things have been rather quiet on the smutty front. it seems like it was just a few weeks ago when i was balancing flirt sessions with my boss Eric and pub crawl hookups on a near nightly basis. In the past weeks, I’ve calmed down quite a bit. Oh, and there’s news! I quit my job. I realized that I was intensely tired of dealing with snotty customers and the constant fear of being found out as the home wrecking sales girl who boned my boss. So, I left and never returned, also closing the door on hooking up with Eric anytime soon.
This leaves me in my current quagmire–feeling smutty but with no viable prospects. Though I’ve been in slight hibernation the past few weeks, spring is always a rebirth and I feel like the rebirth of my skanktastic adventures is just around the corner. Stay tuned.
the south rises again
So, on my recent spring break (Can I get a whoot! for a week of drinking, tanning and all around debauchery?), my roommates and I decided to road trip it down to South Carolina for a week of lounging on the beach and substance abuse. During the St. Patty’s Day parade in the small town (Can I get a whoot! for a day of green beer, Irish Car Bombs and all around debauchery?), my roomie Cate and I decided to hang out of our car window during a particularly bad stretch of traffic. I spy with my little eye a HOT ASS group of guys. We asked for their numbers, struggled to understand what the fuck they were saying with those accents, and finally took them down.
Two nights later, during a particularly boring spell in the trip, we decided to call up the boys and finally made plans to meet up with them later that night. After enlisting Krista as our DD, we made our way (in the pitch ass darkness) to their house. Fucking FINALLY! Guys that weren’t wearing skinny jeans, had never stepped foot in a Bloomingdale’s and didn’t pay more than I did for a haircut. There was one boy in particular, Beau, who really caught my eye. He was hot, wearing ridiculous Abercrombie cologne and was a master at beer pong. He was the one. His cute southern accent didn’t hurt matters either.
Beau and I got to talking and then he convinced me to let him give me a “tour of the house”, obviously code for “let’s fuck”. Kissing and being thrown around by someone twice my size was strangely exhilirating, especially considereding my recent history with girlier men. I was all about it. I wasn’t wearing the cutest underwear in the world though, and wasn’t too into the idea of having sex within hours of meeting this kid (I’m classy, you know), so after a few minutes of hardcore making out, I asked if he’d settle for a blow job. He, being male, accepted this negotiation. Several minutes later, and some hard work on my part (they don’t call it a JOB for nothing), matters were taken care of. Literally two seconds after my head was off his crotch, my roommate Cate walked into the room.
“Hey, we’re ready to head out? Are you pretty much set?”
“Haha, yeah.” I fixed my now lopsided hair and gave Beau one final kiss and wink before I headed out the door. On the car ride back, I had only one request of my now completely trashed and equally satisfied roommates.
“Hey, guys? Do you think we can stop by the supermarket to buy some Coke? I need to wash the taste of peen out of my mouth.”
to fuck or not to fuck? that is the question…
So, I must apologize for the delay in newer posts…I’ve been quite the busy bee lately, with much to update. There is one dilemma that has been weighing heavily on my mind and I’ve been itching to share–the one of the ambiguously gay hookup. I have this friend, Ian, who claims to be straight…yet insists on trying on high heels, kissing our mutual gay friend and says he would not mind fucking a guy when he’s drunk. Now, I’m an open minded gal, but even I have to question…what is this guy doing? Is he about the peen?
Now, I had ruled him completely out as a hookup option until a few weeks ago, when on just a regular Sunday night, a group of my friends were smoking and drinnking and the light, and suddenly I was inexplicably attracted to this fool…and he didn’t seem to think I was too bad either. Uh oh. This could only be solved by a gay conference. I pulled my friends Mauricio and Aaron to the side.
“What the FUCK is going on with you and Ian?”
“Um, I think I want to have sex with him.”
“Oh, well. Just making sure. Go for it.”
Ten minutes later, I was pulling Ian into Mauricio’s skanky bathroom and making out with him against a wall. Hmm. Ian is a good kisser. Almost too good. Kinda soft. Kinda like kissing a girl. It was about this time that I realized this was almost exactly like that one time I experimented with my friend Gina in the back of the bus in middle school. Fuck. Ian was awkwardly trying to stick his hand down my pants, then trynna cop a feel, just as if he had read it out of the “Straight Guy Guide Book”, you know, the one that says that you have to grab your crotch ten times in a conversation and grab a girls boobs ten seconds into a makeout sesh. It was almost too rehearsed.
Okay, Ian. We’re done here. I peeled myself off the bathroom wall just long enough to tell Ian we should get back to the burning joint and scampered out of the bathroom.
Now, two nights later, in a very randy and lonely night, I suddenly found myself, Blackberry in hand, sending a flirty message to Ian. And he responded accordingly. Siiiigh. I’m sooooo over sexual amibiguity.
In a conference with Aaron, he tells me that he does indeed think Ian is gay, but why not let him hit it. It wouldn’t mean anything to either of us, since we’re both about the cock, but why not pass the time together? Now, I’m conflicted: to fuck, or not to fuck?
and the awkward turtle ensues…
OH MY FUCKING GOD. Sexual tension between Eric and I has been mounting yet again, and I’m thinking that another sack session is soon to be on the agenda. I kinda feel like the first time we fucked might have been mediocre just because of first fuck jitters. I mean, every one has those, right?
Today at work-just as I am slowly allowing myself to flirt with Eric more openly and entertaining the idea of giving him another chance to prove that hes not just a bunny fucker–a bombshell drops. His girlfriend, Lauren, comes into visit. NO. This cannot, cannot, CANNOT be fucking happening. Not that the guilt is really eating me up inside anymore (I helped myself get over it with a bottle of Cuervo) but what if she figures us out? This bitch is a good foot taller than me and relatively ghetto fab. She can beat me down. Now, I’m fiesty, but I know when I’m clearly outmatched, and the last thing I need is a bruise across the side of my face just for the prospect of another average lay.
“Hey, Lauren!” I say, wayyyyyyy too politely.
”Oh, hi.” She shoots the DIRTIEST look in my direction, turns to speak to Eric for a good ten minutes, making sure to hug and kiss him plenty of times during her conversation, in between giving me dirty looks to make sure I’m noticing. Bitch is trying to school me. HELL FUCKING NO.
Finally, after she finally runs out of steam in her middle school attempt to mark her territory, she passes by me on the way out the door. I’m not letting her go this easily.
”Bye, Lauren!” I yell, obnoxiously loudly. “I’m REALLY sorry you won’t be able to come to the next store party. They really are so much more fun when you’re there. Don’t worry, though, I’ll take care of Eric for you!” I smile after giving my little speech, way too brightly for it to be sincere. This bitch’s head almost came off, fuming out of the store. Lauren:0; Me:7 billion. But who’s counting?
craigslist is NOT for lovers…
As amazing as the Internet is ..I can honestly say that it has not contributed to my love life…or to my even getting laid lately. I’ve tried thousands of times (well, actually just two) but both have convinced me that there is nothing quite like going to a bar, getting drunk and taking a stranger home…the NORMAL way. Here are my two Craigslist disasters that have convinced me to never return…
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Just two weeks ago, my friend and I were bored and lookin’ for some lovin’, so we challenged each other to a Craigslist search. Find a hot, slutty, easy fuck for the other person to e-mail. This plan could in no way be flawed, right? We’d both have fun laughing at the ads posted about defecation and people with ugly photos, and possibly both end up with a hot date. I finally e-mailed, this super hot (abs!) thug with creamy caramel skin from Harlem. His response? The words “Hey shawty” and “Would you take it up the ass?” came just two e-mail exchanges later. Now, I’m all for being candid, but there is no reason for anal to be brought up even before the first date.
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This other date occured just a few months ago, and seemed rather promising at the time. His name was Paul, he enjoyed, movies, music and shows and was actually very sweet on the phone. It wasn’t until I met up with him for some late-night dessert that I discovered why, in fact, he was online trying to get a date. He was a good 80 pounds overweight, wearing cargo shorts (cargo shorts!) and had a nose ring. Not a stud, but a ring. Oh, and he was definitely as old as my father. (I’m talking late 40s, early 50s, here). I thought I’d still give this a chance…or at least not run away in the opposite direction…yet. 40 minutes into the “date” he brought up his scheme for becoming a pornographer and also his good friend’s job as a hooker. Even if he were an extremely attractive guy, there is nothing that excuses bringing up your affinity for animal porn. No, sir.
I’m all about giving things a fair shot, but I think Craigslist creepiness has exhausted its chances in my life. There is also the matter of the girl that was murdered just a few months ago for answering an ad on Craigslist. What a crazy world. A girl has to risk death just to try to get some ass…
sucky valentine’s day?
With Valentine’s Day less than 24 hours away, even my usually dark heart is craving a little REAL lovin’. Random hookups are fun and all, but every once in a while (like today), I really want someone to eat dinner with and watch crappy reality TV with. But then again, thats what I have my roommates for…
On a side note, which I completely forgot to mention before, I had sex with my former fuck buddy, Ronnie, on SuperBowl Sunday. How bout that for scoring? It was a pretty standard, none too special fuck. Kinda like pizza…not mind-blowing, but can sex with an ex ever really be that bad??? (Other than the possible mind-fucking emotional crap). I don’t think it can.
A fun roll in the hay, but I still want someone to buy me dinner and take me to see Step Up 2 (don’t judge!) tomorrow. Any takers?
