I rolled over and slowly opened my eyes, the space next to me was empty.  I supposed it was him getting up to use the bathroom that woke me up in the first place.  It felt late in the day; the sky was bright and it was quiet, too quiet, missing was the sounds of the family going about their day.  I groped for my phone, the digital clock claimed it was only 8:00 am, we had slept for 10 straight hours, yet still I felt drained.

I groggily recalled returning home, although I guess it wasn’t really my home anymore, I felt like an intruder when I walked in the door last night.  I went into the house in search of my landlords so I could tell them I’d changed my plans, but the entire family was out, probably at their daughter’s Christmas concert.
We’d stripped down naked and collapsed on my unmade bed, even though we’d both been exhausted we still made love, his strong warm body on top of mine, his perfect member thrusting deep inside of me, it was all I could do not to look into those blue eyes and whisper, “I love you.”  Then I was on my stomach and he was behind and soon I was coming, my orgasm so profound that for a moment, I left my body.  I suppose sleep came soon after because I didn’t remember much else.

He returned to the room.
“Good morning beautiful,” he cooed softly in my ear.  “I’m going to the bakery for a pie run, do you want anything?”
“Mmmm… coffee please,” I mumbled.
“Coffee,” he repeated with a smile, “Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”
I curled up on my side as my mind attempted to recall the hazy details of the past 24 hours.

It was Friday afternoon, the day before I was meant to leave and Nick had insisted on having a barbecue for me, unaware that I had booked a bus ticket for the next morning.  Driving to his house I felt anxious: I hadn’t finished packing, I had no reliable transportation back into town and the way he and Jill had been talking, I knew they were planning on a wild night.

When we arrived at his house, no one was home so we all broke into his yard and started sipping beers and listening to tunes.  Nick finally showed up with his puppy Otis in tow, others began to arrive and soon the party was in full swing.  We drank, we ate, we drank, we smoked.  At one point, all of us girls went swimming in the pool.  Everyone was fairly intoxicated and adamant on doing cocaine.  Nick went down the street with money and returned with MDMA.  Everyone loudly vocalised their distaste, but we all ended up doing it anyway.  My anxiety soared as I began to peak, I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t relax.  I kept moving seats and getting up to do things and starting new conversations.  Jill was all over the map, Nick kept wanting to cuddle and tell me how special I was, Don could barely speak, Shawn was too intense, Kennedy had not done M but was stoned as shit, Mel was too high to function and her cousin Sally looked sober, bored and judgemental.
Max showed up with a couple friends and I insisted they drop with us, they even chipped in for another baggie.  I started to feel a little more relaxed.

It was certainly an entertaining night, Jill got into the clothing I intended to donate and we had a fashion show.  We played truth or dare and everyone got naked or made out.  We took turns confessing deep secrets and fantasies.
Everyone was starting to do more, but I was done and falling asleep on Nick’s shoulder, I knew I should just go to bed and get some sleep, but I just wanted to stay in the company of my beautiful friends and listen to the sounds of Shakey Graves picking away at his guitar and crooning, “Some of us were built to roam…”

I persuaded Nick to join me and he laughed when I begun my game of seduction, “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to fuck?  We could have snuck off for a quicky…”
“Nothing about this is going to be quick,” I assured him.
We explored each other’s bodies touching and kissing every inch of skin.  I felt dazed as if I was entering and exiting a dream.  After half an hour I dried up and we both just fell asleep.

A few hours later my alarm went off.  The first thing I heard was the sound of heavy rain on the rooftop.  I thought about all my friends passed out around the house, I looked over at Nick, naked and beautiful, peaceful.  I thought about leaving them all to trudge down the street alone to the bus stop, to wait in the rain, to rush into town.  The idea alone nearly brought me to tears, so I did what I should have done in the first place: I called Greyhound and for a mere $6 fee, changed my reservation to the following day.  I cuddled up next to Nick and fell back asleep.

The next time I woke it was to my phone ringing.  Kyle was on the other line, he was on his break at work and wondering if we’d all survived the night.  He was especially concerned about Max who was apparently still up cleaning when Kyle had left for work.  I wandered out to the patio and found him staring off into space, poor guy.  I made him tea and as the others began to stir I made them all teas and coffees as well.  All the anxiousness was gone, even though I’d changed my plans last minute and messed up the schedule of my cousin, who was picking me up from the bus stop and my landlords, who were expecting my suite to be entirely empty.  I knew I should feel bad, but truly, I did not care.
I rolled a joint and we all got good and stoned before Max made us bacon and eggs.  Jill had to rush back to town for work so I offered Max my seat in the car, insisting I could get a ride with Nick.  On their way out the door, we grabbed Kennedy and convinced her to stay and spend the day smoking weed and watching Futurama.

Eventually the sky darkened and we dropped Kennedy at home before returning to my now empty abode.  And now we were here…

I sipped my long black and tried to gather my bearings.  I took a much needed shower and said my goodbyes to the family who I had been sharing a home with over the past 3 months.  I made the bed up nicely for the new tenant and Nick and I loaded up his ute.  In town we walked on the beach for a while and ran into some friends who I bid adieu to.
This was the final day I was meant to have; not strung out on M; not tired from being overworked; not rushed and stressed.  This was the farewell I needed: chilled out and with him… the man I had loved and lost, cried for and laughed with.  This man who’d been such a massive force in my life, who I had forged this intense relationship with.

At the bus stop, he gathered me in his arms.  “I miss you already,” he promised and I fought back tears, because the truth was I never intended to move back and he was one of the main reasons why.  The last couple weeks I’d been with him, yet had managed to keep my distance, but I knew eventually I’d get sucked back in.  I couldn’t stand the thought of feeling such deep pain again; the heartbreak was inevitable.
Despite my best wishes, there was no future for me and Nick and there was no life for me in this place.

Onto the big coach I climbed, while he watched me go.  I tried to be strong and look only forward though my body trembled with sadness.


Sex Interviews

My friend Andi was griping to us girls.  After a six month draught, she finally slept with a guy she went to high school with.  She was horrified by his weird sex noises and her lack of an orgasm, but how could she have known it’d be so disappointing?
That’s when I came up with the brilliant idea of sex interviews.  Think about it… You wouldn’t hire someone without first interviewing them and comparing them to other contenders.  You wouldn’t entrust your children to someone you just met.  So why your orgasms?  Some might argue that the first roll in the hay is like a trial, but I say there should be a less violating and more practical way to find out if a man is good at sex. This is my brilliant plan for recruiting my next sex buddy, tell me what you think guys.

The Interview Process:

  • All applicants must arrive with a CV.  This will consist of a “Head Shot” (hehe) of their erect penis.  Resume should include but not be limited to: special skills, sexual likes and dislikes and any known fetishes.
  • All candidates must provide references for the last three women they were intimate with.
  • The interview process will last 20 minutes and will contain questions such as:
    “What is your stance on cuddling?” and
    “How many times can you go in one night?”
  • Following the interview there will be a one minute trial make out session.  This will be followed with a sex preview in which the candidate will demonstrate their best moves on a mannequin.
  • The process will conclude with an STD test.

What will the winning contender get out of this?  Why, the pleasure of sex with me of course.  Whenever, wherever.



Kissing – Pecks, open-mouthed, tongue.
Big deal?
Some people see it as a very intimate action.
Yet, in many cultures, kissing on the cheek or mouth is a normalized greeting.
There’s the myth perpetuated by Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts firmly tells Richard Gere, “I don’t kiss on the mouth.”
Or there’s The Inbetweeners 2 when Will’s childhood friend Katie greets everyone with an open mouth kiss.
People can be good kissers, bad kissers, sloppy kissers, hard kissers, soft kissers…

Even Wikipedia offers a long and almost contradictory explanation:

Cultural connotations of kissing vary widely. Depending on the culture and context, a kiss can express sentiments of love, passion, romance, sexual attraction, sexual activity, sexual arousal, affection, respect, greeting, friendship, peace and good luck, among many others. In some situations a kiss is a ritual, formal or symbolic gesture indicating devotion, respect, or sacrament.

What about kissing someone on a first date?  In this Tinder and booze-filled dating world is that even considered taboo anymore?

Last night a few of us were sitting around my house, having a few beers and shooting the shit.  We’d run through our arsenal of drinking games and card games and Kennedy joked that we should play “Spin The Bottle.”
“What are we 12?” our male guests asked in mock horror.  But Kennedy had the hots for one of our guests, I had the hots for another, so we kept jokingly pushing it.  Kennedy spun a plastic bottle and it landed on me, all the boys started heckling us, “What are you girls going to do now?”
So we leaned across the table and kissed each other quickly on the lips.  Then we continued to play.  I kissed both the guy I was pining over and the other one.  I was relatively sober.  I don’t regret it in the slightest.  It was nice, getting to kiss all these people.  In what other context is that ever acceptable?  (Other than, obviously, orgies.)

I kiss people all the time, for a variety of reasons and I enjoy it.  That’s not to say I’m necessarily easy.  If I don’t want to kiss someone, there’s no amount of convincing that will change my mind (I’ve been in such situations before.)
I’ve passionately made out with everyone of my girlfriends.  That’s not to say I do it for attention, since it’s always private and for our own enjoyment.

I just want to be a make out bandit.  Is that so wrong?


The Return of LipRing

3 more weeks passed by and I had given up hope of seeing LipRing again.
He hadn’t been at the last few Summer Jams, I hadn’t run into him on the street, I couldn’t even find him on Facebook (the fact I was unsure about his name probably didn’t help me in that regard.)  I wondered if perhaps he had been a sexy spirit who returned to roam the Earth one final night before disappearing forever into limbo.  Or maybe he had just left town.  Whatever the reason, I decided it was time to forget about him and move on.

Sunday had rolled around and I was debating going to the weekly instalment of Summer Jams.  Kennedy was working late and my roommate Terry and I were sitting on the couch, watching Chappelle Show and sipping beers.  I was more or less put together as Terry had initially indicated interest in attending the Sunday festivities, but was rapidly back peddling.  Anyway, the two of us decided to drive into town for more beer.  While in town, I suggested we go into the bar, just to check it out.  They weren’t charging cover yet, it might be fun to have a beer and see what’s happening.  We walked across the street to the bar, but did not make it in.  The bouncer banished me for not wearing shoes.  Also, they had already started charging cover.  Fuck that noise.

The two of us retreated home and continued to sip beer and shoot the shit.  Kennedy texted me to announce that she was almost done work and to invite me in joining her at the bar for a quick beer.  I was reluctant, but didn’t want to waste my cute ensemble so I drove back into town.  We entered the courtyard of the bar and were met with the last dying notes of the performing DJ.  We ordered beers and looked around, quickly seeing Argentina, who had become a regular sight at these Summer Jam sessions.  He came running over and gave us each a huge hug, before turning slightly to the guy trailing behind him and asking, “Have you met my friend?”
I looked into the face of his friend and immediately saw the glow of the silver lip ring.
“You!” I exclaimed.
“Right, I forgot that you two have met before…” Argentina trailed off with a smirk.  He and Kennedy began chatting.
I turned to LipRing, “I’m glad I finally ran into you, I wanted to explain why I ran off so awkwardly.”
“Yeah, what was that all about?  Such a huge disappointment for me.”
We started chatting and flirting.  He told  me how he had moved into a house no less than 5 minutes from my own.
When Kennedy reappeared she announced that she wanted to go home and offered LipRing a ride.
“Yeah, that would be great, maybe we could have a couple beers on my deck?” he asked me.
“I’m keen.”
There was no need to discuss it, we both knew exactly what would be going down.

Back at his house, the two of us were struggling to juggle a blanket, a bag of popcorn, beers, smokes and a speaker in order to continue our party out on the deck.  Just as soon as I had everything balanced precariously in my arms, he leaned over and kissed me, then kissed me again.  My arms relaxed and I dropped everything onto the floor.  He pushed me up against the wall as we continued to passionately make out.  Needless to say, we never did make it outside…
After the third time and as the sun began coming up the two of us finally fell asleep, cuddling in his single bed.
In the morning, we went at it two more times before retreating to the shower and throwing together a hasty breakfast of bread, cream cheese and ham.  I literally felt week at the knees as I walked home in the afternoon heat.

We had exchanged numbers, but I didn’t really expect to hear much from him.  A couple days later he added me on Facebook and sent me a message saying that he had written my number down wrong and couldn’t text me, but wanted to invite me to a barbecue at his house.  I begged Kennedy to accompany me for at least an hour and she begrudgingly agreed.  When we arrived, LipRing offered me a beer and wasted no time in inviting me to stay the night.  Once again, we had fun, but that night I could hardly sleep.  His bed was too cramped and his room too hot.  He was pressed right against me, big spoon style, and I was pinned against the wall.  There was no where to move and every time I tried to readjust, his arm would still end up underneath my neck.  I considered getting up and walking home to the comfort of my own bed, but knew I would inadvertently wake up his entire household in the process.
I tossed and turned and had repeated nightmares about LipRing doing terrible, douchey things towards me.  I was actually relieved when I woke to the sound of my alarm, Kennedy and I had planned to drive to a neighbouring town for the day.  He tried to convince me to stay, but I could not be swayed.

The following Sunday I was at Summer Jams, dancing up a storm with my Canadian friends.  Of course, I bumped into LipRing almost immediately.  I tried to play it cool and do my own thing, but by the end of the night we were all over each other and together we began making the long walk home.  As we walked, we talked and as we talked, I began to get a little peeved with his personality.  I hate when people try to present their opinions as facts.  Like when they tell you a song or artist you like is rubbish and then act as if their word is the final say.  I also really dislike when a man rambles on and on about himself and fails to ask even a simple question about yourself.
Regardless of these annoyances, I was on a mission to have sex, not a conversation, so we carried on back to his house.

I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing.  I was naked and sprawled across a mattress strewn on the floor.  LipRing lay beside me groaning, “Make the noise stop!  Please make it stop!”
I began rustling through scattered belongings and finally found my phone, groggily I answered.
It was my work, asking me if I could come in because it had been a really busy morning.  I knew the rational thing to do was get my ass out of bed, go into work and make an extra hundred bucks to keep me going.  But when I rolled over and looked at LipRing – his bronzed, naked body, his mess of blonde hair, the stubble that ran across his strong jaw line – I just couldn’t bring myself to leave his bed.  I made up some excuse about going somewhere for the day and then pretended to lose reception and hung up, quickly nestling back into his awaiting arms.  I had every intention of getting up and doing something with my life, but the day slipped away from me.  It was a blur of sex and breakfast and cuddles and long conversations and surf movies along with the occasional nap.  Before I knew it, it was 9:00 pm and we had barely left his bed, much less his house.  I insisted that I finally retreat home.  We said our goodbyes and once in the safety of my house, I flew into a panic:
Why did I spend the entire day with this guy?  I didn’t really even like him.  I SHOULD have gone into work and made some extra cash.
Things were feeling way too familiar, questions had been broached regarding past relationships, I did not like the direction we were headed.  I didn’t want a boyfriend and I didn’t want to waste time with someone I’m not really into, because that’s less time spent meeting new people and persuading personal interests.
I resolved to create some distance.

Another week passed without a word.  It was, yet again, Sunday.  I was standing behind the counter at work, willing the time to go by faster, when who should appear next to me? LipRing, of course.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” I asked with a big grin.
“Hi, I applied for a job here last week and was wondering if you’re hiring.”
My face fell – he actually had no idea who I was.  Granted I was wearing my glasses and had my hair straightened, but he completely did not recognize me.
I went bright red and felt lost for words.  I tried to explain that we may be hiring next week.
“I like you’re glasses,” he said, as he turned and walked away.
Did he recognize me finally?  Or was that a random compliment?  Even though I wasn’t all that into the guy, it made me feel entirely unmemorable and kinda crappy.
When I got home, I replayed the awkward scenario in my head over and over again.  Finally I messaged him, “Did you seriously not recognize me today?”
“I’ll admit, it took me a few minutes.”
He started trying to flirt with me, but I was entirely turned off.
At Summer Jams, my roommates all insisted I stay away.  After all, he barely spoke to me when I did spot him.  We all left early and I contemplated saying bye to him, he would probably persuade me to spend the night with him and I just was no longer into it.
I did receive a text at 3 am insisting I spend the night and next day with him.  Then a subsequent text the next afternoon apologizing for the booty call.

Another disappointment.  Maybe if I get desperate I’ll hit him up, otherwise it’s onto the next one.


My Awkward Sexual Life

For a while I was in a rut.
After things fizzled out with Dan my romantic situation seemed bleak.
In the little resort town it seemed there were no eligible men to be met and yet I saw them everywhere.  I would pass them on the bike path or in town, these beautiful tanned creatures, and wonder who they were and why they never seemed to be at any of the same social gatherings as myself.  Were they tourists?  Locals?  Figments of my imagination?  I met a few dudes, but they were either in a relationship or a sleazy slut who loved his surfboard more than he could ever love a woman.  Not that I wanted a relationship, just a fuck buddy who was a somewhat decent guy.  In a town where everyone knew my (overprotective) brother I was unwilling to take up with someone who might sully my relatively untarnished reputation.

When I first got to NZ it was much of the same.  I saw hot men in passing everywhere I went, but the only people I actually met were German couples.  I wasn’t overly concerned, I had grown pretty accustomed to this way of life.
Then I went to Nelson and everything changed.  I actually went out to the bars.  I watched Jill and her friend in action and tried to replicate: see a cute guy, go over, say hello.  Easy.  Every night we’d hit the pub and every night I’d meet at least five cute, interesting guys who would trip over themselves at the chance to know me.  It was incredible.  For the first time I was practicing the art of flirting with strangers as my confidence sky rocketed.

Then we moved to our new, semi-permanent home: a surf town not unlike the one from which we came.  It was paradise and filled with plenty of sexy, sun-kissed surfers from all over the world.  I had had a taste of vixentry, I couldn’t stop now!
Each man I met was hotter than the last.  I originally had my eyes on a gorgeous Argentinian.  He and I met in the kitchen at our campground and I could feel his sexual presence instantly.  His soft flowing voice and huge brown eyes bore into my soul and made my lady parts tingle, especially the sensual manner in which he would utter my name.  I was convinced I would sleep with him and had decided on the perfect night: it was our last night at his campground and there was a salsa party.  I would down a bottle of wine and ask him to show me some moves then seduce him and drag him back to his van.
But that day the Gods of lust threw me a curve ball….
I had left work and was sitting outside the library, mooching free WiFi and chatting to Kennedy.  From a few seats down a voice called out, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
I glanced over towards the voice making the enquiry to the girl sitting between us.  Holy Hell was he ever hot!  Typical surfer: insanely tanned, blonde shaggy hair with a lip ring.  My mouth dropped.  The girl answered “No” but then immediately got up and left giving me a less restricted view.  I stumbled over my words while I watched him as he stubbed out his cigarette, got up and began crossing the street to one of the pubs.  He was wearing a t-shirt with the pubs logo on the back, clearly he worked there.

I tried to forget his beautiful face and went for a beer at Kennedy’s work.  Later, I hitchhiked back to the campgrounds, started drinking my wine and tried to make myself look presentable.  When I got to the party, Argentina was the first one I saw.  He called out my name and hugged me tightly, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.  I began chatting and mingling and then, I saw him: the lip-ringed babe of my dreams!  He was here!  He lived here!  I was overwhelmed.

The salsa dancing commenced but the night didn’t go as planned.  Argentina would only re-appear every now and then to ask me for a cigarette or some wine.  When the two of us danced it felt awkward and forced and when we talked we found we didn’t have much to say to each other.
Things up until this point are hazy, all I know is suddenly it was late, Kennedy had shown up, and the lip-ringed stud and I were dancing together like fools.  He asked me if I wanted to go for a smoke.  He had his own pouch and even offered me one.  He was rapidly becoming more and more attractive to me.
Outside on a porch swing he suddenly kissed me and next thing I knew we were intensely making out.  The lip ring kept rubbing against my lips, it was such a turn on.
In my drunken stupidity, I confessed to checking him out earlier at the library.
“You were there?  How could I have missed you, you’re so gorgeous.”
The two of us walked down towards the staff area.  I stopped to use the toilet and when I came out, his mouth resumed its attack on mine.  I was terribly aware that about 15 people were sitting up at the kitchen and watching so I pulled away, slightly worried that I would blow my chanced with Argentina (who I wanted to keep on the sidelines.)
“Come back to my room,” he cooed, “We can cuddle.”
“It’s late and I have to work in a few hours.”
“We can just sleep, I have roommates anyway.”
I didn’t believe him.  I was tired and didn’t want a group of people who I had just met to see me go home with this guy who I had also just met.  I told him I would think about it and maybe show up in a little bit.  He didn’t believe me and left looking disappointed.
I began sprinting past the kitchen when I heard Kennedy call my name.
I paused and sat down beside her, relaying my conundrum.
“Go for it,” she encouraged.
Just then, Argentina asked me for another smoke and I went OFF at him.  I accused him of using me and how I was sick of every guy taking advantage of me.  He retreated fearfully and my mind has been made up: I was getting into Lip Ring’s bed.

I showed up at his dorm room and gently knocked.  A British girl answered.
“I’m sorry, I might have the wrong room.”
But his head appeared around the corner, “I can’t believe you came!”
Just then, an unseen roommate from a top bunk unleashed on me:
“NOPE!  No way, not happening!  Get out of this room right now, you’re not welcome here.  It’s time for you to go!  Leave!”
“We’re just going to sleep,” he insisted.
But the girl was unconvinced and continued to berate me.
“She can stay, they’re just going to sleep.  You’re just going to sleep right?” the British girl asked me.
I quickly nodded.
“Then it’s okay!”
The girl piped down but the damage was done.  I felt incredibly awkward, uncomfortable and afraid of the fury I would face when my alarm clock went off in a mere 3 hours.
Maybe this girl had to work early, maybe this dude brought home chicks all the time and kept up his roommates, maybe she had a thing with him and was jealous, maybe she was just having a bad night and wanted some rest.  Whatever the reason, I don’t blame her, but MAN did she ever clitblock me!
“I should go,” I whispered nervously.
“No, stay,” he begged, “It’s fine.”
But I couldn’t relax enough to cuddle.
“Sorry,” I offered weakly as I jumped up and ran out the door.
One day when I write my autobiography it will be called: “My Awkward Sexual Life.”

The next day when I had made it through the torture of my workday, I retreated to our new home stay: a backpackers close in town where some friends from home were currently located.  They were all amped up to go to Summer Jam, a weekly party in town featuring cheap beers and live reggae music, but I was hesitant.  Both Argentina and Lip Ring had mentioned they would be there and I was embarrassed to face them.  Although, I did want to see Lip Ring so I could explain my awkward actions and hopefully get another chance.  I never did see him, but Argentina was there and offered me a shot of vodka and a heartfelt apology.  I gave him my forgiveness and offered him my friendship along with one last cigarette, as a peace offering.  We hugged and I was happy to have him as a friend and nothing more.
As disappointed as I was not to see Lip Ring, I made the most of my night by chatting to everyone I could and tearing it up on the dance floor.
I went outside for a smoke and a guy approached me and asked is he could have one.
“Sure,” I said.  He introduced himself and we started chatting.  He was a local guy and a sponsored surfer who had just returned from Aus.  We talked a little and then I said goodbye and left to find my friends.  Later in the evening I saw him again and he asked for another smoke.  I hesitantly agreed.  He took my entire pouch, turned his back to me and began rolling cigarettes for all of his mates.  When he finally returned it to me he didn’t even thank me and then went back to ignoring me.  I was peeved at myself for being so trusting, but continued on.
As Kennedy and I went to leave, he was standing at the front gate, “So, what are you doing now?” he asked.
“Going home to sleep.”
“Wrong answer, you’re coming home with me.”
“I don’t think so.”
He then began screaming at me as I walked away, “You missed your fucking chance!  Big time!”

On the one hand, this situation caused me to have an epiphany: People will treat you the way you let them.  I do need to start standing up for myself especially when it comes to men.  But seriously…

What’s a girl got to do to find a decent guy to bang?!