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We’ve Come A Long Way

When I first started this blog it was a means to vent about my failed relationship without further annoying my patient friends.
It then allowed me to organize my thoughts and do some soul searching.
Soon after it became a platform to discuss hot sex and cute boys.
The sex dwindled and I started writing a number of hasty, short articles about whatever popped into my mind.
Now?  I don’t know what to write about.  I can’t say what my blog is or where it’s going.  It’s rather representative of my life.  I never know what I want or what path to follow.  Maybe I never will.  But I know I’ve come a long way, even just in the last year.
My mind used to be consumed with thoughts of sex and men and potential boyfriends.
I’m still that crazy ultra-sexual woman, but my thought process has shifted.  I can’t just have sex with someone I feel half-hearted about.
Believe me, I’ve tried.


LipRing was my last and that was once and months ago.  He and I have slept together only a handful of times in the last few months.  After our last encounter, I was determined never to go back.  The sex is subpar and not worth putting up with his weird and rude antics.  There’s very little I like about him and because of this, I barely find him attractive anymore; I’d rather be chaste than have to spend any more time in his company.
Luckily, he also backed off and provided me no opportunities for temptation.

Last weekend our paths inevitably collided.  It was the weekend of Rip Curl Pro and the town was swarming with hot foreign surfers.  I was on antibiotics that would cause me to vomit uncontrollably at even a drop of alcohol so needless to say I was completely sober.  But I still attended the after party, I really wanted to dance and possibly talk to a cute guy.
It was an amazing and fun night.  I love socializing with a clear head and knowing that no one will remember anything I say or do, it’s a powerful feeling.  Naturally, LipRing was one of the first I saw and he was smashed.  He stumbled over and began rustling my hair until I pushed him away and yelled, “SCRAM!”
I did my best to avoid him, but it seemed every time I turned around he was beside me with his tongue down the throat of a gorgeous leggy brunette.
Two days later he started messaging me, whining about how we hadn’t seen each other in so long.
“I saw you on Saturday…” I informed him.  He seemed abashed.

The following weekend we saw each other yet again, only this time my mind was definitely not clear.
He asked me again and again to come home with him and every time I said no.
“I’ll drive you home in the morning!”
“Or you’ll make me walk home again, in the rain…”
“No, I swear I’ll drive you.”
“Even so, it’s not happening.”
Finally he relented and said, “Okay, I guess you have your reasons…”
“I have a lot of reasons,” I slurred, “But none of them matters, what matters is I DON’T WANT TO and so I’m not going to.”
“You’re missing out,” he threatened.
“YOU’RE missing out,” I countered and then did my best to dodge him for the remainder of the night.
When I woke up, I smiled through my hangover.
I was proud of myself for sticking to my guns and going home alone.


The other night, while watching Archer I found myself seriously attracted to Stirling Archer.  Turned on by a drawing of a man, yes it’s gotten that bad.
I considered just finding a decent looking guy, any guy, and seducing him.  After all, there are two Kiwi men who have been pursuing me lately.
One is nearly ten years my junior.  He lives at home, works for his dad and is into extreme sports.  He’s sweet and attractive enough, it could be fun to bed him and show him the time of his life.
The other is a few years older than me and is the definition of an adult.  He lives on his own, is an engineer and a base player.  He’s nice and has a good body.  His hairline is receding, but he’s attractive enough.  He could know his way around a woman’s body and it could be fun.
Enough is the key word.  They’re nice enough, attractive enough, but enough is no longer enough.  I don’t want to settle to appease my sullen vagina.
I want intrigue and passion and excitement.  I want to WANT someone.  I want to be mad with desire for the next man I have sex with.


I was talking to Dillon and as always, our conversation turned to sex.  Dillon admitted he’d been rather slutty lately while I admitted to being slightly prudish.
“It’s not for lack of trying,” I insisted, “I just can’t find anyone who interests me even a little and I can’t be bothered to have meaningless sex with strangers.  What’s happened to me?”
“That’s probably a good thing,” he suggested, “It means you’re growing up.”

Growing up?  I guess it had to happen eventually.


I patiently await the day I meet a person that makes my heart pound and my breath ragged.
Until then, it’s nice to know that I’m happy and content on my own.

My blog may always be a mishmash of thoughts, but at least I’m starting to find my way.

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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.

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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.