tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28150784777589137962024-03-13T01:03:44.614-07:00confessionsofaVOnline and real life dating escapades in the quarter-life crisis in Los AngelesVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-28063384066295005812010-08-02T16:20:00.000-07:002010-08-02T16:20:09.209-07:00The Agent<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Codename:</b> The Agent</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Website: </b>Skout.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Location:</b> Avalon Hotel, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Beverly Hills</st1:place></st1:city></div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Snb8PWf00uPcIsF6oGmJ4tC315Xhyphenhyphendg_swpM_-9fGl6j58Z6N3kVmXad0P37yfDeTppE4m6jyt7lEbB9lb7AdS5cdq5tOaZFHTtHXUvb2vgqnAW0U4J7yj3SyOJCMJeltYNbypiV-Fo/s1600/entourage-ari-gold1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Snb8PWf00uPcIsF6oGmJ4tC315Xhyphenhyphendg_swpM_-9fGl6j58Z6N3kVmXad0P37yfDeTppE4m6jyt7lEbB9lb7AdS5cdq5tOaZFHTtHXUvb2vgqnAW0U4J7yj3SyOJCMJeltYNbypiV-Fo/s320/entourage-ari-gold1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You may want to date Ari Gold... but watch the f**k out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Theory<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>#1: Anyone that goes through Hollywood Agency… is the devil. <o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When someone trains through agency or becomes an agent, they become a different person, they loose a little piece of their soul. The environment is the quintessential culture of screamers, cheaters, liars and backstabbers. They are the core manipulators and they do it well.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So when I went perusing on Skout, I didn’t think I would meet anyone in the common industry. When I “winked” at some cute 32 year old, I figured he might work in tech. Turned out we ran in the same circles. Yet, his current gig was not really agent, it was producer, someone who had appeared to have climbed the ladder, relatively fast and here I was at entry point. His suggestion to meet, while I was hesitant was not completely unfounded, he seemed cute enough.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then a further investigation as I Google’d his professional name… yes, I freaking Google’d, I discovered he had been an agent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">‘Uh-oh.’</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now agents are not all Ari Gold’s, sometimes it is a bit more subversive than that. Yet, their ability to turn your mind upside down, if they’re good, is phenomenal… and dangerous. Even those who were only assistants know how to get you to like them and when you are fast asleep, take exactly what it is that they want from you.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have met agents and former agents that are good people, but because of those environments, a little piece of their soul was stolen away from them. The Faust in them flies free, a man (or woman) never satisfied with their current gifts and always selling pieces of their soul for more. I wish I didn’t believe in this theory and I wish this theory was not actually true, but more often than not, I see the devil in these people time and time again, grinning through their angel exterior.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now a lot of times, these guys are charismatic, you can not help but like them. In other scenarios, they are immersive learners and clever at logically weaving the techniques of mirroring and supposed interest in the other party.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the case of The Agent, when I saw him, I had a feeling he might turn out this way. I had grabbed a table outside by the Avalon Hotel pool. He didn’t look exactly like his photo or exactly as I imagined, still cute, but his voice was slightly thin and high. Immediately, he went into entertainment mode the second he sat down. What I completely grant him is his understanding of the gentlemanly tactic, he used his card to start the tab <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(or rather his company card to be written off). Finally! An online date where I did not get stuck paying for myself when I was invited, finally a lift here! By the way, I completely offered. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now on first impression I thought, “Oh no, he’s one of those wheel and deal agents with thin voices that offer pretension and snobbery when I am so not f**king <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Hollywood</st1:city></st1:place>.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Theory #2 People who are not from <st1:city w:st="on">Los Angeles</st1:city> adopt an “I’m better than you” attitude when many of the people that ARE from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city> don’t have it, unless they grew up industry or in BH or was a cheerleader in high school.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think The Agent got the hint here that I was not f**king Hollywood and so he adjusted telling me about his mid-west roots, how he grew up poor and it wasn’t till his mother remarried that he knew what it was like to live in a nice place.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My defenses were up so while this story would have weakened me a bit 10 years ago, I couldn’t trust “story time.” And it wasn’t the story itself, it was all in his tone, his delivery. While I am sure he was being truthful, I couldn’t sympathize with the heart in it, it was something I couldn’t feel.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Theory #3 You will get more of the truth about your career by someone who wants to f**k you, than your colleagues who you have worked for years with out of dedication and loyalty.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Agent was actually very helpful with this. He really put me to face with some ugly truths about where I was and gave blunt, yet inspiring advice about what I should really do. It was like, “Thank you, you just saved me years of trouble in the wrong direction.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Theory #4 Men like this will feign that they want exactly what you want, will adjust to appear they can fulfill these needs and are not like the douchbags you keep complaining about… but at the end of the day, they just want to f**k you.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And don’t get me wrong, I want to f**k too. Making love includes a combination of hot f**king but one timers, ONS’s, casual sex, FWB sex without the excitement of a bond has often proved so disappointing. To which, The Agent appeared to agree and “repeated” back to me the same point of view I mentioned before. Whether he actually felt that way or was telling me that to tempt my skirt off, is of debate. This guy was good.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Theory #5 These types of men will inevitably flip the conversation to sex in an introductory meeting, thus upping the likelihood of you having sex, ruining any possibility of friendship, dating or more.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was when work talk lasted like an hour and then he insisted I Q&A him on something else besides work, that the conversation grew strained and he immediately took that as an opportunity to talk about sex. As you know, I have no problem talking about sex, the issue is that it often turns the minds to the subject, making sex a higher likelihood and (with every pun intended) f**ks you over.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is the odd thing, with every preconception I had about his agency background, with his thin pitched voice, sales tactics, mirroring, listening and repeating, oddly enough I think I actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">liked</i> him but in the kind of way that you don’t want to like them. That sex with them is difficult to picture and a relationship is weird to think about. They are definitely not the person you see yourself getting serious about or getting married and raising children with, but oddly enough… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they got to you</i>. They got <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">inside your head</i>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is why people who go through Agency are dangerous.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-74867673359967305562010-07-29T11:29:00.000-07:002010-07-29T11:29:13.581-07:00Crashing the Party<div class="MsoNormal">Codename: "F**k Your Way to the Top"</div><div class="MsoNormal">Location: Party in BH</div><div class="MsoNormal">Website: The simply power of the internet in tracking down the location</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When you work in a place 55 hours a week, you begin to bone up and realize that if you want something, you have to go get it. Thus, I crashed a major work party by using the power of the internet and tracking the location down. It’s not like I snuck in, I was off the clock! While one of my co-workers gave me dagger eyes, everyone else had no problem and my other co-worker let me in, because she’s super cool.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I normally do not like these parties, not everyone is always very nice to you and often times, I might be ignored… but not in this case. I kept my head down from the people I thought might not like the fact that one of their “subjects” was among “royals”. Other than that, people were very nice to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Besides, I spotted some interns and other assistants and was like, um wtf? It was about time I took some initiative and was like, hey, if they get to go to the party, well why can’t I? Of course, I never said it like that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At first when I walked in, I immediately spotted Michael C. Hall (love him) who looked great. Then I saw a whole series of super skinny actresses, in tight dresses and stick thin legs. I’m already super tiny and petite and felt like I needed to do a couple laps around the block for like, the rest of my life.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvysYQFqDzcrINitz90_uUrMhNktWH5lXxbnbg7RBDXXILzkm1nPg6S0gGOgG_gj_MEXUhq79VGzQYCavjkTos-cnoSk9A4sf_20_Aocnbi-uP-G80CtPk_ju6VcKaHd4_IhXPYQ9lIyM/s1600/poshPA101206_228x614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvysYQFqDzcrINitz90_uUrMhNktWH5lXxbnbg7RBDXXILzkm1nPg6S0gGOgG_gj_MEXUhq79VGzQYCavjkTos-cnoSk9A4sf_20_Aocnbi-uP-G80CtPk_ju6VcKaHd4_IhXPYQ9lIyM/s1600/poshPA101206_228x614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvysYQFqDzcrINitz90_uUrMhNktWH5lXxbnbg7RBDXXILzkm1nPg6S0gGOgG_gj_MEXUhq79VGzQYCavjkTos-cnoSk9A4sf_20_Aocnbi-uP-G80CtPk_ju6VcKaHd4_IhXPYQ9lIyM/s320/poshPA101206_228x614.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><b>Posh wasn't there but she = SKIN-NAY</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of course, there were hot looking actors, a bit older, but still hot. I usually try to stay away from actors, basically because I dated a few and all they bring is disappointment and heartache, although this could be said for a number of people and professions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But when you’re at a work party and career minded, what do you do but mingle from people from work, who happened to be very nice that evening. I avoided the people I thought might not be so nice.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Although one of the colleagues, who I considered to be a political hire, let’s call him “F**k your way to the top” was so drunk and I think even hitting on me a bit. I wasn’t sure at first, except when I returned to the party, adjusted my sequined skirt and saw him checking me out. His conversation with me early had a slight “I might want to f**k you later” undertone and when he saw I wasn’t feeding into it, he asked where the restrooms were. That’s okay, he doesn’t know I’ve turned celibate and f**king my way to the top is not in my spiritual plan.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Crashing the party is fun and highly effective for meeting hot people, just make sure it’s not work relate, someone else’s gig would be slightly better for your reputation.</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-460444614260033902010-07-26T18:02:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:02:06.419-07:00The Formula for an FWB<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciliWVKMu7zzuux1hO_KWwhLAUoyXqhfByoA8tfT02q9WfaBvDuTTjWHJsTtqZMQumKuWCRzS-UQe0a5rRkvFjaAyYBd9gxnf2NR51X9gIQrFS-lKGUaPRG0JYBGUcFQl2Pxt0UjJwk8/s1600/FWB.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciliWVKMu7zzuux1hO_KWwhLAUoyXqhfByoA8tfT02q9WfaBvDuTTjWHJsTtqZMQumKuWCRzS-UQe0a5rRkvFjaAyYBd9gxnf2NR51X9gIQrFS-lKGUaPRG0JYBGUcFQl2Pxt0UjJwk8/s640/FWB.bmp" width="492" /></a></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-80941710576974452112010-07-26T11:16:00.000-07:002010-07-26T11:18:22.971-07:00The Limbo Ordeal<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Codename: </b>Aquarius</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Location: </b>His Place/Rustic Canyon</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Website:</b> Jdate.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The problem is… when you quit sex in an FWB situation… what do you become? Just friends?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I finally felt like I was in control. And it felt good. I had to take a day off from work to take care of this non-profit that I was helping on the side and realized that at the end of the day, I would have nothing to do and was close to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Santa Monica</st1:place></st1:city>. So I called Aquarius to ask if he was doing anything later so we could hang out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since I was going to be done early, I did an excessive thing and went to Burke Williams in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Santa Monica</st1:place></st1:city> to get a facial with Bianca- who is AWESOME. I had a crappy cell phone signal, but I figured, I was on my time anyway, Aquarius could just wait.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDn8MqS77mQoJHDTnxIAKEpin0la2_mm09lCO0COCExtCy1eQ6Dra3halh7jar7hWeZIuVjh56Quh15aoxdUAzlBY2yauiyLrCHiSgA6ZCkQd2wYmN7z2oujaSrs91T0dhkNymUmc1_Vc/s1600/burkewilliams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDn8MqS77mQoJHDTnxIAKEpin0la2_mm09lCO0COCExtCy1eQ6Dra3halh7jar7hWeZIuVjh56Quh15aoxdUAzlBY2yauiyLrCHiSgA6ZCkQd2wYmN7z2oujaSrs91T0dhkNymUmc1_Vc/s320/burkewilliams.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius, as always, wanted to do dinner and at some place good, so upon recommendation, we went to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Rustic</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Canyon</st1:placetype></st1:place> on Wilshire. Little did I know, upon walking into the restaurant, and on my day off no less, that I would see one of the BIG BOSSES from work having a business meeting. Of course, it is never like the BIG BOSS is ever super friendly because of the nature of the business, so my polite nod was completely ignored and I was totally freaked out that I was sitting mere tables away, wearing a halter top and a mini-skirt!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XaptEMp9dCKejyk1UBGWRT3flNGliIE517i4JIrb1snTsnr3P-QxrFnjIXrlmsQ25GP83a96PTBAoLAF2E-Gus6PwROw2C7wzKKqXQo24fO6x4Zm0zY_sku3PJWL4Bg3r0DaJieZivM/s1600/rustic+canyon+empty-thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XaptEMp9dCKejyk1UBGWRT3flNGliIE517i4JIrb1snTsnr3P-QxrFnjIXrlmsQ25GP83a96PTBAoLAF2E-Gus6PwROw2C7wzKKqXQo24fO6x4Zm0zY_sku3PJWL4Bg3r0DaJieZivM/s320/rustic+canyon+empty-thumb.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius did not get it. He thought I was a freak. But the food was AMAZING. The risotto was complete yum. And at the end of the meal, we went halfsies but at this point, I was well adjusted that this was a friend situation not a date one, even though it felt like one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At the end of the night, he made me watch Woody Allen’s Deconstructing Henry and while I appreciate Woody Allen’s talent, especially with Vicky Christina Barcelona, while Aquarius raved about it, I sat there trying to figure out why we were watching a movie with the lights out and how in the heck we were not making out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOuJmqg1Mr5xch-ptoCNqXrfaIW0-tmaYLPHMQ6kPbk1-b7MFOH1vEm7XyJ5hLsiDMuCkGbmlMu5K5RNtYFgzze2ilCOCddmf0Tn1A6S2o4WVCLGTGm0sC0b_IYn0h1jpUNgCs5lSc2A/s1600/deconstructing+harry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOuJmqg1Mr5xch-ptoCNqXrfaIW0-tmaYLPHMQ6kPbk1-b7MFOH1vEm7XyJ5hLsiDMuCkGbmlMu5K5RNtYFgzze2ilCOCddmf0Tn1A6S2o4WVCLGTGm0sC0b_IYn0h1jpUNgCs5lSc2A/s320/deconstructing+harry.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> This is not a date movie.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The truth was, the power was rolling back into Aquarius land and I was along for the ride. Because NOW I wanted it but it was ME who closed the door.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But as I was falling asleep and then realized that I should get going, he walked me to the door and I was seriously confused as the evening was more date-like and yet there was nothing physical about it. I supposed I felt good that he was now working for us to become friends. Or rather, preying on the fact that I called off the sex and he sensed I wanted to be physical and now he was the one who could make the call.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">F**k.</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-4664082910278053532010-07-19T16:41:00.000-07:002010-07-19T16:41:07.900-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUqALUIIvyjxyWW2cTZ4r-f_aE-c4UZfRrpPJ0XgMeRQM1IX90wqEZI51kmWVVbcxjDKKij3XGA2U7O5QyDNyGOiNDhcqQu5wgksYC4gk6K4HzpPb2_Uy66xamCNN2ecsLr5Z90Yxrrg/s1600/logorev1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUqALUIIvyjxyWW2cTZ4r-f_aE-c4UZfRrpPJ0XgMeRQM1IX90wqEZI51kmWVVbcxjDKKij3XGA2U7O5QyDNyGOiNDhcqQu5wgksYC4gk6K4HzpPb2_Uy66xamCNN2ecsLr5Z90Yxrrg/s400/logorev1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">V's got a new look.</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Coming soon...</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">confessionsofav.com</span></b></span></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-37602551115240653742010-07-19T16:30:00.000-07:002010-07-19T16:30:13.051-07:00How To Quit Sex<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Codename:</b> Aquarius</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Location:</b> His Place</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Website:</b> Jdate.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As the hook ups continued, the more attached I got and the more things between us started to feel “as if” we were in a declared relationship. During the month of June,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aquarius wasn’t really seeing anyone and neither was I. Our communication was far more consistent as far as IM’s go but the fact of the matter was, this was not a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. This was a relationship that wasn’t a relationship.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So as I was putting on my shoes at 1AM in the morning, I finally brought it up.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPC3DLeazSGNeEoSbmtMq1qXAVCSD7uFQ5736csne7BOwU9LhF7jrVTXnzbt6a98_HFWxAl4VdKSH9gSFbxeiiW_iK_AlLs7n7lWtHdg6xfeSmyAZlQFm1tQQLEDEmU4Ce5PJ7K_mDwes/s1600/nosex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPC3DLeazSGNeEoSbmtMq1qXAVCSD7uFQ5736csne7BOwU9LhF7jrVTXnzbt6a98_HFWxAl4VdKSH9gSFbxeiiW_iK_AlLs7n7lWtHdg6xfeSmyAZlQFm1tQQLEDEmU4Ce5PJ7K_mDwes/s320/nosex.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">How to quit the sex in a non-relationship…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 1</b>: Make sure you get that last session out of the way, otherwise you might find yourself in a quick relapse.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 2</b>: Have your clothes and shoes on. Any revealing skin may revert you back into nudity.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 3:</b> Be certain and confident in your decision, because once you pose the point, there may be no going back and it will leave your opponent with all the power.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 4:</b> Squint and make your opponent blurry as you bring up the subject so you have absolutely no desire to jump their bones as the words are coming out of your mouth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 5</b>: Do not expect protest and do not be disappointed if there is none.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 6:</b> Once the subject is laid down, time to hustle and go home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You should feel relieved at this point.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As Aquarius stood in the hallway of his living room, in his undershirt, underwear, socks and the dreaded glasses that I had some sort of fetish for, I set the words carefully, “At some point, I see us becoming friends and eventually the sex will have to stop.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There’s that word, “eventually” – if I had said, I can’t see you anymore and quit cold turkey, I don’t think I could have done it. It would have been like I was quitting a narcotic and breaking out into sweats. I had already gone too far and all I could do was slowly wean myself off my addiction to oxytocin. And his reaction… “Okay.” Shrug. “Makes sense.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Typical.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had hoped I would feel back in control and in a way I did. For awhile.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-38143570685335827112010-07-13T18:05:00.000-07:002010-07-13T18:07:40.322-07:00A Relationship...But It's Not<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 11" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 11" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cvherman%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Codename:</b> Aquarius</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Location:</b> His place</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Website: </b>Jdate.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That June, Aquarius and I started hanging out more and inevitably kept sleeping together after that night of <a href="http://confessionsofa-v.blogspot.com/2010/06/birthday-sex.html">birthday sex</a>. In some ways, I was happy about it. At the time, I really liked being around him. In other ways, I was f**ked up about it, because I knew I was in complete denial about how attached I was getting.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you’re in a situation where you’re not sure “what it is”, consult the checklist below:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfotcpthG-yEZJGA2TgKhcDJ7r6g4ESQmv9qlGJ5_Ife0QUVOS2BcVtE8QruhTGMJd4lfo_c9nk-zRLm7U1HsywR69PteolgPZCFfESpS1vZrry-0NSPjdTBzlxF7arXIuZIIvxkSGnhQ/s1600/Relationshiptable3.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfotcpthG-yEZJGA2TgKhcDJ7r6g4ESQmv9qlGJ5_Ife0QUVOS2BcVtE8QruhTGMJd4lfo_c9nk-zRLm7U1HsywR69PteolgPZCFfESpS1vZrry-0NSPjdTBzlxF7arXIuZIIvxkSGnhQ/s640/Relationshiptable3.bmp" width="492" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-58793393621550228402010-07-07T14:09:00.002-07:002010-07-07T14:10:05.267-07:00The Candida Scare<div class="MsoNormal">Folks…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to take a moment to talk about what no man or woman ever really wants to hear about …</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Vajadge (pronounced Va-JAY-ge – like Va and some change). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There are many names for the female genital organ that over 50 percent of the world population possesses: Vadge, Va-jay-jay, Chacha, Twat, Coot, Coochie, Snatch, Crotch, Daisy, Pink Taco, Ice Box, Plauto, the male favorite P*ssy…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And who can forget the cultural representation: <i>toto</i> (Puerto Rican), <i>puttana </i>(Italian), <i>memek</i> (Indonesian), <i>omanko</i> (Japanese) , <i>muff</i> (English), <i>fandan</i> (Lowland Scots), <i>pizda </i>(Slovenian), <i>cachimba </i>(Spanish)…<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In short, I want to bring your attention to the vagina.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As Eve Ensler wrote in her <i>Vagina Monologues</i>, no one ever really wants to hear about your vagina. Penis apparently is universally accepted, like a credit card, but “vagina” not only sounds funny, it’s complicated.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My weekend, should have been filled with R&R, instead my Vajadge had a crisis.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After 9 months of abstinence from sex, I had done the deed with Abolicious who indeed proved his douchiness. Not only was he a douche after sex, he was a douche during sex and had been way too rough for a girl my size. Spotting after sex is not ideal.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I didn’t think anything of it, I figured he was just super rough. Even over the next couple weeks where I had slight… how shall we say this … “cottage cheese”, I figured it was the weather change and if anything was wrong, that my Vajadge would speak up and tell me.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well… last Friday… while having sex, the Vajadge SPOKE and it SCREAMED: “Get this bastard’s c*ck out of me!” And she spit it out. Because it not only hurt like a mofo… the next day it <i>burned</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So before taking the train to San Diego to visit my friend, I rushed on over to Albertson’s because it was the only thing closest to me that was open at 7AM in the morning and bought a box of Miconizole 3… yes, it’s my favorite too, especially because you get an awesome applicator and either cream or solid suppository that you have to lie down and shove up your Vajadge or risk leakage. I know, ewww, yuck, nasty, gross.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Basically, this seems like a yeast infection… but then my mind unravels… ‘OMG, Abolicious had 40 partners before so even though he wore a condom, condoms are never 100 percent… OMG I should never had sex last night, I should have made sure he had JUST been tested…OMG there’s blood on the applicator… SOMETHING’S WRONG! SOMETHING’S WRONG!’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then later on… I Googled. Chlymidia has similar symptoms… so does Gonorrhea … so does Syphilis … so does HERPES!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Panic set in.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I called a friend, Nurse TIFA:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: TIFA!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">TIFA: Hi Sweetie, what’s wrong?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: I have a female problem!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">TIFA: Go ahead.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: I had sex a couple weeks ago, spotted, and then saw signs of what I think is a yeast infection, but had sex again last night, both times were with a condom and it hurt like a b*tch. This morning I felt burning in my Vajadge canal so I bought the over the counter 3 day thing.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">TIFA: Well, you should never treat anything without seeing your G.Y.N.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: It helped though. It hurt me so bad. But is there something else wrong? I’ve never seen blood on the applicator and can’t tell if it’s just my period coming or if there’s something wrong.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">TIFA: Well, it could just be that you had rough sex and that you already had the infection and it was exacerbated by intercourse.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Ok. So I’m not going to become infertile? So I don’t need to go to emergency?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">TIFA: No. It could take years before your fallopian tubes fell out. But since it’s a holiday weekend, you should probably go to your G.Y.N Tuesday.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: (Sigh) Ok thanks TIFA.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was committed to cleansing the Vajadge and drank a sh*tload of cranberry juice (usually helpful with UTI’s) and eating plain Greek yogurt (I hate yogurt) with granola and berries.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While things did improve throughout the weekend, my Vajadge was still talking to me, “Look what you did to me! You corrupted me with casual c*ck! How could you do this to me! Why can’t you find yourself a nice guy and have a monogamous relationship?!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I talked back, “Look, Vajadge! I’m sorry! As you can see online dating has been the thing to bring in any guys at all to the plate. And 99.9 percent of them are horrible. The .1 percent was okay and we just didn’t work out, but that other 99.9 percent were a bunch of douches and just want a**. I’m a woman! I have needs! If I can’t find Mr. Right, why is it so wrong to find <st1:city w:st="on">Mr.</st1:city> Right Now?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Vajadge got pissed, “BECAUSE LOOK AT WHAT MR. RIGHT NOW DID TO ME!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I took a breath, “Okay, I know, I’m sorry. You’re right. I keep accepting the lowest possible grade. I keep settling for what I can get when I deserve so much more. If we survive this, I’m going celibate for awhile, I’m going to cleanse and refocus on what I want, in fact I may even go to the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Chopra</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> and meditate. And I promise you, here and now, Vajadge, that I will NOT have intercourse with any man, unless he is relationship worthy and we truly care about each other and we BOTH get tested. I don’t care if it takes a year, two years… woah woah, now we’re getting carried away…strike that, reverse it… from now on my intentions will be stated from the beginning. If he doesn’t state an intention that fits with my intention, just say no.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And as I made this important and spiritual promise to my Vajadge, my phone buzzed and I noticed a text… ‘WTF, who the f**k is texting me at 10PM at night when I am out of town? You have got to be f**king kidding me? Seriously, I’m being booty called?! Leave me alone!’<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s like THEY KNOW. When it rains, it pours… and infection ensues.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So when Tuesday rolled around and I rushed to my Doctor, I came with two pages of notes describing my symptoms since my fabulous Aunt Flo came to town, thus making it impossible to do my “favorite” yet very necessary pap smear.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So my Doctor basically said the same thing as TIFA, a yeast infection that very well was irritated by intercourse. A sigh of relief like nobody’s business came out of me. But I still requested all my STD tests even though I had been tested just last year and had been fine. Chlymidia, Gonorrhea , Syphilis, HIV were all on my to do list. I asked her does anyone get tested for Herpes and she said, not usually without an outbreak because most people are carriers for the virus responsible for cold sores, so it will show positive. Since she couldn’t swab me, the tests were done by urine and blood.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then she prescribed me Fluconazole, a single tablet taken orally to rid you of your yeast infection in 24 hours. At first, I thought, ‘Cool.’ However…<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This particular medication has side effects of headaches, cramps and nausea and since I have a particularly small body and am sensitive to heavy duty meds, the side effects hit me unbelievably hard that I had to lie in bed with a heat pad. So while the med, did improve symptoms by the next day, it can take several days for the infection to clear up and stays in your system during that time.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Basically my Vajadge said, “F*ck you, V… F*ck you.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But during my sick delirium I had a couple dreams. Somehow sickness brings about wisdom in the unconsciousness. My first dream, I dreamt the father in the T.V. show <i>Lois and Clark</i>, yes the one with Dean Cain, told me a wise saying, “You can’t chase love, it must push toward you.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBeCdKW7CjMUw3pvVi2477Egq2vAlhrMDqggt6rDWX4nUzAQLQmcd-WGk_z5NG8dS9L_T_y9bXejdDmcRT1UZPljTEC9cC2yExtnLen5GTBWtE2kG5eFKy_B7cG959ijlWES0FOrsfRY/s1600/ManPaKent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBeCdKW7CjMUw3pvVi2477Egq2vAlhrMDqggt6rDWX4nUzAQLQmcd-WGk_z5NG8dS9L_T_y9bXejdDmcRT1UZPljTEC9cC2yExtnLen5GTBWtE2kG5eFKy_B7cG959ijlWES0FOrsfRY/s320/ManPaKent.jpg" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My second dream, I dreamt about my Ex, the one who I had not seen in 5 years who ran away to marry some ugly girl in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city>. No, I mean it, she was not cute, just French, if she was amazingly gorgeous, I swear I would have told you and it would have helped me understand things better. I dreamt that I met him again and his wife had left him and at some point we made out. Yet, at no point did I want to get back together with him or marry him. I was meant for something more than him. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If Eddie Jones (the guy who played <st1:place w:st="on">Clark</st1:place>’s Dad in “Lois and Clark”) can come into my dream and whisper me the secret to finding love, then it has to mean something.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So I announce to you, that I will not be having any sexual intercourse, that I will remain celibate till I meet someone relationship worthy. If I can switch to drinking Decaf coffee during the week… I can do this.<o:p></o:p></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-47384424059948965692010-06-28T10:44:00.000-07:002010-06-28T10:48:10.997-07:00The 40<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Codename:</b> “The 40”/ Firefighter</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Location:</b> Oliva in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sherman</st1:place></st1:city> Oaks/Pita Kitchen</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Website:</b> PlentyofFish.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is always the curiosity of dating an older man. Could they teach me things? Are they better men? Are they more mature?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The answer: Yes and No.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So one day I receive an e-mail from The 40, asking if I would be opposed to dating someone that much older. He had no kids, was never married and certainly did not look 40 at all. Thus, the e-mailing began. Of course, these were the e-mails of conversation, the e-mails of friendship and mild flirtation but because he was out of town visiting his family, we could not meet. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As a red flag, I already knew, there was too much e-mailing already invested. Better to keep it to a few, have a phone conversation and get to the first meeting… otherwise you build it up.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is exactly what The 40 did.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The phone conversation, while his voice was pleasantly male, gave me indication that perhaps, he was overly formal and dare I say it… he might be kind of… boring.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But he seemed like a nice guy, like a gentleman and despite my protests, he wanted to do dinner.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is why I never do dinner on a first online date and unless I meet the guy first, I will not agree to it again, because this is the third time my concerns came to fruition:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was dressed in a black dress, like a female appropriate for a sexy dinner. And while he was waiting for me in the back of the restaurant, while he was attractive, the second he opened his mouth, I just knew… no.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had already warned him the possibility of this and he was already aware of what could happen on both sides.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I felt overdressed but I came to represent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He was a good conversationalist, but was very business dinner. I thought this was a date not a meeting.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We ended up just talking about work. We talked very little of family, but in the end… there was nothing there, nothing he could convince me was worth pursuing further.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then the check came, I threw in my credit card with his, and he let me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now here’s the thing, we had talks about the appropriateness of paying and he boasted that he always treated (even if I would have offered or wouldn’t allow it) and how generous he was with people. And he again was this contradiction even though it was his idea to do dinner and he essentially invited me. The first date is a very telling indication of a man and the fact that he allowed me to pay without a fight. Even if things don’t work out sometimes it’s better to be the better man.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Such was the case with Firefighter. A week ago I met a guy that worked downtown and had done Public Relations in the service and was now a firefighter who suggested we go to Pita Kitchen. I offered to pay and he refused it and paid, even though I could tell we weren’t quite going to make it to the next date. Firefighter had class even at age 30.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The 40 had fake class.</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-444988588964809652010-06-21T15:45:00.000-07:002010-06-21T15:49:55.385-07:00Confessions of a Douche (The Snake Part II)<b>Codename</b>: Abolicious<br />
<b>Location</b>: His place Woodland Hills<br />
<b>Website</b>: POF<br />
<br />
<div></div>Recap: Abolicious and I had just done the deed, but now he was in absolute guy mode- having gotten his goods and now wanted me out… but not so fast…<br />
<br />
<div></div>My interrogation began:<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: So how come it took you 3 months to reopen the door?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Huh?<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: I mean, why would you have me in the backseat of your car and then hustle me to my car?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Um, if you’re asking me if I’m looking for a relationship… I’m not.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Oh no, I got that sweetie. Nope I figured that one out.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: (Attempting to change the subject) Can you scratch my back?<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: (Smiling slyly and scratching his back quid pro quo) I mean, don’t you think that’s a bit of a douche bag thing to do?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: You’re only asking this because you’re drunk.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Nope, I had every intention of asking you this tonight.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: I thought you wanted to leave, so I dropped you off.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: No, you didn’t. But don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of questions for you this evening. And seeing as I’m drunk and will not be driving till I sober up, you’ll have to put up with me a little while longer.<br />
<br />
<div></div>We both were putting on our clothes at this point and made our way down to the kitchen. This time Abolicious made sure I had all my things… but I was just getting started.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Do my questions make you feel uncomfortable? Aw. Poor you. But you know you can be strait with me, you can always tell me the truth.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: I can. Okay, that’s enough questions for this evening.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Awww, but they’re so much fun. Don’t you have any questions for me?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Not really.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Come on, they’re fun. It’s only fair.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Why are you here?<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Because I’m attracted to you.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: So how you feeling?<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Well, not quite ready to get behind the wheel just yet, but don’t worry.<br />
<br />
<div></div>By this time, his roommate walked in the kitchen. I introduced myself. At some point within the banter between me, Abolicious and his roomie, Abolicious had the audacity to slap me. He did it softly, but really just to egg me on to get me to leave. But as I explained to the douche, I was still sobering up. I told him in my nice and sweet “Do not f**k with me” voice to stop. He did it again. I told him I would slap him back. He said I wouldn’t. I told him I would slap him politically.<br />
<br />
<div></div>Now he or you could think that I am full of crap. But don’t challenge a woman scorned. He was in the midst of starting a brand new job and had told me where and was physically taunting me. If I wanted to, I could mess with that. I wouldn’t really want to, because that’s just crazy, but the fact that he had the nerve to put his hands on me like that would beg for retaliation.<br />
<br />
<div></div>He stopped after that. What a f**king douche.<br />
<br />
<div></div>Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t leave till I felt I was okay. But I wasn’t done with my questions either and the more uncomfortable I could make him feel (within reason), the more pleased I became. After all his behavior, he deserved this.<br />
<br />
<div></div>After his roommate left, Abolicious showed me pictures of him, his friends and his family. This was something Aquarius had also done and I didn’t get it.<br />
<br />
<div></div><i>You’re not interested in a relationship with me, you’re not interested in friendship with me, quite frankly you just want to f**k me and have me leave and were of course, far more charming when I arrived then you are now… so why in the hell are you telling me about your family? </i><br />
<br />
<div></div>It’s a question I thought but didn’t ask. I came up with my own answer:<br />
<br />
<div></div><i>Because he’s a douche, that’s why.</i><br />
<br />
<div></div>A: I’m gonna get another tattoo on the other side (pointing to his right side of abdomen) with the name of my first born.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Um, don’t you want to bounce the name off your wife first?<br />
<br />
<div></div>He didn’t answer.<br />
<br />
<div></div><i>Ugh- really you picked out the name of your child and you haven’t even met the person you’re having it with? Might as well beat your chest and stomp your feet like King Kong, because I bet your future wife is going to put up with that. What a winner.</i><br />
<br />
<div></div>We sat at the poker table he had made, across from each other. The Rapid Fire began…<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: So why POF?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Just another tool.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Why me?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: You girls always ask that, like ‘Am I special?’<br />
<br />
<div></div>Abolicious checked his cell phone and whispered, “Stop texting me.”<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Poor you, all these hot girls are texting you and it’s such a burden. But why contact me when the door was closed, why reopen it?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Why not? It’s totally random.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: How very existential of you.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Why me?<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Because you’re attractive, you’re cute, you’re non-threatening. And I’m not attached.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: I like to have sex with a lot of girls, of all ages. When I was working the bar, we would just cab it to their house.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: Who was the craziest girl?<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: One girl bit me and I bled. I was like, ‘Please leave.’ But not in those words.<br />
<br />
<div></div>V: It’s like, “Get the f**k outta my house.”<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: Exactly. <br />
<div></div><br />
V: So why not be strait with me from the very beginning, you were a bit mixed.<br />
<br />
<div></div>A: You never meet that person on the first date, it’s like Chris Rock says, “You’re not meeting with me, you’re meeting with my representative.”<br />
<br />
<div><br />
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<br />
V: Did I not clearly represent myself?<br />
<div></div><br />
A: Sure. But I never said I wanted a relationship. If a guy wants a relationship, he says that upfront.<br />
<div></div><br />
V: Uh it does not always happen like that.<br />
<div></div><br />
A: Yes it does, that’s what guys do. Always.<br />
<div></div><br />
V: While you have a point, it doesn’t always start with that intention. And it’s not that you don’t want a relationship. It’s that you don’t want a relationship with me.<br />
<div></div><br />
Boom. Quiet. He continued his texts. <br />
<div></div><br />
A: No more questions. <br />
<div></div><br />
He had his points. I had mine. It couldn’t always be for every a + b = c. Life could never be so simple. If that was the case, I would never have had a relationship- because the first time around, there was no way he could have had that plan with me or I with him, because in one month, I had to go back to New York.<br />
<div></div><br />
V: Come on, it’s fun. I’m almost finished. Besides, you had a pretty girlfriend in college.<br />
<div></div><br />
A: I had 2 gorgeous girlfriends in college, both 2.5 years each. I never cheated.<br />
<div></div><br />
V: Wow, good for you.<br />
<div></div><br />
A: Before that, in high school, I was really awkward, scrawny, I didn’t get any women. My girlfriends, I spoiled them. But they were needy.<br />
<div></div><br />
V: That has to do with their background.<br />
<div></div><br />
A: In some cases.<br />
<div></div><br />
V: Is that why you are the way you are now?<br />
<div></div><br />
A: I was worse when I was 22, I was a dick. But now I just want to focus on my career.<br />
<div></div><br />
And you’re not still a dick?<br />
<div></div><br />
V: That’s a great excuse.<br />
<div></div><br />
I didn’t want a relationship with this guy and it was obvious, but I guess I was trying to understand his whole front, his whole need to boast this b*llsh*t. He was 25 going on 26 and I was slightly older, and even though he was not that much younger, everything he said carried no weight for me. To me, he was nothing more than a child. And I finally just came up with my own conclusion…<br />
<div></div><br />
This whole thing was about his ego. His insecurities and his needs. (Not that I didn’t have my own). It was all about the type of women he could get, what he could get them to do, what he could get out of them and how they heightened his own status. It was all about the starting salary he could get at his new job (which was not that great especially after taxes), the ranking of the school he attended (I was like ‘Uh the ranking is in the 30’s and my school was ranked higher- bi-otch’) and that he would give up any attempt at his original goals for settling in a life in sales so he could have a family (Can we say , ‘Aw’?- how ‘bout no. It was so tunnel vision, he wouldn’t even attempt to find a way to do both and it wasn’t even like he was middle-aged). It was just a whole thing about, ‘Look how great I am’ and ‘It’s all about me’. Blegh. Maybe they were right about <a href="http://douthat.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/02/the-culture-of-narcissism/">Generation Y</a>.<br />
<div></div><br />
The truth is, I think if he had been blunt with me from the beginning and not so “vague”. I would have been fine with the arrangement if he had treated me with respect. It should have been more apparent in the very beginning, not a bait and switch, I think that is what bugs me the most. You present what it is you want and the person can choose to partake or not. Yet, something happens when a guy releases and has, in a word, caught his pray… his decency goes to sh*t. Will there ever be a Casanova that a woman feels justified with?Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-84211811541876271702010-06-19T16:13:00.000-07:002010-06-21T17:03:11.057-07:00The Snake<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Codename: </span>Abolicious<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Website:</span> POF<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Location: </span>His place<br />
<br />
I just got some last night.<br />
<br />
I really wish I could feel good about this. But I just don’t.<br />
<br />
Recap: I had met <a href="http://confessionsofa-v.blogspot.com/2010/03/ab-o-licious.html?zx=7c6fe12d4c9c6e66">Abolicious</a> a few months ago had a great first date but got too hot and heavy. Had a few mixed signals about his intentions and then <a href="http://confessionsofa-v.blogspot.com/2010/03/dont-get-ripped-and-dipped-says-dr.html?zx=8e8130e436e2375e">second date</a>, he bailed on me last minute texting me his <a href="http://confessionsofa-v.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-best-friend-believe-it-or-not-had.html?zx=6d7ec7933f3a363f">“Best Friend Had a Heart Attack”</a>. Every guy I told this to, laughed and rightly so, but Abolicious insisted it was true. So I went out with him again and he ended up being extra douchy so I defriended him on Facebook and avoided him silly, till I called him out on it on text to which he then stopped talking to me…<br />
<br />
Until recently.<br />
<br />
He had tried to friend me, AGAIN! I refused to accept so I responded and said if he wanted to hang he could call me.<br />
<br />
A week went by and my curiosity got the best of me.<br />
<br />
I e-mailed him and asked him if the Facebook friend thing was such a big deal. That afternoon I got a phone call.<br />
<br />
I chit chatted how he had been, he had gotten a new job for a rent a car management company- but last I talked to him he had wanted to work in sports. He was trying to get me over to his new place he was sharing with roommates and offered up the Jacuzzi.<br />
<br />
The fact was, I knew exactly what he wanted. And I’m not going to lie. I wanted it too.<br />
<br />
But I couldn’t get over the fact that I knew how douchy he had been, and I wasn’t going to feel right about getting down and dirty unless I had the opportunity to call him out on his behavior. So this was my chance…<br />
<br />
I told him I wasn’t sure yet about meeting up with him that night- here this was again, a guy making last minute plans with me on purpose so I didn’t have expectations.<br />
<br />
I didn’t have anything planned that night anyway and I was curious as hell so I agreed to hang out, bring some movies but he was to provide food and booze.<br />
<br />
So here I was driving to Woodland Hills (where I had been for a similar situation right across the street… another story that will come up later) and I waited for Ab to greet me. He showed me around his new place, which was well kept, a definite bachelor pad. He showed me this poker table he had made, which was impressive.<br />
<br />
There was no doubt Ab was smart and had some talent, the question was why he had been such a douche. I couldn’t get the answer to this question right away, I had to play the game a bit. I was impressed, Ab had stocked his fridge for our little hang out. <br />
<br />
We ended up doing a couple tequila shots. For some reason I handle hard liquor better than wine, but doesn’t mean that I don’t get drunk…<br />
<br />
Otherwise, I don’t think I would have been that partial to hanging out in his room on his bed watching the movie I brought over.<br />
<br />
You know what that led to.<br />
<br />
I am not going to deny Ab was hot. In fact, he was probably the hottest guy I have ever been with. His abs were cut, his arms broad and he had a large tongue. He knew what he was doing, even if he was a tad overzealous for a girl my size. Although oddly enough his package? Much like a snake, a narrow long one. Hadn’t had one of those before.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseUhJ1BanU7JSneGrEh069yZNVKPH5MUfG7la4LZqdqtV0rw0mUU0fcsJpOkzXhXCJ4VDjOtY88IoBTbBHf1DLTFwBYgRpJD0mgoqyqr86Jzv19RLaV26zaL0kFc_LVruM39Ym_h9tRc/s1600/texas-snakes-pictures-coral-snake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseUhJ1BanU7JSneGrEh069yZNVKPH5MUfG7la4LZqdqtV0rw0mUU0fcsJpOkzXhXCJ4VDjOtY88IoBTbBHf1DLTFwBYgRpJD0mgoqyqr86Jzv19RLaV26zaL0kFc_LVruM39Ym_h9tRc/s320/texas-snakes-pictures-coral-snake.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
He got his. I didn’t get mine. I told him that involves trust. I don’t mince words. And it was true, I didn’t trust him.<br />
<br />
And of course, the second he got his the detachment set in. Such a f**king guy thing.<br />
<br />
And then I decided to start my interrogation…Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-8024678085666313452010-06-11T18:43:00.001-07:002010-06-11T18:54:20.999-07:00Birthday Sex<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vYMxOzxKYYo&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vYMxOzxKYYo&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
<br />
<div>"Birthday Sex" Courtesy of Jeremiah and YouTube</div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Codename:</b> Aquarius</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Location:</b> His place/ <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Houston</st1:city></st1:place>’s</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Website: </b>Jdate.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another year older.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And no birthday sex. This was the ridiculousness of seeing someone who you weren’t really seeing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I really didn’t expect to hear from him at all. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: Yo</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, I was shooting this thing</div><div class="MsoNormal">and</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Ironically, you’re IM’ing me today and guess what today is.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: Um…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Seriously, you need to say it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: It’s your birthday?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Yes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: That is ironic. Happy F**king Birthday V.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Thanks</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: What are you doing tonight?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Dinner with my parents.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: Well…</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you weren’t doing anything…</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would have taken you out for dinner.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Really?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: Yea.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Then I’m going to hold you to it when I get back from NY.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aquarius: When are you going?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">V: Next week.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Not to glaze over the amazing trip to NY after 3 years of not being there, but I like to cut to the chase. I didn’t hear from Aquarius the whole time I was away. But I was fine. I was in my element. Other hot guys checked me out, but my shyness enveloped me and the fact that I was leaving in a few days didn’t bring out my wild side.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next month, Aquarius ping’d me. He wanted to show me this video he shot for a competition. This conversation mentioned that I should come over and I reminded his promise for dinner.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I came to his apartment, all of his furniture in his bedroom had been moved for the shoot, but I liked it much better. It was obvious Aquarius was tired. He went on about his crazy shoot. He was always self absorbed but interesting nonetheless. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“How was <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state>?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It was good.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You look good,”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Thanks.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I never knew when he would take it to that area, but I really just wanted my birthday dinner. We went to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Houston</st1:place></st1:city>’s where the wait was insanely long. We decided to wait outside and sat on the floor where a homeless man approached us and said, “Go on and kiss your girlfriend, you guys look so cute together.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I laughed and said, “He’s not my boyfriend.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He looked at me and said, “Let’s give the man what he wants.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I took his face and gave him a kiss… on the cheek. Men who don’t call me after sex or while I go on vacation deserve nothing more.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I gave the homeless man a dollar. And in good cheer, Aquarius forked one out as well.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We sat down finally and as I ordered a drink he said, “This is going to cost me, isn’t it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You offered to take me to dinner.” I raised my eyebrows. I was going to make him pay. I had paid for him before. Trust me, the scales needed to be tipped. And it was after all, in honor of my birthday.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had a fun dinner. I was wondering if indeed, that by playing this role of indifferent, non-challant, casual “dude” was in fact working in my favor. I wondered if the experiment was actually working, that this guy could develop feelings for me and mine would lessen so that the roles were swapped.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We would find out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After dinner, he asked, “Don’t I get a kiss?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Maybe later. But thank you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We went back to his house. The summer air had settled in, the cool ocean air filtered through the windows and electricity in the air, when Aquarius ran to the other room and shouted and clapped, “Okay! It’s naked in bed time!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My face flushed red and I yelled, “What?!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Naked in bed, take off your clothes and get in my bed!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I followed him into the other room where he was hiding under the covers. I jumped on the bed and said, “Noooooo!!!!!!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He poked his head out from the covers, “You’re not naked.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I smiled, embarrassed. I really did want to get naked, but he had flipped the f**king scale of power AGAIN.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What could I possibly do but relinquish?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I took off my clothes and got underneath the covers. It really is hard to not want to be naked with someone you’re obviously attracted to. We rolled into a hug and from there…</div><div class="MsoNormal">You get the picture.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the way, I just want to note, it was my birthday and he STILL did not go down on me. The sex was much better this time, I trusted him more this time around and wondered if maybe, just maybe if he actually cared. And maybe, just maybe in this moment… he did.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Needless to say, when it was over, he started to put his clothes back on and tie his shoe, I gave him a hug from behind, a kiss on his cheek and said, “Thank you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He patted my arm, like he didn’t know what to do about that gesture. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I let him go and got ready to leave.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-86034948960748052422010-05-11T18:09:00.000-07:002010-05-11T18:14:11.489-07:00Dear V of 10 years ago<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Codename: Aquarius</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Location: Beach/His Place</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Website: Jdate.com</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dear V of 10 years ago,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I find myself in a predicament I would never have moved forward in when I was you. When I was you, I preached anti-drugs and anti-smoking. When I was you, I purposely dressed in pajamas to pretend I didn’t care about male attention. When I was you, I didn’t date, I didn’t make out with anyone and I had never had sex. If you had met me now, you wouldn’t know me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I had been working at my second job, promoting some high school program, my head focused on what I do best, work. Of course, who could have texted me on day of days after not calling me after we had finally done the deed, to make a point that he was absolutely not interested in a relationship with me?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Of course, it was Aquarius.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I ignored it. For a minute. Then I texted him back that I was working. And as predicted, he wanted to hang out. I had a hair appointment. He wanted to go to the beach. I went to my hair appointment. After hours of turning mousy brown into sun kissed highlights, I finally said that I could hang out with Aquarius. I told him I had just gotten my hair done and would not be hanging out in the water, which was still too cold to dip in, in April weather.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I had brought over my food from Panera and was nice enough to bring him a cookie. It was obvious my head was somewhere else and that seemed to draw his attention. He complimented on my hair, said the woman did a good job. I took it and said, “Thank you.” He snuck in a, “You look sexy by the way.” Another compliment, but I was really unaffected by it. “We should smoke today.” I turned nutty female and said, “Are you crazy, I just got my hair done!” He asserted that it was I who was crazy and in all the years he smoked, none of it ever got in their hair.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Trying to broaden my horizons, I left myself open to the idea. So he prepared his arrangements, pouring rum in a plastic bottle and packing plastic cups. He took his foldout chairs, some towels and his </span></span><em style="margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">other </span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">supplies and off we walked to the beach. We set up just above the tide which is when he realized… he had forgotten to pack the coke. Aquarius was always about those little details of the experience. However, quirky, it was one of the things I liked about him best and something I related to. I really appreciated that he put some effort into these things. It was like a little gift, that he appeared he never intended to give, but underlying all that, deep down, he wanted to give it to someone and in that moment, it was me and a part of him wanted me to have it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While Aquarius ran to buy some coke, I set up. When he came back, he prepared our drinks and we drunk our makeshift Roman Cokes as the sun began to set. We chit chatted about various things, about writing, about not writing, until finally he set up his umbrella on the beach and prepared his pipe. I was nervous. I had never done this before. He had me lie next to him on my stomach underneath the umbrella. He taught me how to light the pipe and warned me to not inhale. It burned the sh*t out of my throat as I sucked the smoke in. As I rolled over to grab the bottle of Roman Coke, my boob fell out of my shirt and he grabbed it. Typical, but I liked it. He at least tucked it back in.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I told him I felt absolutely no different. Just drunk.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then I felt somewhat floaty, as if I were spacey and my mind floated above me. My thoughts were clear. It was odd; I was so used to my mind racing with thoughts, worries and emotions. I began to ramble about the clarity and Buddha and wondered if this was what they had meant by “meditative” state. He entertained it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I went into the water, he got all neurotic about it, warning that my clothes would get wet. I didn’t care. It was warm enough that I could walk in and enjoy it. I had to stop myself from going all Bridget Jones 2 and dancing in the ocean with my clothes on.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was in a happy and clear state which was unusual but it wasn’t something I wanted to allow myself to be in all the time. It was like my brain was dry and wired.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As we walked back to his apartment, I asked if I could borrow some clothes from him and throw my pants in the dryer. Of course, he had nothing that fit me except a pair of boxer shorts. Worked for me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The air of awkwardness was above us, all I had on was a tank top and his shorts, not that he could see that I had went commando (um wet undies = no fun).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Like a kid, he had me go to his room to check out Virtual Haircut <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_382134807"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">(</span></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zusU0fVB2Ys"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zusU0fVB2Ys</span></a>)with stereo headphones. Not caring, I closed my eyes and lay on the bed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFceYaL2tcWM9wZ8X_4A7wJR7CVwpOhyphenhyphen-M-Ucey4wAJ27iF6yYRVGyNN7zqiSgpb2giBsbMcDGm_9eay7WmX-FOvGR-99lBfONJ8HIltN1T_KXeH2Mf5ScWhV4bXWgozMqKAtjkOnrM-Q/s1600/barber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFceYaL2tcWM9wZ8X_4A7wJR7CVwpOhyphenhyphen-M-Ucey4wAJ27iF6yYRVGyNN7zqiSgpb2giBsbMcDGm_9eay7WmX-FOvGR-99lBfONJ8HIltN1T_KXeH2Mf5ScWhV4bXWgozMqKAtjkOnrM-Q/s320/barber.jpg" /></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I came out when I was finished; he was in his kitchen disposing of the bottles. I asked him for some water. Then our conversation progressed. First he sat on the floor, talking to me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Until it finally came to point, “What do you want with me? Why are you doing this?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wasn’t afraid of the question.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He shrugged and said, “I don’t know. This-” He gestured. “It is what it is.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I looked at him and shook my head understanding what he meant and at the same time knowing he was full of sh*t.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Is this about sex?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“No.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I don’t get it.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“What is there to get? I mean I don’t want anything that’s just sex, with someone just panting and who get’s up to leave. I’ve had that.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Then is this friends with benefits, because that’s not what I’m into.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“No. I don’t know if you can label it.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Okay.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He sat across from me on the couch and began a rant about something or other. I had stopped listening at some point and was more peaceful for it. I stroked his calf, which he apparently liked and he began to mimic the same movement on my leg.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Eventually, we went into his room where he showed me more videos. Then I decided to lie on my stomach and have him rub my back. I think he was getting the hint. Until finally, I flipped over… and it was on.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This was way better then the last time. Maybe because this time, whether or not he would admit it to me, there was a part of him that cared. In what way, I didn’t quite understand yet.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">V of ten years ago, you would have never slept with someone who was dating someone else, you would have never smoked by the ocean, and you would never have allowed yourself to fall into something on someone else’s terms. But V, you also would have never explored to live. You would have never known what it was. If you weren’t me now, you would still be a virgin. And damn it that would really suck for us.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Xoxo</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">V</span></span></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-44014673205314895562010-05-02T17:09:00.000-07:002010-05-02T17:09:19.063-07:00The OTHER Woman<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Codename: Aquarius</div><div class="MsoNormal">Location: His place</div><div class="MsoNormal">Website: Jdate.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was a rather normal Tuesday, much like any other day and as usual, Aquarius asked for last minute plans. At this point, I didn’t care, in some odd way I saw him as a friend with little expectation for more. I had finally attained true guy mode.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He had called and told me he was ordering sushi and asked if I wanted him to order me something. Such a turnaround in behavior now that I had nothing invested! Of course, there was no way I was jetting strait from work to his place; I would arrive on my terms. So I went home, showered and changed… I pretty much knew my plan for the evening.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He was getting ready to go home to New York the next day. I wasn’t sure how to take it that he wanted to hang out just the day before he left, but at that point I didn’t care. Just as usual, when I arrived, things between us were odd. There wasn’t that mad chemistry immediately present when I walked in the door, but I shrugged it off. We ate our sushi quietly, both of us tired from work, chit chatted, watched some TV. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When it went on like this for an hour, without any moves on his part, I glanced at the clock, yawned and said, “Well I have to be going soon.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You just got here.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I’ve been here like over an hour and I have to work tomorrow.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“First, do you want to see the new video I made?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Okay.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It’s in the bedroom.” He got up and waved me over, like a little kid, aloof.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I smirked, how funny that he would constantly pretend his innocence and I followed him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I sat cross-legged on his bed as if at a friend’s sleepover, as he showed me the video and then a couple of new songs he was obsessed with. I began to yawn. He teased me of why I was still wearing a jacket. I took it off. He took advantage. I let him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here it was, moment of truth. We had been down this high school making out stage 1<sup>st</sup> base… 2<sup>nd</sup> base etc. before and even though I didn’t feel the hot intensity of our last meeting, I had already made my decision and I whispered in his ear…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We both stripped down. He got the condom. 4<sup>th</sup> Base it was.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It really wasn’t what I thought it would be. I thought it would be hot and amazing. But it was somewhat distant and nerve racking. Then I remembered that sometimes people have to get to know each other to get to hot and amazing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When it was over… he started to bring up… Anorexic Factor.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">‘You have got to be f—king kidding me.’</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had tried to IM him the Sunday before; he ignored me and signed off. That was because Anorexic Factor had made her way to the apartment, they had made out in the bed, but because she had royally f—ked with his mind, he could not get it up.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At first thought, I had to stone wall my face to hide my anger at him for not only bringing up the other girl, after we had just slept together, he had basically illustrated that he was going to stop dating her but drew me in so he could see us both. I sat there playing along that this had absolutely no effect on me, even though I basically wanted to slap him for being so insensitive. At second thought, the mere fact that I had made the choice to have sex with him without being absolutely positive that things with Anorexic Factor were over, made me want to slap myself. Slap me once shame on you, slap me twice, shame on me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then he mentioned that Anorexic Factor had found a hair on his bed and he joked, “You’re shedding.” She picked it up and said, “This isn’t mine.” To which he looked at me and said, “It was yours.” I had some evil satisfaction in this, even though I was pissed off as hell. I had to turn it around fast so I suddenly got excited in realization and said, “I’m the OTHER WOMAN!” This took him by surprise, caught him off guard. ‘Good’ I thought. I need him to think that this has no emotional affect on me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">‘I’m the OTHER F—KING WOMAN.’ I thought in wide eyed shock. ‘I am in such deep sh*t.’</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And I really was.</div><!--EndFragment-->Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-46468984956960797632010-04-27T13:18:00.000-07:002010-04-27T13:19:45.681-07:00The Lawyer, the Aquarian and the Anorexic Factor (Con’t)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Codename: Aquarius<br />
Location: His place<br />
Website: Jdate.com<br />
<br />
So there I was, emotionally armed, believing I was equipped with my defense mechanisms, that it had been a month and I didn’t care. Hell, I doubted I would even be attracted to him after all this time and everything that had happened. I came up to his apartment with my computer and my notebook and as soon as I walked in, he sat casually on the couch, aloof with the TV on…<br />
<br />
The real estate game continued and my defense mechanism went to sh*t.<br />
<br />
Everything inside me melted and I was right back to where I was over a month ago.<br />
<br />
Get it together V. No expectation. This is a friend thing and nothing more. You’re going to walk in, talk writing and walk out without giving him anything more then your friendship.<br />
<br />
Similarity #4 The Offer<br />
<br />
First offer… the hug greeting. We exchanged a hug without a hint of sexual attraction, I was brief and pulled away, he sensed that I was in a different place.<br />
<br />
So he counter offered…<br />
<br />
“We should have a drink!”<br />
<br />
“Um, I just had a beer and I have to drive later so I’m good.”<br />
<br />
“Alright, suit yourself.” He went in the kitchen and made himself a Roman Coke.<br />
<br />
My next offer… conversation about writing. Where I was at… where he was at… etc.<br />
<br />
His following counter offer… a discussion of the girl who was now screwing with his head… the Anorexic Factor.<br />
<br />
Anorexic Factor was the girl he had been dating, who he mentioned, who he really liked. She went to UCSB, worked with autistic kids and modeled on the side. And… she was anorexic.<br />
<br />
But don’t feel so sorry for this girl just yet… I sure didn’t… she was about as manipulative as they come. She would go out on dates with Aquarius, make it like she liked him and then blow him off… which in a completely karmic way… he TOTALLY deserved. Yet, even though I felt like that was the case, I could tell what this girl was. In essence, Anorexic Factor was a female game player… blond…. young… and a model… she knew how to work her hand and at other people’s expense. People always think that because someone is pretty, educated and they work for seemingly good causes, that that person is a genuinely good person.<br />
<br />
These people never went to NYU nor ever worked in the Entertainment industry.<br />
<br />
You see, these people are always focused on what they want at other people’s expense. In certain cases, that’s understandable, but people like this… do this all the time. And sometimes, they truly believe that they’re a good person…even when they throw you under the bus…all the time.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So next time you want a job, a guy or even that new pair of stilettos at Neiman Marcus… watch out to make sure Anorexic Factor isn’t behind you or BOOM!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You just got pushed in front of the f—king bus, b*tch!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Qc2bmd7qa67VmWc1RnAgSqVP7SNKY3YHQwWTLkSpdF0MvF8eGI2PkMgh7Y8qiJ6boz2lwy-VR6-S1L3HDNRYkuy6Dj3LuNVBHlGKzdp7coJwll8FOkhAdghSjkkeXwpgEtpMub3QmSw/s1600/bus.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Qc2bmd7qa67VmWc1RnAgSqVP7SNKY3YHQwWTLkSpdF0MvF8eGI2PkMgh7Y8qiJ6boz2lwy-VR6-S1L3HDNRYkuy6Dj3LuNVBHlGKzdp7coJwll8FOkhAdghSjkkeXwpgEtpMub3QmSw/s320/bus.gif" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So he told me how the night before, he had hit the curb with her, as she decided to invite him out and flirt with another guy right in front of him to the point where he had left, completely hurt and<br />
heartbroken.<br />
<br />
Evil Victory. Thank you karmic gods.<br />
<br />
I knew Anorexic Factor would continue to play him and eventually that would end. What I didn’t know was that my next offer would be… the story of my ONS.<br />
<br />
I could tell this provoked his interest. And as he feigned jealousy that I had sex before he did with Anorexic Factor… I finally thought to myself, this finally feels like friendship.<br />
<br />
Then he started the digital music… the hours flew by… and I finally took him up on the drink…<br />
<br />
And he counter offered… by playfully jumping on top of me and trying to kiss me…<br />
<br />
As I closed my eyes and brought my head away to avoid his face, protesting that we couldn’t do it…<br />
<br />
I should have grabbed my sh*t and ran out the door.<br />
<br />
Yet, I succumbed. And the ridiculous part was that I wanted to.<br />
<br />
Similarity #5 Escrow<br />
<br />
I had made my offer. He had countered. And I gave in on his terms. Hence the next portion of our foreplay was very much like Escrow. I didn’t possess the property and at any time, he or I could back out.<br />
<br />
There we were, making out like we had never missed a beat. And at that moment I didn’t care. He took me into his bedroom and we made out on the bed as he moaned, “You feel so good… I wanna do things to you…”<br />
<br />
I dared him, “What do you want to do to me?”<br />
<br />
He hesitated as if embarrassed. I dared him again.<br />
<br />
“First, I want to take off your pants and lick you a little bit…”<br />
<br />
Hold up. I just want to preface this by saying… in all the time I messed around with Aquarius at any time in the story… he NEVER…EVER…went down on me… EVER! He would tease. Make excuses. But no matter what I did for him in the bedroom… and trust me… I did plenty… he NEVER returned the favor. If that doesn’t make him a douche… I don’t know what does. In fact, it makes ME a douche for having tolerated the lack of reciprocity.<br />
<br />
Similarity #5 The Close<br />
<br />
Sex was not on the agenda this evening, so needless to say there was no close on this deal.<br />
<br />
Even though I knew that Anorexic Factor would be out of the picture soon enough, Aquarius decided that it would be a good idea to compare us. That when he was with me he felt like a man and with her he couldn’t even get hard. That I always said what I meant and she didn’t. While this did pump up my ego a bit, I knew that he was blowing smoke up my a** and I wanted to slap him for breaking the cardinal rule… NEVER COMPARE ALOUD.<br />
<br />
What a stupid thing, comparing the girls you dated to the girl you’re with after your hot make out session. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.<br />
<br />
I excused myself about 11PM and decided that being there for 6 hours, was long enough. I walked myself to my car somewhat giddy but in full denial that reopening the door to Aquarius would simply lead to more hurt.<br />
<br />
But I was simply… curious as all h*ll.</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-1693001239351193472010-04-26T14:56:00.001-07:002010-04-26T14:58:09.239-07:00Workshop: Short Plays On How You Broke My F’ ing Heart<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: url(http://www.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-origin: initial; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; color: black; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; margin-right: 12px; margin-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">ConfessionsofaV will be offering it’s first ever workshop. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;">E-mail <a href="mailto:confessionsofav@gmail.com"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">confessionsofav@gmail.com</span></a> for more information.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Workshop: Short Plays On How You Broke My F’ ing Heart</span></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="apple-style-span">Sunday, June 27th 12pm-4pm<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Location: TBD, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Maximum amount of students: 40</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">This four hour Los Angeles-based workshop of massive awesomeness will put you in a group</span> <span class="apple-style-span">of 4, who will then become your writing partners as you power out a</span> <span class="apple-style-span">short play on the theme of “How You Broke My F’ ing Heart”. You will</span> <span class="apple-style-span">only have 2 hours with your teammates to write the short play in its</span> <span class="apple-style-span">entirety which must be a minimum of 3 pages, max 10. Each person will</span> <span class="apple-style-span">be assigned to read a part and all will perform their masterpiece in</span> <span class="apple-style-span">the latter half of class. Who knows, you might meet the person who</span> <span class="apple-style-span">doesn’t break your F’ ing heart.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-20106193492857370132010-04-26T14:27:00.000-07:002010-04-26T14:28:40.300-07:00The Lawyer, the Aquarian and the Anorexic Factor<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">Codename: The Lawyer<br style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Location: Yankee Doodles<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Website: JDate.com<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="margin-bottom: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />As if I had not learned my lesson, I went right back into the world of JDate.com with the same wired focus that I would never recommend anyone have when searching online. It makes dating a job and the second that happens you begin to put pressure on yourself and the situation and that usually yields sh*tty results. You begin to attempt to control a situation that you cannot and should not try to control. I was supposed to be looking for a person not a piece of real estate!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5W_nT4ZYP79rTISgk33WuKNpCR6oeFLfOQllo0DUSbCoJHj-8mPbfHQBXlyp-P8nLgX9EEAytIpz-szxDtTcr-ELPFED1u4iGNPBhoGOoSw5RUrdW_vGzDsaHUxvi43g2lXkqVXcoF_g/s1600/RealEstate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5W_nT4ZYP79rTISgk33WuKNpCR6oeFLfOQllo0DUSbCoJHj-8mPbfHQBXlyp-P8nLgX9EEAytIpz-szxDtTcr-ELPFED1u4iGNPBhoGOoSw5RUrdW_vGzDsaHUxvi43g2lXkqVXcoF_g/s320/RealEstate.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><br style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Although at times the experience was quite similar.<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Similarity #1 The Search<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Much like searching for a piece of property online, you have certain qualities that you’re looking for but instead of a 3-bedroom house, a fixer upper, a town home or a condo, you might be looking for what school did he go to, brunette or blond, how much money does he make, is he metro or a jock?<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Yet unlike real estate, when you’re a female, what you’re looking for (or not looking for) sometimes finds you.<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />And such was the case with The Lawyer. He had gone to NYU, much like myself, but for law school and found himself back in Los Angeles working in the corporate world. I thought he was cute, he seemed like a nice guy and lived in Santa Monica, which of course, I seemed to just gravitate to. Could it be because I liked the beach or because I missed Aquarius…. hmmmm?<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Similarity #2 The Browse<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Since there was a property that I might be interested in… um I mean a guy, I was proud of myself because I was getting back out there and not waiting for Aquarius… the guy I really wanted and couldn’t and shouldn’t have.<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />The Lawyer suggested we go to Yankee Doodles and watch the game (um really? But I went with it). So I met Mr. Lawyer and was as casual as could be. He was indeed cute in real life, very nice but every time he asked me a question horns went off and the drunken crowds cheered as the Lakers scored another point. Needless to say, that this place was not ideal for a first online date. Poor judgement and bad taste was not helping his profile in this situation, but we shared a beer and I tried to make the best of it anyway and it seemed like he thought I<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />was cute. When the bill came, he offered to pay, I offered as well but he wouldn’t let me.<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />He suggested we go for a walk but I really wanted to leave. He seemed nice, but other then the Lakers and Yankee Doodles and lawyering, what was he really all about? So he offered to walk me to the parking garage and I left him with a hug.<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Similarity #3 Trading Up<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />I was in Santa Monica. I was disappointed with what I had seen and wanted to go after a better prospect. I finally broke and texted Aquarius and told him I was nearby. He called me back. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">“Hey, I’m by the Promenade.”<br style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“What are you doing there?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“I was just… meeting someone.”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“On a date?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Um… yeah.”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Where’d you guys go?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Yankee Doodles. And we couldn’t even talk, it was so loud!”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Come on dude, really? Yankee Doodles?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“I KNOW! Exactly.”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“So do you still want to meet up for the writing stuff?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Um sure, when?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Now.”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Where do you want to meet up?”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“You could come to my place.”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />“Um, okay.”<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />Jesus… F**king… Christ. Really? Really V?!<br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /><br style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" />To be continued…</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-46053505229907700722010-04-20T20:34:00.001-07:002010-04-20T20:36:00.634-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">WTF? OKCupid message of the week: “Surprised mom, lots of hugs,tears & laughter. Dinner, drinks then drag queen bar where mom was the hit of the show. The grand dame still can out boogey a 6 ft tranny. Great time.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">My response: Huh?</div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-59148487272975470482010-04-20T18:21:00.001-07:002010-04-20T18:21:15.840-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">“<span class="quote" style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">Quote of the day: Then in my sophomore year I got a haircut and buzzed my head and the cheerleaders came up to me and was like “Oh my G-d, K is hot now.” And I was like (Sing Songy), “F—k You.</span>” - K</span>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-7144433705835365062010-04-19T15:59:00.000-07:002010-04-19T16:01:07.594-07:00"This m*therf**ker was going down."<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Codename: Aquarius</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Location: Online</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Website: JDate.com</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Some time had passed since I had exchanged letters with Aquarius. We</span> <span class="apple-style-span">weren’t chit chatting on IM and I didn’t want to make a move. I was</span> <span class="apple-style-span">still browsing online but for some reason I was still stuck on the</span> <span class="apple-style-span">skinny filmmaker.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">What’s a girl to do?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">So one night on IM he finally broke the silence.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Hey</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Hey</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: What are you up to?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Just at home.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Writing?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Haha, no, I should be.</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Question, when did you want to meet up for our little workshop?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: That’s not a very good question…</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">A good question would be…</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Are you dating anyone?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Me or you?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Me.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Well, ARE you dating anyone?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Yes</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">My stomach sunk a little, but I toughened up, this was to be expected</span> <span class="apple-style-span">and I wasn’t going to let him see my disappointment.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Good for you.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: It’s not serious… but I like her.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Then what’s up with e-mailing me and wanting me to come over and</span> <span class="apple-style-span">f--- you silly?!</span><br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Aquarius: I was joking.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: No you weren’t.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: But with this girl, we have not had sex, I can’t trust her.</span> <span class="apple-style-span">At least with you, you’re strait, I always respected that. I miss our</span> <span class="apple-style-span">crazy sexual chemistry.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: What do you mean? How old is she?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: 22</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: A young 22?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Yeah.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: And likes going out a lot?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Yeah.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Blond?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Yup.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: What school did she go to?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: UCSB I think.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Party</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">School</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: Ugh I know.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Where she from?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: The Valley.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: You’re f—ked.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: I know.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">I could feel the former part of my sunken stomach flip around. I felt</span> <span class="apple-style-span">a bit of evil victory, he was getting exactly what he deserved, a bit</span> <span class="apple-style-span">of his own medicine; he was getting the exact treatment he had given</span> <span class="apple-style-span">me. And suddenly, I felt better.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">And as if his ears were burning at my silent thoughts…</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: And she goes out on these dates and acts like she likes me.</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">With you I never lied, strait as an arrow I was.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">B*llsh*t.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">V: Well let me know when you’re free to talk writing.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Aquarius: I will.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">So many mixed emotions… the pain that I had reopened from our previous</span> <span class="apple-style-span">history, the excitement of being able to talk to him and not being</span> <span class="apple-style-span">able to help wanting to be seduced by what quite frankly was a silly</span> <span class="apple-style-span">and strange boy-man, and finally the victory of him being burned by </span><span class="apple-style-span">his female doppelganger. I was uncertain, but aware and oddly</span> <span class="apple-style-span">enough… I wanted to win the f**king game this time.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="apple-style-span">This m*therf**ker was going down.</span></span></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-46252277927657713122010-04-16T13:24:00.001-07:002010-04-16T13:24:55.136-07:00Eerie... there's actually an Aquarius hotel in Laughlin http://www.theaquarius.com/Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-90994258592325513542010-04-15T11:22:00.001-07:002010-04-15T11:22:35.654-07:00The Ex-Alike Factor<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><div class="MsoNormal">Codename:<st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alabama</st1:place></st1:state></div><div class="MsoNormal">Location: Aroma Café</div><div class="MsoNormal">Website: Nerve.com</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had never ventured on the Nerve.com personals before but a friend of mine had and since it was unexplored territory, I looked into it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The guys on it were older, like 30s and 40s older and I wasn’t encountering as many 20-something peers in the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city> area. Yet they seemed educated, well accomplished smart types, which is what I was after.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So while I wasn’t getting the crazy in-box action that I was getting on POF and JDate.com, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Alabama</st1:state></st1:place> finally reached out to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now sometimes when you meet people you wonder why you gravitate toward their type. <st1:state w:st="on">Alabama</st1:state> eerily reminded me of my Ex-Southern Christian BF who had been born in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Kentucky</st1:place></st1:state>. Same type of hair, same type of Southern earnestness and a tendency to desire more emotional investment (hey this is what I got off his profile- I’ve been online dating for awhile- I can pick up on this stuff!) He also reminded me of some of the men in my family, which for me is a subconscious warning sign… those men in my family are nuts.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alabama</st1:place></st1:state> was 10 years older than me. Now while I had went out with someone briefly (who I haven’t talked about yet but don’t worry- you’ll find out ;) who had that type of age gap, Alabama seemed nice over IM so I had to ask, could I ever really have a relationship with someone who was that much older? Socially, do we even speak the same language?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He was an illustrator in the movie biz and was in the know of some funny pop-culture stuff. He also had been dating divorcee mommy types- which I thought was intriguing enough to ask about- but Alabama was honorable enough not to kiss and tell.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So when I agreed to meet <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alabama</st1:place></st1:state> for coffee at Aroma café, I had that wonder- should I have talked with him on the phone first? It wouldn’t have mattered because honestly when I met <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alabama</st1:place></st1:state>, while he looked like his pictures on his profile, he actually looked A LOT older than his photos. Tooth gap, slight receding hairline, crow’s feet. He didn’t look 36 to me; he looked more like in his 40s.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alabama</st1:place></st1:state> was a nice guy. He even suggested grabbing dinner, but I already knew I didn’t have the energy and I already had an inkling that it might not work out. Although out of all my online dates, he was the most impressive in talent, he actually drew me a puppy in a field UPSIDE DOWN in a matter of 5 minutes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I really tried to give this a shot. He had that Southern charm I like so much and was very sweet. Thoughts crossed my mind like: Can I introduce someone that looks like they’re in their 40s when I still look like I belong in high school… to my parents? Can I take <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alabama</st1:place></st1:state> to work parties? If this doesn’t turn into a relationship do I want to have wild and crazy sex with this guy?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The answer: No.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Such a catch-22 when you meet someone who might be able to give you the things you’re looking for and not be attracted to them. But when that person reminds you of your Ex maybe it’s just as well.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></span>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-5465560006790350192010-04-13T16:49:00.001-07:002010-04-13T16:49:33.417-07:00Thought of the Day"Being your b*tch is not my idea of a good time." - VVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-15418205180142089502010-04-12T10:29:00.000-07:002010-04-12T10:32:16.970-07:00The Rekindling<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Codename: Aquarius</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Location: Online</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Website: JDate.com </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes when a road is unexplored… you get an itch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had done everything that everyone had told me and it had been a month since I had last spoken to Aquarius. I had stopped communication. I had sex with someone else. I was hanging out with other people. I was focused on work. I was still pursuing and being pursued by guys online.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point… I just kept wondering… what if I had just relaxed a little bit… took it for what it was… played the little game… and had sex with Aquarius? Could it ever be possible to turn the game around and win exactly what I had been after all along: A connection?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGBFWJhiXmZdWR-jkA-meP8BarGCTUh3p9VBaUjzw7GGM-LgZbMjOYPBl6qojfti54oaw97BTrowoA-LS1oumbqtHkjZA-u75HG-JiNmw1U5qOkAQmAKqN0wp3LZN6ilrUFPdIhZtE08/s1600/aq2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGBFWJhiXmZdWR-jkA-meP8BarGCTUh3p9VBaUjzw7GGM-LgZbMjOYPBl6qojfti54oaw97BTrowoA-LS1oumbqtHkjZA-u75HG-JiNmw1U5qOkAQmAKqN0wp3LZN6ilrUFPdIhZtE08/s320/aq2.jpg" /></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I couldn’t want that. No. I had to do what everyone said which was go in with no emotion. In other words… I had to go in with…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">NO EXPECTATION.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If friendship was all I was going to get, then I could take that and be alright with it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In other words, I just went in with denial. Full denial.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew the second I reopened communication it would be his game. But it was a chance I was willing to take.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Aquarius,</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So yes- the soup did go awry however, if you want to chat about story and writing let me know- it may be helpful- am trying to get on the ball on the writing and it helps me to talk with other creative people</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that I know, especially in working out story -- the "macro"- stringing out</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">plot- ironically this actually has always been a difficult area for me. My</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">strengths are with character dev./psych, plot justification and</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">editing/organization. I have to really start a dialogue to get story ideas out. It also helps to reflect on ideas- to see if they're good or just plain</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">lame or unworkable.</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This also may actually be helpful for you as well-- don't know where you're at</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with your own personal projects- but I can help identify the crux or the core</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of things, help block out plans and clarify things. I think I have a handle on</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your POV with your work- so a dialogue may help. I'm usually pretty</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">constructive.</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So if this seems helpful and you're open to it- let me know, if not, no worries.</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks,<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">V</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Usually, I play the chick role and panic and wonder if I will get a response back. Yet, somehow, I just had that feeling I would…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">V,<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i></span></div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You've decided to brave the rough seas of Aquarius-hood once again and open up<br />
communication. Ha. Cool. Can it start by you coming over and f**king me silly. Sorry I AM kidding, just thought I'd rattle your brain for a second.<br />
<br />
Well, I made a new video last week for a little contest we had at work and I have revisited this older writing piece. I do want to make the next thing and I would love for it to be a dialogue story piece rather than cutesy music driven video.<br />
<br />
Sure, I'm down to talk about this. What's your project about and what writing program are you speaking of. Spec feature? What's the core idea?<br />
<br />
This could be interesting.</span> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aquarius<br />
<br />
P.S. Ironically it's Monday and you know what that means - half price Dolce, not saying we should meet up and talk writing and have cheap tasty food last minute (wait that's what we used to do) - but who knows, anything is possible.</span> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I responded by saying that I couldn’t meet up that day because my brother was in town (true) and that I would get back to him. If I was going to “brave the rough seas” I was going to do it on my terms… or so I hoped.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2815078477758913796.post-73406605317958106882010-04-07T20:03:00.001-07:002010-04-07T20:03:43.227-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">“<span class="quote" style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">Message just sent to me via OkCupid: omg!! have you ever seen someone and your heart goes pitter patter!! mine just did</span>”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-weight: bold;">This one is mine guys- Oh Okcupid when will you ever deliver me one of the good ones?</span></span>Vhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11341948086293620594noreply@blogger.com0