Always happy to avoid conversation

On Thursday, the guy I’d been dating texted to ask if I had time to hang out this weekend. I said I did, but we didn’t make actual plans, and I haven’t heard from him yet.

So I think he was right in saying “we want different things.” I want to be ACTUAL friends with benefits, not the “beck and call girl” of a dude who forgets about me until his dick gets bored.

At least this means we don’t have to get together to discuss the terms of our fuck-buddy-ship — we’re Facebook friends and that’s it. No travel, no feelings, no shaving!

I’m not actually too hurt by this. It’s nice to be sure of something I’d mostly already decided.

Ain’t no slut shame in my game. 

I never recapped the first date with New Guy last weekend, but it ended with a pleasant goodbye kiss and plans for a second date, which happened yesterday.

So.

I was actually happy when my period started a few days prior, because then when I went to his house to watch movies, we both knew second-date sex wasn’t an option. No need to worry about things moving too fast, or for me to get bonus therapy beforehand for being all “Insane in my Slut Shame” — it just ain’t happ’nin’.

Um, yeah… Turns out my period doesn’t stop me from stripping down to just panties and then blowing him.

Whoops.

But also, godDAMN, I’d missed doing that. (He seemed pretty happy about it, too.)

And at least so far, no shame to speak of. I like him. I think we’d be friends if we weren’t dating. Even if it ends up just being casual or short-term or whatever, I already know I didn’t blow a boring idiot. So…you know…progress.

P.S. He said he owes me oral once my body isn’t made of betrayal, so if you hear about a woman exploding with years of pent-up tension in South Philly this weekend, it’s been fun knowing y’all.

P.P.S. He also called my body “fucking hot,” even though I suddenly have 10-15 extra pounds on me that I’m working on getting rid of. Pay attention, gentlemen — that’s the kinda game that gets your dick wet.

Prematurely ejaculating my anxiety.

I met a guy last weekend, and IN MY HEAD, we’ve already been dating (and sleeping together — frequently) for a week.

So…I guess I should probably, like…SAY something to him ever.

He’s a friend of a friend. I’ve ascertained that he’s single and straight. And when I asked, my friend said she’d been hoping I would because she “thought it’d be a good match.” 

Now I just need to figure out what the hell is going on in MY head to make sure I don’t end up being totally weird to a friend of a friend…again. Last time this happened, I slept with the dude way too soon, then realized we had nothing in common and ended up pulling The Fadeaway on him.

I’ve spent so much time “not being ready” that I don’t know if I AM ready, or if it’s just my vagina that’s ready, all, “SINGLE DICK AHOY!”

*deep breath*

SO. My next therapy appointment isn’t until NEXT week, eh? Mm’kay. That…that’s fine…

Too well-hung for me to hang

OkCupid shows you who’s looked at your profile. A 24-year-old dude just looked at mine, and his profile photo is of his hand holding his naked, sizable, penis. 

Not really sure what it says about me that I’m less offended by unsolicited naked dick than I am by the dirt under his fingernails or the mess in the room behind him.

I alternate thinking he’s ruined a delightful discovery the first time I unzip his pants and unfurl this thing, vs. really appreciating the advance notice about a cock that might actually break me in half.

“Too big! Your dick doesn’t end! Why doesn’t your dick end?”

Oh, no, “O”…

Based on my limited experience, it’s not usually his heart that’s cheating, is it, O Magazine?

I’ve never had a cheating man ask me to stroke his heart. They don’t text at 3 a.m. looking for deep, penetrating…heart-to-heart conversation.

But I guess “his cheating dick” was kinda inappropes for the supermarket checkout.

(Again, limited experience. My heart has cheated, I’m sure others’ have, too.)

Just one day of asshole amnesty

I don’t do the “America, fuck yeah!” post, and I don’t do “Where I was on 9/11,” because no one cares where I was. It’s even more narcissistic than “thoughts and prayers” — “I mean, yeah, thousands died, but here’s what *I* was doing!” 

I realize even doing THIS is self-centered.
But I take today as an opportunity to let the people I love know I appreciate them, so… Hey, guys. I appreciate you. Thanks for following my silliness. 💕

Here’s hoping you don’t encounter any dumbass online anger or terrible people today. Hug someone cool.

And hey, if you’re a dick and I don’t realize because I don’t know you, maybe take the day off and don’t be a dick? Try it, see how it goes. You can always go back to dick tomorrow. (Wait, no…not what I meant…)

Beer, cheese, sexism, and soulmates

I really do like craft beer, but this is pretty great. I’ve definitely been on a few episodes of Side Eye from the Beer Guy when beer bros don’t think I know what I’m talking about.

Ahem, and for the bonus dick: “The other night I sampled Stone Brewing’s W00t Stout. You know that one where they collaborated with Wil Wheaton? OMG, I know—how great is Wil Wheaton?!”

Via Reductress: I’m Not Really Into Craft Beer, I’m Just Here for the Dick

Beer.jpg

By the way, y’all should just go follow Reductress, because they’re delightful and may be my soulmates:
6 Cheese Wheels For When You Give Up On Sex
cheese.jpg