Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Food and Sex: One Uncontrollable Urge

My Hott Waiter and I have been dating for almost a month. The sex has been fantastic. Last time we did it, we went at it for two full hours and I came three times in a row. After, I realized we had shot the bolts out of my bed.

But I digress.

I've always considered myself a foodie, but my Hott Waiter is a REAL foodie. He's very sensual -- really into food and wine, very knowledgeable and particular. It's nice to be with a guy who actually eats his dessert little by little, savoring each bite, rather than shoving bite after bite in his mouth.

The way a guy eats dessert IS representative of his skills between the sheets.

He talks about food passionately, and I've been finding that it turns me on. I'm serious! I find myself becoming aroused when he talks about the nuances of a wine, the accoutrements to a dish, or how tuna is just barely seared....God, I love tuna, the rarer the better....

The first time we had sex, I was blown away by how great a night it was overall. The sex was wonderful -- and since that first time, it has grown and evolved and morphed into FANTASTIC! Dare I say it? The Hott Waiter has given me the best sex of my LIFE! Each time is better than the last!

Anyway, on that first night, the weather was really bad -- we had a major storm, and most people were holed up inside. After having sex, we realized we were hungry, he had no food in his fridge, and we might as well go out.

We ended up at a really trendy place -- a painfully, ridiculously trendy place in our city's trendiest dining neighborhood, the neighborhood that includes his restaurant. This restaurant is open late (which it was) and the food is WONDERFUL and the prices are suprisingly low! We blissfully ate our food, smooched, fed each other across the table, played footsie....that's how he rolls. And I love it.

Since then, almost every time we've had sex, we've gone for food afterward. It's so natural -- you get so tired and hungry after sex that you need to replenish yourself -- and your metabolism is already up, so why not?

Whether expensive or cheap, it's always been good food. We've gone to Wendy's for chicken sandwiches, IHOP for pancakes, and an all-night brasserie in one of the nice hotels downtown.

It's become natural. Sex, then food. After the sex, I want the food!

Funnily enough, last night, he took me out for an incredible dinner -- a seven-course extravaganza and a fantastic bottle of wine. (His best friend is a manager there.)

Did we have sex?

Are you kidding? We couldn't even move!

Sex, then food. It should never be any other way.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

The Hott Waiter: Who is he?

Every guy I date has been compared to a guy on Sex and the City.

So who is the Hott Waiter?

There's no question that we met just the way that Samantha and Smith met. But that's where the similarities end.

And he's a waiter while I'm a young professional. Sounds like Miranda and Steve.

But in terms of how he acts, if only limited to the episodes preceding the finale, you know who he is? PETROVSKY! Intensely romantic to the point of blowing me away, sensual beyond all belief, opening me to a new world, and just impressive.

And also....we haven't been laughing together as often as I'd like. It's still very new, but....let's hope we can change that.

Whirlwind Romance with the Hott Waiter

It's been two weeks, and it has been fantastic.

In fact, I feel as if I don't want to write about it -- not in too much detail, anyway. I like holding it close to me, feeling like it's something special. I keep it special because I don't reveal too much.

Well, in the past two weeks, the Hott Waiter and I had our pivotal first date, we spontaneously met up at clubs twice, and we spent time at each other's places after that....

Here are a few things that struck me:

He is intensely, openly romantic. On our first date, he was holding my hand before we were halfway down the street. His arms were around me, he was actually playing footsie, and he was holding my hand across the dinner table.

I should have loved it, but it freaked me out!

"Listen," I said apologetically, him holding my hand across the dinner table, "I'm just not used to this."

"Do you want me to tone it down? I can stop--"

"No, no, no. It's good." I smiled. "I like it....I'm just not used to it. I need to relax." And I did relaxed. As time has gone on with us, I've gotten used to it, and I love it now.

There are so many other things. He won't let me walk over so much as a puddle -- he will pick me up and carry me across. He has no qualms about randomly feeding me in the middle of a restaurant, about reaching over to wipe something off my lips, about singing along with insanely romantic song lyrics while grinning at me.

It blows me away. There are times when I can't even breathe.

That is what's most notable about the Hott Waiter.

What's also notable is that, strangely enough, I've never dated a guy to whom I was really, really attracted. In fact, the majority of my relationships have been with guys who blindly adored me -- and while I loved the attention, I honestly wasn't attracted to them.

This is new. Because I am so attracted to the Hott Waiter, I am crazy nervous when I'm with him, and I completely clam up! It almost works out because he never stops talking. (Interestingly enough, my roommate just told me that maybe he talks that much because HE is nervous, too!)

It's weird. Because I'm so nervous, I feel like I can't fully be myself. At my most genuine self, I'm the crazy storyteller, making people laugh. I rack and rack my brain when I'm with him, and I can't think of any stories to tell.

I get paranoid when I'm not with him. I'll be nonchalant, but on the inside, I start freaking out and thinking, "NOW it's it. NOW he won't want to see me again. NOW he'll think I'm weird; NOW he'll think we'll be through."

But each time, we get together again and have an amazing time nonetheless.

Particularly these past two evenings. (My roommates are going to kill me.)

Am I setting myself up for failure? Am I trying to get myself to expect something bad because even if it fails, I can turn to myself and acknowledge that at least I was right all along?

I need to relax....

Monday, December 10, 2007

The Trainwreck Known as Superbowl

Superbowl Sunday has always been a most important holiday to me, near and dear to my heart. Even when I was too young to fully understand the rules of the game, I'd been captivated by this yearly clash of the gridiron titans.

Dandy had mentioned that he was planning on having a Superbowl Party for the big day, so I immediately requested it off, and mentioned to Dandy that he might want to do the same. He eventually got around to it and when the schedule was about to come out, my manager told me that I needed someone to cover the shift for me, otherwise I'd be working. I found someone to do it, and when the schedule was posted I had my coveted Sunday off!

Dandy didn't.

In fact, not only did he not have it off, he was scheduled to close.

To clarify, most nights, when cover counts are low, you have the chance of being cut from the shift. When you close, you are absolutely guaranteed to work.

I was incensed. Both of us had requested the night off, and even if they couldn't schedule him off, why would they place him in a position where there wasn't any chance he could get it off? I felt horrible, like I had somehow stolen the night off from him, and riddled with guilt, I went on a mission to get his shift covered from him.

So I sought out Born-Again Billy, the creepy 34 year old supposed pious Christian who happened to be the only other person to have the night off without requesting it. After much swindling and finaging, he managed to squeeze $50 out of me in agreement to relieve Dandy of his closing duties.

A few days later, I caught wind of Born-Again Billy telling Dandy he was willing to pick up his closing shift... in exchange for a small fee. I was livid, and immediately went to management to report his attempted extortion. Finally after much argument, the matter was resolved, and Billy was only paid the firstly agreed upon $50.

Superbowl Sunday finally rolled around and my most hated team, the Colts, were contenders. I was a band-wagon Bears fan that night. I spent more than a few hours selecting my outfit. Not only was this party going to be a gathering of Dandy's friends, but his parents, whom I'd never met before, were also going to be in attendance. I wanted a nice balance of sporty casual yet still alluring and attractive. I settled on a pair of nice jeans and a 3/4 sleeve gray and green striped top that displayed my breasts quite nicely. I called him while I was driving over to ask if there was anything I should pick up. He suggested I get my preference of beer because I might not like the selection he had available, and also asked if I could pick him up some cigarettes. Being the most excellent pseudo-girlfriend, I agreed.

I arrived, gave Dandy his cigarettes and a kiss and we shared a smoke and then went inside for some beers, app's and football. I was immediately settled in, embraced by friends and family, engaging them all in conversation and jokes. The Bears returned the kickoff back for a touchdown and I was easing into what seemed like was going to be a most enjoyable Superbowl Sunday. Dandy's mother sat beside me and told me all the wonderful things she'd heard about me and how happy she was that a girl like me was seeing her son. Perfect.

This perfect evening came to a screeching halt as the second quarter began. The door opened and the game was interrupted by the loud obnoxious laughter and stumbling of three drunk girls. Three underage and skankily dressed drunk girls. And the ringleader of this triumvirate of annoyance? None other than Dandy's "ex-girlfriend" Fanga*. My stomach tightened, then dropped. I sent a confused look over at Dandy, who was conveniently avoiding my gaze. The duration of the first half was tainted by those idiotic girls chattering away, slurring about the game and not even being aware of the quarterback of either team, let alone what teams were competing.

My blood was boiling and by halftime, I knew I needed to get away from there. So I asked Dandy's best friend Chi-Town, to join me outside for a much-needed cigarette. We walked around to the front of the house and I lost it. I yelled, "What the fuck is she doing here? I thought they broke up!!" Chi-Town just looked at me sadly and earnestly replied that he had no idea what was going on. Eventually Dandy showed himself and Chi-Town excused himself to return back to the game. All I could do was look at Dandy, there were no words.

For about a minute. Then all of the anger and emotion came flooding out with a vengeance. And I let him have it. In a stream of venom laced with obscenities, I told Dandy that he was a pussy ass piece of shit who tried to make me look like a fool and I was fucking done. And folks, that's the watered down version of what I said. My senses were numbed by the rage I felt and much of what transpired was a haze of white hot anger and burning hatred. I concluded my tirade with two punches, one to the gut and the other a straight kidney shot. Despite the physical and verbal abuse, Dandy pleaded with me to stay til the end of the game and for some unknown reason, I obliged. Maybe I did it to stick it to Fanga, maybe I did it so I could "save face" in front of his friends and family. Either way, I went back inside for the duration of that abysmal game, and Dandy herded Fanga into his bedroom and I didn't see either of them for the rest of the night.

The game ended, I politely said my goodbye's to my friends and family and called one of my friends from work, Hippie. I burst into tears after holding it in for so long and she told me to come over. I made it to her house and imagine my surprise when I saw none other than Rocky in her living room on the couch. Normally I'd be completely against letting Rocky see my vulnerable side, but I was just too far gone that I just let it out. They cheered me up with hugs and copious amounts of weed, leaving my eyes puffy and squinted from all the tears and THC. I made it home pretty late that night to curl up against my pillow and lament in the fact that I'd been made such a fool and allowed myself to care so deeply for such a degenerate.

*Fanga's name is derived from the fact that while stoned on 4/20, she flipped her car over reaching for a rogue chicken finger that her fat greasiness couldn't do without. No. Seriously. That actually happened.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

The Hott Waiter: Part IV

When I last left off, I had just received my email from the Hott Waiter. I was trying not to get my hopes up, so it was a delicious surprise.

He had asked me if there were a better way to get in touch with me, and I joked with him and gave him my email.

I didn't hear from him for a few days. (This was over Thanksgiving.)

While at work on Friday, I received a text. The message read roughly as follows:

What's up - it's the Hott Waiter. thought i would say hi and maybe we could arrange that private show for you really soon.

I let out a shriek.

"What is it?" my co-worker Holly asked from a few desks away.

I threw my cell phone at her.

She grabbed it, read the text and started squealing. She then proceded to ask me, yet again, if he had a friend or a brother or SOMEONE for her!

I decided to play it cool to the Hott Waiter, responding, "I'd like that," later in the evening, but I didn't have to. He beat me to it.

By about 6:00 PM, I had received a call from him and hadn't even realized it -- I was probably in the shower.

His message, roughly:

"Hey, it's the Hott Waiter. Hope all is well, hope we get to talk soon. My number is [555-555-5555]. Well, have a great night!"


I played it for my friends when they came over. Heh.

I called him back but couldn't get hold of him, so I left him a message that was a tad long and rambling, and I hope he found it funny or at least charming. This is not the time to be boring. He will never remember me if I'm boring.

He called me back today, leaving another message (I swear I have to take my phone off vibrate!) and I called him back right after.

We proceeded to talk for well over an hour.

It was great! The conversation had a great speed and agility to it, if that makes sense. He definitely did most of the talking, and the only low points were when I said something that didn't quite gel right, but then we shifted back into something normal. I'm still really nervous when talking to him and trying to say the right thing.

Here are some tidbits of the conversation:

--He lives alone in a three-bedroom apartment in a city that's a tad far from mine, but easy to get to via public transit. (I can drive, too.) I didn't ask whether he rented or owned.

--He is a RELATIONSHIP GUY! Wow. He was with his last girlfriend for 3 years. She was crazy and jealous, especially since he's the (hott) lead singer of a band and has girls all over him, but he's definitely a one-girl man. He's been single for 9 months.

--I learned all about his siblings, his hometown and where he went to high school (it's that prominent all-boys Catholic school in our city).

--He gets hit on all the time at the restaurant, including by guys, including one very awkward time when an old guy came up to him and kiss his neck.

--His three cats all have gay names, and he acknowledges that people think so, but he's very secure with himself. I told him that Windy thinks he's gay. He laughed and said he knows one thing he can do to prove her otherwise....but he won't do that....except that, well, he WANTS to! We laughed. I was blushing like crazy over the phone.

--This is the most important part: the reason why he kept giving me those cards to fill out was so I would "get the hint" and give him my number!!! I told him to take MY hint by emailing me!!! We laughed about that. He asked if I brought Windy and Blondie there a few days later so they could check him out, and I kind of jokingly evaded the question, but told him that they approved, though Windy thought he was gay.

Anyway, here's the major thing:



I have no idea what we're going to do or what's going to happen, but I am SO EXCITED!!! He briefly (and jokingly) floated the idea of me coming over to watch a movie, but I'd never do that for a first date. We'll see....

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Holiday Party

At work there had been a lot of talk about a potential Christmas party. But, unfortunately, with an unmotivated group of restaurant people, plans were moving at a snail's pace and the date ultimately set for the party was in late January, nearly a month after Christmas. The theme was Ugly Christmas Sweater, and the prize that went to the ugliest sweater were two plane tickets courtesy of Jet Blue to anywhere they fly out to. I was determined to win and went on the hunt for the ugliest sweater and then purchased a bunch of tacky decorations from a craft store to further tack it up.

Dandy wasn't motivated enough to make a sweater of his own but he made my heart skip a beat when one day we were hanging out at his house and he commented how nice it would be if I won and we could fly up to my home state together. He said he'd never been there before and he thought it would be fun. Proposing a trip together? If that didn't insinuate a desire to move forward in a relationship I don't know what did.

Finally the party rolled around and I had created a most fugly sweater. I thought I was a sure thing for the win.

I wasn't.

An older woman in her 50s was instead awarded the prize. As soon as I saw that she had dressed up, I knew she'd win. She was the mother figure of the workplace, so when I saw her, I said to Dandy, "Well, I'm fucked."

They announced the winner, it wasn't me, so I hit the bar.

Dandy and I got hammered. I proceeded to dance, and I don't dance. Then I pulled Dandy onto the dance floor. Now, I know that I said I don't dance, but Dandy? REALLY doesn't dance. Dandy proceeded to awkwardly gyrated his hips to the amusement of every single person we work with. Eventually we tired of making asses of ourselves on the dancefloor and after a few more beers/cocktails/shots, we cozied up in a booth and proceeded to passionately make out again to the amusement of all of our co-workers. We kissed and grabbed and whispered how we couldn't wait to rush home to bed. Drunken horny talk is sooooo sexy.

Our time at the place rented for the party drew to a close, but everyone wanted to keep the party going. Neither of us had drove, so our DD escorted us to a downtown bar where Dandy just barely made it inside. He ordered a double tall Jack and Coke and proceeded to down it and pass out sitting up in a chair. Countless people kept coming over and asking if he was alright. I knew that my night just got a whole lot more exciting. Now I got to baby-sit! Eventually the bar closed and we went outside to our DD's car. On the way, Dandy, who was wearing heavy soled shoes, managed to drunkenly stomp onto my foot, I was wearing flip flops. The full force of his body weight shattered my toe. My toenail split and a piece chipped off as it began bleeding. I limped to the car, dragging Dandy behind me, and we crawled into the backseat as I swallowed and hoped the immense amount of alcohol I'd consumed would numb the pain.

When the DD pulled up to Dandy's house, I practically threw out my back pulling Dandy to his feet. Thankfully he never locks his front door, so I pushed it open and then locked it behind me as I tried to guide his stumbling drunk ass to his bedroom. Somehow, he managed to disrobe down to his boxers and flopped facedown diagnally across the bed. I grabbed a t-shirt and shorts from his dresser drawer and crawled into bed, pushing his unconscious body aside.

One thing was for sure, as the pain in my foot came rushing back to me, as I watched Dandy sleep, snoring loudly with drool puddling around his mouth, I wasn't going to be having any sex tonight.

The next day, I woke up way before Dandy. This was typical. Even though I'm hardly what you'd call a morning person, I can't ever sleep in late when I'm away from my own bed. So I had previously located all of the books in Dandy's room, and would sit up and read until he got up. Currently I was making my way through "A Million Little Pieces" the partially-fabricated memoir of James Frey. Exaggerated or not, it was a good read. Dandy eventually woke up with a hellacious hangover and very little recollection of the tail end of the party. He didn't even remember that we had moved to a second location for an after party and was puzzled as to how we got home. Suffice it to say he didn't remember crushing my toe, and I showed him by damaged bloody toenail. He cringed.

We laughed it off and got into my car to go retrieve Dandy's vehicle from the parking lot of the bar that hosted our Holiday Party. I had already been given that night off of work thanks to the Gods of scheduling, and Dandy was in sorry shape, so he immediately was on the phone to the Bossman to beg for the cut. He sounded pathetic enough that he was given the night off, so we headed over to the local fried chicken chain down the road (Classy I know). Dandy was going to pay but naturally, he didn't have enough money and I ended up paying. Needless to say, this was not exactly Dandy's finest hour. At least the cashier totally called him out for not paying for his lady's lunch. I added an "Amen, sistah." We ate, made tentative plans for that evening (dinner, which he would actually pay for... for real) and a movie. We finished up our greasy lunches and each went home, ending the ordeal that was our work Holiday party.

The Hott Waiter: Part III

The Hott Waiter had told me when his days off were, so I was prepared. We went last Tuesday: me and two of my friends, Windy and Blondie. Miranda was supposed to come, but it ended up being just the three of us. Blondie made the reservation and requested the Hott Waiter in advance.

Windy was there first, and she had spent about 10 minutes chatting with the Hott Waiter. He wasn't there when we sat down, and he returned to the table. "Oh," he said, simply (but not rudely, even if it sounds like that!), when he saw me. "I didn't recognize the name on the reservation. How are you?"

That began the most memorable night of all.

We talked and giggled. Both Windy and Blondie agreed that he was gorgeous.

I asked him how his birthday was. It was great, and he had been celebrating for several days. He was also about to go to one of my favorite artist of all time's concert nearby.

Next time he dropped by, he looked at me and said, "[Jones], right?" "Yes," I gasped. I couldn't believe he remembered. A face is one thing -- a last name is something else altogether.

(Break. Eating food.)

Later on, we started talking about movies, and I think the Hott Waiter mentioned that he was about to see one, and Blondie asked him about what kinds of movies he liked. He said that he liked horror movies, and I winced to myself, since I hate scary movies. Windy told him the last horror movie she had seen was Scary Movie, and that's it.

Blondie suggested another movie to him, and the Hott Waiter said, "Well, maybe I could take [Samantha]," and went on talking about something else without missing a beat. Squeal.

(Break. Eating food.)

Now, this is where it got weird. The Hott Waiter was talking about animals with us (he has cats, and I teased him for being a "crazy cat man") and mentioned that he used to date "a person" in a city about six hours away who had a dog. Now, you may believe that to be an innocuous statement.

Given my paranoia, I decided that that could mean he was gay and said "person" because he couldn't say girl!!!!

That brought forward the possibility that he was gay and had been flirting with me for one of the following reasons: 1) boredom/entertainment 2) sadism/wanting to make fun of me 3) (most likely) trying to get a new regular and therefore more money.

I didn't want him to be gay, but I had to prepare myself for the possibility that he didn't like me. I did not want to invest too much in this guy and get hurt again.

Suddenly, I felt hands on my shoulders. The Hott Waiter was GIVING ME A BACKRUB. I turned around. "You looked tense," he said. (Well, I kind of have this habit of sticking out my collarbones because I think the more they stick out, the skinnier and therefore more attractive I that's probably why I looked more tense.)

Later on, he brought us our dessert menus. He handed them to Windy and Blondie, then kept inching his hand forward and handing it to me, then pulling it away whenever I got close. You girls know that stuff like that ANNOYS ME TO NO AVAIL.

"Okay," I said, "the last person who did that to me got HURT."

"Well, that's not such a bad thing," he replied.

I went to the bathroom a bit later, and for the first time, I opened the door on my own. When I got back, the girls told me that he hadn't said anything about me when I was away from the table.

And then he pulled out his book.

And inside of it was the card that I had filled out last time.

I knew he probably hadn't kept it since the last time, and he had probably just swiped it from the desk. Still, though....

Nonetheless, this time, he handed me yet another card to fill out. I filled it out, and this time I put my actual address. (Hillary had received a thank you card from the restaurant after filling out her actual address.) I drew a curvy arrow next to my address and wrote, "Only so I can receive the card in the mail!

I then made Blondie and Windy add a few lines, so they added "[the Hott Waiter] was wonderful!" and stuff like that.

We left. He helped Blondie with her coat, but he had to go by the time they got my coat out of the closet.

I didn't expect to hear from him. I figured that he had had his fun, and he was probably gay, and this was all a game to him.

Five days later -- last night -- I received an email from him.

Hey, what's going on? It's [the Hott Waiter] from [the restaurant]. Here's my band's myspace, I know you said you were interested. So, do you have a better way to get ahold of you? I might even play some songs for you myself. Hope to talk to you soon.


Miranda called it the sexiest email she had ever seen.

After much deliberation, I responded nearly 24 hours later, teasing him a bit but also giving my phone number.

What happens next?

We'll have to wait and see.

Oh, God, I hope this works out!!!!

Monday, November 19, 2007

The Hott Waiter: Part II

Why did it take me so long to return to the restaurant? Even though I loved it dearly, it was three months later and I hadn't yet returned. Although Miranda and I talked about it all the time, amongst ourselves and with our other friends, I assumed that nobody would want to spend the money.

After talking with a few friends from work, however, three of us ended up there about a week and a half ago. After arriving with my friends "Hillary" and "Nadia," I noticed, with dismay, that the Hott Waiter would not be our waiter that evening.

I had told Hillary and Nadia all about the Hott Waiter beforehand, so they immediately started asking me if he was in the restaurant. I looked around and spotted him. He was still as good-looking as ever, with that thick, dark hair, those intense, dark eyes, and those sideburns -- haha, I loved the sideburns! I loved his butt, too, which was definitely checkouttable.

The waiter who we had was nice, friendly and awesome -- I absolutely LOVE the servers there! -- and we settled into our night, ordering martinis and appetizers.

Then the Hott Waiter walked by.

I caught his eye. And held it.

He stared back, looking over his shoulder as he walked by.

It felt like 30 seconds -- but it was probably less than two.

As soon as he was out of sight, I leaned into my friends and held my martini to my mouth, much like George Costanza when he didn't want the deaf girl to read his lips. "I just made eye contact with him," I told them, my heart jumping all over the place.

Come on. I never get like this. I was acting like I was in middle school again!

A few minutes later, the Hott Waiter came to our table.

"I remember you," he said.

I was ECSTATIC. I tried to keep only a tiny smile on my face, but I could feel myself blushing like mad.

"I was here in August," I said. "I had you." He didn't react. "I was with my friend. I sat over at that table." No recognition. "We asked you to show us where [that sports star] ate when he came in."

"Oh, yeah," he said. YES.

"I hear your name is [the Hott Waiter]," Nadia said. I wanted to kill her, but I continued smiling. We chatted with the Hott Waiter about our meals for a few minutes, and he left to take care of his tables. He had a few large parties that night.

I couldn't get over the fact that he remembered me! It had been months!

My friends kept encouraging and encouraging me, saying that he was soooo cute. The Hott Waiter was very busy that night (and, according to the amount of alcohol he served, he must have made a killing), but he occasionally dropped by our table. We learned that he was celebrating his birthday later in the week (turning 26 -- a Scorpio!) and he sang in a band. I told him about how I used to sing in college. He told me the days that he worked.

I got up to go to the bathroom. Just like before, I ran into him right in front of the door, and just like before, he held the door open for me to let me in. There was a paper towel on the floor, and he said, "Let me get that for you," and picked it up. Again, it was awkward. But oh, what I really wanted to do was grab him and pull him into the stall with me, where we could freely make out up against the sink.

Later, Hilary and Nadia went to the bathroom together, despite there only being two single-stall bathrooms, to give me a chance to have some alone time with the Hott Waiter, if he ever did come around again. He didn't. He looked busy, though.

(When the girls came back, he said to all of us, "I was supposed to come and talk to her, wasn't I?" I became a tomato again, as I had been all night.)

At the end of the night, instead of our waiter, the Hott Waiter brought by the usual cards to fill out. He handed one to Hillary. And then he handed one to me. "You should fill this one out," he told me.


I filled it out, but again, did not put my actual address. I included my email, wrote down the usual fawning compliments, and added a note: "I would love to learn more about [the Hott Waiter's] purpotedly amazing band" and drew a curvy arrow toward my email address.

That's most of what I remember.

Days later, I debated like crazy with Hillary and Nadia over whether he was actually interested in me. Hillary is an eternal optimist, so she kept asking me to find out whether he had a brother for her once we started going out! Nadia encouraged me to go for it.

But I held back. What if they were wrong? What if I ended up hurt and embarrassed and unable to return to my favorite restaurant?

So I decided to come back the following week.

The Hott Waiter: Part I

In August, Miranda and I decided to check out a restaurant in the city where we live. This restaurant is in the trendiest dining neighborhood, features New American cuisine, and it's the favorite restaurant of one of our city's most beloved professional athletes (of whom Miranda is a very big fan).

We had an early reservation, and there weren't too many people in the restaurant. We were seated and took a look at the menus.

Then our waiter arrived.

Tall. Dark. Young George Clooney-esque.

I couldn't stop staring.

Miranda couldn't stop laughing.

Miranda has a bit of a problem -- she tends to laugh uncontrollably at inappropriate moments. This was one of them. He just came over and he was so handsome....also, I'm usually fine -- I just blush like crazy -- but when Miranda starts going, I can't help it and join in with the giggles.

In between bringing us our drinks, bread and appetizers, we started getting to know our waiter. Miranda asked him to point out everywhere in the restaurant that our city's famous athlete had sat. The Hott Waiter pointed out all of them and told stories. Miranda was delighted.

I was delighted, too, but in a different way. When I really like someone, REALLY like him, I become an introvert. Maybe it's because when something's important, I don't want anyone else to know. It's primal. If it's just a guy on the street, I'll catcall along with my friends, but this time, it was serious.

A word about this restaurant: it's the kind of restaurant that's impossible to hate. It's classy -- trendy enough to be good for a special night out, but relaxed enough to make it a frequent destination. The prices are high, but not sky-high, especially for our city. The menu features plenty of creative and varied choices, but plenty of more normal options for less adventurous palates. It's no wonder its clientele consists largely of regulars.

And the service. I've been there a few times (as I'll explain later) and what I love about the servers there is that they're so open, and friendly, and real. Often in fine dining restaurants, the servers are overly formal and robotic, and that doesn't put you at ease. After a night out at this restaurant, you and your server know so much about each other, and you're probably on your way to becoming friends!

The Hott Waiter was like that. He spent a lot of time just hanging out and chatting with us, and we loved it. At the end of the night, we filled out cards with our names and addresses on them. I didn't include my actual address, but the rest of the information, including my email, was true.

At one point, I got up to go to the bathroom. The bathrooms there are single stalls. I walked past the bathroom, and he opened the door (which opened into the stall, so he was literally standing inside it), said "Miss," and opened the door for me. It was a tad awkward.

Before leaving, Miranda and I told the Hott Waiter our real names (we already knew his) and left the restaurant, still giggling away, saying that we absolutely HAD to return as soon as possible.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

My OkCupid Traits

I have become obsessed with OkCupid recently. It's an ingenious site -- it's a free dating site, and it also creates a personality for you through questions that you answer. In order to match up with more people, who need to answer more questions.

In time, if you answer enough questions (I've answered 280), you receive personality badges.

Here are mine:

--More Desiring of Sex (that was my first and eternal)
--More Cocky
--More Socially Free
--More Extroverted
--More Kinky
--Less Old-Fashioned
--Less Pure
--Less Trusting

Others that I had at times, but have since disappeared, include Less Compassionate (I don't think that is true AT ALL -- I'm an extremely compassionate person) and More Spontaneous.


You girls should join....

I'm Weeded

Things with Dandy were going pretty well. Already I had surpassed whatever pseudo-relationship I had had with Rocky because not only did Dandy and I exchange phone numbers, he also called and texted me several times a day. I usually received a nightly, "I hope you had a good night at work, sleep well" text, and it was just one of those little gestures that girls love. It was just such a nice change of pace to have someone so interested who was open to showing that they cared.

We hung out whenever free time allowed, and he even brought me around to hang out with all of his friends. They seemed like a chill group of guys, fun and easy to get along with. Best of all, they all apparently took a liking to me because, frankly, [WARNING: NARCISSISM AHOY!] I'm awesome. I'm funny, smart, easy to get along with, and can definitely hang with the guys. I'm also pretty easy on the eyes. Apparently they had never been big fans of his ex-girlfriend, whom they deemed immature, selfish, bratty and idiotic. They actually pulled me aside to tell me how happy they were that I inspired Dandy to ditch her and thanked me profusely. I was feeling pretty good about my prospects because being "in" with the friends is definitely a major plus.

A lot of our time was spent socializing in a group, but Dandy and I did also get in some one on one time here and there. After a few beers, the conversation typically shifted towards us and our budding relationship, and Dandy asking where this was going. I was trying hard to break my pattern of being a strict monogamist, so I was still trying to play the cool, laid-back chick role. I didn't want to push for a relationship for fear of being deemed too needy and ruining the good thing that we had going. I actually never brought up the subject, it was always Dandy. This too, instilled me with hope, because if he had it on the brain, I thought it was only a matter of time before things did get serious. But, again I wanted to be seen as the "cool, badass chick" I'd already established prior to any romantic interests surfaced, so I usually shrugged off his questions with a "whatever."

I was pretty confident that I had chosen the right course of action, because Dandy responded with relief that I alleviated any pressure for commitment. He said that he liked me a lot and labelled us as "seeing each other" also known as "dating."

To me, "dating" still speaks of commitment to some degree. And in retrospect, it probably would have benefitted me to have the actual terms and conditions that pertained to "dating" Dandy, but being new to the whole dating game, I didn't.

Friday, November 09, 2007

I don't trust myself at the reunion.

My high school reunion is coming up in a few weeks, and I'm nervous.

Part of me wants to do that Beyonce master cleanse, eating nothing but a mixture of lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper and hot water for 10 days or so. I've got a bit of a chub problem, particularly in the arms, as was recently evidenced in pictures from a night out last week.

Maybe I'll just get some Spanx.

Anyway, I don't trust myself NOT to hook up with anyone.

The reunion is not too far from my apartment, since I made the unoriginal decision to live in the major city near the town where I grew up. Because of that, I have three friends staying over
with me after the event, including Miranda.

Which means that asking a guy back will be REALLY hard.

Oh, God.

I KNOW IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN. I'm going to hook up with somebody at the reunion.

Another thing -- you guys know that you started joking that I was going to hook up with a guy. Let's call him Oxy for the reason that he tried to rob a store for oxycontin back in high school before dropping out just before graduation. And I never thought of him -- but as soon as you guys started saying that, more and more, I've been thinking about him....

Oh, God, I can't do this.

Life Love Lessons from Sam Jones

Here are a few of the life lessons I've learned from relationships and other romantic interactions:

--If you're not attracted to him now, you never will be. Don't try to force it. Don't try to convince yourself that you'll make it work. It will not happen.

--Don't underestimate the importance of attraction. It is VITALLY important.

--Money does not buy happiness.

When you actually learn that lesson, it will be much more subtle than you think. For me, I thought it would be perfect -- we could get a great place in Boston, I'd never have to work, he'd make enough money....but I didn't love him. The situation would have been so good, and so comfortable, and I'd never have to worry. I'm so thankful I got out of that situation when I did.

--When you hate someone, that can often increase your attraction to him exponentially.

--Sometimes someone who isn't your type will surprise you.

--Don't cheat. It will haunt you every day for the rest of your life and make you doubt yourself every day.

I wish I could get over this. I've been punishing myself for nearly a year and a half.

--If he has a small dick, RUN FOR THE HILLS.

Relationship Musings...

It's getting kind of late, and I've been feeling very introspective and very stream-of-consciousness lately. So I decided to jot down a few things I've learned over the years from my various relationships that I think are important for every young woman to know when approaching romantic relationships:

*Nobody wants to date Superman
When you're dating someone who has a problem, whether it be an affinity/addiction to drugs, a mental disorder like Depression, love isn't always enough. And you can never use your love to fix a problem. Sometimes caring isn't enough. You can't always be the hero and rescue someone from themselves and change them in order to fit them to the mold of the relationship. Saving someone is what great friends do, but most guys don't want to feel like they need to be taken care of by their woman.

*When a guy tells you that he has never told anyone that he loves them, and that he believes that he is "incapable of love," RUN.
Run far away. Don't convince yourself that you can be the one who will make him see the light and that one day he will be overcome by his emotions and profess his love for you. Much like dating a serial cheater and believing that you will somehow be the One who will change his philandering ways. By even admitting it, he's doing you a favor and giving you an out. Believe what he says, and end it there. If love is what you're looking for, a guy like this will never be able to give you what you need.

*Sexual attraction and a great friendship doesn't always translate into a solid relationship.
You can be friends and find each other attractive, but at the core, if there's no real compatibility in terms of what you want from a prospective partner, don't try to force something that's not there. Settle for a great friendship, and feel free to sprinkle in a little innocent flirtation here and there, just always make sure to set a boundary that you don't cross.

*Most guys DO want what they can't have.
How many times after you split from a guy do you just wish that one day he'll come to his senses and come back to you, begging for forgiveness and to give it another go? How many times do you attempt the tactic of being cold and distant and even pursuing casual relationships with other guys knowing it will get back to your ex? Realistically though, what do you expect to happen once he's overcome with jealously and starts chasing after you? Will all of the problems you had before suddenly melt away? Will you finally be able to keep him, after he came to see what he had lost?

Probably not. Which brings me to my next point.

*Break-ups happen for a reason.
They call them "break"-ups because the relationship is BROKEN. It's pretty much never worth giving it another go, because aside from a few extreme cases, whatever the roots of the problem that resulted in the initial break-up were, they will still be there. You can love someone with all your heart, but the only way to be fair to yourself and the other person, you need to recognize when a romantic relationship is impossible to maintain.

*Good things come to those who wait.
Every time a relationship ends, you feel utterly lost and hopeless. You feel like you'll never have another chance at love, and that feeling of desperation typically manifests into a desire for what was lost. Even if you got out of an unhealthy relationship, in retrospect, everything is romanticized in your sad and warped little mind, and you obsess over what you did wrong and how to get your Ex back. Let it go. There IS something better out there. And don't be afraid when it takes a little longer to find it. Despite what movies, television and magazines tell you, there is no definitive timeline of finding love. Don't pressure yourself to pursue dead-end relationships just to feel like you've found what everyone tells you you should be looking for. Never feel like you're the only single girl out there because you are not alone. And cherish your singledom and use it as an opportunity to realy get to know You, and what you really want out of life, love, relationships. Figure out what it is you want, what it is you need, and you'll find that when the next guy comes around, you won't have to waste your time and emotion on someone who isn't worth it.

*Never settle..
...for anything less than butterflies.

Ladies, I'm sure you have some other excellent personal philosophies you've cultivated for yourselves and your relationships over the years, so feel free to add your own musings to my list.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Sexual Quirks

We all have our little quirks when it comes to sex. Something that we do that isn't the most conventional or even acceptable in the intimate environment of the bedroom. Some people are into talking dirty, role-playing, bondage, S&M, furries/plushies, incorporating certain bodily fluids... I won't go into any more specifics, you get the idea.

Me? I'm a giggler.

I have this horrible habit of laughing uncontrollably in the middle of sex. I'm not really quite sure what it is that makes me act this way, but the best theory I could come up with traces back to my high school years.

My mother worked late and we had cable, and while I was home alone, I used to stay up late watching Skinemax.* I didn't watch it for any sexual reasons, I didn't find it to be a turn-on by any means. I just loved the ridiculous plots and horrible acting. To segue off, I'll recant a favorite Skinemax flick of mine. It was about a team of sexy scientists who discovered an alien plant that thrived off of the pheromones in the sweat produced by the fornication of humans. So the plant sent out pheromones of its own to promote sexual activity. And when all of the sexy scientits are exposed to the plant they all began fucking one another. Men and women, women and women, men and men, three ways, even the (sexy) janitor got in on the fun! The dialogue was hilariously projected and I don't know any movie that's ever made me laugh quite so hard. I can't remember the name of the movie, but if anyone out there knows, please inform me, otherwise the mystery will plague me.

I also worked in a library in high school, shelving books. I worked 4 hours shifts, but my actual work only took me about an hour to complete. With three hours to kill, I would typically hang out on the basement floor perusing the massive non-fiction seciton. And what section was the most interesting? The sex books! I was an introverted conservative girl, so I was curious. And the illustrations you find in these books? Also hilarious!

To get back on track to my current state, I'm pretty sure my childish takes on my limited sexual exposure growing up most likely accounts for my regrettable quirk I face in all present day bedroom romps.

I thought the laughter during sex wasn't a completely horrible thing. I'd always read in Cosmo that it was good to have a sense of humor about these things. And I was also a big fan of having an open dialogue between sexual partners. I guess what I hadn't really grasped was the filter I needed to incorporate before my openness and happy-go-lucky attitude crossed the lines of charmingly quirky to alarmingly inappropriate. I'd also managed to control my laughter to the occasional giggle, but I crossed a line the first time I ever went to bed with Dandy.

Granted, the first night we slept together was following the group dinner where we all got tanked and then went to the local dive bar to get even more hammered. I was a drunken mess that night, so I don't think that I should be held fully accountable for my lack of tact.

Prior to this night, I had been sort of coy and playing hard to get with Dandy. We'd made out a few times, but I had refused to let it get past those first base trysts in my car. I was trying to exercise some caution following the Rocky debacle. I thought it woud be better to delay the sleepovers, even platonic ones (platonic meaning, no sex because clearly when you've spent all night making out with someone you're interested in, the sleepover will never really be "platonic"), for fear of losing Dandy's respect.

Clearly with my alcohol intake, I threw caution to the wind that night. So, we went back to Dandy's house and stumbled into his room, making out and pawing at one another, tearing off clothes, being completely sloppy drunk all the while, I'm sure. As soon as we started having sex, I started laughing.

And laughing.

And laughing.

Laughing harder now.

Still laughing.

Dandy is still trying his hardest here to be sexy and manly and whatnot.

I answer back with laughter.

Uproarious laughter.

He finally asked what I was laughing at.

First, I said, between laughs, "Sex is funny."

Then, between more laughs and gasping for air, "And you made a funny face."

Still laughing, Dandy decided that this would be an appropriate time to give up trying and roll over and go to sleep. So we did.

The next morning, Dandy confessed that that had never happened to him before and he didn't quite know how to react. I tried to reassure him that I laugh all the time, and pointed out that it wasn't as bad as if I had cried. He conceded that that was true, and we stopped talking about it.

Then a few days later, I was out on the patio having a cigarette with his roommate when he asked me why I laughed non-stop during sex. Apparently, I had scarred Dandy for life. A few more of his friends asked me about it, and I couldn't really provide a satisfactory answer. I mean, I was drunk and I do think sex is funny, and it wasn't really a reflection on him or his skills, it was just a combination of several factors all jumbled in a girl's drunken mind.

I've since gotten better about laughing during sex, and since that one night with Dandy never had a time where I laughed constantly and without pause. I'll still chuckle occasionally because sometimes silly things happen or there's a funny noise, and you have to kind of laugh at it. You just also have to know when to control your laughter.

*For those of you unfamiliar with the term, Skinemax refers to the latenight softcore pornography you can find on Cinemax. God Bless it.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Waiting for the Call

I met a great guy on Friday night.

Is he tall, dark and skinny?

Well, he's definitely tall! He's over six feet. I wouldn't call him skinny, but he's thin. He's got some muscles, but I wouldn't call it an athletic build at all.

And he's blonde.

I've never gone for a blonde guy before.

But he's cute.

It was the perfect situation. I was out at the bar with two of my girlfriends, Blondie and Windy, and we met these two guys, Cute Guy and DJ. (I can't think of a decent nickname for Cute Guy yet -- time will tell -- but DJ is actually a DJ.)

Windy and DJ liked each other, so they spent much of the night together, culminating in kissing in the street as we waited for a cab. Cute Guy and I didn't so much as kiss, but it was rainy outside, so every now and then he would put his arms around me to shield me from the rain.

(Don't worry about Blondie -- a few weeks ago, she had met a guy of her own at the bar, so this worked out perfectly! We each met one guy!)

Windy had to get back to her place, so she got a cab first, and the rest of us got a separate cab. DJ was staying over with Cute Guy (unfortunately for Windy, DJ was visiting from out of state), and Blondie was staying over with me. In a twist of luck, Cute Guy lived pretty close to me! (He kept mentioning all night, "I can't believe you live so close to me.") Since Cute Guy was a shorter distance away, we decided to go to his place, and he'd drive us the rest of the way back.

Cute Guy has a dog.

I do not like animals, especially dogs.

I hope he didn't notice.

To be fair, the dog was friendly, and I guess one could say it was cute. Blondie thought so.

After a bit of time there, we headed back to my place and hung out for about an hour. We had to get up early the next day, so I apologized for being such a crappy host, and they left.

As I walked them out, I asked them if we were going to hang out again. They assured me that Windy had already invited them to her birthday celebration, set to take place this Saturday. Great. I don't remember if they asked for my number or if I offered it -- I wish I remembered!! -- but either way, Cute Guy put it in his phone.

That was Friday night.

It is now Monday night.

Is he going to call?!?!

The three-day waiting period has already passed!!

I thought that we got along great! He gave me a kiss on the cheek and hugged me before he left. When he was over, he sat next to me on the couch and leaned his head on my shoulder at one point. He held me in the rain. He seems to be into me.

Then why hasn't he called me yet?

I am so attracted to him. He's a manly man. He's not one of the usual dark, skinny, perfectly groomed guys that I usually like -- and I'm thrilled about it! Ooh, also, he used to be in the military. :-)

Okay. Back to waiting.

The World Series ended last night, and there were games on two of the past three nights since I've seen him. It was the Boston Red Sox vs. the Colorado Rockies, and if I'm not mistaken, I believe he's a Red Sox fan. Being a guy (and a manly man!) he must have watched them. That's probably a good reason why he didn't call me.

Now, here are a few other factors:

--Windy and DJ have each other's numbers
--Windy and DJ friended each other on Facebook
--Through Windy, I friended DJ on Facebook
--I found DJ's Myspace through Facebook
--I found Cute Guy's Facebook and Myspace profiles through DJ -- but they're both set to private

Since I don't have his number, I think I'm going to friend Cute Guy on Facebook tomorrow. I was going to yesterday, but Windy suggested waiting until tomorrow.

Thoughts???? What do I do now?!?!?!?! I really like this guy! I like him a lot more than most guys I meet!

Sexy Dream

I had an unexpectedly hot dream about Ryan the Temp from The Office last night.

He's nice-looking, but not THAT nice-looking, especially since he got the pube beard this season.
I dreamed that I was working with him, and it looked like area behind the house where I grew up. I was working downstairs, in the area where the back deck is, and every day, he wanted me to come up to the area where the patio is and give him a massage.

I didn't really want to, mostly because I was afraid that people would notice at work and I would get into trouble. But time went on, and I grew to enjoy it.

Before long, I was lying on some kind of bed, and he was on top of me, and we were dry humping like crazy. There was a dark red blanket covering us, and my arms were around him and my eyes were closed as I clung to him.

When I woke up, in that stage in between sleep and waking, I tried and tried and tried to cling onto that feeling. I tried too hard. It lost all meaning before long.

Still, though, it was nice.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Caught Between a Rock and a Dandelion

You would think that my mind would be made up. That there would be no contest between this sluttacious prick and the slightly awkward and bumbling, yet mysteriously charming, albeit goofy, guy. But as soon as Dandy began expressing an interest and we began hanging out a lot, wouldn't you know that Rocky came waltzing back into my life, eager to pick up right where we left off.

Suddenly, he began spouting off all of the pretty things that swayed me in the beginning. Except now he started using words like "girlfriend" and trying to be something he wasn't, making false promises that he thought I wanted to hear. Physically, I don't think he saw Dandy as competition, but he could see that emotionally, Rocky saw that Dandy was prepared to offer me something that he couldn't, and felt threatened by it. And despite his notched up belt, he seemed to be protective of his conquests.

The Rocky versus Dandy battle raged on in my heart and my mind for over a month. Who did I want more? The nice guy who had just sort of snuck up on me by being the support system I'd desired for months, or the one who I wanted but couldn't have, but now suddenly could? On paper it seemed so simple because one treated me well and the other didn't. But the fact was that had it not been for being spurned by Rocky, I probably wouldn't have taken an interest in Dandy. Hence, the predicament I found myself in.

It all came to a head when a large group of us, including Rocky and Dandy, decided to go out to dinner. Rocky sat next to me and spent the entire meal whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful I looked and meanwhile, Dandy was positioned directly across from me and kept joking and smiling and making kissing faces at me, until we both burst out laughing. The alcohol was going down like it was water and by the time the entrees rolled out on our 4 course dining extravaganza, I was hammered. After the conclusion of dinner, while we were waiting on dessert, I stumbled to the bathroom with my galpal and drunkenly lamented the situation I was in. I weighed the options about Rocky versus Dandy and how I needed to choose one of the other.

After talking it out for a while, I decided that Dandy was the right choice to make. He had been nothing but an upstanding, nice, decent guy, and the only reason why Rocky was entertaining the thought of picking things back up with me was because I was suddenly poised to be taken off the market. The simple and most obvious choice really, but matters of the heart are never quite so clear when it pertains to you... or when you've consumed copious amounts of alcohol.

I left the bathroom with a new perspective and a new mission. I turned a deaf ear to everything Rocky was saying to me and once we ate dessert and paid out, our group moved to the nearby dive bar that we loved and frequented often. After bouncing between the two guys, playing the flirtation game, I sauntered up to Dandy and began making out with him in the middle of the bar, approximately 5 feet away from Rocky. Tacky? Most definitely. But, in my defense, I was drunk and it was the only way I knew how to publicly make my decision. I went home with Dandy that night to begin yet another chapter in my life.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Growing Like a Weed

Dandy and I became closer and closer at work after that one night in the bar when he held me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and told me that Rocky was a douchebag and I deserved better. He was always right there to offer me a helping hand with a smile and a compliment. He wasn't traditionally good looking, but he had that Southern charm going for him. He was always polite, with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye. And on a more shallow note, because he was considerably less attractive than me, he treated me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

At the end of the night at work, we'd be standing together polishing glassware until one night he finally mustered up the courage to invite me to hang out. It was like pulling teeth, naturally. For days, he simply stammered out the question of "What are you doing tonight, Carrie?" I'd tell him and he'd reply "Cool... cool." and that was it. Finally, I had enough of these timid tactics and said, "Nothing, what are you doing tonight Dandy? Maybe we should hang out."

It started with him buying me drink after drink in the bar, showering me with praise and compliments and telling me that he'd never met a girl like me. A northern girl with such wit and charm and a laid-back cool attitude. I was down-to-earth and chill, a badass cool girl. These were all his words. I'm a little conceited, but I assure you I'm not that narcissistic. The nights began with a few beers and cocktails and great conversation full of laughs and compliments and flirtations and ended with a drunken kiss here and there.

I told him about the McRugby saga, as well as the Rocky situation, and he in turn, opened up about his latest relationship. He had been dating a girl who was 6 years his junior and the difference in maturity levels was taking a toll. He said it was like dating a high schooler. I listened sympathetically as he told me how she was now going off to school an hour away and that he knew it was over. He said that he cared about her, maybe even loved her and that he still cares about her because she could bring him to his highest high. But in the same respect, her immaturity and selfish nature also would beat him down and bring him to his lowest low point. I marvelled at how being spurned by one asshole had led me right to this sweet southern gentleman. It felt like we were coming from very similar situations and after a few conversations, part of me couldn't help but wonder if fate had put us on near identical paths that would ultimately cross.

Strange Attraction

I am feeling an UNBELIEVABLE attraction to a guy I know. We had a bit of a thing this past winter. We didn't go very far, but it was really, really enjoyable. Unfortunately, it fizzled out -- or veered out of control, the way you look at it.

I'll be writing on that later.

First of all, his type is....different.

I have a type: tall, dark and skinny. And, of course, I like guys to be good-looking.

This guy is pretty good-looking. Not like a model or anything, but average-to-nice, and nice. As for my three specific criteria, two of these things he fulfills well. The other could not be FURTHER from the word.

Any guesses?

Sunday, October 21, 2007

I just had the best orgasm of my life.

Yes, it was self-inflicted.

It's been about a year, and unfortunately, Sam Jones's life has been more than a tad lacking in the sex department. But today was incredible.

It was a lazy Sunday, I had nothing to do, and I had just taken a shower. I decided to relieve some of the amazing tension that had built up over the past few days over a certain love interest about whom I've been thinking. I'm coming up with a nickname for him as I write this.

It wasn't eventful or unusual to start with. I felt like I was about to have an orgasm, and it felt like one of those disappointing ones -- one when you definitely feel a climax -- the climb, the shudders, the climax -- and I wondered if that was REALLY it. After all, this felt like it was going to be a good one.

I was upset.

So I kept going.

It happened again -- an orgasm, and definitely an orgasm, but disappointing. But I was determined. I pushed (or rubbed, I guess) on.

And then it was unlike ANYTHING I have EVER, EVER felt. EVER.

It was the climb of the mountain again, but it was steeper, and deeper, and I felt myself getting to a level where I had never been before. I actually gasped out loud. I usually do everything silently, without moving much, but I had ABSOLUTELY NO CHOICE. I was nearly screaming.

It was incredible.

As I basked in the afterglow, I realized something:

Have I been doing it wrong all along?

Maybe this level existed all along and it wasn't an element of circumstance. Maybe I just never pushed it out.

I am SO looking forward to testing this theory later tonight.

Rocky and Oma-gross-a

Apparently I wasn't the only one that had become enamored with all of Rocky's charms. Oma-gross-a, a petite Spanish single mother with sagging breasts and a mouthful of horseteeth who bore a striking resemblance to Omarosa (of "The Apprentice" fame), but even uglier (if that's possible), had also taken notice.

Immediately following our sexcapades, Rocky did a complete 180. All interest in me had been lost. He wasn't the commitment type, I knew this. He'd already gotten what he'd wanted so he was moving on. I just was reluctant to let it go. People began to take note of his callous treatment of me (am I a glutton for punishment or what? Seriously where do I find these guys?)

He put up a wall. Cold and distant were the most apt adjectives to describe his interactions with me. And I sat by like a moonstruck moron watching him use the same lines he'd used on me to woo Oma-gross-a. I was still fairly new to "the Game" and aside from the Soldier, had never really encountered anyone with the cowboy attitude of Rocky. What I saw as the grounds for a new potential relationship, he regarded as nothing more than another notch in the belt. I have to take atleast some of the blame for the resulting mess because I had verbally agreed to a no-strings attached situation, despite what I wanted emotionally.

I would pretty much go out and make an ass of myself, mooning over Rocky only to be spurned and disrespected. One of the quieter guys at work, Dandy (short for Dandelion, on account of he always managed to land himself "in the weeds") was always there to tell me that Rocky was being a prick and to not get caught up in his bullshit and to realize I was too good for him and blah blah supportcakes.

Sniff Sniff.

Smell that state of vulnerability?

Yeaaaahhh, I think we all know what direction my life is headed in next...

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

"Oh! Rocky!"

I walked into work the next morning and was met with the laughter and teasing of both my trainers and co-workers alike. Thanks to one loudmouth, the word of mine and Rocky's against the wall indiscretions had spread throughout the workplace like wildfire. I am a modest girl by nature, so I felt a little embarassment, but I wasn't ashamed. I just held my head high and just thought of the previous night as being a step into the new direction that my life was about to take.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't planning on being completely carefree and acting like a slut, for lack of a better word. I felt that I had been too conservative with my sex life up until this point and figured my libido could use a kickstart. It wasn't healthy to moon over the same assholes who time and time again stomped all over my heart and then manipulated me to letting them back into my life. I figured I could use a little more fun in my life and try casual dating, rather than strictly entering into monogomous relationships. I did not however, want a repeat of the Soldier incident, one that I find most regrettable now.

My new job was the best environment to launch the brand new me. It was the first catalyst to my social blossoming in a new locale. I'd never really attempted to enjoy the nightlife down here or meet new people, and once I stepped out, I found that I was actually quite the hot commodity. The attention I was getting from guys everywhere was unparalleled and I was loving every minute of it.

Although despite my new vow of keeping everything casual, I started to develope some feelings for Rocky. Aside from being easy on the eyes, he was always saying the right things. And while someone as intelligent as I would have normally been able to immediately see through this facade as complete bullshit, I was coming off of an extremely unhealthy correspondence with McRugby and those pretty words Rocky was feeding me was exactly what I wanted/needed to hear.

I knew from the first moment that I met him, that Rocky was a complete and total player. He was definitely going to end up playing the role of the Pool Boy at work. Part of me didn't care and figured I could get the instant gratification I needed, and the other part of me hoped, as most women do, that I could change his ways and turn him into the man I thought he should be.

In addition to my stealth pursuit of Rocky, the other men at work began to take notice of me. I felt like the Prom Queen at work. For years I'd been haunted by the giant caboose sitting atop of my legs, and despite the words of Sir Mix-A-Lot, I'd never been able to truly own and appreciate my fabulous ghetto booty. But having a butt is apparently all the rage down here. One of the guys still says to me on a nightly basis that I need to put that thang away.

But I digress.

So Rocky was not the commitment type. From the moment I met him I knew he was a flirt who just loved women and sex. We'd had discussions at length about what we wanted from one another (we decided on nothing (I was lying, because despite my new cool and casual facade, I was still deep down, all about relationships)), and reached a mutual understanding. But deep down, I hoped that things would evolve. I didn't sleep with him immediately, there was a period of coy courtship, but I finally succumbed. It was decent, good skills without major duration. I figured the next time might yield better results.

Only there wasn't going to be a next time.

Turning over a New Leaf

Midge flew into town as i was concluding the two week training period at my new job. It was different from any other establishment I'd ever worked in and as the days wore on, the group of employees grew closer and our urges to be sociable also grew. With just a few days to go, we decided that we should start hanging out after we got out of work.

Now in a social setting, I began to see my co-workers in a new light. Namely, I started to notice that some of the guys were very attractive. The one I deemed cutest had a girlfriend, so I moved on to other pursuits. I brought Midge out with me to point out Chubs, the stinky annoying guy I already detested, as well as Rocky, named for the striking similarities he bore to the title character in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He was... a bit of a meathead, muscular, but not the most eloquent with words and, the major resemblance? He lacked a belly button. Seriously. When he was born, his organs were outside of his body and he has a scar when they were sewn back in, where the belly button would traditionally be found.

After consuming numerous alcoholic beverages and flirting with Rocky as well as a couple of other guys, I began discussing the fuckability of Rocky with Midge. We both agreed that I could use a rebound, one that actually lived in the same state as me. And before I knew it, I had Rocky pinned up against the wall of the club and was making out with him like our plane was going down in flames.

It didn't go past that, but that night left me rejuvenated with a new vigor. I didn't need McRugby any longer. There were plenty of other guys out there, and who knows? Maybe I'd just found one at my new job.

The End of the McRugby Era

Back home, the glow of my vacation wore off quickly when I was faced with a minor medical emergency of a potential miscarriage and a diagnosis of high-risk HPV. Stressed and terrified, I turned to my friends and McRugby for emotional support. I had no friends in my new home at the time and the situation at hand wasn't anything I was ready to discuss with my mother.

Considering that McRugby was a contributing factor the the current conundrum I found myself in, I expected him to be a pillar of strength and support, despite the distance between us following what I felt was a great visit. I was wrong. Overnight, the phone calls, e-mails and instant messages were never returned. I took the hint and learned that he was off screwing other girls at college. Nice. Furthermore, he blamed me for everything that had happened and lamented on what I did to him and the consequences it would have and the havoc it would wreak on his future sex life. Ass. Why worry about my possible cancer diagnosis when you can't slut around?

McRugby, who used to be a devout Mormon, was now all about the hard-partying college lifestyle. Drinking, drugs and casual sex were the courses he was most interested in, and while I do find strict religious ways to be trying, I was completely put off by this new carefree attitude.

I made a mistake by going back down that road with McRugby. I should have known better than to let myself be swayed by his charms when I was so vulnerable. I had just moved to a new place, away from most of my family and friends and was in an unfamiliar town with a new job I couldn't stand, and none of my close friends lived less than 1500 miles away. I'd never felt more alone than I did in the weeks following the unceremonious and final split from McRugby, but that time in my life did teach me about the strength I have within myself to deal with the trials and tribulations I will face in my life.

Thankfully, despite my newfound inner strength, one of my friends, Midge (named for her short stature) was between jobs and had recently broken up with her boyfriend, so she immediately booked a flight and planned to come down and visit me. I was also starting a new job, while trying to maintain my old one (where I had just been named Employee of the Month), so in spite of the dark place I felt I was in, I aso sensed a new chapter in my life was beginning.