Sometimes It Is Not What It Seems

by

“He totally meant sex,” my friend said.

“I have never heard that before when it didn’t.”  My friend concluded.

Well, fuck me.

Or not.

As the case may be, I wasn’t thinking along those lines.

“Neither were you,” my other friend said, “you’re looking for a relationship, you’re not good at the one night stand thing, come on you’re not.”

“YES I AM.”

Oh, who the hell am I kidding?

I am not.

I do want to be and there may come a time, sooner rather than later where I end up at the open all night order it up drive through counter, give me that with a side of ass, but for the time being, as much as I want to be Suzy Slutty.

I am not.

Damn it.

And not to put too small a point on it, but my friend also made a good point and I wonder,yes I do, ok.

Wait.

Segue.

DO NOT READ FURTHER.

DO NOT PASS GO.

DO NOT COLLECT $200.

DEAR FAMILY MEMBER READ TOMORROWS BLOG INSTEAD.

PLEASE.

THANKS.

And then there’s the I don’t care for vanilla sex.

I mean, it’s ok, don’t get me wrong, and it could be better than no sex at all, but it doesn’t celebrate my palate the way I like to um, indulge.

So then there’s that.

But let me think, that’s putting the cart before the horse, but hey at least it’s not a pony.

I am not into that kind of kink.

If you don’t know what that means, nevermind.

And in nanny news.

Yeah, I can make whatever segue I want, sex to childcare, it’s all the same anyhow isn’t it?

“Um, how much would you charge to nanny me?” He asked half-serious, half-joking.

“Not a wet-nurse and my rate would depend on whether or not you were wearing pants when you are sitting in my lap being read a bed time story.”

Maybe I am in the wrong career.

Uh, no, nevermind.

I don’t want to be someone’s nurse maid or wet-nurse or any other thing that you may have to pay me to be.

I just want to be me and that is a mix of sweet and salty and that’s just who I am.

Oh yeah, and I can forgive myself for that too.

Like, if I could, I wouldn’t be kinky, that would make it all seem a whole lot easier, but then again I haven’t ever had a partner stop and say, no thanks, let’s put our clothes back on.

It’s mostly later, and that makes me think, it’s mostly me, when it’s the, “let’s just be friends, or I don’t want to pursue anything romantically, etc.”

So the thing to do, is do nothing.

That’s right.

Nothing.

Because this is like ridiculous first world problems, oh woe is me, I’m single.

There are women undergoing cliterectomies to be declared marriage ready.

No fucking thanks.

I am fed.

I am housed.

I have me a rocking Christmas tree.

And I do have a nice bag of toys that Santa did not bring me, unless it was kinky Santa.

I am sure Dirty Santa exists, christ, I don’t even want to know how many stupid hits this blog will get for putting up “kinky”  and “dirty Santa” in a post.

Not Dirty Sanchez.

Dirty Santa.

There now I will get some strange search engine hits from that paragraph alone.

Top blog of all time still is the cocaine and vodka enema blog posts I wrote so many years ago now, four?

I got a hit on it yesterday.

I got three reads on it today.

Some dirty people in Croatia apparently.

The site I use to publish my blog, WordPress, actually suggested, and I am sure it was a site robot, that I “think about writing more posts like this one” as it gets so many hits.

I would say that it is by far the most read thing I have ever written.

I can just see my epithet.

“Though she never administered one, she is considered an expert on….”

BAHA.

Oh.

Dear God.

Time to get my monkey mind out of the search engine gutter.

Life is looking lovely right now and there is no cause for alarm, I am up a little past my normal blog posting as a dear friend just left after a few cups of tea and I would rather put up a late post and sleep a tiny bit less than miss the opportunity to hang with a friend.

Besides, he’s cute.

Ah.

There’s some more of that too.

Like, how about I get some guy friends I am not attracted too?

Is that even possible?

I recounted a story about how one of my guy friends and I for years were considered a couple, by even people who I worked closely with, despite my guy friend consistently dating a plethora of women, we always ended up hanging out together and I do recall one woman, oh fuck, no, two, who un-friended me after they dated this guy because he would always leave them to hang out with me.

“Nah, we can’t ever go there,” he said to me, “I mean, yeah, I could get a blow job from you, don’t think I haven’t had that thought cross my mind, but date, no.”

I punched him in the arm.

“Come on, you and I know we would tear it up for a crazy ass weekend then nothing, I don’t think we could make a relationship work, not work risking what we have for a blow job, though,” here he mimicked the old cock in mouth action with the hand, “I bet it would be a damn fine blow job.”

I smacked him again.

I have no regrets.

Not about folks I have had sex with nor about folks I have not had sex with.

Sexual tension.

It is interesting.

I’ll say that much.

I can get pretty candid in my blogs, I am not exactly a shrinking lily, but I will say this, to be fair, to be honest with me, to be upfront with no one but the woman typing these pages.

“Baby you are all that and a Butterfinger, don’t go selling yourself short for some sex.”

Wait.

“Be the ball, Martines,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

I hear you, I do.

Even when I am straining at the leash, I am not throwing myself out there, you want this, you come and ask it out.

I am the ball.

And I am kinky.

PUHLEASE.

I don’t think a boyfriend is too far behind.

 

That was not intended as a pun.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

2 Responses to “Sometimes It Is Not What It Seems”

  1. Steven Scotten Says:

    (psst, I think you meant “epitaph”)

    And (not that you were, but…) don’t hate on the “vanilla” label. I almost didn’t get together with someone who I am honored to say is an ex because I described myself as vanilla and later found out that, well, that means different things to different people. I had less experience with… um… the costumes than she did, but she was shocked by (at least) one of the fringes I’d had gone to.

    Which is not to say “oh hey me so kinkay” or anything; just that vocabularies differ from person to person and it’s (sometimes) easy to confuse the costumes for the games.

    AND hell yes, this was an extraordinarily entertaining post. Thank you for making my day a little better.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: