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Archive for April, 2011

The woman who waxed me last Saturday is more familiar with my vagina than my doctor or the 30 men and 2 women I have fucked. She gave me my first Brazilian wax. This means everywhere. EVERYwhere. I told her it was my first time and she took off her sweatshirt and said “Ok. I take off sweatshirt. I get hot. Start to sweat. Let’s go swee. tee.”

She put on latex gloves and ripped off the hair around my asshole. Off my vagina lips. Hair at the bottom of my vagina and all around the hole. She was fast and merciful. Quick, aggressive rips. But it still took a while. I sweated the whole time. My hands were slipping on my sweaty skin where she wanted me to hold and stretch my inner thighs to keep the skin taut. I tried to focus on my breathing and not the weirdness or the pain.

At the end she held a mirror between my legs and insisted I look. She had to insist a few times. And there it ALL was: pink, exposed, looking like the wrinkley folds of an elephant’s flank. Turning redder with every moment. She told me I might need an Advil or two that night for the pain “But maybe not. You strong woman I can tell.” When I got off the table, the white, hygienic paper stuck to me – it was totally soaked with my sweat. I waddled down the street like John Wayne and drove home with my legs spread wide in the car. When I got home I sat in front of a fan with my underwear off.

Since then I walk around feeling like I have a secret. My vagina lips feel more vulnerable and get more easily irritated. They kind of get stuck on each other when I’m walking or dancing and start to sweat between my legs. I have to adjust my package more. I kind of can’t wait to get it done again.

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You know in High Fidelity when Dick goes outside and hugs Anna?

It’s pretty much the most amazing embrace ever. He is so cute and awkward and into her.

I love his hoodie and the way he wraps his arm around her and snugs in.

I know I just have a thing for awkward boys. But only because I can imagine you hugging me like that.

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If I have to be honest, I must admit the first date was awkward, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. It was afterwards that you got me. The hug under the streetlight was cute, but it was the text you sent me minutes later, as I was walking through my door. The “if I knew I was going to get stuck in traffic, I would have walked you home, and given you a proper kiss.” That’s where I melted and knew I was in the most trouble. You texted me for about an hour that night as you were supposed to be doing your fantasy football draft. I felt special and that’s when I started to fall for you. You asked me to come over the next night, “We’ll watch the Sox game and have that kiss” you said. I agreed. I went out after work the next day with my sister and bought new underwear, because I knew you would see it that night. You texted me as I was shopping telling me all you could think about was that first kiss we were going to have, and how you felt in the mood for a really good makeout session.

I remember that night so clearly, what I was wearing and how nervous I was. It was pouring, and I waited for the rain to stop before I went to your apartment. When I got there you gave me a hug and then a really great first kiss. After that you said “hi” and gave me a beer. We sat on the couch and watched about ½ an inning. The Sox quickly got creamed by the Yankees and I quickly lost my top and bra. You were so sweet and gentle that night. I’m sure that you still don’t know that you were my first. That night was a whirlwind of emotions and actions. We had sex four times that night, and it was amazing. I stayed till 12 and then went home because I had to work the next day. You gently kissed me goodbye and I knew then that this was going to be trouble.

We continued this game of randomly hooking up for almost 2 years. Each time I swore I would tell you that I had feelings for you. That this was more than sex for me. ..but I never did. There were times where I was sure you wanted more, but I was too scared. There was the day you told me if you had 4 of me you wouldn’t need a girlfriend or the night you told me to enter your “wedding date” contest. But I never said anything instead we both saw other people, but kept coming back to each other. There are some amazing nights that I remember – New Year’s Eve, the day I got back from my Europe trip, your birthday gift to me, the night this past fall when you had a knee injury. Even know I tear up thinking of it. If I had just said something maybe it would be different. Or had ended it last April when I found out you were in a relationship but still sleeping with me, I wouldn’t be regretting it now. Instead I held on.

Our last get together was a week ago.. I knew that I had stupidly walked back in even though for weeks I denied you that I wanted you. Even when you texted me to tell me you had been thinking about me and you wanted me. I stood firm, we were both seeing other people. Then I stopped seeing D and you said she didn’t know what she wanted and you didn’t know where you stood. So I foolishly fell back into your bed. I went over in my dress and spike heels. I looked around your apartment and thought of the night last February when you first moved in and there was no furniture and you bent me over the kitchen sink, or this past June when we had sex on your patio even though the neighbors were upstairs. I think of all the things I did with you that I would never have done in the past. You were my sexual awakening, and I will never forget you for that. And now it’s too late for more..you’ve moved on, she finally agreed she wants a relationship. And now I am alone and this time

I’ve got to be strong. I can’t stick around and be your friend, we were never friends, there will always be that what if, and I can’t give into it. If you come back I have to say no and mean it. I know you will forever have a piece of my heart whether you know it or not. But this time I can’t, I have to let go and move on. There’s no room for me anymore. “You…Me…and your girlfriend make three….in the interest of even numbers I’ll make myself scarce.”

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The first day I started working there, I knew.

I took a deep breath whenever you brushed past me…shielded my smile,
hid my eyes, dulled down my laugh. For months.

You kissed my hand and said ‘boa noite’ one Wednesday. That’s when
things changed… that’s when I started singing in the shower.

You laid beside me. Told me your stories and listened to mine. You
were sweet. Adorable, even. Having sex with you was hot…new but
natural. I loved the morning time.

You kissed me and playfully told me I tasted like pretty. You tasted
like whiskey. It was good you were leaving soon…

You called me the other night…for the first time. I didn’t believe
your reason. I don’t believe you.

Maybe you sensed I wanted more. Maybe you’re childish. Maybe you got
bored or found me unattractive. Maybe you’re just complacent. Maybe
you’re honest.

I never asked you to date me. Only quietly did I hope your act would
prove to be just that. Only quietly did I imagine us falling in love.
Only quietly. Silently.

Back to deep breaths, shielding my smile, hiding my eyes, dulling my laughter.

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What we do could certainly never be classified as “dating.” Or even “hooking up.” If I was the sort of girl to say these sorts of things, we would have serious potential for the dreaded “You Don’t Love Me Enough” fight.

But. I know it’s not the amount that you love me. It’s the way I interpret the way you love me.

If I alter my perception of what it is I might want or need from you, I would feel love beyond some people’s wildest dreams.

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I have been thinking about having sex and not having sex constantly. Up until a few weeks ago anti-depressants kinda numbed my hunger for sex. Which has been convenient because I don’t usually have much luck dating or meeting good men. Even when I hooked up for casual sex – the sex usually sucked and I ended up embarassed and dissatisfied. Walk of shame! But I went off anti-depressants a month ago because of feeling ready and strong. Now I cry or get mad more often and more intensely. But I’m fine. Except for the raging sex craving. I am so embarassed! I feel like a perverted awkward teenager! I used to masturbate once every month or two. Now it’s at least every other day. I have to keep changing my underwear due to, well, you know. Now anything triggers the monster libido-the wind blowing up my dress, exercise, a particular song, somebody hot on TV, dreams. This kinda sucks. There’s nobody I want to have sex with who wants to have sex with me.

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I was sitting on the train today composing a letter to you in my head.

When I got home from dinner this evening, there was a missed instant message from you.

It’s because you finally joined facebook. You finally found me. I finally don’t have to wonder if you are okay or where you went or what happened or did you fall off the face of the earth. Your one pixelized profile pic paints a slightly dismal picture of how you have been over the past 12 years.

But you being a blip on my radar again does make me wonder. Wonder if you would be sneaky enough to unzip that zipper again.

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