Archive for June, 2011

I am a girl. Make-up. Curvy wide hips. Soft skin and soft silky long hair that my girlfriends like to play with, curl, and braid. Dark lacy panties against my milk white ass skin. I like to be led around the dancefloor and spun to salsa music and I like dick. I like men’s wide shoulders and strength. Their tallness.

Lots of men scare me. Have made me cry and feel ashamed of my desire for them. Regret having had sex with them. Their roughness. Meanness. Selfishness in bed. When I feel close to them but they don’t call me back or show closeness to me. The lies and half-truths they tell about having girlfriends, wives, children. Having sex with men gave me HPV and I had to have a painful cervical scraping procedure called a colposcopy to check for the cancer cells that HPV can cause. I have so many girlfriends who have gotten it and gone through the same thing or worse.

I have frustrated sexual desire. Emotional desire. I want to be called, hugged, kissed, fucked, licked, driven around, held, listened to, protected by a man. I have so much longing. I am so frustrated. Get the frustration out. Ride you. Slap your face. Hard. While I ride you. Bite you. Punch your face while I ride you. After you come inside me. Punch you!

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Isn’t it amazing how awesome and awful crushes can be at the same time? I have this tied up feeling in my guts. I have hung out with you three times. I enjoyed every time so much and could have kept talking and hanging out for hours more. I love your graceful hands, your high cheekbones, and when you laugh quietly. You listen really well – even make me nervous. We are both tall and thin and when I hug you I fit into you perfectly. And the hug feels like that first moment of slipping into a warm bath on a cold night. Will you invite me to spend time with you? When will I see you again? I am loving getting to be your friend and I want to be more than just your friend. I feel awesome. And I feel awful.

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I am your roommate’s best mistake. When we first met, she drunkenly mistook me for one of your friends. She shouted from across the bar and broke the ice by accident. Maybe her intuition was just better than ours. I was confused why you made eyes at me the whole night. I thought you were gay. I flirted with you anyway, mostly because I didn’t feel like paying for a taxi or walking home. Four miles is a long way.

It wasn’t till you straddled me on your couch that I figured out that you wanted me. We kissed; it was electric. No one has ever kissed me that way before. Like the whole universe went black except for the light between our lips. We kissed until daybreak, and then slept for three hours. I woke up exhausted and hungover. I stayed for brunch; I stayed way after brunch. I liked the way you made me feel when we kissed. And who would pass up eggs, kale, zuchs, squash, and homefries?! I met all your friends. They thought I played it cool, but mostly I was just tired and hungover. I’m not nearly so charming with a clear head.

You’re not at all my type. I like cute and conservative catholic girls with big boobs. You cut your hair short. You don’t shave your legs. You pee with the door open. You’re extremely opinionated. You’re a feminist. You don’t want to get married. And still…We went to lunch, flirted, and giggled. My text message usage tripled. I hadn’t been this giddy in years.

I held off as long as I could. I was unsure if I should trust my intuition. You were so unlike any girl I had ever been attracted to. How was it going to work? (Fuck it, it doesn’t matter). The attraction was too strong. You gave me a fucking boner the first time you held my hand for chrisssake. I gave in. We fucked so good. Like I’ve never fucked before. I loved looking hard into your eyes. Just a couple months after we met, I meant to say, “I love fucking you” while you were riding me, but it felt so damn good I got confused. I said, “I FUCKING LOVE YOU”. Whoops. Can’t take that one back. Does it matter it took another month to really mean it?

It wasn’t because we spent so much time together. We only had five months. It was because of all you gave to me. You are the most giving and loving person I know. We had long conversations about everything. You pushed me. Challenged me to think differently. You helped me develop better communication skills. Talk about my feelings; share my thoughts. You taught me to be more conscious of women. You showed me how to be more selfless. It’s the part of you in me that will last forever. I love you for that.

On our last day together, you folded my clothes for me and helped me pack. You made funny faces at my old socks and outdated wardrobe. (“You fucking wear this?!”) You were so damn cute I couldn’t keep my hands off you. We had a spontaneous mid-day fuck. Amazing. You took me to Marshalls and bought me cute new undies and clean socks. No girl has ever bought me socks and underwear before. On our last night, you lay in my arms and we listened to Closing Time by Tom Waits. When “Old Shoes” came on, I started quietly singing along and I cried for the first time in ten years. Not since my grandmother’s funeral have the tears come that fast or that hard. I wiped my nose. I asked you to dance with me. We danced to “Little Trip to Heaven”. We circled. It was perfect. “Thankin my lucky stars that I found you”…

My parents have been married for thirty-five years. You can still see the love between them, even after all that time. My mom always gives my dad socks and underwear for Christmas. Every year, my dad would laugh and exclaim in all seriousness socks and underwear are the best gift ever. Now I see what he means. I love you, and socks and underwear make love last forever.

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you kissed me by the light of the flickering fireplace.

i stopped you because i was dating someone else. but long distance relationships are the worst. and i only kind of stopped you. you said you thought it was over between us.

the next day i regretted not doing it. i told you on the stairs that i wanted to kiss you. i took you for a walk and let you know i had made a mistake. i should have just gone for it. but it was too late. you were over it by then. when my relationship ended i drove 6 hours to make out with you. when i got there, everyone told me not to try to flirt with you – you were dating someone by then. i still sometimes dream about making out with you.

that night i made out with x instead. in the long run, i liked him way more, but in the moment i really just wanted you. it must have been the way you smelled more than anything. nothing else about you was really that appealing. my friends tease me for liking you. but sometimes the connection is just unexplainable.

in the years since then i’ve occasionally seen a photo of you. you look so much older and have gained so much weight. i doubt i would be attracted to you still. but i’m sure you would smell the same, so it might bring me back.

all the years of wonder makes me know that next time, i’ll just cheat.

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You’re married now, but I know the funny truth. When you were still engaged, and I was half asleep drunk on the couch, you wrapped yourself around me to say goodbye. You kissed me on the lips. Once. Twice. And then a third time.

In movies they say, “Once is random. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.” You made a pattern in 10 short seconds, one that I’m sure you tried to forget the next day.

I hope you’re having fun in your new life 🙂

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You seem mature for your 45 years. But you have babymama post-divorce syndrome and don’t know how to woo my fine ass. You were attentive on the first date when you were drooling over me and charmed by my conversation and humor. You flaked on the two dates we made since then. Attention deficit much? This is supposed to be the fun no-drama stage but I’m not having any fun and you don’t seem to have much interest. You sent a lame text after the second flake “OH fuck me! I got home from work exhausted and took a nap and dropped the ball and forgot and..I forgive me?” Sure I forgive you. I also deleted your number and don’t give a f%*k if I talk to you again.

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Damn. I was so sure I was going to make out with you that I left a change of clothes in my desk at work.

I hate being wrong. My crush on you was seriously perfect while it lasted.

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I miss you so much. I wish you could just be my friend, without it breaking your heart. I think about you all the time, see you in nearly everyone i see. And my hip bones make me think of you, because for me they are right there all the time, like every time I put my hands on my hips, you know? You were so psyched about how much they stuck out. They don’t stick out so much anymore. Please let’s be friends again.

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