Sexfrences

I’ve decided that anyone trying to climb on top of me needs to come with a list of references and a background check. There are several reasons why I feel this way, I’m sure you understand.

There is this one guy that has been trying to get his peter near my anything for the months now. He’s good looking and nice enough for me to be interested. It’s clear that it would just be a hook-up, which I suppose is okay, considering I don’t want to date him either. Then again there is that aftermath of feeling like the kind of cheap whore that leaves their number on bar bathroom walls.

What have been holding me back from a frolic in the sheets are my personal concerns with this guy’s track record. I don’t know where he’s been and whom he’s been in. We all know guys are whores, and I assume the guys that straight up ask to get laid are from a breed of super slut. I could be wrong, but from what I’ve seen in the dating pool supports my theory here.

This is what I propose: When I meet someone it should be like a job interview. They should tell me their strengths and weaknesses in and out of the bedroom. They should tell me what itchy things they’ve caught, and if there’s anything lingering around down there. Also, I want the names for the last five people they were in, ten if there’s more than two in each week. Then I can make a proper analysis.

Is this crazy behavior on my part, asking for so much? No. People lie. I’ve dated people and then been filled in about them after the break-up. Sometimes the information they withhold, even the trivial things, would be deal breakers for me. I like to know what I’m getting into, and being that I trust no one, it makes it five times harder when they don’t trust you either. Example: A former friend that is HIV+ would only tell people he was going to sleep with he had it if they specifically asked. If they were to only say: Have you been tested. He would simply reply: Yes. Many of us ask it that way and assume yes means you are clean. It’s a tricky little white lie that can change your life. That’s where I’m coming form in my argument.

So, sexfrences are a must for anyone that wants their willy near me. Maybe I’ll print up some forms and start handing them out while I dance on the bar tops and drink. Really just killing two birds with one stone there. I’ll probably give them to people on the train as well; some of them get so close we may as well be naked.

Gimme Gimme None

I’ve spent today making decisions I don’t understand and slightly regret. In order to explain I have to rewind to last night:

Usually I come home from Baltimore on Saturday night, but this week I was persuaded by my friend Carly to stay. We hit up the local sex store for some personal items and then out to a Latin Club for drinks and dancing. The only drawback to the club was everyone else knew how to salsa dance. I only know how to dance like a cracker. I can go out there; jiggle and bounce around, but there’s really no rhyme or rhythm to it. 

Then it happened. That annoying urge that arises when you’re drunk and haven’t been sexed-up in a while. The last time I fooled around with anyone was right after B. Brown left in May. Do the math; it’s been a while. Jello is my Baltimore “boyfriend”. We’ve had a few encounters over the past year; I actually met him right around the time The Devil and I ended. The funny thing is that Jello knows The Devil and had some very interesting insights. However, that is not the point of this post.

I woke up early this morning, needing to catch a bus back to New York. Jello has the best intentions, but he just doesn’t know me well enough yet. Right after waking up he wanted to play and cuddle with me. No. I don’t cuddle, especially when I’ve just gotten out of bed. I like to not be touched and I hate being talked to before I’ve had two hours and a big cup of coffee. The thing that I thought was funny as I rode away on the bus: I can’t stand relationship behaviors. It’s amusing because I’ve been thinking that it’s time to start dating again… wrong!

Now, once I got back to the city I had to work at the store. While I was there this guy wrote his number down and gave it to me. He was cute and nice from what little interaction we had. He placed the number on the counter and left. I looked at it, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the trash. Why? No clue. I can’t say that I wasn’t somewhat interested in him. I suppose I can say this is me being me. I do the things I don’t want to do because I have this construct in my head that I want to follow. I feel as though there are two of me: There’s the me that walks and talks (trying not to fall down), and the me that controls the decision making. We’re not getting along at the moment.

Let me give you another example that arose today. This guy I met a while back found me on Facebook and we’ve chatted a time or two. Today he asked me to hang out three times and I said no. This one is the kicker because I wanted to say yes. I’m absolutely interested in this guy but I still told him no. Being the question master, I am asking myself why I do it? I know I do it. I know I don’t really enjoy doing it. I know it doesn’t get me anywhere. So, why?

I am shooting in the dark here, especially since the eye doctor messed up my prescription, but I think it’s because after all of the bad experiences I’ve had and watching other people, I don’t want to deal with dating. My Roomie tells me about her relationship issues and I think how happy I am that I don’t have to deal with any of it. 

I’m sure Abbot will have some fantastic analysis to explain my behavior, but all I can say to him is that I’m better off with BOB (battery operated boyfriend), than I am with a human.

Mommy Dearest

This month has seen a lack of postings on my part. I feel that in order to not become repetitive I shouldn’t waste anyone’s energy when the antics are more or less the “same old thing”. Fortune has turned and I have a twist to increase the interest in my nightlife misadventures.

My birthday arrived last week and with it came my mother. She flew in from that place where I was once from and prefer not to name. What’s in a name? Too many connotations that I don’t want to be associated with. Anyway, I made it my mission to ensure that she fell in love with New York. I’ve been obsessed with this city since I was three years old and saw and ‘I heart NY’ keychain for the first time.

I planned a little party at one of my favorite bars, inviting a few friends. Now, I’ve never actually been drunk in front of mother, let alone drunk and christmasy in front of her. What’s christmas?  Read between the lines, it’s not that complicated… this is where B. Brown would smile. We hid in the back corner of View Bar, my friends coming and going, me running to the bathroom every few minutes. I love beer, but I have the bladder of a twelve-year-old girl. Not that twelve-year-old girls should be drinking, but I’m sure some are up in Queens. 

My mom went outside to smoke, making new friends on the street. Bored with a certain someone’s incessant talking, I went to join her. We met two ghetto-looking people sitting on a stoop. Now, with me you have to be blunt, so when the guy from the stoop asked me if I liked to party, I was confused. I was like, yeah, I like to party. I was assuming he meant like dancing on bars and throwing up in public restrooms. Turns out he meant something a little bit different. So, I officially have a “source” in my phonebook in case anyone is in need.

The night ended with myself plastered, and my mother not far behind. You see, she lives in a state that has strict alcohol laws and our beer is just a bit stronger. I’m a pint guy, but it was kicking her butt. Oh, I failed to mention that I had to keep her from knocking that obnoxious person’s (the one I mentioned earlier) teeth out. If you refer back to the crazy behavior that I was engaging in at the end of last year, this is where I get it. Everything has a source… dun, dun dun!

The three days we spent together were fun to say the least. I think this is the first time the two of us have been together in a way that was outside the parent/child relationship. I highly recommend that everyone sit down and get drunk with their mother. If for no other reason than to show them the person you really are. Most of us run around playing our parts, but when alcohol is introduced, there is no hiding. 

I can officially report that my mom loved New York.