I’m loading up on deductions

I’ve got needs, lots of them.  Yes, I need to get railed not only regular but frequent basis.  Everyday… multiple times a day.  Specifically when I’m involved.  Think you’re up for the task?

Enter my newest boy toy… he’s a cute nerdy type whose day job is a grip for Fox.  He works 12+ hours a day with some major shortage of days off during the peak season.  He doesn’t want to share me.  For a poly, this is…

So on days when the boy is working and what not, I do threaten to go off and get it elsewhere. Is it assinine?  Yes, admittedly so.

Before I left for San Francisco for example (before we became official) I told him-

“While I’m up there fucking someone else, I want you to remember… that it’s nothing to do with how I feel about you.  In fact, you should feel better about it because all it really is would be friends/sex.”

“So I should feel lucky that I’m not getting lucky… Check”

It’s no secret that I enjoy my dating and sexual romps.

A friend of mine messaged me last night and asked

“How are you temptress?”

Funny.. he had no clue that’s the latest nickname that people have given me.

I’m safe about my sex and am actually selective on whom I bed.  A friend once summed it up perfectly:

“Poly means quantity, not all.”

Something that a lot of people may not realize:  I am tantric in between lovers.  It’s probably why my sex drive is so high when I’m involved.  I do not even own a sex toy.

The grip tells me that he doesn’t want to hold me back, and that I should be free to do whatever I like.  While I know this is a guilt trip, I also remind him of the poly status.

“Don’t tell me stuff like that unless you mean it.. because I will go get it elsewhere if I don’t get it from you dear..”

“It’s a tax write-off..”

He was supposed to have the day off today.  Instead he’s helping a friend out with Deal or No Deal.   There’s a cute musician down the street from me… working remotely wondering what I’m up to.

He better get off work soon.. it’s been days and I’m rather tempted.

Dear cell provider, ty for hindering my sex life

I am about to call Tmobile to tell them that for some reason the MMS messages I’ve sent over the past week have not gone through.  Very important ones.  Ahem.

My initial reaction was to accuse said person’s cell phone network for the issue.  “Can you hear me now?”  Hear this Verizon… what the fuck is up with my man not getting his deserved nudies?

I recruited a trusted friend to try and help me out… to forward the picture to him if it went through.

Status?  Lost in cyberspace of course.

Recovering from my 3 days up nearly nonstop at Tc50, damn me if I wanted a little naughty time.  He had to work yesterday.  I persuaded him to take a late “nooner” and get over here.  He’s still working now.  Ah the joys of having a Hollywood non 9-5, 9-5 right?

Damned messages not going through.  Though I honestly doubt that it would hinder my bedroom antics… I have readily accessible cock via other means and I haven’t even looked on Craigslist.

I’d just like to take this moment though to rant about my “wonderful” service that’s supposedly the best in California.  Yeah… my ass!  Or actually.. not.  Boo!(

Maybe I really will look at joining the iprom now that I have it sitting there calling my name.  I’m just worried about the minutes.. which heh, if I didn’t have would just hinder my sex life xs 2.

The big M talk.. is coming

Sun, Sep 7, 2008 at 6:42 PM

They should have been here 30 minutes ago.  They should be here any minute.  I hope they are.  I’m anxious to get started on the road…
I think of you.  Half worried, half…
Is it wrong to say that I know that I’ll miss you when I’m gone?  That I hope that you’re better and yet…
I worry.
I don’t know why.  You don’t give me any reason to think that.
Perhaps I’m just protective.  Perhaps I’m just being silly.
Fuck. perhaps they’re here.
I know I can’t ask you.. but I’m just.. I’ll see you when I get back right?

I can’t wait for our next adventure.  Hugs. Kisses.
My dear my dear who steals my heart… please don’t make it a slushie…
unless i can sip it with u through a straw & then skip rocks on the ocean with the chunks.

So I get back from my trip and see the grip.  He has written me 2 letters while I was gone.   The Angels clenched the AL West.  Woot!  I have a stack of emails to still write, but the first person on my list of people to see besides my roommate is my boy.

There’s a huge difference for a poly girl with just going out and having sex for the enjoyment of it, versus that certain someone which suddenly everything means that much more.  While I was in SF I had some really.. well, being single has its advantages.  I enjoy the dating scene.  I love my polyamorous lifestyle.  Deep down a part of me is wondering when that person who will dazzle me will come along.

I’m picky about everything that goes in or on me.  Food.  Clothes.  Shoes.  Men.  Women.  All of the above.  It takes a lot to really impress me.  Beyond some great sex, this years Romeos have never hit the mark… no, not even “Big.” And so continues the cycle of dating.. of stories of failed romances and laughing and..

Why is it that when you find someone amazing, others seem to pop out of the woodwork?  Maybe this is just me being poly (greedy) but what’s wrong with wanting to date them all?  Why does one *have* to choose?

I asked him if he behaved while I was gone.  He told me he was too busy working and planning elaborate dates with me than to be after someone else.  I believe him.  I’m hypocritical in that I prefer him not to be poly as well… although honestly it wouldn’t bother me if he was.

The big m word was brought up.  The dreaded word to any poly.. Mon..og..a..

Gag.

But if I have to make a choice…

How do I tell the most amazing guy that I’m just a greedy bastard without… well, sounding like I’m a greedy (unsatisfied) bastard?

Cheating/ Mission complete

This is just a small blog to say… Horray!  I met the goal.  NaBloPoMo for the month of August.  And man what a ride it was.

I don’t think that I could have picked a better month to do it either.  The move to LA has been a rollarcoaster of adventure, heartache, passion, debauchery, and of course… lots and lots of business.

Who knew so much could be jam packed into 1 months time?  It really makes you take a step back and think.

I am making more commitments to myself on a daily basis.  Yes, that’s me trying out that other c word.  It’s a biggun.

I am finding that I am becoming more and more dedicated and focused as time goes by.  I am learning where exactly it is where I want to be, where my heart is, where I am headed, what I will or will not put up with.. etcetera etcetera blah blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda.

Love.

“Hate.”

I never really hate anything.  I honestly believe that that word should be abolished.

On that tangent, I also believe that the word love is overused too.

The things and people that I can say I genuinely love, I can count on one hand.  The fact that it’s more than 1 finger leads me to believe I am incredibly blessed, in as blessed as a non religious person can be.

Life is an adventure.  I am learning so much everyday.  I want to learn more.  I crave it.  It will happen.

NaBloPoMo was more than just a month of consistent blogging to me.  It was a dedication and personal commitment to myself.  I was successful. I am successful.  I have the potential to be even more successful in all areas of my life if I only work hard for it.

Is it bad to be your own number 1 fan?  Hell someone has to be right?  Scratch that.  I’m my number -4 fan.  For some reason I’m blessed by 3 beautiful children who rank higher than I could ever imagine…

</cheese>

Settling, but not quite settling

There’s a difference between giving in and giving up.  Knowing when to do each is something that only life lessons can truly teach you.  This year has been full of those such experiences.

My love affair with this city… it’s the story of true unconditional love.

It’s been a long but epic week.  I’m waiting on a callback about a position I’d applied for.  I’ll know later today.  I wouldn’t be starting until Monday if I got it.

I didn’t make it down for the blogger meeting.  I was sidetracked with an opportunity.

A friend of mine twittered about needing some help with casting for his webshow- Frenchmaidtv.  Now if you haven’t seen this quirky and sexy little series, I really must insist that you go there and watch.  When I first found it, I understood immediately why it was such a hit.

I came to California originally for the same things it seems everyone here comes for.  Ah yes, I came out here for the entertainment industry- the mecca of of smoke and mirrors manufacturing.  Sidetracked from that a few years… life has a weird way of bringing you back to your roots.

Two birds, one stone.  I had the chance to help someone deserving and learn some lessons in the process.

Life is a series of windows.  Not doors, windows.  Because I believe sometimes it takes more effort than just walking in a door.  Sometimes you stumble across an open window, take a glance, and have to find some way to climb though.  Holy crap I sound like I break and enter now.  ***I am not responsible for any breaking and entering cases caused by this blog***

I’m a rebel but not a jerk.

That said, when you are fortunate enough to stand on a platform and take a look into a new world (being this short, I need a stepstool to see in those high ones), you take it without hesitation.

My view of Hollywood had been tarnished.  That day, it revitalized the zest I had all those years ago.  I am forever thankful to Tim for letting me tag along.  It was something I will never forget.

One love postponed to rediscover an old one.

Hollywood, the honest view from this inside outsider:

It is exactly as it looks from the outside.  It’s shallow.  It’s gritty.  It bids emotion exist and remain non existent.  Broken dreams.  Made dreams.  Hardened hearts for a reason.  Tits or GTFO.

The 405 was a parking lot.  I left later than expected.  Not surprised, but there was no way I was going to make it home.  There’s fashionably late and then there’s just damn late.

Another friend of mine called me:

How adventurous are you feeling tonight?

Pornstars.  Kareokee.  Only in LA.  It was the perfect ending to a day chuck full of breasts, plastic, and hollywood.  It’s amazing how real something that screams fake can be.  Puns intended.

Like I said, they manufacture these moments in Hollywood though.  It’s like a drug.  One hit- and you’re hooked.

I haven’t been able to sleep much.  I’m a workaholic.  I have too many projects to work on.  Not enough time.  I’m pushing 36 hours in a 24 hour day.

There’s a difference between giving in and giving up.  Knowing when to do each is something that only life lessons can truly teach you.  This year has been full of those such experiences.

Those sentences echo in my mind.  I am making peace within myself.  Time to make the outside match the inside.

I wrote a message to try and push a restart button.  I wanted no harm, no foul.  Once upon a time, I’d like to believe we were friends.  Perhaps we never were.  Perhaps it was all just about the heat.  So why was there so much passion?

“Behave yourself”

I didn’t need to hear that.  Have I screwed up in the past?  Yes indeed. I am human and admit that part of the reason it failed was because of me.

I rolled my eyes a bit at the statement and lol’ed.

Heading down to San Diego… another swimsuit.  Gassed up in my bikini.  Iced chai with whipped cream and cinnamon on top.  Late leaving… but fashionably on time.

I changed on the drive down.  Driving with just your breasts at 90mph is probably not something I’d reccomend doing.  Scratch that.  Hell it’s worth doing once.  ***I am not responsible for the accidents occured by this blog***

The thing about being home is that even when things happen, they seem to have little to no effect on me.  I didn’t cause any ruckus despite what happened.  And as much as I’m sure he’d love for me to be “that bitch” and air all the laundry, I’m more mature than that.  And frankly, I only partially care.

If you love something and you let it go and it comes back, it was yours.  If not, then it never was.

You can tell your friends that I was a never was.  You can spout assorted gossip about me.  Get nasty.  Do whatever.  It’s your life.  I don’t tell anyone how to run theirs.

The truth lies in that vast space of stars and time.

I’m not innocent.  I’m not better.  I’m just not pandering anymore to the manipulative bullshit.

I wish you all the best of luck in all that you do.  I know that you have the power to be successful.  I have faith in you despite it all.

I love you for the lessons you taught me.  About life.  About business.  About how a relationship should and shouldn’t be.  I always will.

Goodbye my “friend,” my “lover,” my Mr.-Never-Once-was Mr-Likely-Will… blank blank dot dot dot.

Etcetera Etcetera, take one & go

early evening Saturday:

It was just an ordinary Saturday night.  I’d gotten a phone call about 6pm to ask if I wanted to go to a show in Anaheim.  It wouldn’t have been gridlock, but I would have been fashionably late.

I’d heard about a party for a friend but wasn’t sure if I was going to go to that either: +1 me anyone?  I have that strange thing called manners and didn’t just want to assume it was cool to attend.  I also waste time worrying occasionally.

I sent a tweet asking which of the beautiful people wanted to hang out.  It was only partially shallow.  Perhaps that beautiful girl I spent my Friday evening with would grace my evening again.  I’d missed her message earlier in the afternoon.  I should have given her my number.  I should have gotten her number.  I have other means of contacting her.  Ah thank you digital age.  Why do some girls turn me into a chicken?

8pm:

My roommate leaves to go hang out with some friends of ours to play video games and drink.  I’m more than welcome to attend.  However I’m on this “I’ve been playing video games all day & it’s a weekend so I don’t want to go out to do something I could essentially be doing at home” kick.  That and something was overheard that I didn’t appreciate

“Either start resisting her or make her give you sex…”

Not cool.  I don’t care if you’re kidding or not.  But what the fuck ever.  I told him I was done talking to them.  Give me a couple of days and I’d have been over it.  I’m allowed to silently overreact and do nothing at the same right?  I’ll use the “I have a vagina” excuse.

815pm:

A friend whom had been traveling messages me to call him.  He hadn’t seen me in awhile and was wondering what I’d been up to.  We did some catching up.  There’s something to be said about a person with as much passion as my friend Wmmarc.  We talked about his travels and my recent rendezvous. Or um.. the ones I don’t talk about. ::Big wink::

“I really want to go to SF again. It’s been a long time.”

“Well maybe you can take the drive up with me sometime when I go again.”

Indeed.  Saying no to a trip to SF with my personal photographer?  Photographic evidence of debauchery?  Oh so tempting.  (To be continued)

845 pm:

I’m still milling over what I’m going to do for the evening.  I’m being a shithead.  It’s not like I didn’t have options.  I nearly went to San Diego for the day.  Someone, somewhere had to have something going on.  And if not, I was going to go on an adventure of my own.  Hell I have mace and I wear heels.  I can hold my own if a clown tries to mug me.

915pm:

I got a text from a friend asking if I was going to the party I’d heard about for the past week.  A formal invitation.  Silly, the friend hosting it had no problem with me going.  I worry too much over nothing and occasionally repeat myself.  I haven’t seen the usual suspects in about a month or so.  I felt like a blip on the social radar… or at least with that circle.

“Text me when you’re on your way.”

945:

Yes, I’m that girl that goes through 10 outfits to pick the first one I tried on.  Once upon a time I wore that top and it gave the illusion I had breasts.  And then the past year happened.  Real women have curves?  Just call me boobzilla.  The ladies looked fabulous.  I got a second opinion and headed out the door- I’ll be damned if I was going to arrive earlier than late enough to be fashionably late.

10pm:

It took a few tries to start the beast.  Silly me, I had a feeling that I should gas up before hitting the freeway.  It only said 6 miles on google maps.  I’m sure I’m fine.

My music was on too loud.  The windows were down.  I hit the 10 and I’m cruising.  I may even be a bit earlier than I thought.  I forgot my smokes.  Damnit.  I can pick up some more if I see a gas station.  No big deal.  You’d think maybe someone was trying to tell me something or something.

1015 pm:

Yeah so now I’m on the Fairfax exit sitting there because of course I ran out of gas.  Damnit damnit damnit.  Where the fuck are the hazards?  Hell if I know in Rob’s truck.

I tried repeatedly to start the damn thing.  All I need is just a little kick to get to a gas station.  Not being overly religious/brainwashed I call upon the powers of the Schwartz.

Come on Schwartz. Come on Schwartz.

Epic fail.  It’s still not starting.  Oh and that button I thought would be the hazards?  It’s the wipers which of course also won’t turn off now.

I’m texting white knights.  Someone please save my dumb ass right now or at least get me to that party so I can deal with the truck later.  I’m far too sober for this.

My roommate is in Marina Del Rey.  He has AAA but would have to be here for them to do anything for me.  He’s 25 mins away.  It’ll take them another 20 to get to me.   Awesome.  Gotta love LA.

1045pm:

A random hot girl knocks on my window as I’m still parked on the damn off ramp.  She apologizes for not stopping sooner.

“Let’s get the truck over to the side.  I’ll grab a guy and we’ll push you.  Just stay inside and steer.”

She asks where I had been going and said she wishes she could have done more.  No one carries a gas can in their car.  Then again most people have cars where their gage works so they don’t need to.

She asks me what happened and I explain.

“I was heading to a party and just ran out of gas.  It’s nothing major, but welcome to LA right?”

She tells me she’s also new to the city.  She’s from San Francisco.  There was a moment of just gazing back and forth.  Damnit why am I such a chickenshit with beautiful women?  I should have gotten her number.  I didn’t think it was the appropriate circumstance or hell, I’d have brought her to the party.  Maybe one night I should fake car trouble.  Oh look I dropped my pen… damsel in distress.

11pm:

I have 2 men at the party ready and willing (ha double entendre) or at very least telling me that they were) to go and find me some help.

“I’m standing at my car right now, just let me know if you need me and I’m on my way.”

Did I mention I hate asking for help?  Because I do.

I’m standing outside my car looking a bit bummed.  Gotta love my luck and horrific planning.  I’m having a “you should have known better moment…”

I’m on the phone with one of these white knights when a couple of rebels pull up.

“We’ll tow you to a gas station.  Just try and start it and put it in neutral so we can get it on the lift.”

Wouldn’t you know it the asshole truck started right up then.  Mother of ::insert explicative ninja’d by Faarbot*::

Bonus points if you get that joke and legitimately know what it’s in reference to.

Super bonus points if you’re an articulate, savy and successful artist/geek.

Super super bonus points if you live and/or have no problem traveling back and forth to/want to use airline miles to send a beautiful nerd girl from LA to another amazing city.

“I’m fixing to steal an Audi a few blocks from here.”

I always did think the whole idea of repo men was a bit hot.  They’re a different kind of calculated prowler than me, but we’re still one and the same; me- out and about wondering where the next blog fodder will pop up, them- stealing cars for a living.

“Three people asked me to tow their cars before I saw you.” he says as he laughs.

Yes, that means I got in the car with 2 random strangers.  As Michael Pilla told me later that night:

“This sounds like the plot of a horror movie or a porno.. either way, you’re fucked…”

Should I not be admitting that I have hitchhiked on purpose without a car trouble related situation quite a few times already?  Oops.  Apparently I fail then.

“I’m a country boy.. That car is hot but with you in it, its that much hotter..”

Yeah, I told you my tits looked fabulous in that top.

11:15:

I’m finally on the way to the party.  The doorman thought I was 18.  When I told him that I’d birthed 3 kids he was shocked.  No one seems to believe that when they see me.  Horray for daddy’s genetics and Wii fit.

I find my friends and the party goes on as only the usual suspects can possibly entertain.  Nicole looked amazing.  It’s hard to believe that she’s what 27?  28?  Is it wrong that I’d forgotten?  Again, did I mention she looked fabulous?  Seriously.

I’d never been to that club before.  I’m still learning the city prowl.  The regular set of friends doesn’t seem to be into the whole club/bar/socialite crawl.  It’s not a big deal but.. well I already talked about that didn’t I?

i don’t remember what time it was because I’m not interested in the time anymore:

I’m telling my friends about what happened on the way to the party.  I can’t believe its been nearly a month since I’ve seen some of them.  Someone smacks me on the ass and I giggle.

“What just happened?”

“Oh someone just smacked my ass.”

“Random ass smacking you say?”

“Sure.” I say with a wink.  (Yes I know exactly who it was by the way)

So there’s this guy I’ve been talking to off and on for the better part of at least a year now.   His doppleganger walks by and I mentioned it to the immediate circle that this guy caught my eye.  I know most everyone in attendance here, but where the hell did he come from?  I had just mentioned on the phone earlier that there needed to be more hot single men in our group.

I’d rather be chased and do the chasing.  I knew I was going to make a way to talk to him somehow.  The guys just made it easier for me.

“You look like someone we know.. who are you?” they said as they pulled him over.

It’s great to have wingmen.  I owe you a drink boys.  I didn’t pick him up.  I just picked him out.

We sat and talked for a good portion of the party.  Video games.  Twitter. 2.0. Where do I fit in here. A little about him.  A little about me.  Etcetera, etcetera etcetera.

If you’re reading this, know that I did catch you looking down a few times.  I believe I said that I noticed but I really did enjoy the introduction so some words may have escaped me.  I could have gone for hours. Take that as you will.

He’s not from around here unfortunately.   From the bay area.  He asked me how far I am from LAX.  I told him 20 minutes.  More like 10 with no traffic, but I neglected to mention that at the time.  Damnit I cockblocked myself.

He kissed me.  On the scale of 1 to 10 with kissing, I’d say it was…

I’m all about passionate kisses in the moonlight in public places.

“I’m glad that I met you.  I didn’t expect to meet anyone tonight, let alone such a great kisser.”

I blushed.  Perhaps I’m cuter when I don’t try.  I’m glad I met him as well.  He was like an unexpected phantom.. the wildcard.

I should have brought him home with me like a souvenir or pulled him into a bathroom.  I hesitated.  I masterbated.  It wouldn’t have been the first time.   There’s something to be said about sex in public.  But there’s still time.  Thank you digital age once again.

3am (yes I’m noticing the time again as now they’re kicking us out of the club):

I’d had a little bit of time with a newly single hot gent.  Yes a different one.

I think the doppleganger was on a bit of sensory overload.  There were a lot of pretty girls there.  A blonde in a blue dress.  A stereotypical hipster cliche.  Hey whatever turns you on.  Personally I’d have gone with the black haired girl in the yellow dress with the bubble skirt hemline.  But we’ve already established my problem approaching women.

I didn’t go to the afterparty.  I elected to just go home.  Perhaps I should have.  Perhaps not.

Messages sent.

“Off the record- you are extremely cute btw. I wanted to tell you that before but didn’t feel was appropriate at the time”

“Let me know when its on the record.”

Dirty words exchanged.

Etcetera Etcetera Etcetera.

I went to bed naked as usual.  A little more motivation to finish my night off before passing out on the raptor cloud that is my bed.

9am Sunday:

I checked my messages.  Probably the best written introduction I’ve received from a gent so far.  Kudos on that one sir.

All in all… I can’t complain. Ah today sounds like a good day to go beaching.  I’m good on gas now.  Maybe I can have a chance encounter.  Will it be with you?

“Cautious”/ Why I hate having a vagina sometimes

Ah the joys of womanhood strike once again. There’s always going to be that one person that you are extremely cautious bringing guys around. She may not have to do anything. She may just exist. She may be flirty and dainty and innocent. She may state numerous times she doesn’t want to date them…

You can be the most confident woman in the planet, but if there’s one bone of competitiveness at all- the normal reaction is to be protective. It’s childish. It’s petty. It’s one disgusting part of the whole having a vagina that I admittedly fall into. With just that woman. And more clearly- only men I’m involved with who I feel actually hold some sort of real value.

Portions of a blog (not fully posted) provide a better explanation here:

I wasn’t happy about the situation with the dark horse, but decided it was best left alone. Maybe in a few days things would calm down. Maybe they wouldn’t. The situation sucked but it was what it was. I made one last attempt at an apology and was coming to grips with the idea of “I fucked up, but I did what I could to repair it.”

And then I got a message this morning.

“We need to talk. IM me when you see me on.”

I was shocked to see him on this early. With eyes squinted half open, I sent a message anyway.

Conversation was cordial, but got right to the point: I slept with x person.

Now when he’d asked me before if I had, we joked around.. I thought that it was pretty apparent that I had and we continued.

However, in truth, I regrettably had. Last year. I’d made a point to get tested, as I have within weeks of every lover, as an added protection to having safe sex. I thought that the answer regardless was no ones business but my own.

But then someone decided to make it otherwise.

To be perfectly clear here, I am not going to write something here to try and make anyone feel sorry for me. This doesn’t make my actions of denial any better.

She knows little about the dark horse other than what I’ve told her. She doesn’t know him personally beyond a name on a screen linked to her from my facebook. However, now they’re virtual friends- which is what him and and I started as, and she ended up talking to him.

I’ve oftentimes pondered why I have so few attractive female friends before and came to the conclusion once again as to why. Miscommunication, jealousy, and otherwise petty bullshit when a man enters the picture weather intentional or otherwise. Both women turn vicious. One, because she feels she’s protecting her interest. The other, because she believes you understand she’s not trying to “steal” said guy.

The conversation with the dark horse did not go well- I felt it was over already. What I said in response felt to me like it was mere time filler. I’d assumed that he’d

a-already believed a stranger over me. & b-already come to his own conclusions- therefore nulling anything I’d said in retort.

Fessing up to what I’d done- when I didn’t believe that I’d intentionally lied to him, didn’t seem like it mattered. I did end up coming clean after I’d cooled down. To make matters on my conscious even worse, he told me that whatever she said had nothing to do with him and I… the point that it did was this detail that could have been potentially dangerous for the both of us. At which, I felt even worse.

I’m perfectly out there when it comes to my sexuality. I’m choosy about my lovers- he was a mistake. You’re allowed one aren’t you? I can safely say I’ve only had one, make that 2 one night stands. I had intended to date one night stand 2, but after it happened decided otherwise. I have safe sex. I get tested on a regular basis.

8:45 AM

I feel like I very likely have lost 2 people who I actually cared about. I saw so much potential with the dark horse. He did things that I’d waited and wondered for months why my Big hadn’t done. I was shocked when he came into the picture like he did. The timing.. everything.. seemed perfect. And although things have not been the most perfect between us, I’d like to think that he came into the picture for a reason.

I keep getting told that there’s a certain way a real man is supposed to treat a woman. A healthy, two sided… wonderful nonabrasive way. My attitude had changed towards the fair race. I had hope that maybe, just maybe, I’d met someone who I was interested in that actually really did want more from me than just the sex. That this boy was different… who wasn’t going to be this all time jerk like.. others have been. I guess they really do exist beyond a fantasy.

I feel horrible knowing that it has very likely fucked up because of my own actions- weather unintentional or otherwise. I’m upset with the thought of losing him as a friend and more. He didn’t deserve any of that. He was the first guy in years that had actually piqued my interest the way I’m told romeos are naturally supposed to.

And despite the miscommunication that seemed to have happened with both of them, I want them to remain in my life (well if he even lets me). I was extremely upset earlier this morning. I contemplated ending the friendship with the girl. I felt like I’d been an asshole to the guy. I was pissed all around both with myself and the situation. As the friend knows, Hiroshima ain’t got nothing on me when I feel you’ve pressed one of my red buttons.

In that regard, I was having what I call a “vagina” moment but I’m over it.

I need to take a step back and think about how someone else would react to how I word things. Sometimes I am very vague, or direct, and don’t think about how someone may not know where to read between the lines. I honestly didn’t mean for this misunderstanding to happen, and hope at some point he could forgive me.

Yet again one of the things I most regret coming to the surface. The reality of a coyote ugly moment is that it never goes away, even after that walk of shame. When you look back it will come back to haunt you.

So be careful.

Be cautious.

But most importantly- don’t do it.

And make sure you and your partner on clear with things before you have a moment like mine. Not just because you care about the other person, but for everyone’s own safety.

*Cheers*