seduction led to a week in bed together. which led to dating. which led to moving in & marriage proposals. i didn’t expect we’d get along so well & that i could be so distracted that i’d wake up in a few months practically domesticated. so i suppose the social experiment of being a young single bartender is at least temporary over and now the experiment is whether or not i can be a normal good girlfriendy sort of person.

i’ve made a couple of mistakes already. well maybe more than a couple. perhaps it’s sabotage. i’ve been told it’s something of a dark side. or just a bad person. it’s that feeling of not wanting to miss out on experiences. being mentally loyal to different things and different people.

being in a dark corner of a pub. drunk. told to slip your panties off in the bathroom and come back. just an experience right?

Always stuck between what I think I want, what I think I should want… what feels good on the inside and what looks good on the outside. Sometimes classy men in expensive suits ask me out out.. I can see in their eyes how good they would treat me and how genuine they are… but all warm thoughts are overshadowed by silly facts like that they didn’t bother to tailor their suit to fit them in a flattering way or bother with anything original.. and I can guess their poor taste in music by the way they cut their hair. i entertain the thought of being the one to help them tie their tie in the morning and loosening it up when they get home.. but also see them as part of the rat race and as bland as the cubicle they willingly shackled themselves to. I think I could fit into that life… but it would be like playing a part and though I could lose myself in the role.. it would still be an act.

To be honest and try and analyze myself.. I think I get pleasure from being the weakness of powerful men… I currently want to seduce the owner of my place of employment. Not necessarily sleep wit him… but I want to explore the possibilities. He is pretentious and walks with his chest feathers fluffed out… but he has sparks of playful words and sideways glances…. I don’t know what it is about men in power… I suppose in a world where women are most often at the losing end of the power struggle… I don’t want to just get men by their balls.. I want them to willingly hand them to me on a silver platter. Sometimes. just sometimes. sheeez don’t make that face.

i don’t know if it’s desperation at this point or if i just plain keep forgetting how old i am.. it just happens that i keep flirting with young’uns.. i have a couple drinks and i get lost in pretending i’m optimistic and nieve.. this little skinny boy all in black with his hair in his face was giving me puppy dog eyes and asked if i would be getting a break. i went to find him and he was just so sweet… he asked if there was somewhere quiet where we could talk- and took my hand and we ran giggling up the steps and around the corner. he called me a superhero. he didnt have his phone on him so i actually slipped him my number later… that may have been a first. i’ve let myself get sucked into the adult world of bitter jaded men who have been around every block too many times… maybe i just want to for once be the one who is doing the corrupting & taking away of innocence. .. kidding.. but mean, i can’t help getting lost in the reflection from the wee ones’ bright soft eyes… ..
it all started with this little dj/model, (and of course musician) who had the confidence to kiss me in public out of nowhere last year… he is a cocky little fucker but i had fun whenever i ran into him. .. then there have been other actual teenagers who offer themselves out challenging me to let them prove themselves. when did life become like this.. i don’t quite know what to make of it all. i mean i don’t have a daddy complex.. there is no reason why i should limit myself to old men (besides the obvious reasons).. but can i really hang out with a boy whose mother will be worried if she wakes up and realizes he hasnt come home. there has to be some happy medium out there.

i was dating someone mildly famous.. and by dating I mean I was sleeping with. I’m learning to speak in a realistic honest tone about the whole thing as a process of cleansing him from my system. For all the times my heart hasn’t been in it and I’ve been able to live in the moment without wanting more… this one gave me a good shake and subsequent slap in the face. The lines between love and infatuation are still blurred.. but whatever it was.. it’s changed me somehow.. and left me looking for distractions.
At one point I found myself wandering a park after having left the house in the easiest dress I could pull over my head.. no makeup.. uncombed hair and all. I stopped in the fanciest patisserie I could find and bought a chocolate meringue the size of my head that cost more than my week of groceries usually adds up to. i was so numb i couldn’t feel the cold or everything i ate tasted like nothing. I sat by the duck pond and called my mom… admitting the weak defeated words I’ve never in my whole life owned up to.

Julian would show up in town and send me a nonchalant text… he always stayed in the same hotel and after his first visit I would just ask for his room number… drop everything and run over there. i tried to act nonchalant but games can’t really be played with someone who is only in town for one night.

The first time he was staying under a fake name… he wrote it down on a piece of paper with his hotel’s address, his number, and slipped me cab money. I had to go up to the front desk where they told me they were expecting me and escorted me to the suite elevator. Showing up to a strangers hotel room at one in the morning gave me mixed feelings… more than how I personally felt, I didn’t like the idea of how it made me look to him. but jumping on the huge bed the next morning and raiding the mini bar while he was doing interviews quickly eased me into the lifestyle.
The next day to my surprise he texted me something sweet and invited me over again.. from then on it was a comfortable pattern for a few months every time he came around. By our third night together we were already reading in bed side by side.
He shared personal stories with me and always asked a lot of questions about my family and life. He would tell me secrets but then give me an untrusting glance and think out loud about how he didn’t know why but he felt he could trust me. he said he was good at reading people.

Sex didn’t seem to be the point. It was always quick no frills sex followed by good chats and cuddles. I think he was just lonely and I wasn’t a threat. I’d lay with my head on his chest while he smoked with one hand and stroked my hair with the other… we’d watch a movie and go to sleep early. He was always tired…. his one eye pinched a bit more… he’d fall asleep as the little spoon on the edge of the bed with me pulled up close behind him & his hand reaching around to hold me against him by an butt cheek. He never was even interested in morning sex. I’d lay there half naked and he’d give me lingering glances.. telling me I was sexy with a coy smile… but that was as far as his distraction would go. We’d order room service coffee & breakfast… either he’d leave for an interview and tell me to keep sleeping or I’d watch him pack wondering if I’d ever see him again. The best morning was when he ignored the schedule slipped under the door by his manager &  jumped back in bed with me for a few hours.. we both fell asleep facing each other for once… arms and legs intertwined.. when he woke up he stood over me beaming and said it was a damn good cuddle.

I didn’t sleep with anyone else between his visits because I knew no one else would make my heart feel that way and I didn’t want to erase the feeling he left me with. Sex didn’t even matter… I just missed his eyes and smell and the feeling of his skin under my fingers so much that I was blind to any other men around me. When he would come back in town without warning as he always did, seeing his name pop up on my phone made me lose my breath and feel nauseous. as the weeks went by between visits i would make progress towards ridding him of my every thought…. focusing on the fact that he was too busy for me… i would spend less time reading his interviews and watching him on youtube.. i would forbid myself to stand in magazine shops thumbing pages looking for his picture… but then he would come back and the process would have to be restarted…

When he’d open his hotel room door and his eyes fell on me, I could see that he had missed me. When i was reading in bed and he was at his computer i would catch him watching me through the mirror he was facing. But once he left the city.. I knew he left the thought of me behind too. Sometimes walking around I spot someone who looks like him out of the corner of my eye… my heart sinks and my stomach knots up. Via gossip blog i found out who would be sharing his hotel room with next time he was in town.. and though she would be mimicking the same patterns i had set with him, she probably had her own key. the distinction was made and i was put in my place. laying in a friends bed curled up with his laptop tears silently yet dramatically ran down my face. i spent a couple days in bed quietly mourning. Now i am just left haunted.

it amazes me how quickly strangers can end up cuddling with the intimacy of long time lovers. these men intertwine their fingers with mine in the middle of the night and pull me close.. giving me little kisses and wrap me in their arms. their feet finding mine to play footsie and they stroke my hair when they think i’m asleep.
maybe sex is just the ice breaker for the warmth we are all lacking in our daily lives. we pull away from our parents and then find ourselves seeking replacement affection. someone we can be vulnerable with. you’ve already seen them naked and know what funny noises they make and where their weak spots are… so once you are laying there in the dark.. life stories and secrets begin to flow. i find out more about a stranger in the hour following sex than friends i have had for years… bodies pressed together and usually with one hand cupping a boob… they seem best able to bare their soul with ease.

when i went to visit my parents i went home with a friends of friends… his face was familiar but we had never had a real conversation until that night. what i will always remember about him is that when i woke up he asked if i needed anything… stretching my arms up and becoming aware of the all over stickyness i yawned that i was going to borrow his shower. to which he responds.. ok, lets take a shower. heh? i’ve had boyfriends for years that i haven’t taken a shower with… but ok. we squish into his little cubicle of a shower.. make out a bit… and then he soaps up a soft poofy sponge and taking his time gently washes me from top to bottom with all the care of a real lover. it was so sweet. he took me to breakfast and we sat in the sun and discussed our families and pasts… shared really personal stories.. then he drove me home and i never saw him again.

One can’t help but wonder how a man can reach the age of 32 and still think it is acceptable to lick a girl’s face as a form of kissing. first.. you wonder.. what sort of pleasure he derives out of it.. then you wonder how it’s possible that he thinks you could possibly be getting turned on. animal passion is one thing… this is more like when a massive dog catches you in a vulnerable position and slaps its foul tongue across your face. offended. and this is the first ‘date’ mind you.
While trying to figure out how to think of the situation in a positive light.. i find myself more importantly worried he’s going to cause me to wake up with some massive zits. can’t be healthy. i can feel my pores being blocked by strange saliva. oh great.. now he’s literally rhythmically penetrating my mouth with his tongue… i feel violated.
Bad rabbit sex.. except it’s my mouth pinned down.
while he continues doing whatever it is… i let my mind wander.. hmmm How have i found myself in his strangers’ bedroom.. oh god, there is a South Park poster on the wall and i can’t quite place the smell but if i had to label it.. i’d say a cross between sweaty balls and moldy towel. it’s all the things i somehow escaped dealing with when i was a teenager and now the world is trying to even out the score.

I thought i was making an effort to better society. or at least those around me at work. i was turning into one of those girls who i would decide needed to get laid to solve their attitude problems. you know the ones.. you look at them and just think.. wow.. she really just needs to get fucked.
Every few months i set out to get something out of my system. sometimes i justify it as living life to it’s fullest.. sometimes i need to remind myself of some things… other times i suppose i just need some sort of intimate contact with something that can break my routine of eating cereal alone every morning and keep me warm.

My first attempt was with an old friend. Seemingly harmless.. safe.. simple. but rather this begins the little red riding hood saga of trying to find something to satisfy the moment that was juuuust right.. but the process starts with everything alllll wrong.
so i make plans with Don…. go over late and hop in his bed to watch movies.. position myself provocatively and strip down to a slip for movie number two under the covers. when he finally makes his move- literally 10 hours later- we kiss and fumble like teenagers. lets just say after much nervous giggling and limpness.. contact is made… there is hope… for three pumps.. then hope is dribbling down my stomach and forming a pool in my belly button. the ending statement.. uuhh shit, that was way too quick. awkward. followed by clumsy kisses and validating cuddles to say it’s ok, it happens to everyone, that 30 seconds was totally satisfying… and i’m sure i’ll be able to look at you in the eye in the morning. this is only made worse by attempts to analyze where it all went wrong. can we not talk about it.
I go to work the next day more bitter and defeated than usual.

I spotted Aus at work and smiled at him….. i don’t know why.. funny haircuts do it for me. he asked for my number and kept in contact in a nice non-suffocating way so i figured there was potential. I felt some sort of spark. comfort. so last night i invited myself to his house for movies. i don’t know at what point i started declining offers to ‘go out’…. i guess i’m becoming more forward as my soul is hardened and reality is accepted. i have so few days off and have to make the most out of random bursts of energy. again. skip the bullshit going out step… that way he doesn’t have to find some excuse to talk me back to his house.. less games are played.. i have no more patience for games.
He makes his move right away. again. potential is there. but face sucking turns into a whole mess of disappointments. i end up faking sleep to stop the marathon of foreplay that never amounts to anything more than irritation and frustration. if i didn’t take my turn at going limp, he never would have either. he said i should take it as a compliment, it means he really likes me.
When did it become so hard to just get fucked. But eh, at least i got a good massage out of the deal. Massage and reminder that people criticized in the past were actually more deserving of credit than previously thought.