Casual Sex, Social Media & Manners

Here I am, a gal, in her (mid) thirties, still single. I had imagined that by this point in my life, I would have stumbled across my future other half - The yin to my yang, the sprinkles to my doughnut, the cream cheese to my bagel. I don't believe that being in a relationship is the be all and end all of one's purpose of existence on Earth. I just assumed that I'd have a partner in crime by now. And not for reproduction purposes either. I am pleased to announce that the old, biological clock in this old maid still hasn't started incessantly ticking as of yet. I suppose what I'm searching for is a companion. A part time lover and a full time friend. Are there any men out there searching for the same thing? Or, are all of the blokes in my appropriate side-kick age bracket still in relationships with their high school sweetheart / first wife / other generic significant other? Have their previous relationships ended so badly that they too are sworn off the opposite sex, like me? Whatis going on in this crazy,  mixed up world?

Most recently I introduced you to the Tattooed Man. A conquest eleven years in the making and this is where I'm headed with today's tale. To refresh your memory,  the Tattooed Man and I met way back in 2005. He was married and I had just started dating (I hate that phrase) fucking, I was fucking  The Orangutan. Sure we flirted, I mean I was a horny 23 year old and he had a sexy accent and a dick. What wasn't to be drawn to?  But nothing ever came of it... Until we fast forward eleven years into the future and we happen to bump into each other through work. We added each other to Facebook and have random chats here and there. We agree to meet up for a few drinks. I went to his place, drank some wine and we fucked like horny teenagers with the house to themselves. I had a great time. He had a great time. I left the next day and we continued to chat over the next few months. We tried syncing rosters so that we could arrange another time for a romp. This proved extremely hard, as we're both shift workers. The flirty banter continued as I patiently waited for my next chance.  

Which brings me to an incident that took place about a month or so ago. Our opposing footy teams were due to clash. I proposed that the person whose team lost the match would owe the other a BJ. He accepted the bet, and a few hours later, my team won. I received the following message "I will be licking you on Sat night." I checked my schedule was clear and booked him in. I even offered a consolation  BJ to which he responded "If you can get my throbbing cock out of your vag you're more than welcome".  Awww yes! Come to Mamma! The evening before the big event he requested a rain check, and because I'm not needy or clingy I told him that was cool. I wasn't cool, I was disappointed, but I had hope that we would reschedule in the coming weeks. I was wrong, oh so very wrong. See screen shots below for maximum WTF value (some details obscured to keep shit anonymous). 

What was going on? He knows that I'm keen to bump uglies and suck his dick, why on earth is he trying to palm me off to his buddy? A buddy I know next to nothing about,  other than a first name, occupation and phone number! He could be a serial killer for all I know! No thanks.  

Ten days later I did the dumbest thing a cool, casual chick like me could do. I drunk texted him to reschedule his bogus rain check!  He read my message and never replied. I was heartbroken. Well maybe not heartbroken, perhaps I was more disappointed in both he and myself. Him, because he has turned out to be just like all of the others preceding him, but more so me. I'm so disappointed with myself for letting my feelings get involved. When will I ever learn. Isn't it human nature to grow and develop our character, to learn from our past mistakes that hurt us so much? 

Which now brings me to the finale of this particular chapter of my uneventful sex life. The very next day after my massive faux pas, and every few days since, he has been posting photos and commentary of activities and outings and even an exotic holiday on Facebook, complete with tags of his new female companion. *face palm* It reeks of bad manners and insensitivity. Meanwhile, he had at least two opportunities to let me off the hook when I was throwing drunk self at him. That's not the worst bit. The worst part is even though there's fresh meat on the scene, he still remains active on the dating website we're both on. I wonder if she knows? Perhaps that will be another story down the road. For now, I'm left pondering, should I call the mysterious Mr M? He could very well be the key of turning my uneventful sex life into the rampant dream that I crave. He might even be the chocolate chip to my cookie...

Do you have a 'To Do' List?

Last night I had the opportunity to tick another name off my 'BoysTo Do' list. He's been on there for some time. Since 2005. 11 years. I never thought I'd cross his name off, but here I am,  and I have!

I met this fella at the same time that I met The Orangutan. You know,  he's the bloke I moved to the other side of the planet for and is also the same bloke that ripped my heart out and shat on it. The newest notch on my bed post is the Tattooed Man. Originally from Queens, New York City. And yep, he still has his accent. Sweet!

The three of us started working together and did our training together. The Tattooed Man was married back in '05, but this didn't stop us from having a big old flirt. We were employed on a casual basis so when the job finished up The Orangutan and I went off to England and I lost contact with the Tattooed Man.

We bumped into each other once or twice along the road, he had actually started working with a friend of mine and we reconnected at a party in around 2008, before once more going our separate ways, after a major flirting session of course.  In August last year he popped into my mind for some reason or another. I did a quick search on Facebook and sent out a friend request. He accepted,  I was stoked.

A few months ago, he popped up in an instant message on Facebook. We began chatting back and forth, it turns out that we are once again, both working for the same large organisation. All be it, in very different roles,  but they sometimes overlap as I travel for my job. Lo and behold, I ended up at his office!  We got to chatting and reminiscing about the good old days and before I knew it, it was time for me to leave. But before leaving we agreed that we needed to go out for some beers and a bite to eat, so that we could catch up properly. I planned on having a few drinks working my flirty mojo and drawing him into my lair.

We had planned to met up two weeks ago on the Saturday evening of his birthday weekend. It seemd that he had gone out with his buddies the night before and was out partying until 5am. Needless to say he was hung over so badly he couldn't get his arse off the couch. I was cut.

On Wednesday we began a serious flirt fest back and forth over text. We came to agree that I would go to his house for a few beers after he finished work at 11pm last night (Saturday ).  I spent the day pimping and preening myself. I moisturised and de-fuzzed, which is a big deal for me because I very rarely de-fuzz for anything or anyone, just ask my friends ! Just after 11pm, I sent him a message asking if he was ready to rumble, to which he replied 'Hell yeah!'. I put on my sexy red bra and slipped on myzip front dress, no knickers and off I went!

I was so nervous. My heart was thumping, it kind of felt like it was beating to an odd new rythm and my hands that are usually super warm were now cold and clamy. I managed pull myself together by the time I got to his front door. As I approached the open door I gave him a little shout to announce my arrival. He smoothly answered the door with a big grin as he said, 'Hey baby doll, come on in!'.

He offered me a drink, quickly adding that he only had manly drinks on hand - scotch, rum, vodka or gin. None of which I drink. He managed to rustle up a bottle of red wine from somewhere and filled a glass almost to the brim! We sat on the couch, he with a scotch on the rocks and I with my very large red wine. We chatted along for over an hour, the conversation easily flowed. Then all of a sudden, he took my wine from my hand and pounced!

We must have been kissing on the couch for a good 10 minutes before his hands wandered between my legs. He was like a kid on Christmas morning when he notice that I had not worn any underwear, he quickly rose to his feet and pulled me to his bedroom.

We both stripped off our clothes and he gave me the old American ho-down throw down onto his bed. It was rough,  hard, and furious. There was hair pulling, ass spanking and choking. I fucking loved every minute of it, and lapped it up like a kitty cat drinking milk from a saucer.

We shagged multiple times into the wee hours of the morning. Between rounds we lay down on the bed, held hands and just talked. It was bliss. Eventually we were both spent and slowly fell asleep.

I left 12 hours after I had arrived. I love rough sex. I love when the guy takes charge. I love being fucked hard. He was well worth an 11 year wait. And you know what, I can't wait to go back for more!

Eulogy for my Mobile Phone

Well friends, so it has come. The day that I must say goodbye to the handheld mobile telecommunication device that has served me for almost three years. To my HTC Desire 310, I dedicate this...



I still remember the day I went into Dick Smith’s, looking for a new, stylish phone to replace the clunky fucker I had been carting around, and that had died. All I wanted was something that would not get lost in my handbag and ring loud enough that I could hear it. You had seduced me with your custom ring tones, deep, metallic blue back cover, and multitude of apps available the Google Play Store.



We had our share of problems. I remember dropping you, face down on the tiles at Altona Gate mere minutes after taking ownership of you.

It wasn’t long before the Accuweather widget was dropped onto your home screen and your cute Tinkerbell case kept you safe. I still remember the new phone engulfed my nasal passage as I rushed to free you from your cardboard prison.



We had great times, you and I. You had next to zero storage space for apps. I remember you would power down for no reason. Your Apps would crash. After about a year, I thought I had been forgiven for dropping you multiple times and splashing water on you, but I know you never forgot.



Battle scars aside; you served me well, and seemed to enjoy playing little jokes on me. I would slam you against the coffee table sometimes when you shut off while I was commenting on a Facebook status. I’d go absolutely mental with rage. I know you were afraid when I threatened to pull you apart and set you on fire, but you knew I wouldn’t let go of you. I did throw you across the room many times, but I loved you just the same.

You always enjoyed ringing when I was very busy. Your Yakety Sax ring tone will always live in the memories of all of my friends as the most annoying ring tone - Ever.



Earlier this year, your components started wearing out and I knew our time together was almost up. Your camera lens was scratched and couldn’t snap photos very well. People called you such insensitive things, and those words hurt us both, but we carried on.
This morning at 6:30am, you couldn’t load the Facebook app. You just didn’t have enough oooomfff left in you to run my life anymore. I ran CCleaner app to try and unclog some memory or space or whatever it is that enables you to do the things I want you to do. I switched you off for a Reboot. You then got stuck on the start-up screen, and when I found you hours later in my handbag, you were overheating and hot to the touch.



I took off you back cover, removed your battery and micro SD card for future placement in a new phone. I went ahead and did a factory reset – Nothing. With tears in my eyes; I pushed your power button for what I knew was the last time. As your display went dark and fell silent, I recognized the end of an era. You are no longer with me.



You will rest peacefully in the drawer of my bedside table, the graveyard of all mobile phones past. Now I know, you will be substituted, but never replaced. RIP old friend.

 

Very single and more than ready to mingle!

Why is it so hard to find a root in Melbourne town?  I'm convinced that there are no spunky, single guys left on this planet. 

Where does a 30-something-year-old gal go in 2016 to find a bloke? I'm over the whole online thing - it's  so lame! Tinder is shit and full of creepy cunts. My office has nil suitable potential mates. I feel like I am stuck between a rock and a hard place.

According to popular belief, I'm currently in my sexual peak. I'm not entirely sure what the heck that means, because I've been a crazy-horny nympho for most of my adult life.

I've learned to release my sexual frustrations whilst flying solo. I should have bought shares in Duracell years ago, due to the amount of batteries I've gone through over the years! Although, recently I lashed out and shouted myself two new Lelo toys - top of the range, rechargeable and highly recommended; should you be in the market and a couple of new dildoes - moulded directly from the shafts of two of my favorite porn stars.

But let me tell you, there's a massive difference between getting yourself off with a vibrator or rubber dong and getting your box smashed by a real dick, attached to a sexy man.

I think it's the mental connection that I'm yearning for most. I don't believe that it's healthy to not have that skin on skin, primal connection with another human being that you only experience when you're fucking like a wild animal. 

What if I get too accustomed to my Lelos and silicone dicks? What if when I do eventually hook up with some random, he isn't able to satisfy me the way I could be satisfied in the past? I was the kind of girl that just needed a kiss on the neck, or a finger traced over my pussy to get a flood happening.

I need to stop piss farting around and get myself laid! My plan for this year, is to get laid as much as I did when I was in my 20's.

If you have any spare, handsome, single guys hanging around, let me know. I'd be happy to take him off your hands!

Watch this space.

A blow job a day, keeps a mistress at bay!

I finished work at 3pm on Friday afternoon.  I made plans with a friend from my old department to have our nails done and grab a bite to eat. As you may know, it's near on impossible to get your nails done and talk on the phone, so when I was mid buff and my phone rang, I let it go through to voice mail.

After my nails had dried I dug my hand into my bag to retrieve my phone. The missed call from earlier had been made from a private number, I assumed it was someone calling from home or work. I dialed my mail box to listen to the message. It was full of static  and I could barely hear what the voice on the other end was saying.

I replayed the message on loud speaker to decypher what was being said. From what I could pick up, it was some woman named Jody who was accusing me of sleeping with her boyfriend! She advised that I should stop sleeping with him or she'd kill me. She ended with, "Got that Ok? Thanks, bye!". So polite of her.

I laughed so hard I nearly pissed my pants! Who the fuck is this crazy bitch!? How did she get my number? And more importantly,  who the fuck is it that I have supposedly fucked? I must have sexsomnia, because I haven't had sex with anyone other than myself in over a year that I am aware of!

If anyone knows an crazy, angry bitch named Jody, who's other half  has been stepping out on her, please let her kmow that it's not me that fucked him, but maybe she should throw him the occasional BJ and maybe,  just maybe, he wouldn't need to cheat on her with someone like me!

I loved you best...

About 6 weeks ago, I lost my best mate of almost 19 years. I remember when we met, he fit into the palm of my hands. You were there by my side when I lost my Mum. You were always there. I miss you every day. R.I.P Billy x

So this is where we part, My Friend,
And you'll run on, around the bend.
Gone from sight, but not from mind,
new pleasures there you'll surely find.

I will go on; I'll find the strength,
Life measures quality, not its length.
One long embrace before you leave,
Share one last look, before I grieve.

There are others, that much is true,
But they be they, and they aren't you.
And I, fair, impartial, or so I thought,
Will remember well all you've taught.

Your place I'll hold, you will be missed,
The fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.
And as you journey to your final rest,
Take with you this...I loved you best.

The little things...

In less than one month I turn 32. My Mum died when I was 18 years old. I hardly think about her anymore, aside from those 'special' days - Birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and such.

Tonight I took a huge tumble down the dangerous back step of our house. I was on my lying on my back on the cold hard concrete bawling my eyes out. I managed to get myself inside the house to clean up and assess the damage.

Still sobbing, I hobbled into the lounge room to put my feet up. The only thing I could think of whilst I was applying was iodine to my stinging wounds was an overwhelming need for a hug from my Mum and for her to pat down my hear and kiss me on top of my head to make me feel better. This made me sob harder and louder that my sobs turned into a wail. I snapped myself out of it and concentrated on tending to my grazes. 

I'm all good now, a few grazes here and there, it's mostly just a bruised ego. I still wouldn't mind a hug from Mumma Bear though.