Light Bulb Momnet!

It has finally dawned on me that you truly don't know what you've got until it's gone! It's only taken most of my adult life thus far to come to this conclusion. Better late than never I guess?

How many is too many?

 

Yesterday I watched a movie called 'What's your Number?'. It's about a chick in her thirties, living in Boston; who's having a mini mid-life crisis. Her younger sister is getting married before her, her dropkick boyfriend recently dumped her and she has just lost her job. On the shame train home from losing her job, she digs through a box of personal items she comes across a magazine with an article that states that the average number of sexual partners for American women is 10.5. The article also goes on to say that women who have had twenty or more sexy-time friends will have difficulty finding a husband. She quickly digs through her box and starts writing down her list. She comes to a final number - 19. 

She decides that the next person she sleeps with will be her future husband. She pretty much fucks that up the same day by sleeping with her ball scratching, finger sniffing ex boss. She cannot believe what she's done and so that she doesn't get over 20 cocks, she decides to revisit them all. She enlists the help of her man whore neighbour to track down the original 19 fellas and in the process starts falling for him. She refuses to sleep with him as she sees him as another time wasting douche. Long story short, they find all of her exes. None of which are right for her to be with as they are either dead, married/engaged or just plain old weird (puppet guy). She eventually gives into her feelings for the man whore neighbour and allegedly the live happily ever after.

It got me to thinking, how many cocks for one girl is too many? 5? 10? 15? 20? 40? 100? From what I can remember from similar what's your magic number conversations my posse of girls, it seems we average between the mid teens to late twenties. We are all just into our thirties, assume we all had our cherries popped at age 15. This means at this stage in our lives we have been rooting like rabbits for at least fifteen years. Assume that most girls start out with a teenage love. A boyfriend they are with until they turn say, twenty. There's 1 cock and 5 years. Once we turn 18 and discover booze and partying our number of sexual partners dramatically rises. I'd say that in your early twenties a chick could easily sleep with at least 10 guys. Drunken one-night stands were pretty common in my day. I doubt that I could even give an accurate number of how many people I've slept with. 

I was somewhat a good girl until my ex broke up with me. He was my number 12. I went a bit boy-crazy after him and at age 26 after thinking I was going to be planning a wedding and spending the rest of my life with this one fella, the picture in my head was shattered and I found myself single, living out of home with my promiscuous, gay best friend. It was at this time that I discovered online dating. Starting a new relationship was the last thing on my mind I just wanted to fuck my little heart out to get my mind off the wanker that broke it.

Online dating is like shooting fish in a barrel. I must have clocked up at least ten to fifteen cocks in about 6 months. I can't remember the exact number (or names). Between my housemate and I, the front door of our house was like a revolving door of a busy office building in the city. There were dudes coming and going at all times of the day and night. Ahh, the joys of shift work, giving you the flexibility for a cheeky midweek rendezvous here and there. Bliss!

It was always safe sex. I knew that banging some random nameless guy was not worth contracting an STD for. I've calmed down a lot since then. That was a wild 18 months. My promiscuity came to an abrupt end when the house mate and I had a fight and I moved back home with my family. There's not a faster way on earth to kill your sex life than to move back home with your family!

The long and short of it all, I don't know how many cocks I've had. I estimate it's somewhere in the region of 25 to maybe 35 but probably more. Too many? What do you think? What's your number?

Relationship Bench Warmer

So, The Gentle Giant has found a new lady friend. Again. And again, I've been ditched. I have come to realise that I am his relationship bench warmer. You know, someone he gets along with, can ask questions to occasionally fuck whilst there is nobody else around to do these things with. There have been at least three times that I can recall that I have been called up to play from the bench.

I'm sick of being treated like a door mat by this guy. He drops me like a hot potato every time a new skirt is on the scene. I'm over it. I am worth more than being some one's bench warmer when he's bored and has nobody else to play with.

He claims he misread our relationship and asked why I sat back and said nothing. I don't know why I sat back and did sweet fuck all. I can give spot on relationship advice to anyone that asks, but when it comes to myself, I guess I just lack the confidence in myself to practice what I preach. I think it comes down to the old adage, once bitten twice shy. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. Sleeve hearts have a tendency to get knocked about.

I've come to realise after writing my last blog, that I was not in love with him. I was in love with his brain. I like clever dudes. They stimulate my head and keep me on my toes. I'm just going to have to find another clever boy with less of the head fucking stuff going on. I want a dude that wants to be with me for me, and not just until something more exciting comes along. I'm better than that!

So Mister, that's it. When your latest relationship turns to shit, don't come running to me for advice on healing your broken heart. You're a big boy, I'm sure you can cope on your own. There will be no more keeping this chick on the hook. I think once and for all I finally have you out of my system. Good day to you Sir!

Bring on my Birthday celebrations this weekend and perhaps a new fella to focus my energy on! Another year older and wiser me thinks.

What the Hell is Love Anyway?

I've been friends with a guy for just over three years now. Occasionally we fuck, we mostly chat and we hang out, drink beer and that's about it. We have both been hurt in past relationships, which I think makes us very wary of future relationships. We've both been lied to, I've been cheated on and I'm pretty sure it has given me trust issues. 

When we chat he asks me questions. Random questions. Last time he kicked off question time with "Are you looking/waiting for a partner to come along or, are you deliberately planning to be a spinster indefinitely?" As if anybody sets out in life to become a lonely old spinster! I told him that I'm not actively searching for a partner and I'm definitely not planning on turning into a spinster, but I am preparing myself for that option if that's what life has in store for me. I'd love to meet a nice guy that I can trust, develop a relationship with and maybe fall in love again. Afterall, that's what life is about isn't it?

He seemed to accept my response and moved onto his next question. "How is love measured?" How the fuck would I know?! The only person I have ever loved and has ever said they loved me ended up stomping on, setting on fire then pissing on what ever love we had. Love is not my strong suit. I don't think I know  or have experienced enough love to be able to comment on the subject.

I enquired as to why he was so interested in love that day. He told me that it wasn't that day and that it was an ongoing investigation. I asked him if he was seeking love and he replied that he was currently on a journey for knowledge about love for now. We discovered that love is a mixture of many different emotions, that involved positives and negatives which include loss and that having loved and lost, we've learnt to be a bit more cautious with the whole love thing.

We agreed that trust is a huge part of love and that before being able to fall into love you must trust one another, otherwise it's just lust. There is no way you can build a strong, loving relationship without trust, it's a keystone of sorts.

I found a quote online "Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused." It seems to fit what we had been discussing.

Since having my heart crushed I actively decided it would be emotionally easier (and safer) to never love again. I haven't thought about love since. I put it out of my mind and focused on healing my broken heart and pretty much having emotionless sex with dudes I know I'd never fall in love with.

It's now that I find myself wondering if I could fall in love with him. I trust him and value his opinions, he seems to value my opinions too. Maybe we are supposed to just friend zone each other. Oh who the fuck knows! My head hurts!

Inappropriate Day to Propose

I don't know why I'm cut but I am. I know I shouldn't be but I can't help it. Maybe it's because I believe I should be happier than him after the way things ended between us.

Six years ago today I discovered my now ex, then current English boyfriend had been cheating on me. I was 10,000 miles away from home. My best friends and family were a 24 hour plane ride away. I had never felt so heartbroken and alone all at the same time. Let me start back at the start so the point of this story clicks into place.

Initially we were friends whilst completing training and working at Melbourne Airport but a relationship soon blossomed. We were inseparable. We pretty much spent every minute of every day together until his 12 month working holiday visa was to expire. He wanted to be back home in England to celebrate his 30th Birthday. Our temporary contracts at the airport had wound up so we made the most of what little time we had left together. 

The day had come that we had to say goodbye. It was one of the hardest things I had ever done. He had packed his things the night before and I drove him to the airport in the morning where it had all begun. He checked in and we hung out at the plane station until it was time for him to wander off through those big, grey doors. My heart sank. My eyes welled up and I ran back to my car bawling. I couldn't breathe let alone drive. I sat and smoked a few cigarettes in a vain attempt to compose myself.

My mobile beeped alerting me to a received text message from him. From what I can remember he just wanted to let me know how much he appreciated me being a good friend and telling me how much of an awesome chick I was. It was the last three tiny words that floored me. I LOVE YOU. Nobody besides my family and friends had ever verbalised that sentence to me before. I immediately called him and told him that I loved him too. It was soon time for him to board the plane and then he was gone.

 When he got back to the UK we spoke on the phone each day. During in one of our marathon phone calls he suggested that I move to England for a year. I looked into visas the next day and saw that I was eligible for an Ancestry visa. I got a passport and visa and got my ass on the plane as fast as I could!

After being on opposite sides of the world for four months we were reunited at Heathrow. I was drunk/hung over, wearing pyjamas and hadn't showered in a day. I must have looked a right mess but he still met me with open arms and a big kiss.

We drove back to his family home in a beautiful little village in the English countryside where I met his Mum and Dad. They were so sweet, loving and open to me from the moment I stepped foot into their house. 

 I got a job at a local pub and met some really lovely, life-long friends. He was working long strange 24/7 rotating shift hours. About a year into my stay in England I discovered that he had a profile on a dating website. I was horrified. I confronted him about it but somehow he managed to make me believe that it was an old profile that he had on there and that he just had just forgotten about it and promised to delete it - which he did that night after work.

Things went back to normal between us and we carried on with our busy lives. A few months later, I noticed his behaviour changing. His shift times remained the same but he was coming home later from work. I was a tad suspicious but I gave him the benefit of the doubt until one morning after seeing him out the door to work I went back to our room and noticed some torn up pieces of paper on the floor next to the bin. I picked them up to throw them away when I noticed some interesting and heart breaking words on the scraps of paper.

After I taped it back together, the handwritten note read: "What we did was wrong. I have somebody who loves me. She deserves better. I got greedy, I wanted someone as beautiful and as intelligent as you in my life. The last thing you need now is me, even if that's what I want. I'm going to break up with The Opinionated Little Miss. I will be going to Oz with her for her B'day, I owe it to her. But when I come home it will be over." I immediately texted his lying, cheating ass and told him that I knew he had cheated on and that he needed to get home ASAP.

He managed to get out of his shift a few hours later. He was white as a ghost and very sheepish when he walked in the door. I told him what a piece of shit I thought he was and that it would at his expense to change my flight back to Oz booked for April to be changed to the next available. I didn't want to be anywhere near him and I most certainly did not want to have to share a bed with the cunt that cheated on me for the next two months.

This all happened on the 10th of February 2007. Six years ago today. Today he is in Paris with his latest girlfriend.  He proposed to her. She is now his third fiancée. I wonder if she knows what kind of a dishonest, cheating douchebag he really is? Good luck lady. You'll need it! Just remember Sweetie, I got three diamonds, you only got one ;)

Naughty Mr X

Oh Mr X. Why after all of this time do you still have my number tucked away in your phone?

I know you’re gorgeous and keen to meet up again. But seriously Dude. You have a wife and not one but two kids now. I think it’s time you delete my number and go home to be a good Dad and decent Husband.

Who propositions a girl by saying “Busy? Gotta kill 40 mins?”? Seriously! I’ve not spoken to you in over a year and that’s the best thing that you could think of? Thank goodness he can’t remember how to get to my house. I don’t know what I would have done if he had just rocked up at my doorstep unannounced!

I advised him that I didn’t think that it was such a good idea for him to pop in, his response? “Why? Don’t you trust yourself to just say hi?” I reminded him to the fact that we had never met up just to say hi. Meeting up to say hi to this guy always ended up with his dick up my arse. And while I always enjoyed it, it’s two days out from Christmas. Its 38 degrees outside today, I’m hot, grumpy and need a cold beer. I don’t need Mr X to drop in to be Prince Charming, mumble some awkward small talk and then expect for me to either give him a hummer or let him bone me up the ass!

I reminded him to the fact that last time we spoke I told him it was not going to happen again until he arrives at my door with signed divorce papers. It was a little bit of fun when he had a girlfriend, a tad more exciting after he was engaged and a super huge turn-on after he was married. But now that he’s a Dad, he seems to have lost his sparkle.

I told him to go home, put the kids to bed. Cook his wife dinner and bang her til she begs him to stop. He confessed that now that they have two kids, she’s not interested in sex and is always too tired and never in the mood. And here I am thinking that getting married means you have sex on tap? If this is the case, I never want to get married! I love orgasms way too much to give them up for a marriage certificate and two screaming kids!

He continued pushing me until finally I asked him how he would feel if one day down the track he found out that the libidoless wife had been banging the next door neighbour like a dunny door. I asked him to put himself in her shoes. Was coming over to say ‘Hi’ to me worth the potential heartache to his wife and kids? Just like that he got it. Married guys with two kids need to keep their cocks in their pants.

It was nice knowing you Mr X, but these days your trophy is slightly tarnished and now pushed to the back row of my collection.

We’ll always have the memories x

Fifty Shades of Fucked Up...

Recently, quite a few of my male friends on Faceboook, had been posting how awesome Fifty Shades of Grey was because it meant they were getting laid a hundred times more than usual by their respective wives and girlfriends. Like so many chicks around the world, I have caved in and started reading the Fifty Shades trilogy.  I saw all three books on sale for ten bucks a piece so I threw them in my basket and headed to the check-out.

It took me a couple of days to to summon the strength to crack the cover on Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm not much of a reader. I have the attention span of a goldfish and my  short term memory is shot. I have a tendancy to read a few pages, put books down, forget about them and have to start all over again a few days later. I picked up Fifty Shades of Grey and read the first three chapters and still could not see what all the fuss was about. I put the book down and moved onto my Delicious magazine to feed my food porn addiction.

The next day at work I began talking to the girl at the desk next to me about the book. She told me not to give up on it and that the juicy stuff starts in chapter 8. That night after work, I again picked up the book and began reading. The chapters went by... Murmur this, mutter that. Boring! Man, this EL James lady really needs a thesaurus!

As soon as I got to to chapter seven where Ana is introduced to The Playroom, the book had my attention. I have always wanted to set up a play room in my house. A room set aside purely for sex. Filthy, dirty, hard sex.

Chapter after chapter went by and before I knew it I had powered through the 514 pages. I can't remember the last time I finished a whole book from cover to cover. I can't say that it is a particularly well written book. In parts I actually started editing as I took each page in. But there was just something about the way the characters work together and how their story unfolds that got me hooked. A modern take on Cinderella if you will.

It did however, make me realise that I'm not quite done with kinky fuckery. I thought I had it out of my system, but clearly I have not! Doesn't every girl like having her ass spanked and he hair pulled? No!? Must just be me then! And just last week I ordered a book from the work book box titled "Knots: Step by step" to further my lust for rope.

Having a part-time-special-friend, that lives a 100 km round trip away from me, got me thinking that I need to find my own Melbourne version of Christian Grey. He doesn't need to  have a ripped bod, his own private jet or earn $100,000 and hour. The only thing he needs is a desire to fuck. A desire to fuck me hard and often. That's not too much to ask for is it?