It's hard to clean up your act when at times it seems that the world is teeming with potential lovers. For a while there I made it my goal to turn all of the those potentials into actuals and was always surprised (sometimes amused as well,) by how easy it was. But I'm a little older now, I'm a little more mature, and I finally have a clearer idea as to what I want out of a relationship. Getting to this point wasn't easy, but I have no regrets. Everything I have done in the past I did fully aware of any repercussions that could result from my actions.
So the mess I had made of my love life is starting to sparkle, shiny and new, after taking a few gallons of bleach and a wire bristle scrub brush to it. The decision to do that didn't come from my want for something real, I made it as a result of discovering, "Hey girl, you need to respect yourself a little more. You can't live your life waking up in a different bed every morning or kicking a different man out of your's every night."
Do I miss those nights of sleazy, rock & roll debauchery fueled by alcohol and hormones? Sometimes. A lot actually. But the nice thing is knowing I can still have them without putting my mind, heart and body at risk.
Reaching for that bucket of bleach was not easy. I hesitated several times. And just because I finally did it doesn't mean that I'm a reformed bad girl in any way. I'm a bad girl at heart and always will be. It's just finding someone who enjoys being bad right along with me. Part of me thinks I found that in my Parkesburg Boy...
Showing posts with label baby if it's alright you can rock me all night. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby if it's alright you can rock me all night. Show all posts
Please Don't Ask My Brother If He Wants To See Pictures of Me - 311 at Festival Pier
I never got around to recapping my 311 experiences this summer, so I'll start with the show at Festival Pier on Penns Landing in Philadelphia on July 27, 2012. This was the annual birthday celebration for my brother and I, of course. My friend T was able to join us and the three of us had a blast. It made me happy to see the both of them, stressed over work and family life, be able to let loose and genuinely enjoy themselves, even if only for a few hours.
We drove up to Philly in my car, my brother in the passenger seat and T in the back, drinking his Captain and diet Coke. I was nervous about Hamilton meeting T; I'm always nervous having my brother meet a guy I'm either seeing, sleeping with (whether he's aware or not...but he's not stupid,) or even just friends with. I've been over how protective Hamilton is, not to mention the fact that T is significantly older than I. I had a feeling they'd hit it off and I was right. They talked shop the entire drive up, I couldn't get a word in edgewise and once the benevolent ball-busting started, I relaxed.
We tailgated for a bit in the parking lot next to Dave & Buster's and my excitement over getting ready to see my favorite band for the umpteenth time kept growing, along with the urge to pee. I was getting drunk and my pride was disappearing so I finally opened the back driver's side door and T, God love him, stood in the gap between it and the car next to us while I relieved myself for what seemed like an hour.
"Can you stop staring at me? You've seen it before."
"Yeah, but not in a public parking lot overlooking the river with your brother standing twenty feet away."
"Well have him make sure no one comes back here...holy shit, I can't stop peeing...hey, um, you might want to move your foot."
"Are you done yet?"
"No! It won't stop!"
He's laughing his ass off, and I am too. High class trash is what we call it baby, high class trash. Needless to say, I didn't have to go to the bathroom for the rest of the evening, anything liquid I consumed I sweat out almost immediately.
The show itself was fucking awesome, what can I say? I love 311 with all my heart, one of the main reasons being that they put all of their heart into their music and their shows. Hammie even hoisted me on his shoulders for a few minutes so I could get some good shots while T held my purse.
It was a hot night, the setlist was mind-blowing. "Watching you dance and having the time of your life..." And dance I did, with either my brother or T twirling me around the whole time. When it was over I felt that familiar sense of satisfaction and joy that I get after every 311 show. The three of us ended up back at a private club, played some pool, had a few beers then eventually called it a night. And my satisfaction never stopped coming. ;-)
We drove up to Philly in my car, my brother in the passenger seat and T in the back, drinking his Captain and diet Coke. I was nervous about Hamilton meeting T; I'm always nervous having my brother meet a guy I'm either seeing, sleeping with (whether he's aware or not...but he's not stupid,) or even just friends with. I've been over how protective Hamilton is, not to mention the fact that T is significantly older than I. I had a feeling they'd hit it off and I was right. They talked shop the entire drive up, I couldn't get a word in edgewise and once the benevolent ball-busting started, I relaxed.
"Can you stop staring at me? You've seen it before."
"Yeah, but not in a public parking lot overlooking the river with your brother standing twenty feet away."
"Well have him make sure no one comes back here...holy shit, I can't stop peeing...hey, um, you might want to move your foot."
"Are you done yet?"
"No! It won't stop!"
He's laughing his ass off, and I am too. High class trash is what we call it baby, high class trash. Needless to say, I didn't have to go to the bathroom for the rest of the evening, anything liquid I consumed I sweat out almost immediately.
 |
| ...and this is where my shirt ended up. |
Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part III
A one night stand has done everything from completely derail me off of the straight and narrow path I was already on to simply having been another ordinary event on any other ordinary day, like a handshake or hug from an old acquaintance whose path crosses mine in the grocery store. I've had my share of both types of encounters.
There have been those whose only purpose were means to an end, a few hours of pleasure with an otherwise complete stranger. There was the unspoken agreement that phone numbers need not be exchanged, each party fulfilled their purpose and both were free to go their separate ways. No damage done, cut and dry, no lifelong scarring need be inflicted. I may not remember names or faces, but I will always remember those little hiccups, albeit pleasurable and fun (usually,) ones I've participated in on my journey through life.
Then there have been those that turned into more, that have changed and shaped me into the woman I am now. Ones that knocked me on my ass and kept me going back for more.
To be continued...
There have been those whose only purpose were means to an end, a few hours of pleasure with an otherwise complete stranger. There was the unspoken agreement that phone numbers need not be exchanged, each party fulfilled their purpose and both were free to go their separate ways. No damage done, cut and dry, no lifelong scarring need be inflicted. I may not remember names or faces, but I will always remember those little hiccups, albeit pleasurable and fun (usually,) ones I've participated in on my journey through life.
Then there have been those that turned into more, that have changed and shaped me into the woman I am now. Ones that knocked me on my ass and kept me going back for more.
To be continued...
I Wanna See It!
This post is about cock. Yes. That incredible, pleasure-and-pain-inducing, body part that has the power to make me scream and the power to destroy my mind. You've been forewarned. Cock, and that wonderful place called 'The Land Of Fuck.'
You know what they say about tits? The same goes for cock. Once you've seen one...you want to see the rest of them.
I used to beat myself up over my promiscuity. I had my reasons - it was pretty bad there for a while. But I haven't jumped into bed with a complete stranger (my Drugstore Cowboy doesn't count, even though after a year we still don't know shit about each other,) in a while. As fun as the take-down-and-capture can be, I like to stick with my rotation.
The only real problem I have with the cock is the power it sometimes manages to exercise over me. My sexual mentality is so much more male than female, (for lack of a better description; I hate to dumb it down by contrasting the males and the females.)
"What is my best option tonight?"
"Okay, -this one- is telling me he wants it later, but if that falls through, who can I have lined up?"
"Why isn't -that one- answering his fucking phone?"
"Sure, if I get woken up by -this one- I will crawl the fuck out of bed and be on his doorstep within a half an hour."
"Just because you succeeded in making my brains ooze out through my ears when I orgasmed doesn't mean I want to cuddle, baby."
I want it, I need it, I love it. And I become a real bitch if I don't get it.
You know what they say about tits? The same goes for cock. Once you've seen one...you want to see the rest of them.
I used to beat myself up over my promiscuity. I had my reasons - it was pretty bad there for a while. But I haven't jumped into bed with a complete stranger (my Drugstore Cowboy doesn't count, even though after a year we still don't know shit about each other,) in a while. As fun as the take-down-and-capture can be, I like to stick with my rotation.
The only real problem I have with the cock is the power it sometimes manages to exercise over me. My sexual mentality is so much more male than female, (for lack of a better description; I hate to dumb it down by contrasting the males and the females.)
"What is my best option tonight?"
"Okay, -this one- is telling me he wants it later, but if that falls through, who can I have lined up?"
"Why isn't -that one- answering his fucking phone?"
"Sure, if I get woken up by -this one- I will crawl the fuck out of bed and be on his doorstep within a half an hour."
"Just because you succeeded in making my brains ooze out through my ears when I orgasmed doesn't mean I want to cuddle, baby."
I want it, I need it, I love it. And I become a real bitch if I don't get it.
Don't Piss Off the Wrong One
I'm living two separate lives over here. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Fucking Hyde. How long am I going to be able to keep up this facade? I go from one personality, The Angel, to the other, The Devil, in the blink of an eye.
To break it down, we have -
The Angel
The Devil
This past Saturday night I engaged in absolute debauchery with a few band members after the show. (Gimme some credit though, I've known these guys and have been partying with them for a while now.) Then I stopped off at another one's house for some more even later night action. The other night one of the regulars at the bar did a double take after asking me my name for the 100th time because I was wearing yoga pants, a hoodie, my glasses, very little makeup, and my everyday jewelry. *shrug* It happens.
To break it down, we have -
The Angel
- Typically hangs around during the week
- A school portrait photographer that works with the kiddies and gushes all over them when they are absolutely precious
- An aunt that adores her nephew and plays with him, sings to him, and smothers him with kisses whenever he's in her arms
- Wholesome and nice
- Tee-shirt and jeans or sweats, minimal makeup and jewelry, hair pulled up 90% of the time
- Frugal with her money and balances her checkbook to the penny
- In bed by 10 or 11
- Generally unrecognizable to those who are more acquainted with The Devil
The Devil
- Comes out to play at night, usually on the weekends
- A trashy, brass, and generally slutty rock & roll groupie
- Will sleep with the guitar player, or the bass player, or the drummer, or all three at the same time
- Loud and obnoxious with a drink always in her hand
- Dressed to kill, in stilettos 24/7
- Makeup and hair done to a T, loaded down with jewelry that usually gets lost or left on someone's nightstand
- Did someone say shots? Can be found stuffing money down the bartender's pants or throwing dollar bills at the ladies
- Stumbles in the front door around 5 am
- Generally unrecognizable to those who are more acquainted with The Angel
This past Saturday night I engaged in absolute debauchery with a few band members after the show. (Gimme some credit though, I've known these guys and have been partying with them for a while now.) Then I stopped off at another one's house for some more even later night action. The other night one of the regulars at the bar did a double take after asking me my name for the 100th time because I was wearing yoga pants, a hoodie, my glasses, very little makeup, and my everyday jewelry. *shrug* It happens.
I Know A Drugstore Cowboy, So Afraid Of Getting Bored...
Well, I don't really know if he's actually afraid of getting bored, but that's a line from a great 311 song. This guy works at the drugstore down the street from my house, so I gave him an appropiate nickname. I can't get this fucker out of my mind, and it's driving me crazy.
He's 23. Sure at first I was like, 23? And still working part time at Walgreen's? That's what we all did in high school and maybe while we were in college, (seriously, tons of people my age did that, including myself, my brother, my best friend, a few other friends, and even some people I work with now,) but I learned he's got his Associate's in biology and is now working on his bachelor's at U of D. Brownie points.
He is fucking gorgeous. And he has no idea. He's painfully shy but when the clothes come off he's a total rockstar. I don't quite think he'd make a suitable partner for me, because he is so damn quiet sometimes. In most cases quiet = passive, and we all know how much of a disaster that can turn into with me, but he does have jerk-potential, and of course that turns me on. Plus our babies would be relentlessly beautiful.
I cannot get enough.
FUCK, he makes my head spin. Every time I walk into that damn store and see him I am reduced to a puddle of mush and I get a crazy tingling sensation in my belly. I hate that he's got that kind of power over me, but it's okay because he doesn't know. I have to play it cool and try not to trip over my own feet and make sure I wipe the drool from my chin before he sees me, and this is just at his place of employment. I really don't know how I manage to keep my composure when I'm standing naked in front of him in his bedroom.
It's as simple as that. I cannot get enough. When I'm ridiculously horny, he's the only one I fantasize about. We've been fucking around for about a year, and I still can't get over how beautiful he is, and the fact that I have actually managed to get him into bed. It never, ever, occurs to me that someone as attractive as him would even give me a second look. But he did. (Well, he had no choice because the night he walked into my bar I made a beeline for him, I introduced myself while running my hand through his shoulder-length hair, and charmed the pants right off of him. Literally.)
I can't say I'd be surprised that I'm on his mind alot, too. The booty calls at 3 or 4 in the morning a couple times a week give me that impression. Usually I'm passed the fuck out, but that's okay, right? If I jump at his beck and call then he'd get too used to it. And we all know this girl doesn't want that.
He's 23. Sure at first I was like, 23? And still working part time at Walgreen's? That's what we all did in high school and maybe while we were in college, (seriously, tons of people my age did that, including myself, my brother, my best friend, a few other friends, and even some people I work with now,) but I learned he's got his Associate's in biology and is now working on his bachelor's at U of D. Brownie points.
He is fucking gorgeous. And he has no idea. He's painfully shy but when the clothes come off he's a total rockstar. I don't quite think he'd make a suitable partner for me, because he is so damn quiet sometimes. In most cases quiet = passive, and we all know how much of a disaster that can turn into with me, but he does have jerk-potential, and of course that turns me on. Plus our babies would be relentlessly beautiful.
I cannot get enough.
FUCK, he makes my head spin. Every time I walk into that damn store and see him I am reduced to a puddle of mush and I get a crazy tingling sensation in my belly. I hate that he's got that kind of power over me, but it's okay because he doesn't know. I have to play it cool and try not to trip over my own feet and make sure I wipe the drool from my chin before he sees me, and this is just at his place of employment. I really don't know how I manage to keep my composure when I'm standing naked in front of him in his bedroom.
It's as simple as that. I cannot get enough. When I'm ridiculously horny, he's the only one I fantasize about. We've been fucking around for about a year, and I still can't get over how beautiful he is, and the fact that I have actually managed to get him into bed. It never, ever, occurs to me that someone as attractive as him would even give me a second look. But he did. (Well, he had no choice because the night he walked into my bar I made a beeline for him, I introduced myself while running my hand through his shoulder-length hair, and charmed the pants right off of him. Literally.)
I can't say I'd be surprised that I'm on his mind alot, too. The booty calls at 3 or 4 in the morning a couple times a week give me that impression. Usually I'm passed the fuck out, but that's okay, right? If I jump at his beck and call then he'd get too used to it. And we all know this girl doesn't want that.
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