Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part IV

My senior year of high school, and most of my first year of college, consisted of those meaningless one night stands.  Sex was still new to me, but I learned early how to separate my heart from my cunt.  The first one night stand that knocked me down for the count ended up being the first man I ever loved.  We flirted and teased each other all throughout my senior year, the anticipation had built up immensely and we finally slept together for the first time the night before I moved away to college.  I had just turned 18.

I was torn up over him for two years.  Two years that were sprinkled with random meetings between us where we would hang out and we would fuck.  I did my best to get involved with and/or sleep with other men just to forget about him.  It took two years for him to realize how much he truly did care for me and we began building a life together the summer I graduated college.  What had started out as physical attraction turned into an emotional connection and the sex got better before it got worse.  We loved and learned about each others' bodies, he was the first guy I was comfortable enough with to let my guard down completely, and he was the first one to ever give me an orgasm.

The relationship lasted five years, which, in your early twenties, is equal to a lifetime.  Unfortunately, towards the end of the fifth year, the ship started sinking, and I bailed.

To be continued...

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...

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part II

"One night stands can be nothing more than a few hours of pleasure, or they can be the beginning of something much more important, and it's impossible to tell until it's too late...
[That is] the real danger of a one night stand.  Not that it will lead to nothing, but that it will lead to everything.  In this way, casual sex is excruciatingly hazardous.  Those who are not ready to have their lives changed should probably abstain."


To be continued...

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part I

Currently reading.  My favorite essay so far is called "Sex With A Stranger," written by Susan Cheever.

"If you are looking for love, sexual intimacy can be a shortcut.  It is among the fastest ways to get to know another person.  During sex, we literally and figuratively expose ourselves.  We show physical parts that are usually kept covered; we display our private likes and dislikes.  In its moments of unconscious response to physical pleasure, the body reveals a great deal of information:  a need to dominate, a difficulty following suggestions, an inability to express desires.  If we have trouble letting go or if we are painfully uncomfortable with how we look, it often shows up in the two-person drama of the sex act."


This little essay has inspired me to write about my experiences with one night stands.  Stay tuned.

More Updates

• My Mama will never have to give up her home.  The black cloud that hung over this 4 bedroom colonial that she has made her home with her blood, sweat and tears, (a bit of mine as well,) is gone.

• Mine and Buzzard's relationship has reached some form of normalcy, if one can call it that.  He's been very supportive these past few months, letting me vent and cry to him about my Pop.  I've gotten over my disgust for the way things were going between us; it's almost like we've come to a truce.  I can text him in the middle of the night when I'm lying on the floor in tears, and I can text him at 9 in the morning if I'm horny and need cigarettes.  I still can't let myself fall like I did all those years ago, but right now, he's all I've got.  

• Drugstore Cowboy broke my fucking heart.  I think the worst part was the disappointment that came with it.  I put him on too high of a pedestal with expectations that he failed miserably to meet.  I fell under the spell of his cock and became addicted to the whatever drug it was that emanated from his skin.  I came to believe he was more of a man than he ended up being in the end.  It's his loss, right?  But fuck am I going to miss the late night rendezvous with him in my bed, his bed, someone else's bed, the swimming pool...fuck.

• My nephew is growing up so fast!  He's walking, forming words, and is an eating machine.  He has been the light of our lives, especially since losing Pop.

• Maybe I'm maturing, maybe I'm not, but the one night stands have considerably come to a halt, and I've even unconsciously cut off a few of the stand-bys, friends-with-benefits if you will.  I don't know why, maybe it's because I've become lazy, and if you can't be at my house within 20 minutes and vice versa, it's not worth it to me anymore.

So that's where I'm at right now.  Am I lonely?  Yes.  Am I in mourning?  Yes.  Am I learning new things about myself with every passing day?  Yes.  But look, here comes the sun, little darling...

Time Doesn't Heal

I haven't posted since February because on the 25th of that month, mine and my family's world was turned upside down by tragedy.  I had started writing a post recounting the hours and days following the car accident that took my father's life, but I don't have the will in me to finish it yet.  So it just sits for now.  Maybe one day...

I've been doing a lot of reflecting since it happened and am amazed at all the good memories that float up to the front of my mind when I think of my Pop.  It may or may not be evident from previous posts that my relationship with my father was a rocky one.  But the bottom line is that he was my Daddy, I loved him while he was still here on earth, and I will always love him.  There will be a void in my heart for the rest of my life.  We all loved him, my mother probably most of all, even in spite of the turmoil that took place throughout most of their relationship.

If it weren't for my family and friends, I would not be able to go on.  If I couldn't count on a select few to pick me up off the bathroom floor when I simply don't want to get up, I would not be able to go on.  I thank God every day for these people, because they are everything to me.  Ma made a very good observation the other day, that time will not heal our wound.  It will never fill the void that was created when Pop died.  But time keeps moving on, and we must keep moving on as well.  Time does not heal, but force us to adapt.  When you lose someone you love so dearly, you learn to adapt to them not being around anymore.

Me and Pop, August 1983

Pop and Nicholas, 2010

I plan on writing again.  It's cathartic for me, and it's helping me cope with losing Pop, so stay tuned for updates.

Things That Piss Me Off

It seems everyone thinks that 311 wrote Love Song. No. Look it up.

Pasta "Fazool" is actually spelled Pasta "Fagioli" (or something like that.)

People make fun of me because I do not pronounce the 'a' at the end of the word "mozzarella." Or the 'o' at the end of the word "proscuitto."

The same fucking quote comes up every time I search Erica Jong. She has said infinitely more poignant things than "You want me to tell you something really subversive..." Of course, I'm too lazy to go back through my collection of her work to post the excerpts that smacked me in the face when I read them, so I guess I shouldn't bitch too much.

Nicki Minaj.

I've lost touch with the BDSM scene so bad that the thought of subbing to someone again makes me go "Ugh." Sometimes I think it's degrading, but then again I have no right to judge. Hell, I used to be the one tied up, the fuck toy, the dirty little cum slut. And given the right circumstances, I'd probably jump right back in.

I will be watching a man accused of rape have the privilege of playing quarterback in the Superbowl later today.

When a certain member of our circle of friends can't even commit to joining us all for dinner. There's no need to be such a pain in the ass about it.