Stranger danger

Every once in a while I’ll get this text or a similar one out of the blue:

“Miss fucking you”

It harkens back to the days when I used to just hook up with guys, usually spontaneous one night stands. Admittedly I don’t even remember some of their names. Instead they’re kept in my phone contacts as pseudonyms like:

Jerry the cop
Hotel Joe (btw he totally ruined hotel sex for me)
Jason the Jerk
Always trying to fuck me in his car Allen (I suspected he had a live in g/f)

When I look back at some of these nicknames I feel sort of ashamed. Like, why did I give my time to some dude whose name I can’t even remember? Then I think it wasn’t all bad. Some of those guys were really fun in bed but beyond that it wouldn’t work so eventually I lost interest or vice versa and after some absence I just forgot about them. Some weren’t even worth the effort to remember because they treated me poorly.

Funny story. I used to hang out with another female member of a hook up site. We compared experiences and found we had encountered a couple of the same guys. One in particular loved texting both of us and we assumed a couple other women at 2:30 every Friday and Saturday night. Meaning he just got out of the bar drunk, horny and unable to hook up. We would laugh about it on the regular. His nickname, DUI K***** because he was always at risk of getting pulled over if he tried to hook up with someone after last call, something neither of us took him up on because we feared for that boys safety.

Slut

Words are only words until we give them power. Until we let them govern our lives they are just that. So why do we let them affect us? Especially when other people use those words against us.

The word “slut” use to set my teeth on edge. As if my sexual behavior was something to be shamed, but I liked the majority of my experiences and I did them of my own volition. So who’s to make me feel so negative about something I enjoyed. Me that’s who. I let that word hurt me, because I gave it the power to do so. Believing that my experiences were different from others.

That ONE guy

He’s got something over you and every time you see him that cranberries song plays. You’re such a fool for him, but when he reappears it’s like magic. You’re amazed, angered, curious and slightly to your own disgust, excited. I don’t know if every woman has one, but he exists somewhere out there.

 

He may be a royal douchebag, an ass or plainly a jerk. But I always come back. I wonder whats wrong with me and I resolve to never answer his texts or to only have curt and short conversations when he calls. Coyly thinking I’m playing out some cat and mouse game when I’m really a gazelle and he a starving Lion.

 

So what about him makes me so weak? Could it be his charisma, good looks, articulate manner or because he makes my panties disintegrate? Your guess is as good as mine.

can you lead two lives?

Some of us are torn between two identities. The Devil and The Innocent. I feel as though I play both. To the people in my day life I am a creature of lightness of good mind and behavior. Then on certain nights I feel a craving to be deviant, to do things that the people in my life would not condone.  Two halves of a whole that never interchange or blend.

 

Since this is a blog I promised to stay true to I will explain. I am a sexual deviant. I won’t say I’m a nymphomaniac that seems too severe. I will say though that I do have an appetite for a certain lifestyle. Lately the hunger has only gotten worse.

 

I won’t deny, I am attached and to a very nice boy. I say boy even though he is a year older than me, only because he has the spirit of a child. My craving seems to disturb him at times and he treats me as though I was as fragile as china. When in reality I was built for rough handling. I’ve broached the subject with him 3 times now and he still doesn’t try and I’m afraid my craving is going to lead to a indiscretion.

 

So now I’m really divided.