The Few, The Proud, The Marine

Last night I got a fucking awesome phone call.  It was The Marine, and he was with some of his friends.  I guess he had told them about this blog and showed it to them, and they didn't believe he was The Marine.  So he called me so I could verify it for them.  Ha!  I'm sure it's because there's nothing negative about him on here, but it cracks me up that not only was he bragging about being The Marine, but that when his friends didn't believe him, he felt the need to call me at 2 in the morning so I could confirm it.

When I first started this blog, and yes, let's be honest, the accompanying book that's been in the back of my mind for months now, I was torn between using real first names and nicknames.  For some of the douche-fucks I met, I really wanted to use full names, and also supply emails and phone numbers.  But that whole pesky possibility for a slander lawsuit got in the way, so the fucktards simply remained fucktards.  And for the good ones (and yes, I'll admit, there have been very few good ones over the last year), I thought why not use their real first names?  After all, if some guy was going to praise me in his blog, I'd want my real name in it so I could brag show everyone how kickass I was.  But maybe some of these guys wouldn't want their exploits, well, exploited (yeah, I know, dumb thought), so I went with nicknames.

Besides, reading about The Marine, Johnny Softcakes, and The Grim Reaper is a lot more interesting than reading about Joe, Bob, and Steve (no, those are not their real names, either).

But I obviously failed to take into consideration one very important factor - the male ego. Particularly, it seems, the male ego of a 20 year old who is being publicly declared as the best sex I've ever had.  So, this is for you, my proud Marine Sex-Machine:

The Marine's real name is Andy.  He has 2 tats (one on his shoulder one across his clavicles) and a scar at the top of his sternum.  He can be crazy and sadistic and fucked-up in the head, but when he lets his guard down, he can be a like a big teddy bear (offer him a back rub and I swear he purrs like a lion).  And yes, he really is the best sex I've ever had.

Zombie-Love

Been hiding away tying to recoop and get some energy back.  That hospital stay took a lot more out of me than I thought.  Add to that my daily fatigue from MS, and some crap-tastic personal stuff I'm dealing with, and I just don't want to come out of my bed and blanket cave.

But I've been reading my favorite blogs, and they've been making me laugh and feel better, so I want to return the favor.  To get your Halloween juices flowing (only 42 days left!!), here's one of my favorite videos.  And yes, I have been infected with Zombie-Love.  I'll have to show you my matching Zombie shoes and wallet sometime! :)  Until then, enjoy and shake your ass off to a little Zombie Woo-ing. xoxo

Lyrics

Yesterday's Gone

by Angels Fall

Yesterday's gone and tomorrow is almost here,
and I don't want to leave you here.
The candels burned down
and melted everywhere,
what a mess we've made here.

I watch her as she sleep
silently she dreams
as I run my hands through her hair.
I think, how did we come to this
I think I found it by the way we kissed.
Should I let go or should I stay?

Where do we go from here?

Why do I need you near?

What if I was to say 

I never felt this way?

Shes layin in my bed
as the sun kisses her skin
I feel the warmth deep within.
I wish tomorrow never came
cuz I'll do it all again
just the same every day.

I think how did we come to this.
I think found it by the way we kissed.
Should I let go or should I stay?

Where do we go from here?
Why do I need you near?
What if I was to say
I never felt this way?
I never felt this way.

Can I keep holdin on to you
or should I let go and fade away?
Can I keep holdin on to you?
or should let go and fade away?

Yesterday's gone and tomorrow is almost here,

and I don't want to leave you here.

Where do we go from here?
Why do I need you near?
What if I was to say
I never felt this way?

Oh my!

Backdoor sex, not for everyone.  But for those who enjoy it:

From one of my Mom's country-themed home decoration catalogs.  Ha!

Things I've Done I Should Be Ashamed Of, But I'm Not

The Marine - Ha, yes, he's number one on the list.  I know I should be a little ashamed that I (a 33 year old woman) had wild, uninhibited, wicked, hot, wild sex with a man who was barely into his 20's.  But he's so hot, and it was so good, there's just no room left for shame or guilt.  Besides, I love having a Puma notch on my lipstick case, and I'm hoping that I'll be married by the time I reach Cougar age.

Cheated - and I don't mean at Poker.  I mean on a long-term boyfriend.  Not my finest moment, not something I'm proud of.  But, as it is, not something I'm ashamed of either.  Neither of us was really happy in the relationship, and when the chance to get some fulfilling from someone I'd lusted after for years came along, I barely hesitated.  Not an excuse, I know.  I was wrong.  If I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn't do it.  Not because I'm ashamed of my actions, but because it was wrong, and it didn't solve anything.  It was a pointless and useless action.  Except for the lesson learned.  Which was that cheating is a pointless and useless action and it doesn't solve anything.

Being a Tease - There was a time when I was struggling to find my kick-assedness. (Yes, it's a word.  Shut up.)  This mostly centered around finding guys to tell me I was hot, and keeping a backup or two.  Not the most horrible things, but not the best personality traits either.  And then there was the day I let a boy think I was going to fuck him, just so I could fool around with him.  What was so bad-ass about fooling around with this guy?  He was a good amount younger than me, and I needed to prove to myself that I was kick-ass enough to get a young piece of cute ass like that.  And I was.  Am I ashamed I was a tease to this poor guy?  Nope.  I got a great confidence boost in a time when it was much needed and he learned a valuable lesson: some women are all talk and no action.

Being a Puma - Yes, I'm referring to The Marine.  However, I'm also referring to a little kiss and fondle session that occurred not long ago - with a teenager!  OK, before you go getting all, "Ew, that's gross, you should be locked away for molesting kids, you dirty whore" on my ass, let me explain.  Yes, he's still a teenager.  But, he's a 19 year old teenager, so he's legal.  I've dated a man 14 years older than me (Marc, I was 23, he was 37, and goddamn was that man yummy!), and now I've gotten a little action from a guy who is 14 years younger than me.  Is it a big age difference?  Hells yeah.  Do I want to date this guy?  Hells no.  But fuck, it was a great way to pass the afternoon!  Oh yeah, the best part?  In the middle of the fun, I realized I couldn't remember is name, and I still don't remember it.  Ha!

Back. The Fuck. Up. (part 2)

The following is a scene from the biographical movie of my life, working title: Back. The Fuck. Up.

INT. - 1:30 AM, BEDROOM

Haylah is sitting on the bed in her black lace nightie, towel drying hair.  Johnny Softcakes walks in, still naked, from the kitchen with a beer.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: So you'll get the morning after pill tomorrow.

HAYLAH [tensely]: Yes.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: OK. Good.  And, look, I don't think this is gonna work with us.

Haylah stops moving and slowly looks up at him.

HAYLAH: What?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: I just don't think we're sexually compatible, you know? I mean, that was a workout, and it took a long time. I like you, and I'm just being honest. I think you're cool and I want to be your friend, but we're just not sexually compatible, ok?

Haylah, too stunned to speak, just gets up and begins getting dressed. Not sexually compatible? He couldn't have told me that before he fucked me for two hours?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Are you mad?

HAYLAH: No.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Are you sure? You seem mad.

HAYLAH: No, I'm not mad. Just...disappointed.

(Because, sadly, despite the sexual incompatibility, Haylah had actually really started to like Johnny Softcakes.)

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Then what are you doing?

HAYLAH: Packing my stuff so I can go home.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: You don't have to go home. You can stay.

HAYLAH: I don't want to stay.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: I was only being honest. You don't have to leave. It's late. You can still stay. I still want to be your friend. We're just not -

HAYLAH: I know, sexually compatible.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: So you gonna stay?

HAYLAH: No, I think I'm gonna go home.


JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Well, if you're sure, but you don't have to.

HAYLAH: I'm sure.


JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Ok, well, as long as you know you don't have to leave, and as long as you're not mad.  But if you do go home, it's cuz it's you choice, ok? I'm not making you leave, or even asking you to leave.  You can stay. We can hang out and watch a movie or just go to sleep. I still want to hang out with you. You're a cool girl. I just don't think the sex is going to work. But as long as you know I'm not asking you to leave in the middle of the night. I wouldn't do that. I wasn't trying to hurt you, I was just being honest with you. And if you go, it's your choice, I want you to know that. I want to make sure you know I'm not kicking you out in the middle of the night, and make sure you're not mad. If you want to go, you can go, I won't stop you. But before you go, can you help me make the bed?

HAYLAH: .....[open mouthed stare].....

And then, in a Zombie-daze, stunned into silence for the first time in 33-years, Haylah actually helped make the bed.
[END SCENE]


[BEGIN EDITOR NOTES]
EDITOR BFF KELLY: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.  Back. The Fuck. Up.  He asked you to help make the bed before you left?!

...and Sour

I got 3, count 'em THREE, messages from a guy on a dating website today.  Here are the contents.

Message 1
Wat u up to u want my number [he included his number]

Message 2 (received less than a minute after message 1)

I wanna meet you is that cool

Message 3 (received less than a minute after message 2)
O I'm real soft inside

Even if the messages didn't read like a brain-dead fuckwad on life support had written them, I wouldn't have been interested in this guy.  Too forward, too creepy, too desperate, too ew.  (Oh, and the soft inside comment, I'm assuming, was in regards to the title of my profile which says I'm looking for a badass with a soft side.)  Plus, he's not someone I'd be interested in anyways.  Nothing in common, and way too hip/hip-gangsta-wanna-be-I-think-I'm-cool-because-I-wear-a-gold-chain-with-a-60-pound-fake-diamond-encrusted-dollar-sign-hanging-off-it.  I refer you to exhibit A, his profile description:

hi my name is [deleted by me]. i am new to this site. i will finish this later. messsage me if you wanna. I am from the cape but living in norton ma right now. I am a good guy so feel free to message me if you are interested. I will mind **** the sh*tout of you and get that **** quick **** so holla at ya boy

And this was not the first time I got this triptych from this guy.  I got the exact same three messages from him two days ago. I had just deleted and ignored them before, but obviously I'm so fucking awesome, he wasn't going to take the hint.  So, I replied with this:

Hi,
I appreciate your interest, but I'm not interested. And to let you know for the next girl you are interested in, sending 3 messages right after each other, the first one asking if a girl wants your number or giving out your number, isn't really a good first impression. It's a little creepy stalker-ish.
Good luck on your search.

His reply

Ur fuckin ugly anyways

Ha!  Ha ha ha!  Awww, I hurt his wittle feewings.  So, of course, I had to put Mr. Fuck-Nugget in his place and yes, I do get a perverse enjoyment out of putting dumbfucks in their place, lol).

My reply

[Subject of message] Aw, did I hurt your feelings?

Right, that's why you sent me 6 messages in 2 days, and gave me your number twice.  Cuz you think I'm ugly.  Dude, if you can't handle rejection, (and by the way, I was nice about it, no need to be a douchewad), then don't put yourself out there.  I was just telling you I wasn't interested and letting you know that you came on way too strong, so that maybe you could try a different approach with the next girl.  Because obviously THAT approach isn't working for you.  But it seems I was wrong.  It's not your approach.  You're just a little cunt.  Holla at that, bitch.

Sweet...

A very sweet guy messaged me today through my online dating profile.  His message:

You are beautiful. What are you doing today?

Everyone together now Awwwwwww…  Totally made my day. 

After I read the message, I checked out his profile.  Too bad, the guy is only 21.  Yes, I know that's legal.  And I know many of my married and settled down kickass bitches are screaming at the computer right now  "21?!  GO FOR IT!  I need to live vicariously through you!  My sex life is boring!"  Yes, you are.  Yes, you are.  Uh-huh.  Yup.  I know you are.  How?  Because that's exactly what you all said when I told you about The Marine.  Ha!  Gotcha!

But I have been the Puma (you're not a Cougar until you are 35) and as much fun as it was, I'm not looking to do it again.  Unless it's with The Marine.  I'll do anything with him again, ha! And if you're still pushing for me to stretch my Puma paws, let me share this little golden nugget with you.  On this guys profile, under First Date, this is what he wrote:  

 I would like it to be very casual, 

nothing crazy but then again no mcdonalds date lol 

...idk it would depend on the girl 

....mayb I can beat you in bowling or lazer tag ? Lol

Laser tag, while adorable, is something this kickass bitch is way too old for.

The Friend Zone

So I sucked it up, bit the bullet, took one in the nuts (figuratively, of course), and said (to my cats and the voices in my head), if The Dark One isn't interested in me as more than a friend, fuck him.  Well, sadly, no, not fuck him.  I would very much like to fuck him.  All that long black hair flying around....his, not mine...yummmm...

Er, sorry.

Anywhore, as I was saying, I made the decision that if he isn't interested in more than a friendship, then I was going to clean the litter box and get rid of that shit word yet.  Scoop, scoop, plop plop, flush.  The box has been cleaned and the word has been flushed.

Wait, you have no idea what I'm saying?  I really have been talking to the cats too much.

Let me try again.

I told The Dark One that if we were only going to be friends and there was no chance of us ever becoming more, than there should be no problem with us actually hanging out and spending time together.  His response?  "Yeah, ok."  Such a charmer, that man.

So, there it is.  We've officially moved into the Friend Zone.  You all know the Friend Zone:

  

"The Friend Zone"  from Raising Hope

If you haven't watched this show, you need to.

I wanna be Grandma when I grow up.

It's the point when you are close enough to talk intimately, hug hello, maybe even cuddle a little on the couch while watching a movie, and freak the fuck out if you think of taking things any further because you don't want to lose the friendship you have.  The Fucking Friend Zone.  I hate that motherfucking place.

So why did I willingly enter into it with The Dark One?  Because unless I let go of yet and just be friends with him, I'm going to hang on way too long, and in all likelihood, end up missing out on someone.  Because outside of TV, chick flicks, and novels with hot pink covers and snappy titles, a guy doesn't wake up one morning and realize that his best girl friend that he's been confiding in, drinking with, and palling around with for the last couple years is actually the woman he's desperately in love with.  And shame on TV, chick flicks, and those obnoxiously covered books for making us think things work that way.

So, yes, I am now in the Friend Zone with The Dark One.  Does this mean I'll stop fantasizing about him when it's late at night and I'm lonely?  No.  Does this mean I'll be able to look at him without a wave of "Oh my Fuck" passing through my loins?  Hell, no.  Does this mean I'd still die for the chance to have all that gorgeous, long, soft hair draped over my naked body?  Fuck, yes.  

But now I can also let go and look for someone who says "Oh my Fuck" when they see me, too.  Because, as one of my loyal bitches recently said, in the fashion of a L'oreal commercial, I AM WORTH IT!

Back. The Fuck. Up. (part 1)

The following is a scene from the biographical movie of my life, working title: Back. The Fuck. Up.

INT. - 1 AM. A curvy and fabulous redhead (Haylah) lies naked in a tangle of sheets on the bed, breathing heavily, her face flushed.  A two hour sex-marathon has just ended between her and The Rock Star, aka Johnny Softcakes.  Johnny Softcakes has spent the last 40 minutes moving Haylah around, flipping her over, bending her in different contortions, and positioning her limbs like she was a Gumby doll in an attempt to get her into the one position he likes to have an orgasm in.  The one position, by the way, that even an anorexic midget gymnast couldn't hold for more than five seconds.

Half an hour after Haylah's last orgasm, Johnny Softcakes finally comes, then gets up from the bed and stretches his long, lean body, and walks towards the bathroom.  He pauses in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. 

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: We've gotta talk.

Haylah sighs.  She gets up and goes to the bathroom to take a quick shower.  Johnny Softcakes is throwing the used condom in the trash. 

HAYLAH: What's up?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: I think the condom slid off me for a second so you need to go get the morning after pill tomorrow.

HAYLAH: I'm on the pill.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Yeah, but just in case.  Cuz I think the condom slid a little and I don't want a kid.

HAYLAH: Did the condom come off?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: No.

HAYLAH: Did the condom break?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: No.

HAYLAH: I think we're OK.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: But it felt like it slid, so something could have come out of it and into you.

HAYLAH: We used condoms.  With spermicide.  And I'm on the pill.  We're fine.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: No, you need to get the morning after pill tomorrow.  I think the condom slid.  I don't want a kid.

Haylah sighs and steps into the shower. 

HAYLAH: Fine. I'll get the morning after pill tomorrow.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: What would you do, you know, if you were?  Cuz I don't want a kid.

Haylah peeks out the shower curtain at Johnny Softcakes.  She can't tell if he's being an ass on purpose or if he really is that paranoid.  The look of dumb concern makes her think he really is that paranoid.

HAYLAH: I guess I'd take care of it.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: OK.  Cuz I don't -

HAYLAH: I know, you don't want a kid. [under her breath: Douchefuck]

Please refer to No Make-Believe Stories Here; It's All True for the background on Back. The Fuck. Up.