Weekend Wonderings September 30th

The ever so charming Reclining Gentleman noticed I’ve been remiss yet again in keeping up with my Weekend Wonderings and graciously volunteered to come up with questions. Thank you RG! On to the wonderings…

If you were invisible for a day, who would you follow and spy on?

I would shadow one of the women leaders in the field in which I work in order to see how she structures her time, does her job and hopefully get some clues on to achieve that level of success someday.

How far do you have to go for it to count as cheating?

I think that as soon as you develop a trend of doing things you don’t want to tell your significant other about, you’re cheating. It certainly doesn’t have to be physical.

What do you consider is your best feature?

It seems so cliché to say it, but probably my eyes. Through no doing of my own, I was graced with long eyelashes…

Is it sexier to undress for a partner, or for them to undress you?

I think it is MUCH sexier to undress the other. It’s like unwrapping a present. As I undo button after button and expose a manly chest, the anticipation builds. Then, the unfastening of the belt… so close to the goal. Lips just above the fly, kissing, licking, nibbling as the zipper goes south. At last! The prize!

If there were three more hours in every day, what would you do with them?

The first thing that popped in my head was sleep. I’m really bad about only getting the bare minimum. When I’m being truly awful, I’ll go on three hours a night, which is horrible for my body. I have done this until I almost collapse and then I’ll pass out for fourteen hours straight. So yes. I’d sleep. Gosh I’m boring!


Please play along by answering on your own blog and linking back to this page or pasting it in the comments. Cheers!

Putting a Bow on Things

I like neat, clean endings. They don’t always have to be happy. In fact, the more heartbreaking the ending, the better I tend to write. With the Australian, who prompted the start of this blog, I knew the ending almost before it began due to him having a very pregnant girlfriend back home. With Lover, a man who fulfilled me physically but not mentally or emotionally, I ended things when the physical was no longer enough. With Mr. Intrigue, the one who helped me get over the Australian, things never progressed to us meeting in person, so even though we still talk and I adore him I don’t write about him because there’s really nothing to report. With my former boss, he unwittingly provided excellent blog content, both from my memory files and from more recent visits. With Jack, The Office Games can be concluded whenever I get around to it. But with Downstairs Neighbor, I’ve yet to be able to wrap things up one way or another. This frustrates me, both for you the readers’ sake and my own.

Hyacinth did do some recon work on my behalf last night. While she was lounging over her balcony and Downstairs Neighbor was reclining on his, they had a moment to chat. He mentioned that he had received his Thank You Note. She, being the good and wonderful friend she is, prompted him to say more, which led to him grinning and admitting that it made him feel very manly. He even quoted the lines where I told him he rocked my gypsy soul like way back in the days of old. Hy helped my case even more by saying that she wished she got thank you notes for that sort of thing. That’s when he revealed to her that I had written my phone number on the card.

“Reeeaaaallly?” Hy said, as if this was all new news to her, “Marian never gives our her number. And I mean NEVER.”

“Really?” questioned DN.

“Really,” she confirmed.

Now, at this point Hyacinth told me he leaned back in his chair and did a victory fist pump in the air. And then she asks him another question she already knows the answer to, “Have you texted her?”

No, he says. Hy asks why not. He essentially tells her it’s because he’s never done the casual thing before, that he knows I’m not moving and with the distance casual is all it would be.

“You still should text her,” Hy advised.

“You think so?” DN asked.



So I’m relieved. He liked the card. He’s pleased I gave up my number. BUT. HE. STILL. HASN’T. CALLED. So in order to put a neat little bow on all this and move on to writing about other things and to preserve my sanity, I’m giving him the rest of the night. Then, if I still have heard nothing, I will ask Hyacinth to let him know I’ve requested his number and ask DN if he is all right with her sharing it with me. Hopefully he will say yes, I’ll call, we’ll talk and I’ll have something to report one way or another.

Will some of you advise me against reaching out? Yes. I’m sure you will. And I see the wisdom in that. But considering how impatient I am, I’ve done pretty damn good waiting this long. I truly did not exaggerate on how fantastic that night was with DN. As some of my long time readers know because of some things I’ve written, I require lots of attention—of both the mental/emotional type and the physical type. Typically I’m getting one or the other, which works because as long as I’m getting one, it takes the edge off my neediness and I can function. Sometimes I get both at once, just from different sources. But if I go too long with out either… it’s not pretty. To put it nicely… I go hunting. With DN, I got both. At the same time. With the same person. And that’s why I can’t just leave it alone.

I feel like I should apologize to you all for getting you interested in a story line I don’t know the end to yet. It was an accident. But still… I’m sorry.

I Give Comfort

Strange how things work out sometimes. It looks like I will have the opportunity to give love and comfort to one who has been at the peripheral of my life for many years now. My former boss, one I wrote about here and here just texted me tonight.

I called him after that last message. He was distraught, the pain in his voice
palatable. In a couple of weeks I expect to be soothing him with my presence and touch, which will be quite a change in our dynamic. The padawan attending to the Jedi. I adore how things come full circle.




Inside Out

On the surface I’m refined, elegant even. Like a champion mare in a dressage event, I’m contained, exact in my movements, my decisions. I don’t chomp at the bit, but arch prettily against it, preforming complex maneuvers with practiced ease.

But underneath I’m untamable and high strung. Free of restraint I race like a filly across the moors of life, mane flowing in the wind, head held high, heart pounding. Passion and power surge through my veins as I prance on the edge of out-of-control.

The cool exterior belies the fire within. It’s my secret. One I reveal to only a select few. But for those who pause and look closely, deeply, intently, they will find behind my long lashed green eyes a wild, uninhibited tempest that has never been bridled.

Eyes Wide Open

My mouth is swollen, bruised and sore from fierce, rough kisses, and my body, though exhausted, is content and sated. I still reek of sex. But I’ll get back to all that.

Friday afternoon I pulled into the parking lot of Hyacinth’s complex to see her bouncing and waving from the upper stairs. Her green wrap dress flitted in the slightly cool breeze while an ear-to-ear grin graced her face. Continue reading

Adventures with Hyacinth

Crossing the line from being Hy’s virtual friend to her real life friend has been nothing less than amazing. She said something about keeping me slightly buzzed the entire time I’m here and so far that’s going swimmingly. I’m relaxing, decompressing, unwinding… Her home truly is a wonderful, happy haven and I’m so glad to be behind the digital curtain. We are en route to a local hangout and she swears we won’t get hit on… We shall see. ; )

And for those of you wondering… YES she is fucking gorgeous.

And no. I haven’t met The Neighbor. Yet.

The Results of Last Night’s Wing-Girl Practice

A few of you requested details from last night’s practice run so here you go folks.
The results are in:

  • Time at bar: 8:49 until 11:32 so total time was just under three hours
  • Number of times hit on: eight
  • Number of drinks bought for me: four
  • Number of men who asked for my number: three
  • Number of men to actually got my number: zero
  • Number of men who got to take me home: zero

So that’s the evening by the numbers. I feel like I brushed up on my game so, unless we’re dealing with a completely different type of man in Hy’s neck of the woods, we should be in for a good time. Now for some details.

I have a new method to not giving out my number that I tried last night and it worked like a charm. When the topic of exchanging digits was broached I simply said, “Oh, thank you for asking, but I don’t give out my number. To anyone. But if I did, I’d share it with you. We’ll just have to run into each other again. I get out every now and then.” I closed with a big smile and everyone was happy.


Wing-girl Practice

I’m perched on the edge of my tub wearing nothing but pink panties and a white spaghetti-strap camisole deciding what I’m going to wear tonight. As you may know because she shared the news earlier today, I’m going Hyacinth’s Haven for a visit. But before I bike, fly, drive, or boat her way I intend to make sure my flirting skills are at acceptable levels. Why? Because while the visit is all about us spending time together, we’ll probably find ourself out and about among men. Because that’s part of who we are. I for one adore men. But I’m rambling. Believe it or not I haven’t been out alone for the pure intent of getting male attention in several (yes several!) months. And I don’t intend to be anything less than the ULTIMATE wing-girl for Miss Hy. Hence the evening of practice.

So what is a wing-girl? She’s your partner in crime. She doesn’t steal your lime light. She enhances your game. She tells you the truth about your outfits and takes your advice about her’s willingly. She may guard the bathroom door while a guy gives you head. She may warn you that the guy you think is so hot is actually giving off some major weirdo vibes. She flirts like a demon or angel or not at all depending on y’all’s combined mood. She is never ever EVER your competition. But most of all she’s your friend.

So I’m off to brush up on my angel or demon flirting techniques. Cause with Hy, I think I’m good on all the rest.

Cheers my sweet lovely dears!!!!

Noodle and I are gonna give The Neighbor a double blowjob.

So… Here’s what I’ll be up to on Friday. : )

A Dissolute Life Means...

Ok, not really. Read on, friends. It’ll make sense in a minute, I promise.

Boundaries are something I’m chewing on. Sometimes I have good ones, like, for example I turned down a possible foursome and a for-sure fucking with Kevin last night — he always complains I’m too athletic of a lover. I don’t have time for that bullshit. Usually, though, I have bad boundaries, for example with The Neighbor.

Last night I asked him to hit balls with me and my softball team and he said yes, but at the last-minute my team backed out. I offered for it to be just me and him, but he opted out. Then I realized that the new girl on my team, a petite girl with a brash, yet ineffectual personality was still in. I asked if she’d still want to practice with just me. She said yes. When I told…

View original post 1,562 more words

How to Let a Guy Down Easy

So remember way back at the end of June when I said I was turning down sex left and right? Well, Ben has been (Ha! Ben/been) quite persistent as you’ll see in the text messages that follow below. So I took some drastic measures. I followed some good advice. One blogger gave some suggestions via email that basically said, invent an old lover who’s returned and tell Ben to bug off. With my plan in place all I needed was a former lover. Thankfully I didn’t have to put much thought into it because Scot (aka The Dom Next Door) invented Glenn in the comments of my turning down sex post. So if you ever need to let a suitor down easily… send in Glenn to do your dirty work. He’s fresh out of periodontist school so he won’t mind!

The visual evidence… Continue reading