Backtracking

            As I said before, Saturday was Cheese and Thad’s wedding.  But Friday night was their rehearsal dinner and for some reason I wasn’t feeling well.  I don’t know what it was, maybe the stress of moving to North Carolina and having zero time to accomplish everything that I was supposed to do in the time allotted to me, or just being tired from actually trying to do everything in 3 days!  I don’t know!

            Whatever.  I go home, pack, do laundry, and take a nap.  Then I call Reg and we decide at 9pm to go to the Watering Hole to see some friends before my move and the wedding. 

            So were there with Finny and were having a few drinks and whatnot.  I don’t even see this motherfucker, I smell him.  As he basically bathes in his cologne.  Guy #1.  Typical.  Why not, right?

            I am aware that he is standing behind me but I try not to let it bother me, as I don’t give a rats ass about him and it is what it is.  So he taps me on the shoulder in a frugal attempt to get my attention.  I ignore it.  Then he does it again and I turn around and he is standing there.

            “Hey!”

            Really, ass crack, really?!

            “Hello.”

            “Whats going on?”

            “Nothing, just grabbing a few drinks.”

            “Wedding tomorrow huh?”

            “Yup.”

            “Awesome.  Leigh invited me to go, but I didn’t want to and I have to work anyways.”

            “Shame.”

            First of all, I think I might have croaked if I saw him sitting there at my fucking table with a shit eating grin on his stupid face and secondly, just no.

            “So I hear your moving?”

            “Yup.”

            Can we just acknowledge how I am not giving him appropriate answers to any questions or comments he is throwing my way!?  That’s right ladies!  Be strong and don’t answer the one person that you actually do care for!  Don’t do it!  This is not the 50’s!  Were independent!  (But I really want to answer him in full detail and say things like, ‘yes I am leaving.  Please, give me a reason to stay!  Please!”)

            “Were you just going to leave and not even tell me?’

            WOAH!  WOAH!  Why do you care?!  I deleted you from my phone weeks ago to keep myself from drunk texting you or feeling the need to even talk to you, so please, don’t ask me why I am not going to let you know of my future plans.  Dad.  Why the fuck do you feel the need to know my every move?!

            “What?  Why would I do that?’

            “Ughhh Ughh I don’t know….”

            Fuck you, you don’t know!  Get the hell out of here!  You know!  But incase you don’t, here it is; I don’t fucking care!  You tell me shit and throw it in my face then tell me that you and I can’t be together or whatever because its “too complicated”.  Eat me bro.  I will provide the spoon.

            (Why do I rant when he is involved in the blog?)

            Moving on…

            He goes on and on about nothing, because frankly I am not paying attention and I just want to get back to my drink and have fun with the girls because its my last night in town and I don’t want to deal with this shit.

            Needless to say he hasn’t texted me or contacted me since I have moved and I don’t think he is going to.  Not to mention, I wouldn’t know if it was him because he is NOT in my phone! 

            Winning!

            Now to find either a sexy McDoctor or just a rando on the streets.

Wedding Warriors

            This weekend was Cheese and Thad’s wedding.  It was a lovely event!  (Thanks for having me in your bridal party BFFS!!  286!)  So, you know, I have a date, not sexually interested in him, so I am clearly on the prowl.  I mean, lets be honest here, wedding sex is probably some of the best sex due to emotions running high and not giving a fuck about it at the end of the night.  (Or the next morning, whatever).

            So you know, were dancing and drinking… a lot.  And everyone is having an excellent time.  I notice this guy sitting at one of the tables, and I recognize him as the hot guy that Cheese wanted to introduce me to months back.  Remember from one of the earlier blogs when I was discussing the Top Ten List?  He was one of the guys on said list, you know, the one I don’t know from a hole in the wall.  Whatever, anyways…

            The night goes on, I kinda do the weird stare thing that creepers do.  I think, through my Cosmo drunken haze, that he is looking back but I am not too sure.  Let me just sidetrack for a moment; Cosmos.  During the cocktail hour of the wedding there were men in penguin suits walking around with trays of beverages.  Water (for pansies), champagne (for sophisticated people very un-like myself), and pretty pink Cosmos, (right up my fucking alley!) So I proceed to snatch one, sip it, no wait, pound it, and grab another.  Needless to say I had about 4 in a half hour.  Granted they weren’t THAT strong, but whatever.

            I go up to the bar to refill my drink later in the evening, and I am pretty sure I was cut off by the bartender because the next thing I know I am drinking straight cranberry juice.  Who does that?!  I am not a fucking moron!  I know the difference between Cosmos and cranberry juice!  Fuckers.  So I turn to my friend, who is hammer faced, and ask him to get me a Cosmo because I clearly have been cut off.  He is standing behind me and winds up and smacks my ass so incredibly hard.  I mean, fucking hard.  I think there may be a bruise there.  I am uncertain, but I know for a fact I am covered in bruises in other areas, as per usual.  Every time I drink I wake up with bruises, and it sucks. 

            So he is laughing at me about the pain that I am in, and I am almost crying, but I am intrigued.  So we go out to smoke and such and he tells me I am his favorite person in the world.

            “Well duh!  I am fucking awesome!”

            “I know, you are!!”

            Laugh laugh laugh, smoke smoke smoke. 

            Again, I make awkward eye contact with the hot guy I recognize.  But I will not approach.  I don’t know if that’s too much, or maybe its too bold, but whatever, just let me drink 4 more cosmos and were good to go!

            Fuck it!

            “Hey, Cheese, is that the guy you wanted to introduce me to?”

            “Yes!  That’s him!  Come on, I will introduce you two.”

            Shit

            Introductions.

            “Oh, I have heard a lot about you from Cheese.  I was wondering which one you were,” he says to me.

            “All good things I am sure?”

            “Of course!”

            He’s lovely looking.             

Moving on…  After party at the hotel.  I am feeling groovy, I decide I am going to change in the room, so I head upstairs to do so, and lo, I find myself tangled in my own dress because there are clasps that I do not have the ability to reach.  Weird!  Wait for it!  Who is strolling down the hall but the hot guy.  He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder and carried me a few feet down the hall.  Funny.  I am placed on my feet and shit, so I decide to ask him to unclasp my dress.  Am I wearing a bra?  NOPE!  That dress was a total body fat sucker, so no need for a bra!  He does and it’s not awkward because I am feeling good and I frankly don’t give a shit.

I go change and head to the bar to meet the rest of the gang.  Now were hanging out with the hot guy and were chatting, we go outside to smoke and he comes with us.  Were sitting on the stairs outside and were talking about sex, as per usual.  I don’t know what it is about my friends but there is always that conversation which involves sex.  I mean, I don’t mind, clearly, I write a sex blog for Christ’s sake.  So the guy is sitting there laughing at us because were ridiculous and hysterical. 

“So, ‘name’ is this guy going to be your wedding sex partner?” Finny asks me.

So SUBTLE! 

            “I don’t know, hey, are you going to be my wedding sex partner?” I ask him.

            Oh so subtle.

            “Sure!”

            Winning. 

            We all head to my room for some late night pizza and shit and slowly one by one the gang leaves and the guy goes to leave.

            “‘Name’ what the fuck are you doing?  Go after him!” Finny yells at me.

            “Ahhh!!  I don’t know what to say!  Fuck it!”

            I go into the hallway hoping to see him and sure as shit he is at the end of the hallway.

            “Yo!  What are you doing?” I yell down the hall.  Keep in mind it is about 2AM at this point and people are sleeping and fucking and doing whatever people do in hotel rooms at that hour. 

            “Nothing, what are you doing?”

            “Nothing…”

            One thing leads to another and I find myself in his room, in his bed, and my hands are tied in his tie and looped over the bedpost.  I am paralyzed.  I am loving this.  HAHAHA!  I love drunken wedding sex, especially with strangers.  (Is that weird?)  I wind up sleeping there and waking up at 6AM because I was to drive to North Carolina the following day for my new job.  Lets just say this, I don’t leave at 6AM, I leave at 8:30. 

Moral of this story is follows; have drunk wedding sex as often as possible.  With strangers.  Why strangers you ask?  This is why with strangers, you never have to see them, speak to them, hear from them, or deal with stage 5 clingers!  THAT’S WHY!  Why would you want to hook up with someone you know and have to see them out at a bar or driving in the lane next to you?  Be the praying mantis ladies!  Make out, fuck, bite off the head, and don’t leave a number.  Easy peasy!

            

First and Last Date

           

            As I said before, I am moving to North Carolina. 

            Lets discuss my week leading up to the move, shall we?  OK, here it is.  I get a phone call from the hospital in which I am a new employee, (yay!!) and they think I already live in NC because my aunt and I came up with a plan to say that I live there with her to easily get the job.  I mean, I don’t think it would be as easy to get a job in a foreign land when you’re from New York, and still live there.  So, they ask me to come down for a physical and drug testing and shit.  WONDERFUL!  I drive down there on a Sunday for a test on Monday to drive back to NY Tuesday.  Wednesday and Thursday are filled with my looking for a new vehicle, packing, saying my good byes, and basically doing the 283723 years worth of laundry that I will be doing.  Friday is Cheese and Thad’s rehearsal dinner and then Saturday is their wedding.  Sunday I am leaving for NC indefinitely. 

            I am supposed to try to fit a million and one things into this timeframe.  Like, coffee dates, DMV visits, packing, a DATE!  That’s right!  You heard it here folks!  I have a first official date.  Unfortunately, it is going to be my first and last date with Jeff, but I guess a few free drinks and something to eat would be nice. 

            However, this is my problem…  There always has to be a problem when something potentially so right is happening right?  Anywho, the problem is this; what do I wear?  What do I order?  What do I drink at the bar?  Wine or beer?  Will the beer make me bloat?  I don’t think I can bloat anymore than I am already bloated due to my “friend.”  Will he think I am a slob if I get wings and suck them down in one bite like normal people do?  Is licking fingers acceptable? 

            Then of course it’s the other shit like, makeup?  Red lipstick?  Because red lipstick is kind of my thing at the moment and he knows it and he likes it.  Straight or curly hair?  Tight and scandalous clothing or loose and jean-like because of the bloating?  Shoes?  My new snake skin heels or flip-flops?  Shit! 

            What do I do if he says something like, “wanna swing by my place?”

            “Ya know what, Jeff, as much as I would love a good old fashioned lay, I am riding the crimson wave.”

            What are your thoughts on sex during the period?  You, reading this blog, what do you think?  I think if I get a few responses I can do a blog on that topic, but I also think that becoming a “red wing” is kind of buck nasty to some. 

            Moving on…

            Lastly, my worst fear about the Last Date is this; were going to a bar in which my friends hang out at.  What if they come in?  Guy #1 goes in there sometimes with Leigh.   I think the only thing that would make my Last First Date shit, would be if they strolled in there.  However, it could also be fucking awesome because I can make Guy #1 jealous and be truly happy on 2 accounts.  1. He is jealous, and 2. I am happy with Jeff and hanging out with him.  Not to mention he is SO much better in bed.  Which leads me to my final thought for the night before signing out…

            What did I see in that ass clown?!  (Guy #1).  

Naked Napper Relocation Project

             So it has been a while since I last blogged about my life.  However, the sad part of my few week hiatus is this; NOTHING HAPPENED!  I mean nothing worth blogging about involving sex and or sexual activity.  But I guess as long as were sitting here reading and writing and shit, I could go on to tell you all this; I am moving!

            North Carolina is calling my name!  I am actually heading out of town in 4 days, which kind of sucks because I have a lot of unfinished business here to deal with.  Namely my vehicle and packing and making sure I have all my documents and shit like that.  Oh, not to mention how good things are going with Jeff.  Fuck me right?  As soon as a normal guy comes along I have to go and be relocated.  I feel like I am part of the fucking witness protection or something.  I will be covertly moving from this area to a small town in North Carolina where no one knows me, (or my blog), (which should be fun), (which I should take advantage of), but it still sucks!

            Jeff and I still talk throughout the days and the weeks and shit like that, and the sad part is that I think I could have gone somewhere.  Well of course it could have gone somewhere!  Why wouldn’t it have been that good?!  Oh, that’s right, I don’t have luck in the man department even when it’s frigging good!  Blaaa!

            I was talking to him about my job opportunity last week and he seemed a little bummed out about the fact that I could potentially be moving far away from this area. Then I found out that I did in fact get the job and that I was going to move.  So he asked me about it and I told him yes, I was going.

            “Bittersweet,” was his response. 

            Then he was a little standoffish because there was no point in it becoming something more serious due to the stupid move.  SO!  Here was are one week later and I am, you know, single.  And he is sitting on his couch every night after work hanging out alone.  Being that I am not one of those types of girls who will just sit around and wait, or feel sorry for myself (anymore), I decide, “what have I got to lose!?”

            “Heyyyy!  Wanna get some wings tonight?”

            “Well look who it is!  That’s the best you can do after I drunkenly poured my heart out to you the other night?”

            Backtrack, he didn’t pour his heart out, he did however, go on a drunken rant.  In which he told me he was in Long Island, the Yankees rule, the Giants rule, He was representing his road, and amazing things will fall into my lap, and he wants to talk to me soon.  HAHA.  I don’t even know.

            “Oh stop!  It was a drunk rant.”

            “HAHA!  I don’t know if I can do tonight, I am working late.”

            “Well, I am leaving Sunday and I am unavailable starting Friday.”

            “Oh no!  Leaving for good?  By the way, I want to be your McSteamy”

            HAHAHA!  I had posted something the other day about my new hospital job and wondering if I was going to find myself a sexy McDoctor.  Ergo, he wants to be my McSteamy.  (FYI, if I do find a McDoctor, there will be stipulations; MUST BE a Yankee.  Zero drawls (we all know how I feel about them), handsome, smart, and good in bed.  Also must not be a foot, vagina, ass, or nose doctor).

            “Yes, I am leaving indefinitely.  And you already are my McSteamy.”

            “Nice!  Lets meet up tomorrow at the bar for wings.”

            “We can do that!”

            So there we have it, I have a date tomorrow night with Jeff, I guess we could call it our first and last date.  Which is sad.  Want to know whats even more e sad?!  I have my god damn period!  Why wouldn’t I have my period the last week of my life in New York!?  It only makes sense!  Fuck my life!

            Well, at least I don’t have to shave my legs right?  I mean maybe I should shave my legs just incase I want to wear shorts, right?  This period better hurry its ass along.  If I have a date tomorrow, what are the chances of my period being gone?  Is there a pill for this?  Maybe that’s what I should invent.  (I have been trying to find something to invent for years.  This could be it!).  I should make a pill that puts a period on hold for at least 5 hours. 

            With my luck, they probably already have it.

            Whatever.

Sweet Jesus

I hung out with Jeff night at his house.  Again, we watched the Olympics and chatted and what not.  Get this; he actually had the nerve to tell me that he would beat me in a kitchen cook off.  I laughed right in his face and told him to bring it on.  Then we were sitting on the couch and we were arguing over whether or not looking at the hand or elbow is more effective when giving a high five.  I say elbow, he says hand.  Then we played the slap hand game.  You know the one they play in Wedding Crashers?  Lets just say this; we both suck at the game and I quit after I got hit one time.  Moving on…

I was sitting on the couch on the end, he was sitting in the middle, and he does this thing where he inches towards me slowly.  But last night he wasn’t inching.  He gets up, goes to the other room and grabs his blanket then proceeds to lay on me.  Straight up lay on me.  His arms around my waist, his head on my lap, wrapped in his blanket.  Thanks for keeping me warm with your body heat (which is actually VERY warm) and not offering me an inch of blanket. 

“Want to get under the blanket?  Its really comfortable”

“I’m OK for right now, I am hot.”

“I know you are, Hun.”

Hun?  Interesting.  I can get into this. 

So were laying on the couch watching some ridiculous show about taxi cab drivers that have their fares open up to them about drugs and sex and their being gay or strippers.  It was weird, and then it turned into a porno.  Which was even weirder.  I think I was set up to watch the porn, but that’s neither here nor there.

It was about 12:45 when I was ready to head home.  I think he was sleeping on me, but I couldn’t move to see and I couldn’t tell if he was or not.  So I just kind of rubbed his back and shook him in a non-violent way. 

“Whatcha doing?” he asks me.

“I think I am going to head home.”

“You have to leave at 1.”

“Well, I just said I was leaving, and it’s before one.  Calm yourself.”

It sounded kind of like he was kicking me out so I of course got my smart-ass attitude thing going on.  I am a very sarcastic when I want to be.  Sarcastic as in, bitch.

“No, Hun, I mean you have to wait 15 minutes.  Leave at 1.”

“Oh.  OK.”

I lay back down, but this time I wriggle under the blanket right next to him and I am trying not to fall asleep there because I had to be up early in the morning for my nephew.  Come 1:05 I roll out from under the blanket and grab my belongings, step into my flip-flops and say I will talk to him later. 

He stands up to say good-bye.  But he didn’t say good-bye.

He put his arms around my waist and kissed my neck.  NOW!  I don’t know about other people, but I will say this; the nape of my neck is my sweet spot.  Sweet spot as in don’t touch it, don’t even look at it, because my knees buckle and I cant handle myself. 

“You probably shouldn’t do that to me.”

“Do what to you, Hun?”

I’m paralyzed.

He runs his fingers through my hair (which I actually brushed and had straight out of boredom) and moves his other hand down my neck.  Ugh.  I can dig that.  He plays that slow assault game on me and it drives me out of my mind in a very good way.  But god damnit!  I can't handle this more than 46 seconds, please stop this torture!

He takes my hand and pulls me on the couch where we proceed to make out and play the running hands game.  You know, the one where you don’t want to touch anything south of the border, but your going to graze it with the back of your hand juuuust to spark some interest.  You know that game?  I like that game.  I am a “Running Hand Game” All Star!  First place baby, yea!

“I thought you wanted to slow things down?” I say to him.

He didn’t say that in so many words, but he did elude to the fact that we have hung out 3 times and had sex each time.  No big deal.  Sex is sex. And guess what?  We’re grown ass people, we can do what we want.  Now lets do what I want, and jump on the bad foot to do the good thing.  Shhh… Don’t say anything else just get on with it!

“Well, I can’t help it when you’re here.”

Works for me!

Little did I know he was kind of a freak in bed.  News flash!  This whole fuck buddy thing just gets better and better!  He is a dirty talker, and personally I find that to be a turn on like no other.  Not dirty as in, “my bitch” or “you like that you dirty slut.”  (I felt weird just writing that, but whatever, shit happens).  Its dirty more like, “you like that baby” and “I am going to make you cum.”  Which I like!  Whatever, you can’t tell me it’s not a turn on!  Cause it is!

His one hand is all tangled in my hair, which is now a fucking rats nest, and the other hand his moving around.  Ugh!  I can’t even type this without feeling the urge to change my underwear hahaha.  I have to stop being vulgar, but fuck it; this is a sex blog is it not?! 

Were done, and were sitting on the couch, and I tell him, “I cant feel my face.”

“HAHA What?”

“It happens sometimes.”

“Why Hun?”

Smart-ass.  He knows why!  I mean, I tell him some random shit that girls probably shouldn’t tell guys, but I am NOT about to tell him that my face is numb because of the orgasm that occurred not 3 minutes ago.

“Don’t worry about it.”

HAHA.

Anyways, I get up to go again, and he walks me to the door.  But this time I was not suckered into staying for another round, which would have been awesome, but it was now 2am and I needed to get home.  On my drive home, I think it was the one drive I have taken after a sex-capade where I didn’t curse myself for being gross.  I just drove and sang along to the radio.

I like having a no strings sex buddy.  The trouble with them, however, is this; someone always gets attached.  I refuse to let it be me!

Sea Legs

            I was chatting with Jeff all day via texting and Facebook.  One thing turned into another when he asked me if I wanted to hang out tonight.  Of course I said yes, I am going to double dip.  I happen to love double dipping.  Like dunk-a-roos.  Love it. 

            My sisters and I had a pizza night at the house where we made our own homemade pizza and they had some wine, and we had a few laughs.  Note how I said, ‘they had wine,’ remember what happened last time I had wine and hung out with Jeff?  Yea, as much as I love double dipping, I would like to not be intoxicated when I hang out with him this night. 

            So were sitting around, me and the girls, and they are making fun of me about Jeff.  Then the conversation switches over to leg shaving.  They told me that if I was going to be hanging out with him that I should shave again.  Personally, I mean, I think shaving is one of those things that is fucking annoying.  If possible, I will avoid it at all costs.  However, they were right.  I sat my ass on the edge of the tub and shaved the bottom halves of my legs.  Why just the bottoms?  Because I shaved yesterday and like I said, I am lazy when shaving and I am not going to do it again god damnit!

            Then I get a text from Jeff asking me if were hanging out.  Well shit yea!  I JUST shaved.  I feel like this is one of the struggles I go through.  Fucking shaving and whether or not it is going to be purposeful or pointless.  SO fuck yes, were hanging out tonight.

            “What are you doing?” he asks.

            “Arguing with my sisters about leg shaving actually. HAHA.”

            “Well that is tough.  What is the basis of your argument?  And what are their counterpoints?”

            “How many days between shaving.  I personally hate it.  But they are opposed to my beliefs.”

            The funny thing is this; I feel extremely comfortable with him and telling him I hate shaving is funny to me.  He laughed about it as well.  I think that he is probably one of the most easy going people I have ever met, and its easy to talk to him about anything really. 

            Whatever, I wind up going over there to hang out. 

            So were sitting on the couch and then were laying on the couch, and then he’s rubbing my back.  And my side.  And my legs…

            “So when was the last time you shaved?”

Then he starts laughing.

“Which half?  The upper or the lower half?”

Again, he is laughing and now I am laughing and we're just laying there cracking up with one another.  See!?  Easy! 

He starts falling asleep a little bit.  Which is fine with me.  It was about 1:30AM at this point and after a long day for him I was surprised he lasted as long as he did.  So I try to move to go home and he grabs my arms and pulls me down back next to him.  Again, he is kind of falling asleep and I am laying on his chest.  He twitched and nailed me in the face. 

“Jesus!”

I was half asleep myself until the inadvertent face punch.

“What happened Hun?”

“Umm…  You just punched me in the face!”

“Oh my god, Hun.  I am so sorry.  Lay down, come on.”

So I lay back down and we're kind of face-to-face.  Then he kissed me.  A lot.

One thing leads to another and bing bang boom were going.  Now let me tell you something; double dipping is ALWAYS necessary.  And do you want to know why?  Some people are shy the first time and it can kind of suck.  HOWEVER!  This time, I don’t even know what happened.  All I know and all I can say is it was fucking awesome.  And I mean FUCKING AWESOME.  I haven’t had that great kind of sex in a long ass time.  Granted, I have had a lot of sex lately, but this was mind blowing. 

Funny thing was; it wasn’t just straight up headboard knocking banging.  It was kind of sensual?  Would sensual be the right word for this?  It works for me. 

You ever have great sex and find that your legs don’t work?  Lets just put it this way; my legs are dizzy and I still have trouble walking on them.  Ergo, sea legs.  I have leg spasms.  I am having one right now.

I don’t know guys, but this guy is kind of awesome in every way.  I don’t want to ruin anything.  So now I guess my question would be this; what the fuck do I do now!?  

Snap Crackle and Pop

            I know, I know, it looks like this is going to be a blog about eating Rice Krispies but its sure not.  In fact we will get to the meaning of the blog name later once I tell the story and shit. 

            I went to Guy #1’s house last night to grab something from him (Reg’s cooler... pervs) and we hung out like old times.  Actually, being that I am infatuated with him I didn’t want to hang out with him like that or hear about the “old cougar that lives down the road and doesn’t shave her bush” or “the Brazilian keeps trying to Face Time me” or “the girl I have been trying to date.”

            First of all, you’re full of shit.  Secondly, shut the fuck up.  I know I have said this before, but I am done with him.  Sitting across from him last night I was actually really put off by him.  I think my infatuation of him whizzed away like a balloon that the air was let out of; fast and wriggly.  So I did what any normal person would do and that would be to delete his phone number so never to tempt myself with it, and delete all texts we passed, and I basically burn noticed him without the mysterious phone call that states, “you have been burned, don’t return to such and such a place EVER!”

            Motherfucker.

            So upon this little revelation while sitting in my car in his driveway, I decide fuck it, I am going to get a drink.  (Don’t think of me as an alcoholic, I just like drinks… a lot). So I go down to one of the bars we frequent, which is not the Watering Hole, with Sando and we have a few drinks. 

            Come the end of the night I figure, fuck it, I am going to Thad and Cheese’s wedding with this guy, I might as well see what I am working with.  (Haha) so I yell across the bar, “hey!  Wanna make out later?”

            The guy just laughs at me and shakes his head but answers, “sure!”

            FYI my head is in my hands right now shaking back and forth because I really need to not do these things, but I do them anyways.  Fuck me right?  Not literally, figuratively. 

            I lean over to Sando and I say, “might as well right?”

            She laughs at me and says, “yup!”

            “I mean, my eggs are drying up, I need to see if there is anything there worth feeding the fire with.  I should just call my eggs Rice Krispies; Snap, Crackle, and Pop.”

            Whatever, so he closes the bar down and walks me to my car.  He is walking away from me!  I am thinking to myself now, fuck no!  So I yell over to him, “sooo this isn’t going to happen?!”

            He walks over to me and kisses me.

            It was very movie-like.  You know, where there are no words exchanged but your just grabbed and they plant one on you?  Yea, it was something like that.  (ps, I think I have a rash on my lips from his stubble…  I HATE that!) HAHA.

            Well, being that Guy #1 is a massive bag of douche, this guy I am making out with in well lit parking lots at 5am probably isn’t going to wind up being my type, and Jeff is a little shy or something, I am going to have to go on a manhunt to find someone to have babies with me.  Oh, wait.. I hear something…

            ITS JUST MY OVARIES DRYING AND MY EGGS DYING!  No big deal! 

            “Save me!” SNAP!

            “Wait, wait!...” CRACKLE!

            “Bye bye,” POP!

            Find me someone to have babies with so I don’t have to go poking holes in condoms and acting like a crazy mad person that makes out with men in parking lots, or becomes obsessed with some ass face.  It’s not even about the relationship anymore!  I just want babies.  Women do not need men for anything; this is why the sex toy industry was invented.  THEY KNEW IT FROM THE FUCKING START!  Ergo, we can pleasure ourselves, we can raise babies alone, and we don’t need a man to impregnate us.  Hello!  Sperm banks!  That’s my latest revelation, by the way, I am almost 28, if I am not A. pregnant by the time I am 28.5 years old or B. already knocked up, I am going to the sperm bank and picking out a lovely man with dark hair and blue eyes with an IQ of 729372973 that went to Harvard Law and plays sports without injury, with no obvious signs of cancer in his family, and I am turkey basting the shit out of his sperm.

            Fuck it!  I don’t need a kid coming from me when I am 36 years old that has mental issues and maybe a hand protruding from its forehead because my eggs are fucked.  I would rather pick a mate.  (By mate I mean sperm donor).

            I have ONE year to figure this shit out.  Thanks!