Fall For My Type – TBT 12.23.10

I wonder how it feels to be you.

Having to look at me.
Look at him.
The same way I used to look at you.

I almost feel bad. Because I know how it feels to pull a conversation out your ass in hopes that it will make the other person remember a special memory the two of you had. Or maybe, just MAYBE – miss you back.

So how does it feel when I don’t pick up, or reply. Or answer the way I used to? No smiley faces or good mornings. No “I had a great time.”

Remember when I used to sniff your neck and kiss that part right behind your earlobe?
Remember when I used to trace the definition of your muscles and work my way down?

I wonder how it feels to sit across from me during dinner. Just like we used to. Talking about everything and nothing at all. Same ol’, Same ol’ – yet not the same at all.

Because NOW? I’m not looking at you gasping for a breath of fresh air. Choking on anxiety. I’m not trying to search for answers or a way to get in. I’M NOT CRYING INSIDE. I’m not wondering if you’re for real, or second guessing myself. You. Us. Because NOW? Dinner is just a slice of pizza and spaghetti with meatballs for you, and linguine with clams for me. It’s just a formality.

Because NOW? I’m not making excuses for you. Or giving you the benefit of the doubt. Or refusing to look at the facts. You probably don’t even care. And that’s fine. All that matters is I don’t either. I just look at you and see you, your slice of cheese pizza, plate of spaghetti and meatballs, and everything I loved about you … and everything I DON’T EVER want in a man.

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Petty Please.

“I wanted to tell you again it was awesome seeing you. You’re even sexier than I remember”.

That was the message I got from a friend of mine that I used to have “relations” with. I’m an A-cup. I don’t have long legs and my hips are non-existent. My hair is short and I don’t have DSL’s, so you would think I jumped for joy upon reading this. On the contrary, something about it didn’t sit well. I knew my friend meant nothing wrong by it, however, I was almost offended. And that is entirely my fault.

My friend is successful, worldly, adventurous, smart, and I always felt intimidated by him. Because of the aforementioned, my ego convinced me that I wasn’t good enough for him to date. Not because I too wasn’t intelligent or cultured, but because I never gave him the opportunity to get to know that. And by the time I did, he didn’t care to know.

Needless to say, when I read his Facebook message I didn’t take it as the compliment he intended it to be. I took it as a reminder that he only sees – or maybe only cares about my physical attributes.

Not too long before that, a co-worker of mine asked how it felt to be the prettiest girl in the office. Honestly, it felt uncomfortable. He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, that label did. It makes me feel like I have some sort of title to maintain, when the inevitable is someone prettier is always bound to come along. This shit doesn’t sound pretty, it sounds petty. I sound like I’m playing the “Wah wah wah, it’s so hard being pretty” card, but the truth is I lack self-confidence and that shit is neither sexy nor pretty. 

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t enjoy looking sexy, and of course it’s flattering when someone thinks I’m pretty – I just want people to know that I am so much MORE. Or at the very least,  know that I feel the sexiest when someone brings up a line from one of my blogs, and I feel the most beautiful when I make people laugh. 

Hey friend if you’re reading this, I’ll be seeing you again soon. This time, I hope I’m even more funny, talented, and smart than the last time we hung out. 

And for the record, you’re even sexier than I remember too.


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My Favorite Pain in the Ass.

I watched a movie staring Jason Bateman called This Is Where I leave You not too long ago. In the movie, he catches his wife cheating on him and his immediate reaction is disbelief in the form of utter silence. Although he didn’t say anything, his face said it all and for a split second I was reminded of the anxiety that accompanies betrayal and a broken heart. Having not been in a relationships as long as I have, I cannot not even fathom how it would feel to be cheated on. The thought alone has me panic stricken. 

Getting into a new relationship is as scary as it is exciting, and allowing someone “in” can be terrifying. Even on a smaller scale.You ultimately have to be yourself but one can’t help but be nervous that the other person won’t like you based on your quirks and habits.  For instance, I’m always nervous making the bed in front of someone for the first time.

Did you know that the tag on your blanket determines what side the bottom is? I was unaware of this until a friend of mine told me one morning, and I immediately felt stupid. I should probably mention that this friend slept over the night before. Also, I was very much “in like” with said friend. Though seemingly simple and mundane, making the bed is one of many, petty little things I feel a person of interest may judge me for. And there’s plenty more where that came from.

What if my next crush doesn’t like the way I iron? What if he hates that I fall asleep during car rides home even when I promise I won’t? What if he doesn’t like the way I play with my hair? What if he gets annoyed with the way I drive, or the fact I take my socks off and leave them underneath the sheets in the middle of the night? What if he mistakes my “chillness” for being indecisive or not having an opinion? WHAT IF HE DOESN’T LIKE THE WAY I MAKE THE BED?

The list goes on, but I guess none of it really matters anyway. Your quirks may very well drive the next guy crazy. But if he’s the right guy, those same quirks that drive him crazy will also make him crazy for you.

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Who Gives a Fuck?


Quality over quantity definitely applies to sex. While I can still count my sexual partners on 2 , errr 3 hands, I can definitely say that the quality of the sex made up for it. Surprised I haven’t written about this before, but here are my  Top 3 fucks and the reasons why they made the list. 

3. Mr. Big: Again, Mr. Big wasn’t big. He’s probably what most would call average. But he was a good fuck, because he was a FUN fuck. He liked to talk dirty, sexy, and he was never shy about sending me a dick pic in the middle of the day. One time I received one unsuspectingly, and I swear I couldn’t function for the next hour after that. 

2. Buzz: I liked fucking Buzz because he had a big, old hamburger dick. But I loved fucking Buzz, because he seemed to genuinely love fucking me. He was always so enthusiastic and very vocal about how good he felt. How good I felt. Everything. He made me feel sexy, and the way he would describe our sex and my body made me forget he was fucking other people, and all the insecurities I had about body.

1. I know this is cheating, but it’s tie between Thor and Wolfie: Thor was a nasty motherfucker with an almost 9-inch dick. I can only assume I was in my prime during our relationshit, because we would fuck for hours on end and I’d still get up for work and be on time the next day. One time we fucked throughout the entire Wild, Wild, West movie. I just IMDB’d that shit and that movie is 2.5 fucking hours. Good God. While longevity is a good thing, sometimes it was just TOO long. I had (other) shit to do and places to go. However, he always came and that left me happy.

Wolfie had stamina too. He was a great fuck, because he knew just where to hit it. He wasn’t packing as big as Thor, but he knew what to do with what he had (which wasn’t small by any means). He was strong and vigorous, and had a carnal type of sex appeal about him that drove me crazy. Unfortunately, the fact that he wouldn’t cum all the time drove me crazy too. It made me feel as if the sex wasn’t good or I didn’t please him. 

Now let’s hope I can write a Top 5 list by the end of the year.

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Selfie Portraits.

I traveled to Oahu solo once, and it was probably my second best trip there. My last solo trip was a little different. After much debate and hesitation, I booked a flight to Kauai. Although it’s still Hawaii, it’s one of their more rural islands with less tourists and city life so I envisioned myself stranded on a dirt road with a dead cell phone and no gas. Paranoid much? Always.

Not that I thought Kauai was riddled with crime, I’m just a Virgo and worrying is what we do. I wondered if I would get lost. If I would get robbed. If I would get raped. If I would fall off a cliff hiking. But most of all, I wondered WHO THE HELL WAS GOING TO TAKE MY PICTURES? 

Thus, I made a few purchases and borrowed a few devices from friends to make sure I had all my solo “Do it For the ‘Gram” necessities. Click after the jump to make sure your next solo trip will never look like one.


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I visited the island of Kauai for the first time last week and must say … it was everything I didn’t know I wanted. For five days I was laptop, makeup, TV, and worry free (except for that one time I thought I was going to drown, and that other time I envisioned getting pummeled by a wild boar).

I spent my mornings reading in a hammock, my afternoons baking on the beach, and my nights sleeping underneath the stars. But the majority of my trip was spent out of my comfort zone. 

10592673_10153267035848003_3334631988375283733_nI slept on the beach. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it. I mean what’s not to enjoy about warm weather, waves teasing the shore, a 6-pack of beer, and a moon as big and bright as my heart? Absolutely nothing. I just didn’t expect it. I thought I was sleeping in the loft of a 6 acre farm estate that night. But it was all perfect, even the thunderstorm in the  middle of the night.

I went hunting for goat. In shorts. And a tank top. In the rain and mud and bushes. With nothing but a bow and arrow. Without knowing where to go or what to look for. I MEAN WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT? Crazy people. I like that kind of crazy. 

I got on a surfboard. In the ocean. With no life vest. No, I don’t think you heard me: IN THE OCEAN. That vast body of water with waves and shit. It was the closest I ever got to actually swimming aka not drowning in the sea. Never mind the fact that I koala-beared that thing for dear life and nearly had a panic attack, I faced my fear … and he’s even more handsome than I remember.

I FACED REALITYIt was a swift slap to the cheek, then gentle kiss afterwards reminding me that I don’t have the job, body, mindset, confidence, or relationships that I want. I lack the motivation required to make moves, the discipline needed to stay on track, the focus necessary to meet goals, and the strength to believe I can do all these things. Sometimes I care too much about what people think. Other times, I don’t care enough. 

While on the island, I hung out with a friend who once inspired me to quit my job. Now he inspires me to quit the bullshit. The excuses. The stagnancy. The humdrum of an unproductive routine. Seeing how far he’s come and how many experiences he’s collected since we last saw each other, and realizing that I am in the same place as I was 4 years ago when we met, was hands down the most uncomfortable part of my trip. Again, all these realizations mean nothing if I am unable to learn from it and take action. 

I plan to visit Kauai at least one more time. There’s a few items on my bucket list unchecked. I didn’t get to hike the Napali Coast, swim underneath a waterfall, or take a boat tour into the caves. And a helicopter ride around the island would be nice, but definitely not necessary. I hope the next time I’m there we catch a goat. I hope I can actually swim. Most of all I hope I am no longer outside of my comfort zone. Instead, I hope I’m IN MY ZONE and comfortable in my own skin.

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