Tuesday, November 30, 2004
One month
I'm on a roll now... that's so like me, ignoring this thing here for days on end, and then spewing forth 3 entries in one day.
I just thought it was noteworthy that it's been exactly one month today that I have seen Jo vanish out the door, leaving the party, escorted by the hostess and her boyfriend to her car, leaving me behind staring at her back until the last of her blue geisha dress disappeared around the corner, yearning and longing for her, without her even knowing what she did to me. All the while I was hoping for her to just turn around one more time and look back at me... even just a short glimpse... which of course she didn't do. And then, why would she have... she has no idea about my feelings.
One month.
Can't believe how fast time is passing by, without anything happening.
The hostess finally called The Fiancé back today, leaving a message, asking what we were up to on the weekend. Naturally, the possibilities that this simple question opened accelerated my heartbeat immediately, and The Fiancé was laughing at my reaction. I practically begged him right there in the cafeteria to set up a meeting with her and Jo on the weekend, I think I even promised him an infinite number of blowjobs, much to his devilish delight. Of course he was giving me a hard time, telling me he would get her number for me, but leaving everything else up to me. That bastard!
For now though my hopes are up for a possible meeting on the weekend... keep your fingers crossed for me...
I just thought it was noteworthy that it's been exactly one month today that I have seen Jo vanish out the door, leaving the party, escorted by the hostess and her boyfriend to her car, leaving me behind staring at her back until the last of her blue geisha dress disappeared around the corner, yearning and longing for her, without her even knowing what she did to me. All the while I was hoping for her to just turn around one more time and look back at me... even just a short glimpse... which of course she didn't do. And then, why would she have... she has no idea about my feelings.
One month.
Can't believe how fast time is passing by, without anything happening.
The hostess finally called The Fiancé back today, leaving a message, asking what we were up to on the weekend. Naturally, the possibilities that this simple question opened accelerated my heartbeat immediately, and The Fiancé was laughing at my reaction. I practically begged him right there in the cafeteria to set up a meeting with her and Jo on the weekend, I think I even promised him an infinite number of blowjobs, much to his devilish delight. Of course he was giving me a hard time, telling me he would get her number for me, but leaving everything else up to me. That bastard!
For now though my hopes are up for a possible meeting on the weekend... keep your fingers crossed for me...
Homophobia
It's not that I have ever been personally faced with homophobic ignorance (which is probably due to the fact that not that many people know about my sexual self), nor am I usually phased by the display of such. I know that people are generally intolerant, or not educated enough to see things in a different light, and that's ok. I am not one of those people who go up on the barricades defending gay rights, I am not out there trying to convert people, preaching tolerance by showing myself intolerant towards intolerance... so generally speaking: unless someone directly offends me, I couldn't care less about what people think.
Or so I thought.
When I read the following on one of my dear friend's sister's blog (which I shall not link to), it strung a chord within me, that sent me into a semi-full blown inner rage, and made me feel - for the lack of any better descriptive word for it - funny about myself and who I am.
"EWW! *********** from Yahoo messaged me and it's a woman who thinks I'm "gorgeous"! EWWWWWWW! GAWD! Why do I have to attract mostly married men and gay chicks? GAWD! I feel I need a shower now...GAWD!"
Gawd? Ewww? You feel dirty because a woman thinks you are attractive?
Take it as a compliment, girl, don't go off on a homophobic rampage here. Sides, seeing as you aren't all that "gorgeous" in the first place, I would savor the experience even more. But maybe that's just me.
Even though I thought stuff like that wouldn't bother me before, people like that do upset me, and make me wonder if this coming-out thing is such a good idea at all... I am not sure I am ready to deal with homophobia on a personal level, and I am pretty sure it is forthcoming, in my quest for telling the world...
Or so I thought.
When I read the following on one of my dear friend's sister's blog (which I shall not link to), it strung a chord within me, that sent me into a semi-full blown inner rage, and made me feel - for the lack of any better descriptive word for it - funny about myself and who I am.
"EWW! *********** from Yahoo messaged me and it's a woman who thinks I'm "gorgeous"! EWWWWWWW! GAWD! Why do I have to attract mostly married men and gay chicks? GAWD! I feel I need a shower now...GAWD!"
Gawd? Ewww? You feel dirty because a woman thinks you are attractive?
Take it as a compliment, girl, don't go off on a homophobic rampage here. Sides, seeing as you aren't all that "gorgeous" in the first place, I would savor the experience even more. But maybe that's just me.
Even though I thought stuff like that wouldn't bother me before, people like that do upset me, and make me wonder if this coming-out thing is such a good idea at all... I am not sure I am ready to deal with homophobia on a personal level, and I am pretty sure it is forthcoming, in my quest for telling the world...
An interesting experience...
Have you ever had sex high on pot? What an interesting experience (at least to me, because I am not a pothead, and have never done such a thing before).
Actually... this was the first time ever that I can say I got really high during one of my rare pot ventures. Usually (if you can even call it that - I think I can count the total amount of times I smoked marijuana on the fingers of one hand) I just get mildly dizzy and comfortably relaxed. A bit giggly, maybe. Rather disappointing, really.
That is, until we hit one of our friend's place the other night. And said friend had some stuff at her house, despite her not smoking anything at all, go figure. And - oh boy - I dunno what the hell kinda pot that was, but it sure was potent. What an experience... how everything began to look so very clear, and slow at the same time, as if everything was moving through clear honey, slowing everything down just enough for me to be able to take in every single detail of everything. During the ride home I had the time of my life, with all those lights passing by, as you can imagine. I listened to myself talk as if I were some other person farther away, and like the process of formulating a thought in my head and speaking it out loud had nothing to do with each other. I was so mellow, so relaxed, so alert at the same time, and just truly comfortable in my own body, ready to take the world and everything in it with a smile.
My roomate right next to me looked just as enjoyably smashed, and The Fiancé was marinating away on the backseat. I felt my mind widening and widening... images rushing into my head, chasing one another, and while I was clearly aware of my surroundings and just as alert in my head (very unlike being drunk), I was at the same time not, sort of like leaning back on a lazy boy somewhere in my head and watching a movie, watching those images come in, change, evolve, metamorph, vanish, and come back. It was a flood of creativity, a flood of colors, like I have never experienced before. Don't get me wrong, I sure wasn't hallucinating anything, it was more like my mind reaching out to the very corners of my subconsciousness, bringing to surface a myriad of images that were already there before, but locked from my inner sight. And while I was there stretched out on my inner lazy boy, I suddenly came to understand how some of the greatest art and the greatest music were created in a state much like the one I found myself in. Interestingly enough, what I longed for most at this time was a sheet of paper and a pencil... anything infact, on which I could write on, or draw on. I wanted to remember, to hold on to these images, until way after the effects of the drug had worn off.
We got home and I walked into the house like I was making my way through honey myself. I went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and saw a gorgeous woman, much unlike what happens when I usually look into the mirror. I stared at myself for a rather long time, studying myself, smiling, until I finally got myself ready for bed and slipped underneath the covers, enjoying how all the images and colors started to swirl in my head as soon as I closed my eyes.
And then... warm lips on mine, a large hand on my breast. Breath against my skin, and an unmistakable whispered invitation for more. I am not sure if I agreed or not, but I must have, because soon after I felt a heavy weight on my body, then steady movement, swirling and pulsating colors behind my closed lids, and a sort of disembodied sense of pleasure that I have never experienced before. I don't think I moved as much as a finger during the whole time, I just lay there, seeing colors with closed eyes and noticing that for the first time in my life my mind had not the slightest thing to do with what was happening, that I was not controlling my body in any way, that my brain had completely taken the backseat, giving way to my body entirely.
What an amazing experience for someone who can never keep her brain out of literally anything!
When the colors finally exploded and my body started moving on its own, it hit me by complete surprise, and it was like my whole spirit was being pushed and expanded way beyond my physical boundaries. Suddenly I felt like I was somehow filling the entire room, before being sucked back into myself, breathing heavily and positively unable to move.
Utterly amazing. Too bad that drugs are bad for you. But those colors... I will never forget the intensity of those colors, and how they made me feel...
Actually... this was the first time ever that I can say I got really high during one of my rare pot ventures. Usually (if you can even call it that - I think I can count the total amount of times I smoked marijuana on the fingers of one hand) I just get mildly dizzy and comfortably relaxed. A bit giggly, maybe. Rather disappointing, really.
That is, until we hit one of our friend's place the other night. And said friend had some stuff at her house, despite her not smoking anything at all, go figure. And - oh boy - I dunno what the hell kinda pot that was, but it sure was potent. What an experience... how everything began to look so very clear, and slow at the same time, as if everything was moving through clear honey, slowing everything down just enough for me to be able to take in every single detail of everything. During the ride home I had the time of my life, with all those lights passing by, as you can imagine. I listened to myself talk as if I were some other person farther away, and like the process of formulating a thought in my head and speaking it out loud had nothing to do with each other. I was so mellow, so relaxed, so alert at the same time, and just truly comfortable in my own body, ready to take the world and everything in it with a smile.
My roomate right next to me looked just as enjoyably smashed, and The Fiancé was marinating away on the backseat. I felt my mind widening and widening... images rushing into my head, chasing one another, and while I was clearly aware of my surroundings and just as alert in my head (very unlike being drunk), I was at the same time not, sort of like leaning back on a lazy boy somewhere in my head and watching a movie, watching those images come in, change, evolve, metamorph, vanish, and come back. It was a flood of creativity, a flood of colors, like I have never experienced before. Don't get me wrong, I sure wasn't hallucinating anything, it was more like my mind reaching out to the very corners of my subconsciousness, bringing to surface a myriad of images that were already there before, but locked from my inner sight. And while I was there stretched out on my inner lazy boy, I suddenly came to understand how some of the greatest art and the greatest music were created in a state much like the one I found myself in. Interestingly enough, what I longed for most at this time was a sheet of paper and a pencil... anything infact, on which I could write on, or draw on. I wanted to remember, to hold on to these images, until way after the effects of the drug had worn off.
We got home and I walked into the house like I was making my way through honey myself. I went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and saw a gorgeous woman, much unlike what happens when I usually look into the mirror. I stared at myself for a rather long time, studying myself, smiling, until I finally got myself ready for bed and slipped underneath the covers, enjoying how all the images and colors started to swirl in my head as soon as I closed my eyes.
And then... warm lips on mine, a large hand on my breast. Breath against my skin, and an unmistakable whispered invitation for more. I am not sure if I agreed or not, but I must have, because soon after I felt a heavy weight on my body, then steady movement, swirling and pulsating colors behind my closed lids, and a sort of disembodied sense of pleasure that I have never experienced before. I don't think I moved as much as a finger during the whole time, I just lay there, seeing colors with closed eyes and noticing that for the first time in my life my mind had not the slightest thing to do with what was happening, that I was not controlling my body in any way, that my brain had completely taken the backseat, giving way to my body entirely.
What an amazing experience for someone who can never keep her brain out of literally anything!
When the colors finally exploded and my body started moving on its own, it hit me by complete surprise, and it was like my whole spirit was being pushed and expanded way beyond my physical boundaries. Suddenly I felt like I was somehow filling the entire room, before being sucked back into myself, breathing heavily and positively unable to move.
Utterly amazing. Too bad that drugs are bad for you. But those colors... I will never forget the intensity of those colors, and how they made me feel...
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
A new attempt...
...or at least I want to look at it as such.
You see, The Fiancé forgot to save the hostess' cell phone number into his phone, so soon after Halloween the internal memory of his cell erased her number by replacing it with others in his call history, and gone it was.
The only other place he had it saved in was his old and defunct cell phone, which we couldn't find for the life of us, when we turned the house upside down in its pursuit. That means: wait for her to eventually call him, which happens about once every two or three months.
Hence my desperation of never getting to see Jo again, at least not in any timely manner.
That is, until I had this sudden flash of ingenuity, and I suggested to look through our detailed cell phone invoice online, which would reveal the hostess' phone number to us, if The Fiancé were able to remember at least a few digits of it, or would recognize it on sight.
And lo and behold - he did.
Now he just left a message with her, and I hope we can manage to set up another get-together, or for him to sneak Jo's number from her, in order for me to be too chicken shit to call her. Yay!
You see, The Fiancé forgot to save the hostess' cell phone number into his phone, so soon after Halloween the internal memory of his cell erased her number by replacing it with others in his call history, and gone it was.
The only other place he had it saved in was his old and defunct cell phone, which we couldn't find for the life of us, when we turned the house upside down in its pursuit. That means: wait for her to eventually call him, which happens about once every two or three months.
Hence my desperation of never getting to see Jo again, at least not in any timely manner.
That is, until I had this sudden flash of ingenuity, and I suggested to look through our detailed cell phone invoice online, which would reveal the hostess' phone number to us, if The Fiancé were able to remember at least a few digits of it, or would recognize it on sight.
And lo and behold - he did.
Now he just left a message with her, and I hope we can manage to set up another get-together, or for him to sneak Jo's number from her, in order for me to be too chicken shit to call her. Yay!
Piercing Crazy
I guess it is true what they say, afterall. Didn't believe it at first, but now that my navel is finally close to being completely healed (- took long enough too! 9 months), I am having serious cravings for getting another piercing.
One would think that having some stranger shove sharp objects through your body might be something to be avoided... but in fact it is something rather addictive. If I could experience the initial thrill of the needle going through my belly button again, followed by the oh-so-conscious feeling of having a piece of metal stuck through one's skin, I'd do it again in an instant.
Now I don't feel it anymore, unless I bump it, or unless The Fiancé bumps it accidentally, or unless it gets irritaed for whatever asinine reason. A navel piercing is a delicate and fickle little thing that needs a lot of care and work, has one of the longest healing periods in piercings, and one of the highest rejection rates - even after one thinks one has already healed.
Nevertheless my navel has now turned into one of my favorite parts of my body, for some reason that little piece of metal has increased my self-awareness of my body tremendously, and I love looking at it and exposing any chance I get, despite my belly being not exactly the flattest and nicest out there.
It gives me a sense of "taking care of myself", and now I wanna do it again.
Besides my belly button, I already have 5 other piercings, 4 of which don't really count as such, seeing as they are just through my earlobes... 1 on my left, and 3 on my right. I got my first set of earlobe piercing done at the tender age of... uh... maybe a year or so. My mother had them done by a doctor, so I could wear the gold-and-ruby earrings that I got for some such event as my baptism or something like that. I got my third earlobe piercing when I was 15 or 16, and the third one when I was 17 I believe.
The other is through my left helix, and that one, my dear readers, was a son of a bitch to heal. And to get. Getting a needle shoved through cartilage is nothing like through mere skin, and that thing took me a whole 1 1/2 years to heal completely. It was constantly infected, pussing, irritated, painful, lymphing, getting stuck in the skin so when I had to turn it while cleaning it would rip off skin... for one and a half years.
So, where to get a new hole punched?
Based on this previous experience with cartilage piercings, a tragus is out of the question for me, gorgeous as they are. Facial piercings? My sister already has the family monopoly on nostrileyebrow ones, so I can't do either without looking like a copycat. So yesterday I experimented with an earring to see how a labret ring would look like on me, and both The Fiancé and I thought that's probally not really my type of piercing.
A Monroe piercing then, maybe? I am not sure, I don't think I have the face for it, even though I think they are gorgeous.
Nipples? Only over my dead body will I have anyone come near those with a sharp object of any kind. Nu-uh. Nipple piercings (both male and female) gross me out to no end, I can't even look
So... what's left?
I'll tell you what's left. *grins* I am fully determined to give myself an early Christmas gift this year, and have 'em ring this, and this.
So pretty, so gorgeous, so sexy... and I am sure especially the first one will be a lot of fun, too.
Now, if only I had some extra cash this month, I'd already be on my way. The Fiancé has a colleague in class who apparently has a few of those of her own, and a trusted and experienced shop to get them done. Am now waiting for the address and pricing information...
...and preparing The Fiancé to get himself one of these...
*excitement* piercings and at them without cringing and wincing and having imaginary phantom pains.
One would think that having some stranger shove sharp objects through your body might be something to be avoided... but in fact it is something rather addictive. If I could experience the initial thrill of the needle going through my belly button again, followed by the oh-so-conscious feeling of having a piece of metal stuck through one's skin, I'd do it again in an instant.
Now I don't feel it anymore, unless I bump it, or unless The Fiancé bumps it accidentally, or unless it gets irritaed for whatever asinine reason. A navel piercing is a delicate and fickle little thing that needs a lot of care and work, has one of the longest healing periods in piercings, and one of the highest rejection rates - even after one thinks one has already healed.
Nevertheless my navel has now turned into one of my favorite parts of my body, for some reason that little piece of metal has increased my self-awareness of my body tremendously, and I love looking at it and exposing any chance I get, despite my belly being not exactly the flattest and nicest out there.
It gives me a sense of "taking care of myself", and now I wanna do it again.
Besides my belly button, I already have 5 other piercings, 4 of which don't really count as such, seeing as they are just through my earlobes... 1 on my left, and 3 on my right. I got my first set of earlobe piercing done at the tender age of... uh... maybe a year or so. My mother had them done by a doctor, so I could wear the gold-and-ruby earrings that I got for some such event as my baptism or something like that. I got my third earlobe piercing when I was 15 or 16, and the third one when I was 17 I believe.
The other is through my left helix, and that one, my dear readers, was a son of a bitch to heal. And to get. Getting a needle shoved through cartilage is nothing like through mere skin, and that thing took me a whole 1 1/2 years to heal completely. It was constantly infected, pussing, irritated, painful, lymphing, getting stuck in the skin so when I had to turn it while cleaning it would rip off skin... for one and a half years.
So, where to get a new hole punched?
Based on this previous experience with cartilage piercings, a tragus is out of the question for me, gorgeous as they are. Facial piercings? My sister already has the family monopoly on nostrileyebrow ones, so I can't do either without looking like a copycat. So yesterday I experimented with an earring to see how a labret ring would look like on me, and both The Fiancé and I thought that's probally not really my type of piercing.
A Monroe piercing then, maybe? I am not sure, I don't think I have the face for it, even though I think they are gorgeous.
Nipples? Only over my dead body will I have anyone come near those with a sharp object of any kind. Nu-uh. Nipple piercings (both male and female) gross me out to no end, I can't even look
So... what's left?
I'll tell you what's left. *grins* I am fully determined to give myself an early Christmas gift this year, and have 'em ring this, and this.
So pretty, so gorgeous, so sexy... and I am sure especially the first one will be a lot of fun, too.
Now, if only I had some extra cash this month, I'd already be on my way. The Fiancé has a colleague in class who apparently has a few of those of her own, and a trusted and experienced shop to get them done. Am now waiting for the address and pricing information...
...and preparing The Fiancé to get himself one of these...
*excitement* piercings and at them without cringing and wincing and having imaginary phantom pains.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Another Dream...
And I had another dream of her. I am not sure I like this dreaming of her thing that my subconsciousness seems so eager of doing.
Nothing naughty ever happens in those dreams. It's mostly just me looking at her, marvelling over her, and she becomes more and more beautiful and statuesque with each and every dream I have of her.
I don't like that either, because now my mind makes her into something that she probally isn't even close, setting myself up for major disappointment, if I even ever get to see her again, that is.
I have this thing for Nicole Kidman, you see. I think she is one of the most beautiful women in the world, and whenever I lay eyes upon her, I stare openmouthed and in awe... yet she is not a woman I would ever dare touch, would I ever have the chance, no matter how much I think I want to. She, to me, is like an icon, a statue, something outerwordly beautiful and godly and unreal, which would be ruined and spoiled by my unworthy touch.
And now my mind is making Jo into something like that. It's making her into this untouchable goddess, whose mercy I am subject to, and whose touch would save me.
And I am not even religious.
It's stupid, really.
Oh, my dream? By now I only remember bits and pieces of what it was about... I remember I was in a car with her on the backseat, while the car was going somewhere, and I was just silently sitting next to her, adoringly watching her when I thought she wasn't looking, basking in her unbelievably blue eyes and bright all-consuming smile, just enjoying being able to be there right next to her. But I knew something was going on, something more than her light cheerful chatter with me would convey... because the next thing I know was she turned around to me, looked into my eyes with those sapphire eyes of hers, then slowly lifted her hands up to my face and gave me the softest, most tender kiss on my lips I have ever experienced... and while I was floating there completely taken by her touch and her attention, she turned back around and continued chatting with me as if nothing ever happened.
That's really all I remember... that kiss... and her loving look at me. And that halo that my mind is producing around her.
And I woke up being mad at myself for dreaming of her, when there is really nothing I can do about her. My mind is so powerful in that regard that when I now think of her, instead of a slight pang of regret that I won't see her anymore, I now feel a sharp blade of pain stabbing me. Pain and longing for a person I don't even know, and have seen only twice in my life, at completely superficial occasions.
One might think I am experiencing a backflash into my teenage years here... because I should know better than that. :(
Nothing naughty ever happens in those dreams. It's mostly just me looking at her, marvelling over her, and she becomes more and more beautiful and statuesque with each and every dream I have of her.
I don't like that either, because now my mind makes her into something that she probally isn't even close, setting myself up for major disappointment, if I even ever get to see her again, that is.
I have this thing for Nicole Kidman, you see. I think she is one of the most beautiful women in the world, and whenever I lay eyes upon her, I stare openmouthed and in awe... yet she is not a woman I would ever dare touch, would I ever have the chance, no matter how much I think I want to. She, to me, is like an icon, a statue, something outerwordly beautiful and godly and unreal, which would be ruined and spoiled by my unworthy touch.
And now my mind is making Jo into something like that. It's making her into this untouchable goddess, whose mercy I am subject to, and whose touch would save me.
And I am not even religious.
It's stupid, really.
Oh, my dream? By now I only remember bits and pieces of what it was about... I remember I was in a car with her on the backseat, while the car was going somewhere, and I was just silently sitting next to her, adoringly watching her when I thought she wasn't looking, basking in her unbelievably blue eyes and bright all-consuming smile, just enjoying being able to be there right next to her. But I knew something was going on, something more than her light cheerful chatter with me would convey... because the next thing I know was she turned around to me, looked into my eyes with those sapphire eyes of hers, then slowly lifted her hands up to my face and gave me the softest, most tender kiss on my lips I have ever experienced... and while I was floating there completely taken by her touch and her attention, she turned back around and continued chatting with me as if nothing ever happened.
That's really all I remember... that kiss... and her loving look at me. And that halo that my mind is producing around her.
And I woke up being mad at myself for dreaming of her, when there is really nothing I can do about her. My mind is so powerful in that regard that when I now think of her, instead of a slight pang of regret that I won't see her anymore, I now feel a sharp blade of pain stabbing me. Pain and longing for a person I don't even know, and have seen only twice in my life, at completely superficial occasions.
One might think I am experiencing a backflash into my teenage years here... because I should know better than that. :(
Le Sex Shoppe
What do you do when your man and you have some serious issues and problems at hand?
You go to Le Sex Shoppe and buy yourselves a red 8 inch jelly dong with balls and a whole can of Astroglide.
And use it. Lots. All night long. And combine it with the real thing in all kinds of variations. *walks bow-legged*
Oh, and even use it in places where it probally shouldn't go. My man is a tough one, I have discovered. Good in taking. Next thing on my shopping list is a strap-on. *grins mischievously*
Le Sex Shoppe is a fun place to go. Many things I wanted to adopt right then and there, were they within my tight budget boundaries. Many things to giggle and laugh about, too... because I am immature like that... but c'mon... a fake female asshole, or mouth, that just tickles my funny side. Fake pussies I can wrap my mind around... but if you have nothing but a mouth with no face attached to it... or just a hole with no cheeks around... that's just outright funny.
Of course I found Christmas decoration in a store of this kind outright funny too, but that's besides the point.
The point is, you get to see the most interesting people in Le Sex Shoppe. And I would never go there without male companionship, that's for sure. I parked the car in the parking lot in front of the store, and happened to get out just when two guys about my age walked out of the store and back to their car. They saw me, and immediately gave me that lecherous look that quickly turned from a look into an uncomfortably importunate stare that apparently meant to convey something like appreciation of a single woman being woman enough to come to a sex store all by herself. From their looks and body language I was pretty sure they were already contemplating their next move on me and how to get me to come home with them and whatever toy I intended to purchase - only that was when the passenger door opened and The Fiancé stepped out of the vehicle, in his 6'1" broad and handsome godliness, and it was funny to see how quickly first their jaws dropped with disappointment, and then their looks were respectfully averted, as I strutted into the store with my arm resting lightly on The Fiancé's elbow.
And that's what you gotta do, when you go into a toy store, right? Strut. Be proud of what you are about to do, openly look at and examine the naughty stuff on their shelves, and talk about them in your normal conversation noise. Don't sneak in there like a thief, try to hide what you are looking at behind your back, and avoid eye contact with every person who happens to be around. C'mon... you are in a porn store for crying out loud, it doesn't matter if you try to hide what you are looking at cause we all know you are a dirty little pervert, cause otherwise you wouldn't be in there in the first place!
I almost felt sorry for him, this middle-aged, bald, well-groomed, accountant-looking, and apparently rather lonely guy, who crouched on the floor looking at inflatables and fake pussies, trying to make his back as wide as possible while examining the merchandise as The Fiancé and I walked into the same aisle to look at butt-plugs and penis pumps. He looked like the kind of guy whose main activities revolve around Power Point presentations, and office paperwork, and very important business meetings and conferences, Germaway treatments of all surfaces he comes in touch with, and weekly trips to the barber shop.
As we are, we were talking loudly and openly about what was there on the shelves in front of us, with comments on how we would use them, and if we would use them, laughing, and having a general good time, without even paying attention to that guy and his silicone reproduction of Jenna Jameson's cooter. That is, until he quickly put whatever he had chosen to ease his long and lonely nights back onto the shelf, hurriedly got up and walked over into the DVD section, his shoulders slumped forward, his head hung low, and his cheecks burning red, wildly looking at me from the corner of his eyes in a way that made me think of how the white of the eye of a horse in distress is showing. I think we may have spoiled his shopping experience, that he probally took weeks to mentally prepare and build up the courage for, in our innocent good time and displayed openness about boys toys and anal beads right in the same aisle that he was using to stealthily look for secret pleasures that he wouldn't even tell his priest about in his weekly confessions.
It almost made me want to walk over to him, pat him on the head, and tell him that it's not a shameful thing, that everything's alright, but then he probally would have bolted out of there crying like a little baby.
That other guy, that guy that must have been well over 70, and looked like he could barely walk 2 meters without help, and who was openly browsing through the stand of porn magazines, that's what I call a self-confident whacker-offer. Accountant dude could learn something there.
Fun times. :)
You go to Le Sex Shoppe and buy yourselves a red 8 inch jelly dong with balls and a whole can of Astroglide.
And use it. Lots. All night long. And combine it with the real thing in all kinds of variations. *walks bow-legged*
Oh, and even use it in places where it probally shouldn't go. My man is a tough one, I have discovered. Good in taking. Next thing on my shopping list is a strap-on. *grins mischievously*
Le Sex Shoppe is a fun place to go. Many things I wanted to adopt right then and there, were they within my tight budget boundaries. Many things to giggle and laugh about, too... because I am immature like that... but c'mon... a fake female asshole, or mouth, that just tickles my funny side. Fake pussies I can wrap my mind around... but if you have nothing but a mouth with no face attached to it... or just a hole with no cheeks around... that's just outright funny.
Of course I found Christmas decoration in a store of this kind outright funny too, but that's besides the point.
The point is, you get to see the most interesting people in Le Sex Shoppe. And I would never go there without male companionship, that's for sure. I parked the car in the parking lot in front of the store, and happened to get out just when two guys about my age walked out of the store and back to their car. They saw me, and immediately gave me that lecherous look that quickly turned from a look into an uncomfortably importunate stare that apparently meant to convey something like appreciation of a single woman being woman enough to come to a sex store all by herself. From their looks and body language I was pretty sure they were already contemplating their next move on me and how to get me to come home with them and whatever toy I intended to purchase - only that was when the passenger door opened and The Fiancé stepped out of the vehicle, in his 6'1" broad and handsome godliness, and it was funny to see how quickly first their jaws dropped with disappointment, and then their looks were respectfully averted, as I strutted into the store with my arm resting lightly on The Fiancé's elbow.
And that's what you gotta do, when you go into a toy store, right? Strut. Be proud of what you are about to do, openly look at and examine the naughty stuff on their shelves, and talk about them in your normal conversation noise. Don't sneak in there like a thief, try to hide what you are looking at behind your back, and avoid eye contact with every person who happens to be around. C'mon... you are in a porn store for crying out loud, it doesn't matter if you try to hide what you are looking at cause we all know you are a dirty little pervert, cause otherwise you wouldn't be in there in the first place!
I almost felt sorry for him, this middle-aged, bald, well-groomed, accountant-looking, and apparently rather lonely guy, who crouched on the floor looking at inflatables and fake pussies, trying to make his back as wide as possible while examining the merchandise as The Fiancé and I walked into the same aisle to look at butt-plugs and penis pumps. He looked like the kind of guy whose main activities revolve around Power Point presentations, and office paperwork, and very important business meetings and conferences, Germaway treatments of all surfaces he comes in touch with, and weekly trips to the barber shop.
As we are, we were talking loudly and openly about what was there on the shelves in front of us, with comments on how we would use them, and if we would use them, laughing, and having a general good time, without even paying attention to that guy and his silicone reproduction of Jenna Jameson's cooter. That is, until he quickly put whatever he had chosen to ease his long and lonely nights back onto the shelf, hurriedly got up and walked over into the DVD section, his shoulders slumped forward, his head hung low, and his cheecks burning red, wildly looking at me from the corner of his eyes in a way that made me think of how the white of the eye of a horse in distress is showing. I think we may have spoiled his shopping experience, that he probally took weeks to mentally prepare and build up the courage for, in our innocent good time and displayed openness about boys toys and anal beads right in the same aisle that he was using to stealthily look for secret pleasures that he wouldn't even tell his priest about in his weekly confessions.
It almost made me want to walk over to him, pat him on the head, and tell him that it's not a shameful thing, that everything's alright, but then he probally would have bolted out of there crying like a little baby.
That other guy, that guy that must have been well over 70, and looked like he could barely walk 2 meters without help, and who was openly browsing through the stand of porn magazines, that's what I call a self-confident whacker-offer. Accountant dude could learn something there.
Fun times. :)
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Awfully quiet
...sorry 'bout that. Many things been going on in the part of my life that doesn't revolve around anything with the word "sex" in it. Hence the silence.
You see, The Fiancé got caught driving w/o a license, our car was taken away, we had to surrender it to the city in lack of the financial means to bail it out, and our boss is withholding our paychecks for shady reasons such as "I can't pay you, cause my clients owe me money". Now we have no car, no money, and a boss who interrupted the cash flow and doesn't seem like she's planning to make up for it anytime soon, while our open bills and depts are piling up on my desk.
See? None of this really wets one's panties a whole lot... maybe with the exception of my newest nightly fantasy, inspired by last week's events: The Fiancé in handcuffs and his pants down to his ankles, being forcefully pushed against a cop car by a huge, bald, black cop "roughing him up a bit" instead of taking him to jail.
And it doesn't help that he himself is making this fantasy blossom wildly in my head by throwing in the occasional tantalizing imagined detail of his own.
Urm... ahem.
That's probally more info than you bargained for, but hey... it's all part of my big scheme of coming out: it includes his bisexuality (- and I have his permission to talk about it here freely just as long as I don't give out this link to our roomies lol), and admitting to my own little dirty gay fantasies without blushing, heh.
On the coming out front there is nothing really new to report... like I said, my mind's been off these kinds of things for a while, for very urgent and attention-demanding reasons. However, as you may have noticed in the comments, I have given this link to another person other than my bi guru Ren: her name's Autumn, and I know her online for the longest time already. What is it... 4 years? 5 years? I have no clue. She's married with three kids, straight, and with strong morals and values. I have decided to be bold and just link her to here, explaining what I am trying to accomplish with this.
What she said was: "Aw shit, girl. I knew that. Or I kinda figured that, is more like it."
So that went well, heh. And certainly it counts as a step in my planned step-by-step coming out. It's just easier starting with the people who know me, but don't really know me, as is the case with online folk. :)
On the Jo front... well, that's not going so well whatsoever. Or in other words: I have dropped my little fantasies and romantic little dreams about her in a speed proportionally increasing to the chaos around me rising. There is no point to them, really. Now that we are stranded without a car and without money there is no real chance to getting to see her anytime soon anyways. She doesn't do the email thing, and I still don't have her phone number. And I already told ya what I'd do with it, even if I did have it. And she lives quite far away. And she's not interested in me.
But at any rate, she triggered this whole coming-out thing within me, and for that I am grateful, cause it was long time overdue.
You see, The Fiancé got caught driving w/o a license, our car was taken away, we had to surrender it to the city in lack of the financial means to bail it out, and our boss is withholding our paychecks for shady reasons such as "I can't pay you, cause my clients owe me money". Now we have no car, no money, and a boss who interrupted the cash flow and doesn't seem like she's planning to make up for it anytime soon, while our open bills and depts are piling up on my desk.
See? None of this really wets one's panties a whole lot... maybe with the exception of my newest nightly fantasy, inspired by last week's events: The Fiancé in handcuffs and his pants down to his ankles, being forcefully pushed against a cop car by a huge, bald, black cop "roughing him up a bit" instead of taking him to jail.
And it doesn't help that he himself is making this fantasy blossom wildly in my head by throwing in the occasional tantalizing imagined detail of his own.
Urm... ahem.
That's probally more info than you bargained for, but hey... it's all part of my big scheme of coming out: it includes his bisexuality (- and I have his permission to talk about it here freely just as long as I don't give out this link to our roomies lol), and admitting to my own little dirty gay fantasies without blushing, heh.
On the coming out front there is nothing really new to report... like I said, my mind's been off these kinds of things for a while, for very urgent and attention-demanding reasons. However, as you may have noticed in the comments, I have given this link to another person other than my bi guru Ren: her name's Autumn, and I know her online for the longest time already. What is it... 4 years? 5 years? I have no clue. She's married with three kids, straight, and with strong morals and values. I have decided to be bold and just link her to here, explaining what I am trying to accomplish with this.
What she said was: "Aw shit, girl. I knew that. Or I kinda figured that, is more like it."
So that went well, heh. And certainly it counts as a step in my planned step-by-step coming out. It's just easier starting with the people who know me, but don't really know me, as is the case with online folk. :)
On the Jo front... well, that's not going so well whatsoever. Or in other words: I have dropped my little fantasies and romantic little dreams about her in a speed proportionally increasing to the chaos around me rising. There is no point to them, really. Now that we are stranded without a car and without money there is no real chance to getting to see her anytime soon anyways. She doesn't do the email thing, and I still don't have her phone number. And I already told ya what I'd do with it, even if I did have it. And she lives quite far away. And she's not interested in me.
But at any rate, she triggered this whole coming-out thing within me, and for that I am grateful, cause it was long time overdue.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
How it works, exactly.
(In response to my friend Auty's comment to my last entry, which I was gonna reply to as a comment, but I might as well devote an entire entry to it.)
No, unfortunately I have not the slightest clue whether or not she's bi or lesbian. At this point this is (as far as I know) merely a one-sided attraction, and I am going by what The Fiancé told me about her before I even met her:
"This one girl, this friend of the hostess, I'm pretty sure she's into women by the way she acts around guys hitting on her, and just overall little clues over the years."
That's what he said in a nutshell. Of course I didn't give a shit when he said that cause a) I didn't know her yet, and b) I didn't wanna go to that party in the first place and I decided to be a bitch about everything and everybody concerning this event.
So other than some spousal intuitions and a few looks she shot me, I am completely in the dark on her sexual preferences.
And yes... I have actually thought about the point that you raised, and quite a lot, too. Shit, I wouldn't make a move on an engaged person, even if I knew for a fact that she swings my way. So why would she, right? And that's one of my big dilemmas... not only do I somehow have to communicate to her my intentions without looking like a fool, I also have to somehow make the point that's it's perfectly OK from The Fiancé's point of view, even encouraged.
Now, even if I would know about anything we have in common other than Sour Cream Cheddar Ruffles, I still wouldn't have the courage to call her up and ask her to snack with me. Even in the world of dating males I have never been of the courageous type, always waiting for the guys to make the move on me. And it usually worked without me ever having to get over myself and be proactive in that regard. See? I never learned how to do it in the first place! :(
Now... about the hetero sex... I just bled through a super sized tampon in a matter of about 2 hours, and The Fiancé is sporting a big and nasty cold sore on his upper lip... so there goes that notion for the weekend. I haven't kissed my guy for over 4 days now! *whines*
On a way too TMI note, though... who would have thought that I was able to give (and he was very able to receive) 3 blow-jobs in less than 20 minutes. I am going to marry Superman... mwahaha. :)
No, unfortunately I have not the slightest clue whether or not she's bi or lesbian. At this point this is (as far as I know) merely a one-sided attraction, and I am going by what The Fiancé told me about her before I even met her:
"This one girl, this friend of the hostess, I'm pretty sure she's into women by the way she acts around guys hitting on her, and just overall little clues over the years."
That's what he said in a nutshell. Of course I didn't give a shit when he said that cause a) I didn't know her yet, and b) I didn't wanna go to that party in the first place and I decided to be a bitch about everything and everybody concerning this event.
So other than some spousal intuitions and a few looks she shot me, I am completely in the dark on her sexual preferences.
And yes... I have actually thought about the point that you raised, and quite a lot, too. Shit, I wouldn't make a move on an engaged person, even if I knew for a fact that she swings my way. So why would she, right? And that's one of my big dilemmas... not only do I somehow have to communicate to her my intentions without looking like a fool, I also have to somehow make the point that's it's perfectly OK from The Fiancé's point of view, even encouraged.
Now, even if I would know about anything we have in common other than Sour Cream Cheddar Ruffles, I still wouldn't have the courage to call her up and ask her to snack with me. Even in the world of dating males I have never been of the courageous type, always waiting for the guys to make the move on me. And it usually worked without me ever having to get over myself and be proactive in that regard. See? I never learned how to do it in the first place! :(
Now... about the hetero sex... I just bled through a super sized tampon in a matter of about 2 hours, and The Fiancé is sporting a big and nasty cold sore on his upper lip... so there goes that notion for the weekend. I haven't kissed my guy for over 4 days now! *whines*
On a way too TMI note, though... who would have thought that I was able to give (and he was very able to receive) 3 blow-jobs in less than 20 minutes. I am going to marry Superman... mwahaha. :)
Friday, November 05, 2004
No go for me.
Tomorrow would be the day I would get to see her again.
Would.
Under any other circumstances. That is, if we had more than $30 on our bank account and less than hundreds of dollars pending to pay in bills etc. So what that means is that not only will I not see her tomorrow, but also for a rather long and indefinite tormenting period of time, at least until our CD release party, I think - and when that's gonna be I have no clue at this point, and even if I did, it still all depends on her even wanting to come.
That does not make for a very happy me.
I have avoided looking at her picture all week, trying not to make things worse than they already are, knowing ahead of time about my likely inability to go hang out tomorrow. I have avoided talking about her, and I have made a point trying not to think about her much at all. I don't know if it worked... it did for a while, but now with the weekend approaching, so is my desperation about having no other way of contacting her than over The Fiancé's friend the hostess... and no other reason to hang out with her other than him wanting to spend time with his friends.
Which we have no money for.
I wish I had more metaphorical balls and would just pick up that phone and call her. What would I say? That's the whole problem, I guess. She's his friend, not mine. There is no reason for me to call her out of the blue except for one... and that's the one I don't have the balls to admit to her. And a "Hey... it's me, your friend's girlfriend from last weekends' parties... if you remember me... and... uh... I just thought you were cool and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out..." doesn't sound like anything I would take without awkwardness and suspicion, if I were in her shoes.
I wish I was in her... UGH. Nevermind. ;)
Would.
Under any other circumstances. That is, if we had more than $30 on our bank account and less than hundreds of dollars pending to pay in bills etc. So what that means is that not only will I not see her tomorrow, but also for a rather long and indefinite tormenting period of time, at least until our CD release party, I think - and when that's gonna be I have no clue at this point, and even if I did, it still all depends on her even wanting to come.
That does not make for a very happy me.
I have avoided looking at her picture all week, trying not to make things worse than they already are, knowing ahead of time about my likely inability to go hang out tomorrow. I have avoided talking about her, and I have made a point trying not to think about her much at all. I don't know if it worked... it did for a while, but now with the weekend approaching, so is my desperation about having no other way of contacting her than over The Fiancé's friend the hostess... and no other reason to hang out with her other than him wanting to spend time with his friends.
Which we have no money for.
I wish I had more metaphorical balls and would just pick up that phone and call her. What would I say? That's the whole problem, I guess. She's his friend, not mine. There is no reason for me to call her out of the blue except for one... and that's the one I don't have the balls to admit to her. And a "Hey... it's me, your friend's girlfriend from last weekends' parties... if you remember me... and... uh... I just thought you were cool and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out..." doesn't sound like anything I would take without awkwardness and suspicion, if I were in her shoes.
I wish I was in her... UGH. Nevermind. ;)
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Information withheld...
What...? And you couldn't tell me that any sooner?
Me: emailing that one chick right now
The Fiancé: oh cool
The Fiancé: good luck sweety
Me: heh
The Fiancé: I really hope this girl answers
Me: ah well
Me: can't have who i want, so i really dont care much right now. just see what happens
The Fiancé: well at least you are optimistic about it now more than you were before
The Fiancé: I'm glad
Me: oh yeah
Me: ah well
Me: i dunno
Me: i guess what happened was that she found the switch in my brain and switched it, without even knowing that she did
The Fiancé: well that seems likely
The Fiancé: although I can say that i noticed that she was paying a lot of attention to you
The Fiancé: at the party
Me: on saturday???
The Fiancé: but it seems that she wasn't felling that well
The Fiancé: that was what the hostess told me
Me: i know that she noticed my stockings and made a comment about them, how she liked them, and i know that she was looking at me a few times that in my WISHFUL THINKING could have been something more than just "looking" at someone, but i didnt feel any of what i felt from her last week
Me: so what makes you say that she did pay a lot of attention to me?
The Fiancé: well when we were taking the pictures
The Fiancé: she was staring at you in between the pictures
Me: she was??
The Fiancé: yeah
The Fiancé: sorry I didn't tell you this
The Fiancé: before
Me: staring at me?
The Fiancé: you were rather touchy
Me: and how come i didn't fucking notice? o_O
The Fiancé: yeah
Me: i wasnt touchy lol
The Fiancé: well because she was careful
Me: goddamn
Me: and you let me go on in my funk of how she didnt give a rat's ass about me on saturday? lol
Me: anything else you noticed that might have slipped my attention? (especially with all that bacardi?) lol
The Fiancé: lol
The Fiancé: that was before the bacardi
The Fiancé: sorry
Yeah... sorry. *new surges of heartache and longing* :(
Me: emailing that one chick right now
The Fiancé: oh cool
The Fiancé: good luck sweety
Me: heh
The Fiancé: I really hope this girl answers
Me: ah well
Me: can't have who i want, so i really dont care much right now. just see what happens
The Fiancé: well at least you are optimistic about it now more than you were before
The Fiancé: I'm glad
Me: oh yeah
Me: ah well
Me: i dunno
Me: i guess what happened was that she found the switch in my brain and switched it, without even knowing that she did
The Fiancé: well that seems likely
The Fiancé: although I can say that i noticed that she was paying a lot of attention to you
The Fiancé: at the party
Me: on saturday???
The Fiancé: but it seems that she wasn't felling that well
The Fiancé: that was what the hostess told me
Me: i know that she noticed my stockings and made a comment about them, how she liked them, and i know that she was looking at me a few times that in my WISHFUL THINKING could have been something more than just "looking" at someone, but i didnt feel any of what i felt from her last week
Me: so what makes you say that she did pay a lot of attention to me?
The Fiancé: well when we were taking the pictures
The Fiancé: she was staring at you in between the pictures
Me: she was??
The Fiancé: yeah
The Fiancé: sorry I didn't tell you this
The Fiancé: before
Me: staring at me?
The Fiancé: you were rather touchy
Me: and how come i didn't fucking notice? o_O
The Fiancé: yeah
Me: i wasnt touchy lol
The Fiancé: well because she was careful
Me: goddamn
Me: and you let me go on in my funk of how she didnt give a rat's ass about me on saturday? lol
Me: anything else you noticed that might have slipped my attention? (especially with all that bacardi?) lol
The Fiancé: lol
The Fiancé: that was before the bacardi
The Fiancé: sorry
Yeah... sorry. *new surges of heartache and longing* :(
So now what...?
Now I have decided to take a more proactive approach, and submitted a personals ad at bisexual.org. One for me, and one for us as a couple.
Here is an excerpt of our IM conversation regarding this, starting from the point after I sent him two links to personals of girls which appealed to me:
The Fiancé: there first one is cool
Me: yeah
The Fiancé: the second one is cool too
Me: yeah i like the first one better though
The Fiancé: have you tried to contact any of them???
Me: not yet i just signed up
The Fiancé: are you going to...?
Me: yeah
The Fiancé: cool
The Fiancé: let me know
Me: yeah
Me: doing the couples thing right now (meaning: I signed us up as a couple)
The Fiancé: oh cool
The Fiancé: I love ya
Me: i love you too
Me: see what jo did to my mind LOL
The Fiancé: lol
The Fiancé: well I wanted to help you in that regard for so long
The Fiancé: but you didn't respond to what I always told ya
Me: yeah and all it takes is one gorgeous girl like that who isnt interested in me LOL
The Fiancé: so I'm glad (meaning: that I am doing something about it now, not that she isn't interested in me lol)
He's stunningly handsome, he's smart, he's incredibly tolerant, and open-minded, and understanding, and helpful, and sweet, and loveable...
...AND HE'S ALL MINE!!!!
What a loss to womankind, me hogging up all the good resources. ;)
Here is an excerpt of our IM conversation regarding this, starting from the point after I sent him two links to personals of girls which appealed to me:
The Fiancé: there first one is cool
Me: yeah
The Fiancé: the second one is cool too
Me: yeah i like the first one better though
The Fiancé: have you tried to contact any of them???
Me: not yet i just signed up
The Fiancé: are you going to...?
Me: yeah
The Fiancé: cool
The Fiancé: let me know
Me: yeah
Me: doing the couples thing right now (meaning: I signed us up as a couple)
The Fiancé: oh cool
The Fiancé: I love ya
Me: i love you too
Me: see what jo did to my mind LOL
The Fiancé: lol
The Fiancé: well I wanted to help you in that regard for so long
The Fiancé: but you didn't respond to what I always told ya
Me: yeah and all it takes is one gorgeous girl like that who isnt interested in me LOL
The Fiancé: so I'm glad (meaning: that I am doing something about it now, not that she isn't interested in me lol)
He's stunningly handsome, he's smart, he's incredibly tolerant, and open-minded, and understanding, and helpful, and sweet, and loveable...
...AND HE'S ALL MINE!!!!
What a loss to womankind, me hogging up all the good resources. ;)
Monday, November 01, 2004
Mission: failed horribly
Gut feelings... I should pay more heed to them. I had a slight hunch that she doesn't look like the internet-junkie type of gal. More than slight, actually. On Saturday I was actually thinking... "She looks like one who doesn't do the internet and email thing, more like one who would actually despise it. She's a Communications major, after all." Out of nowhere, I was thinking that. Just looking at her made me think that in a flash.
I just got off the phone with The Fiancé, who in turn just got off the phone with the hostess, who informed him that Jo is anti-email, and therefore doesn't even own an email address.
There are still people like that out there???
He did, however, find a way to get me her phone number... which is of no use, because #1 I am what shows up with the entry "phonophobic" in the dictionary (- based on several facts, one of which being my progressing difficulties at hearing, and the idiot I am hence making out of myself a lot of times with people on the phone), and #2 I don't even like calling people I am comfortable with and actually befriend (- for much of the same reasons), and would NEVER call up anyone if it is under any circumstances avoidable. Heck, I even have The Fiancé do all of my necessary business phone calls, cause I can't handle the phone very well!
She is anti-email, I am anti-phone. I am all about email. If you wanna contact me, you best email me. If you call me, I might just end up in the corner rolled into a fetal position, rocking myself back and forth, making small whiny retarded noises.
So now what...? :(
I just got off the phone with The Fiancé, who in turn just got off the phone with the hostess, who informed him that Jo is anti-email, and therefore doesn't even own an email address.
There are still people like that out there???
He did, however, find a way to get me her phone number... which is of no use, because #1 I am what shows up with the entry "phonophobic" in the dictionary (- based on several facts, one of which being my progressing difficulties at hearing, and the idiot I am hence making out of myself a lot of times with people on the phone), and #2 I don't even like calling people I am comfortable with and actually befriend (- for much of the same reasons), and would NEVER call up anyone if it is under any circumstances avoidable. Heck, I even have The Fiancé do all of my necessary business phone calls, cause I can't handle the phone very well!
She is anti-email, I am anti-phone. I am all about email. If you wanna contact me, you best email me. If you call me, I might just end up in the corner rolled into a fetal position, rocking myself back and forth, making small whiny retarded noises.
So now what...? :(
Today's Quest
I have sent The Fiancé off to call the hostess tonight, and inconspicuously getting Jo's email address for me.
(Hopefully) following my directions, he will ask for both the hostess' and Jo's addies, so I can then email them both at the same time, sending them the party's pictures. That way I can establish contact with her without seeming weird, and if she should email me back for whatever reason, I can start talking with her without CC-ing the hostess.
Not very ingenious, I know... but it's a beginning!
And no... Saturday hasn't discouraged me enough to even give up before I ever really tried. If I email her and she never gets back to me, that tells me all I need to know, and I will try to move on. But if she does... well that would open a whole new set of possibilities, wouldn't it? And I wouldn't wanna miss out on even the slightest chance.
I wonder... how much would it freak her out if I just gave her the link to this, and she realizes all my swooning and drooling is over her, and that after seeing her only twice in my life on rather superficial occasions she inspired this whole coming-out thing of mine... *ponders*
... I am actually sort of creepy.
(Hopefully) following my directions, he will ask for both the hostess' and Jo's addies, so I can then email them both at the same time, sending them the party's pictures. That way I can establish contact with her without seeming weird, and if she should email me back for whatever reason, I can start talking with her without CC-ing the hostess.
Not very ingenious, I know... but it's a beginning!
And no... Saturday hasn't discouraged me enough to even give up before I ever really tried. If I email her and she never gets back to me, that tells me all I need to know, and I will try to move on. But if she does... well that would open a whole new set of possibilities, wouldn't it? And I wouldn't wanna miss out on even the slightest chance.
I wonder... how much would it freak her out if I just gave her the link to this, and she realizes all my swooning and drooling is over her, and that after seeing her only twice in my life on rather superficial occasions she inspired this whole coming-out thing of mine... *ponders*
... I am actually sort of creepy.
Research
One part of "coming out to the world" actually consists of doing just that - going out and announcing my presence on the www. For this purpose I went and enlisted myself on three popular blog directories, using keywords such as... duh... "bisexual", and "coming out".
Hey! It's a first step! And I never before openly proclaimed myself as a bisexual and tried to draw attention to me based on this label, so the mere act of punching those words in in relation to me felt sort of weird. Now imagine me actually approaching real life people as opposed to the most anonymous media in the world? lol
At the same time I did some research on these locations, looking for other bisexual bloggers. I was surprised to find a myriad... and so I went and randomly picked some (mainly based on visual appeal), and listed them here. My next step is to contact each and every one of them and say hello, hoping to lure them over here in the process, make new online acquaintances, and whatnot.
Speaking of bisexual bloggers and online acquaintances: I want to take the time and put a special girl on a well-deserved pedestal. I came across her when I was new to blogging (about 2 years ago) when she had a blog that mainly dealt with the hardships of her helpdesk job and the horror that were her clients. However, this particular entry that greeted me incidentally happened to be about her being a bisexual, and I guess that was what sucked me in from the get-go, even though I was still rather ambiguous and vague even to myself about myself then. I became an insta-groupie and have since followed her faithfully from domain to domain. We soon became friends, her living in Australia and me being in the United States and all, and what makes her so special to me is that she's been there for me with advice and support whenever I randomly decided to ramble her into the ground with my issues and my half-assed attempts at identifying as what I am over the past two years.
She's gorgeous, and she's smart, and she's funny, and her name's Ren. Well, online name, anyway. And I swear, Jo or not, if she'd live anywhere within my easy reach, she'd be the one to pop my bisexual cherry, no questions asked.
Actually... come thinking of it, in a way she did. *smirks* I remember this one day a long time ago when I was at the computer, and she was at the computer, and one thing lead to another, and... heh. At least on my end I know that the room temperature rose a few degrees and I had to wipe the steam offa my monitor... *laughs*
Either way, whether she's aware of it or not, and whether she wants to be or not, she has inevitably turned sort of into my "guru" in all things bisexual. Or my therapist. Or both. At any rate I just wanna take this opportunity to thank her and send a big-ass smooch her way.
*smooch*
Love ya, girl.
Hey! It's a first step! And I never before openly proclaimed myself as a bisexual and tried to draw attention to me based on this label, so the mere act of punching those words in in relation to me felt sort of weird. Now imagine me actually approaching real life people as opposed to the most anonymous media in the world? lol
At the same time I did some research on these locations, looking for other bisexual bloggers. I was surprised to find a myriad... and so I went and randomly picked some (mainly based on visual appeal), and listed them here. My next step is to contact each and every one of them and say hello, hoping to lure them over here in the process, make new online acquaintances, and whatnot.
Speaking of bisexual bloggers and online acquaintances: I want to take the time and put a special girl on a well-deserved pedestal. I came across her when I was new to blogging (about 2 years ago) when she had a blog that mainly dealt with the hardships of her helpdesk job and the horror that were her clients. However, this particular entry that greeted me incidentally happened to be about her being a bisexual, and I guess that was what sucked me in from the get-go, even though I was still rather ambiguous and vague even to myself about myself then. I became an insta-groupie and have since followed her faithfully from domain to domain. We soon became friends, her living in Australia and me being in the United States and all, and what makes her so special to me is that she's been there for me with advice and support whenever I randomly decided to ramble her into the ground with my issues and my half-assed attempts at identifying as what I am over the past two years.
She's gorgeous, and she's smart, and she's funny, and her name's Ren. Well, online name, anyway. And I swear, Jo or not, if she'd live anywhere within my easy reach, she'd be the one to pop my bisexual cherry, no questions asked.
Actually... come thinking of it, in a way she did. *smirks* I remember this one day a long time ago when I was at the computer, and she was at the computer, and one thing lead to another, and... heh. At least on my end I know that the room temperature rose a few degrees and I had to wipe the steam offa my monitor... *laughs*
Either way, whether she's aware of it or not, and whether she wants to be or not, she has inevitably turned sort of into my "guru" in all things bisexual. Or my therapist. Or both. At any rate I just wanna take this opportunity to thank her and send a big-ass smooch her way.
*smooch*
Love ya, girl.
