Confessions of Pussy

Pussy: We have discussed this related to sex, catching the ball and running with it, getting laid, 'gettin it on', but what does pussy really mean in this blog? It is really, truly defined in a series of descriptions that come to my raw, unsensored female mind: a newfound yearning, internal or external drive, an inspiration, being turned on so much that you have to have it, falling in love at times, yes, I said it. The moment you decide you are going to give in, open up (phsycially or mentally or *both*). You are giving up your pussy, and proud!


Because ya know, things weren't and aren't always so ridiculous, or bad, or silly, like in previous posts. Guys aren't always fumbling the pussy- if they were than I would have gone after girls a long, long time ago. More on that later. Sometimes men, boys, guys, wow- they rock my world! They rock my universe! They make me feel so damn good I want to give money to homeless people! They get my pussy. They get me. They do something, say something, or say nothing, that gets me going. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally, and Spiritually. Soulfully. I want to give them my pussy!


[Disclaimer: some of the below mentioned acts may not work on all women, or even, again on me, if attempted. As you know by now men: we are all very differnt and uniquely motivated by diff things, also add the phase of life a woman is in? does she want to be a bad girl a good girl? does she want to feel secure or feel free? The list goes on. But relax, I digress]


EXAMPLES OF SCORING THE PUSSY OR A “HOW TO” GUIDE:

He told me he read the 4 agreements. http://www.miguelruiz.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=6:the-four-agreements&catid=13:books&Itemid=7

Little did he know (he had no clue) - I had just bought that book for my entire family for xmas and had a complete eye-opener on my life and mental outlook. He said he re-read it 5 times. It was a moment of mental connection. Pussy score!
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Promises: Guy I had recently been becoming more than friends with, we were laying on the couch, making out for hours, heavy petting, touching, clothes came off and on. Off and on. Off and on. I was trying so damn hard not too get completely naked. I wanted too, physically, but I really didn't want him to think I was 'easy' (whatever that meant?). I even actually wanted to get to know him. Chemistry was great. He wasn't entirely stupid and didn't even had any weird things he had done to turn me off, shit, lets be real, I knew his mother! And I loved her?! I know, wtf.
He kissed my belly. Mmmmm. Trouble. He kissed my inner thighs. I wasn't going to give in. He kissed around my earlobes, and he said "I want you".
I said, I want you too, but I need to know you more...and I want you to come visit me (he lived 3 hours way).
"I will", he promised.
I said, mid him making love to my left ear and sending chills up and down my spine. I really want you to get to know me.
"I will". His hands on my inner thighs.
Deep breathe.
Then he said "I am planning on visiting you, and I want to do anything you want. I want to go for runs with you in forrest park, and take you surfing, and come see you every weekend".

I believed him.
We did it. He wanted me, he got me, then and there. I let go.

Promises, promises, I got naked for promises.
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Jestures: This one guy brought me a bottle of champagne. For no reason at all. he just knew I liked the bubbly. I was now his, for the moment. Or as long as this fantasty would allow me. Pussy Score!
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Be sweet: This boy texted me after our first hook up, just a few days later, "when do I get to kiss you again?". It said. Nothing hotter and more sexier than a guy wanting you, and putting it out there, openly and honestly, and in turn I then wanted him. Babyface started this sexy movement once I heard his song "When can I see you again". So Sexy. Once this boy requested my presence, after our last hook up, like that, sweetly, pussy is yours baby. (Now, I didn't say that! Def. thought it, hehe). Probably the sexiest song created, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2m4UWZt_ldE

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The way he moved: He was driving. I was in the passenger seat. I was wearing a skirt, not short, not too long, mid length. He reached over to the passengers side, and without a word or a moment, or a look, he reached ever so slightly between my legs, and adjusted my seat for me. That was it..............................................:-)!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Swagger: Guys, dance! Dance with us without being forced to. Or being too wasted. Move with us. Enjoy it, (we know when you aren't). Guys that can really dance and do so with confidence and have a good time while dancing and just groove: always get pussy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Baby, don’t talk: Sometimes you need to just listen. Don't say anything at all- just listen. You would be surprised how far this can get you, in and out of the bedroom. Sometimes, nothing is the best something.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Johnny on the spot: I started a text relationship with someone, not much one on one time yet live. I had a few glasses of wine and was at a party I barely knew anyone at, without any care of the response I would get, I texted him, "you should be here". He was there within 10 mnutes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDsVYagZ11A. He got me, that night. For endless times, he got me, over and over. it was one of the most sexiest things to have someone instantly show up, wanting you, just as much as you wanted them...when you didn't really know yet...he calmed my pussy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Be true: He called me in the morning at work and said he missed me. I said, I was just with you last night!? Wow. Really? Are you kidding me? No guys say that stuff. He said I know but i really miss you. I drove across town for an over exended lunch break, nooner. It was sweet. He missed me. Nice guys don't always finish last. It's sweet. He said he missed me, just seeing me the night before, it made my heart pitter patter and pussy hungry.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Soul: He got me to follow my own soul's desires. He found out I wanted to learn and do more yoga. He took me to classes. He did yoga with me. When he couldn't, he made sure I did yoga on my own, he did this in a loving non-pushy way. I was inspired and feeding my own soul. Needless to say, we started our own yoga practice.

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And with that in mind, the pussy is almost always ignited in the brain. I know that sounds crazy, but it is, god bless the beautiful organ, the mind. It creates multiple orgasms for us, we can just think about a guy and climax if we really want too.... over and over. Men may be able to do this too. All I know is, the highest form of a turn on, has always been and continues to start and continue, in the brain.

Thank you for reading, please don't fumble the pussy in any form.... until next time.....

***Please note in honor of the game continuing, the 7th blog will be the in depth play by play of the first pussy touchdown! Stay tuned***

How I got to know "Hit Me Up"

Hit me Up- the first time...the story begins.... (readers, if you didn't read the orginal post of "Hit me Up"- please do so you can follow along, look to the right for older posts, thank you!)

So I mentioned he was an ex-lover right?

Ya. Big time.
Not that he was "big" but big time :-)
He was the last of the Mohicans in college; I had pillaged and conquered almost every boy I had a crush on - that’s what college is all about right? Experimenting? Having fun- no strings attached, with condoms? Of course.

This coming from the girl who's mothers said: "now, sweetie, I want you to play the field, really play the field, don’t settle for one, have 3 or 4 at a time, really have good time at college!"

Yes. She meant men.

More on crazy mothers later.
So I did what my momma told me.

So my first moment with "hit me up" was at another frat party...I know I know...but I'm sorry it happens.
I was inebriated,

I know I know, at least this time I was almost 20 :-)
I decided I needed to confess to "hit me up" who did not know who I was, how I felt about him.

Have you ever gone up to hot person and just started rambling? God. What is that about? Really your penis or pussy needs to talk at that point because your mouth has no idea what is going on and it’s obvious. And its not helping your chances of scoring. Diarrhea of the mouth.

I say to him in my best hands on my hip to one side, "So you don’t know me, but you- you are the hottest guy in school". Cliché. I know.

It gets worse.
Here I am in college. I’m a sophomore, he's a senior, I have limited time here folks.

I need to "woooo him". He needs to remember me!
I start rambling and his eyes widened as this little spitfire (me) starts spouting off...confessions of god knows what!? His girlfriend swoops in and grabs his arm. I float away.

Whoops! Foul ball.

Oh, he will remember me, oh yes one day he will be mine, he will remember, plus lets face it,

I’m hotter than her?
(I’m such a bitch sometimes!?)

So I’m doing the grinding thing, hanging out wiht my friends and new ones.
People are inside and outside the house party.
I walk outside, and am talking to this boy I had been on and off making out with every other weekend. I didn’t really like him or his mouth but ya know, better than nothing!

Thi dude is def. more wasted than I am.
God this story is really sounding gross. Don’t worry, hold tight.
One thing leads to another and we get into an argument about me flirting with "hit me up" and I flip around on the top of the stairs to walk away, and...
Doh!

Roll my ass down the stairs.
Out of pure embarrassment and shame, I say, "Dustin how dare you!"
He gets blamed for being drunk and pushing me down the stairs.
Within seconds three very large football players that are friends of mine are picking me up and kicking him out of the party.

"Hit me Up" is now ripping off his t-shirt to bandage my arm up.
See, I told you he would remember me.
I have no shame in my game.
Remember shy of 20 folks.

A few years pass.
I'm now a senior, queen hen of the roost.
I’m at a football game and Hit me Up is visiting, why do they do that?
Why do people that graduate college come back, particularly men, and try and re-live it?
Scary.

I'm living at this dream house: 6 girls and a hot tub. 1 Latina. 1 Tall curly blond. 1 Fire crotch.

1. Halle berry look alike. 1. Tomboy Country Bumpkin. and Me.
In short: Boys loves coming to our house.
Hit me Up and his friends are over after the game.
I’m avoiding and trying to dodge him at all costs.
No eye contact
Being on the phone
In the other room

I need to get out of there, but it’s my mickey frickey house!
He finally says the ever familiar..."don’t I know you?"
And I say ummmm no
He says "yes I do, didn’t you fall down at one of my house parties and I had to bandage you up?"
And I was like, ummm let’s not talk about it, what are you doing nowadays? Where do you work?
Then he slyly, handles it well...leads into his signature line "so what’s new with you?"
I say: my boyfriend, thats whats new.

(Im such a brat sometimes!?)

Then he says
Well, when you don’t have one you should call me
My heart starts racing.
(Score!)
I take his number
I’m sorry people, if I have a crush, I need to crush the crush, and I need to go after it!

This is college babies! Work needs to be done! I'm not married!

6 months pass
No boyfriend
A bunch of us girls are going to go into "the city" to "go out"
Since we are now "of age-21"
I call him and invite "hit me up"
We all have fun.
Everyone crashes in the liv room late night, taco bell, you know the drill.
I crash in his t-shirt in his bed.
Yum yum. Fun. Fun.

I graduate college a few months later.
I am vulnerable, career obsessed, and completely high strung.
He calms me down
He listens
He provides that older guy thing

(I love that older guy thing! I also love the younger guy thing....hmmmm)
He lives in a swanky neighborhood; I live in the spare bedroom of my friends who are getting married.
He has a cool job. I have two part time jobs.
He drinks wine.
I learn to drink wine.
It’s going well.
I’m learning more about "the city" thru him.
He is open minded.
He likes to get deep and analyze music with me.
I like him a lot.
We haven’t had sex yet.

See I’m not tthaaaaaaaat bad.

OK, 2 weeks pass of the above bonding, we finally do have sex:-)
It’s ok. Slightly anti-climatic if you will.
But I like him a lot, so it will probably just get better over time, like the fine wine he was teaching me to drink?
We keep having sex. Like riding a bike.
It seems we have sex in the morning a lot.
And, He always needs to take a shower right afterward.
I get it-- but come on, chill a little.

Breathe a little.

Thank me for what I did to you :-)
Let me thank you for you did to me.

Hold me dammit!

Well, it was never worth thanking, I never really had an orgasm?
It felt good. Really good sometimes, but he hadn’t gotten me to cummmmmmmm yet?
Perhaps my fault.

I once had a lover that taught me very well that in order to have good sex with anyone you needed to have good sex with yourself....

Following week: Fabulous dinner, fabulous talk about: my father issues (grrrrrreat!)
Bedtime.
Early bedtime.
Sextime at night.
Oh ya!!!!!
(Since when is it ultra exciting to have sex at night? Well when: the guy you are seeing, dating, boning, whatever you wanna call it, likes to pass out after too much wine. And he likes to do it his way. Wake up early for work with his ready to go hard on and then get it going. Cuz that’s when’s it good for him? What if that’s not really when it’s good for me hunny?)

So its night time, I’m excited, in all shapes and form of excitement, that we will be having sex at night and in the morning. Yippeee, lucky me!
I finally get to do my swagger with my lingerie that I have been wearing... attempt to be sexy...
We do it.
I’m on top.
I’m doing my thang.
He tugs my hair.
Awkwardly.
He tugs my hair again.
I’m open minded and I can get freaky, I’m cool with random shit (to a certain extent)
He is tugging at my hair and grunting.
It’s not hot
It’s not really forceful either, it’s like a freaking 4 year old tugging at your pants, saying mommy I need to pee .
Sorry, but it’s true
I pretend that I’m into it --
CUZ THAT’S WHAT WE DO
Light awkward Tug again and grunt louder and he is coming and I am not
Not at all
And within a second that he is coming post tugging on hair
He is now in shower alone
Bad boy
Bad dirty catholic boy
He feels dirty (he went to catholic school nothing against St. Mary)

I get myself off.
For the next few weeks this happens
We have sex (oh he doesn't do his tugging thing anymore- not really sure why I never said a word to him about it?!). I know what you are thinking, hard to believe, I now love to ask my partners later about our sexual experiences,

"so what was that thing you just did?"

Whether it was good or bad, I can tell a good lover when they can openly and honestly talk about sex. But, I wasn’t that savvy yet.
I was only 22! I did not want to talk about the wanna be pull of the hair that went bad trick!

SO, I digress.
For weeks, we have sex, 65% of the time in the morning
I try I really do, its nice it really is

But I can’t cum!

I can’t wait for when he cums
And he jumps out of bed and hops in the shower
And with the shower running, every single time
I touch and play and cum so perfectly

Alone

In his bed

While is is showering.

I get off.

Alone.

God the fear of him getting out of the shower and walking in on me doing this, probably makes it hotter.

One day I am walking around the "city" with a friend of mine
Showing her the new sites I am learning from my beau "hit me up"

Beautiful Fall day, la de daa
Much to my dismay--We run into him, with another spitfire!
She resembles me!
It’s so unavoidable.
We are facing each other on the street!

He says hello,
I am feeling ill almost as ill as I did when he tugged on my hair when I was trying to cum on top of a month prior.
He introduces me to this other girl
And He says that I am his old friend from college
Apparently I am an old friend from college now.

I'm hurt
But not that bad

He calls me repeatedly that night.
I don’t call back.

The next morning.

I dont call back.

All week.

I write him an email and its over, just like that.

Where and when did he fumble the pussy? Eh?

No late night sex? PUSSY FUMBLE

Pulling hair without force- PUSSY FUMBLE

Guys guys guys we can get freaky we really can, but there is a time and a place and moment... and if you’re gonna do it, do it! Don’t do it halfway! Pull her hair, if you want to be dominant- Dominate! Don't scurry around it and have some weird fantasty about the fact that your hand is tugging at her hair and groan like a school boy and lose your shit, without pleasing her too!

Get after it!

Deep breathe.

Me not coming? PUSSY FUMBLE

(some could argue this was my fault, and I’m ok with that, but come on!)

Above all!
Don’t be fucking someone every night, errr I mean morning and then when you run into them and you are with another chick, introduce them as your friend from college, are you stupid?

How about you: Run away, lie, avoid the situation, or dont be walking about town with girl #2 playa! And then expect to get sum that night form girl number 1?
Are you mentally retarded?

PUSSY FUMBLE

That was the 1st version of Hit me Up.

Then I run into this fool at 430 am.

I made someone upstairs mad and Hit me Up was some sort of penance.

At least it taught me how to masturbate well :-)

Word up.

Please don’t fumble the pussy in all the above criteria.

Peace and love.

Romance by Ralph Lauren

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...it was my freshman year of college.


It was, 1st semester. My high school boyfriend who said we would stay in a long distance relationship was starting to lose interest.... shocker! We liked each other all through high school, he was a year older than me. Beautiful Polynesian guy, football player, we finally confessed our feelings and hooked up summer of my senior year. Ohhh the summer of graduating high school, the summer before college, too many stories to remember! Or too many Boones Farms Strawberry Hills to remember, literally.


Anyway, beautiful Greek god of a body that he had, and a total sweetheart combined, I was in heaven. We spent the entire summer together. He wanted to "stay together forever", awe how cute. I went off to college in August, we broke up in September.


And, I knew exactly how to get over it.


I think it was my first toga party. Or maybe it was the pimp and ho party at the K Sigma fraternity house. Nope, I think it was the toga party, something tells me it was.


So, here I am doing my thang, in my sheet, toga, dancing, grinding with anything that resembles a brown skin beauty. I was still in blinder mode.


Blinder mode: specific qualifications for male interaction, often times prioritizing a certain look. i.e. I only liked brown boys at the time.


In this case, I was still really into Polynesian boys. The ending of my relationship with a beautiful summer fling didn't necessarily hurt me enough to swear off mankind.


There I am. Dancing. Toga dancing. Grind-ing. Not really a care in the world. I am dancing with this boy who is quiet but has a nice build. We are drunk. One thing leads to another and dancing turns into us walking back to my dorm room??? Hubba hubba. I know how to take charge, apparently?


So I lead this innocent victim, ahem, boy to my dorm room. Of which I shared with a virginess, scared of black people, (I had a tupac posted on my wall!lol!), good girl, who went home to see mommy and daddy every weekend. Thank God, she was gone.


I don't know what I was thinking. I was thinking with my pussy!


Yup. I said it. We do that sometimes, we are like guys sometimes, sorry but its true and any girls who don't admit this, I feel sorry for you, I really do. More on repressing the pussy later.


So, I'M buzzed, OK, lets get this straight, I'm shit faced! Sloshed. We are pretending to try and talk in my dorm room and have a legitimate conversation about some thing to feel like we have something in common other than the fact that we are both horny, and want to just rip our clothes off...err toga's off!


Oh ya, newsflash, we made out at the party on the dance floor! Classy, public making out session in the frat house toga party.


We mumble in our drunken stooper about god knows what, i really didn't care, i don't think he did either. He says he needs to go to the bathroom.


Here I am again, waiting for a guy who is in the bathroom forever!


I am 18 years old. I am drunk. I am wearing a toga.


I decide to get my expensive lotion my mom got me for my birthday that I cherish and save for special occasions. I decide to get it out and dab a little on myself, after all we have been hot and heavy sweaty toga dancing for hours. Totally normal freshen up, right?


I start to rub it all over my body, elbows, stomach, legs. Necky, shoulders. Lathered. Slathered. Embellished with lotion. Not just any lotion, but perfumed lotion. I have perfumed potent lotion all over my body. Because that's hot right?


He walks in, and immediately says, did you spill something in here? Did you spill a bottle of perfume in here?


Uh ya, I'm so pissed i knocked it over. (total bold faced lie)


He gets in my bed, we roll around, tear our clothes off, sloppy, messy. I have no idea what is going on but I like it. No idea. We are starting to have sex.... or attempt to... mmm hmmmm


He says he needs to get a condom, he does.


He goes limp.


We try,


and

try


and try.


I suck


and we try


and i suck


and we try


and i lick


and we try

and eewwww dont suck a penis post condom, ick!


and we pass out


We wake up MORTIFIED! A total outer-body experience. Who was I? Where was I? Did I? Wow. Room smelling of very potent Romance by Ralph Lauren. He gets up.
I get am naked and mortified hiding on my side of the bed, just wanting him to bolt. We both get dressed in a flash and peace out. I dont even know if we talked at all. Blocked it out. Traumatized at my own will.


Lessons- OK, ok, ok... where does one even begin?! Pussy fumble?

Not to mention, I'm not ignoring the fact that getting drunk at 18 is a no-no and lesson in itself, or wearing a toga, or going to a frat party, or living with someone who is afraid of black people, or under age drinking, or how underage drinking leads to lack of good decision making, or taking a boy home with you isn't exactly smart or safe....the list goes on, and trust me I will get to it, and I DO have morals and recognize.


BUT- the lesson here is twofold:

Lesson #1. Sometimes us girls, we think with our pussy and we fumble our own damn pussy! I'll admit it. (Mos defintely more on how I fumbled my own pussy in detail later, its a reoccurring theme at times). And Seriously? Lotion all over your body? Really? Massive quantities of engineered chemicals disbursed in every crevice and then lather and repeat? Not hot. Not sexy. Not helping the pussy.


Lesson # 2. Boys, boys, little and big boys, don't drink so much that you cant get it up! And if you cant get it up- give it up!


*Lotion explosion revisited Girls, girls girls, don't try to make yourself sexy, you got him, he is there, don't use perfume or lotion to cover up for sweaty dancing all night stink, go with it and rock your bad self. He is obviously too drunk to notice. Or if you must, go to the bathroom and freshen up with water and soap, NOT PERFUME AND NOT PERFUMED LOTION AND NOT MASS QUANTITIES.

Thanks for following.....

Hit me up!

I was a manager of a gym. When you are in charge of a gym, you sometimes have to wake up early. Butt crack of dawn early. So early, that when most people are eating lunch at 1pm, you feel like it should be dinner time. But its cool in the summer when your day is done early. Regardless you better go to bed like a 7 year old at 8pm or you are screwed the entire day. Bodies are just not meant to wake up this early, at least mine isn't. I have a fully functioning healthy body.

I had this system down where I would literally roll out of bed in my sweats, grab my toiletries and get to work by 530 am. Half the time I didn't even remember driving in, or the first hour of work. I just turn on the lights, started the music, unlocked doors and would disappear into my office. Half asleep. Sometimes I would sneak into the locker room, shower, and get ready, with the other early morning freaks. I don't know how people get up at 5 am and workout daily! I have gone thru a few episodes while training for a race when I did this, and it baffles me every time. It was usually by 6 am I was awake. As a special thank you on behalf of rockstar energy drinks and the guys at 7-11, did you know Starbucks isn't even open at 430 am?

So, it was one of those days, rolling out of bed, stumbling to my car, which was in off street parking. Power walking, left foot, right foot. I was a zombie. Left foot, (fuck me! its so early!). Right foot (i feel nausea's), repeat. I pass a few homeless people walking to my car. Or pass a jolted lover doing the walk of shame. I'm about literally 25 yards from my car, I see a silouette of what looks like an ex lover of mine.

Oh god. An ex lover with 50 more lbs in the mid section area.

Ooh God is he wearing a backpack?

Oh MY GOD is he homeless?

Oh my god, is he smoking a cigarette at 430 am? Ewww.

OK. OK. don't look up, look down, its early, he wont recognize you...

Left foot, look down, right foot, walk fast, get the hell out of there!

There is your car.

Left foot a few more steps, right foot, open the car door.

Left foot, step in, you almost there

Right foot, grab the door, you're safe!

"Hey Bianca!" [that not my name, this is anonymous blog]

Like a turtle in its shell, with no other air source other than to sheepishly tilt its head up.

Ya? I say.

There stands in front of you, your ex lover, +40 lbs (I guess not 50 that's just mean), he IS wearing a backpack, and finishing a ciggy on 23rd street, and way too close to your face.

"Whats new?!" he says with enthusiasm, like we are playing for the same team in a friendly reunion soccer game, and actually friends that would talk to each other?

Well, its fucking 5 am, that's whats new.

"Ya, huh huh, chuckle chuckle, laugh. It sure is. Do you live around here?"

Um mm ya

(why the fuck is he asking me where I live, ewwwww!) Do I have to move now? Again?

"Where have you been? Lets catch up, I miss you!" (still too close to my face)

Ummm, dude its too fuckin early for this.

I'm sorry. I had no sensor. I just couldn't do this. I didnt want to be that mean, but I'm not even awake yet. Better yet, is this really happening for real? Is this some nightmare?

"Ya its early", he has this big shit eating grin, "Hit me up!"

WTF

Are you kidding me?
Seriously?

Yup, this is really happening to me, right here, right now.

Its been about 2 years.

No, I'm not going to hit you up.
There is a reason you are an ex lover.
No mas
Not into you
And you're not supposed to be that into me
This isn't make-up time

Its fuckin 430 am!
Who are you?

And why are you wearing a backpack?

And you're fat.
Im sorry.

You are no longer an athlete.

I get an email later that day, you know, from that one account you opened in high school that you never check or use, but cant seem to delete because random people from your past sometimes revisit?

Of course, as suspected.... an email from overweight backback guy "you know how I recognized you... that nice ass..." and some pathetic email request to meet up, and his number.

OMG.

Gross.

Its 445 am.

Seriously?

Is this how its done now?

No.

Have you forgotten its O' dark thirty!? I haven't even brushed my teeth yet! Or thought about remotely what my ass looks like!

Wow.

Pussy Fumbled, Game over!
NO reunion game.
NO alumni game.
NO lets make a deal.

Especially when you are outta shape!

Lesson #2: If the pussy was fumbled once- and someone got injured- there is no comeback next season in this game!

Meet Joe Black

I was hanging out or dating (what is dating vs hanging out anyway?) this guy. Prime real estate on paper, pretty good real estate in person. Successful, in the finance industry (when it was good). He listened to hip hop and Coldplay. Lived in a swanky neighborhood. I had just gotten out of a yucky relationship and I was really looking for something with more substance. We went to happy hours and dinners, he always paid, graciously. We talked, debated and engaged in real conversation.

Real Conversation: Is Tupac really dead? what defines a good wine? why do people who are non cigarette smokers smoke when they are only buzzed from drinking? what do you really think is the most nutritious food that actually tastes good? How often should you call your mother? In addition to him sharing his endless travel adventures, which is always always sexy. Not to mention when one goes at it alone. Independence: sexy.

So, we had been hanging out, going out, dating, not really sure what.... for a few weeks. A good warm a fuzzy long hug at the end of each "session". A follow up text from him. Always a good time. Signs were there, it was going well, good even! I felt good- i.e I started thinking about him. Telling some friends I think I liked him. Matching my bra and panties. Shaving. Everywhere. Picturing him naked. Deciding how we would make out when we eventually would make out. I fantasized, drifted off into how it would all go down... or happen.

We were at another yummy dinner, happy hour. When a man lets you order whatever you want and treats you like a princess, it makes you feel special, its a painty dropper. It really is. Or, err, it is at least if you have been dating douche bags who didn't try and make you feel special or took you to places where he had coupons for buy one get one free dinners (nothing wrong with being a baller on a budget, but keep it classy dudes). When men splurge, especially at the beginning, it feels like they want to make you happy. And sometimes all girls really want is for men to try and make you happy, by their actions, not there promises. We notice the little things. We like the little things. I know I do.

Soooo, we eat my favorite food. Sushi. Which is his favorite food, bonus points for him. We drink Sake. We are vibing. Its early. Meal is over. Its nice out. He says what do you wanna do now? I say, well whatever you want , I wouldn't mind hanging out more...and I smile. (inside voice: I wanna make out! we have been hanging out for like 3 weeks and I wanna see if I want your body! I think I do? I'm not really sure though, so lets mickey frickey get it on!).

I play coy. We walk around the city. Go to his Loft. He pours some vino... and gets out his movie collection and says I can pick. Pressure. Hmmm boys like action movies right? But I wanna make out? I had made out to all sorts of movies. But, its not that hot, and I am certainly not picking out a chick flick. I hmmm and haaaa about what to pick. I just tell him he needs to pick.

He is fumbling around his loft, sort of cleaning up. He seems slightly nervous, not majorly, but a little skittish.

I like it.

I like making men a little nervous.

I also like calming them down and making men feel good, I'm not entirely a vixen.

Speaking of, I down my wine. I'm not not not NOT making the first move. But I will oblige.

He picks out Meet Joe Black. Quite possible one of the most romantic movies of all time. Brad Pitt and a gorgeous brunette, add an incredible love making scene that is both erotic and spiritual, definitely a good watching by yourself alone in bed movie if ya know what I mean. Anyway, I am like, seriously? you really want to watch this? He is like ya I love this movie. OK, cool.

Fasten your seatbelt folks. We are getting it on tonight.

Movie is on.

We sit on the comfy couch, I spread out my sitting position slightly- without throwing myself at him.

He sits on one corner, I on the other.

We drink wine, watch intently, as if this movie is life depending. You know that stage when the movie is a means to make out and you are both just tooo....je n'est sais quoi (i dont know what) to just make out!? Ya. Apparently it happens post- age 16.

He offers up more wine. Yes, please.

20 minutes pass, we are stretched out on the couch. I slide closer to him a bit, our shoes come off. I am clearly available. Not for sex! For some.... something? A lil sumthin sumthin.

He gets up.

Starts doing the dishes.

OK, this guy is really nervous.

I sit up and am like what are you doing? In my bedroom voice. He's like I just need to do this really quick... just relax, watch the movie I will be right there.

hmmm. OK.

He then goes to the bathroom.

What is it that guys do in the bathroom anyway? I know what women do. We do a lot more than pee, especially when we are in an almost getting it on situation. I have been known to call friends, or talk to myself & pump myself up in the mirror, while making sure my pits are dry, my ass looks good, or if its going bad... I have had to develop a get away strategy stat! Anyway, I know men do more than pee in the bathroom.

He comes out of the bathroom. I'm chillin, being friendly, open, nice, not too nice, not too naughty, isn't that what guys like? Trying to be inviting here...

He sits down very very close to me...puts his arm around me. I lean into him.

Its nice. Albeit slightly awkward still but nice.

So maybe he isn't smooth? That's OK. I have been with way tooooo many guys who are way too smooth, so he is slow and innocent or awkward at first, its almost cute? right? right. OK.

A few minutes into our knuddling.

He reaches over to his coffee table, me leaning on him still, grabs something, and then scoots over back to his end of the couch.

I look over.

I hear loud, screeching, clipping noises.

HE IS CLIPPING HIS TOENAILS.

I look at him eyes WIDE and jaw dropped, he doesn't even look at my to see if i notice!!!!! I am so grossed out,and to make matter worse he is so into it. he has that weird focused look on his face, as if he is a world renown artist sculpting a work of art, yes he is still clipping his toenails in front of me. As if we have been married for 40 years.

Doesn't even look up, Focused on his nasty toes.

I sit in shock. Gulp what is left of my wine very quickly.

Get up,
he doesn't even really notice.

I sit the wine glass slightly loudly on the counter of his kitchen counter and say:

" ummmmm I think I'm gonna go"

What? Why? he asks, finally looks up from his feet.

Ummm I'm tired.

Oh, really? Are you sure? Bummer. Totally surprised tone of voice.

OK, well nice hanging out.

Warm fuzzy hug, as always.

PUSSY FUMBLED!!!!!!!!!!!

He got in the game (more on getting in the game coming soon), he got some good game time, he had potential so far for an MVP, he got into position, he had a play, opportunity knocks....

Lesson #1: If you like a girl, don't clip your toenails in front of her or get too comfortable, before you get it on. If you are nervous, do your weird nervous antics in private, stay in the bathroom for an hour if you have to. Don't do it in front of her. Please, please don't fumble the pussy. You had it. You had potential. You caught the ball, you were starting your stride.... and then.......you fumbled.

Was there a recovery?

Stay tuned for next week. In the meantime, please don't fumble the pussy.