First let me say thanks my lovelies for all the book recommendations, I think I’ll be busy for a while. And an extra big thank you to Jean for that super list.
Now moving on to the main event of the evening afternoon morning.
Appearances can be deceiving.
People who don’t know me well assume that I am mild-mannered and timid. How this occurs is beyond my comprehension considering I drop the f-bomb like it’s going out of style and can turn most remarks to mean something perverted.
Most likely it’s that people see that most of my friends are female and from that decide I must not have much interest in the fairer sex.
Considering how much I love sex, that’s patently untrue.
Due to the fact that none of my close female friends feel at all weird talking about their PMS cramps and how much a pain tampons are, people seem to forget that I am a guy. One, who while he may be discreet about it most of the time, thinks about sex as much as any other. If not more so.
So this dry spell? NOT FUCKING COOL.
Because of my old-fashionedness, I know that if I were to have sex with The Girl at this point then I would feel wrong. Why? Not fully sure. What I do know is that I’m not willing to fuck this up by thinking with my dick. Probably good part of the reason why me and V imploded so spectacularly. Aside from, you know, the whole long distance and racial slur situations.
Sometimes a date with Rosie Palms just doesn’t cut it. Then Scarlett, in her normal fashion, simply asks why don’t I just buy a sex toy to help make things interesting.
The idea had never occurred to me. And for some reason, I felt ashamed for even considering it.
Long-repressed Catholic Guilt?
Then I remembered just who the fuck I am.
I’m the guy who can make a female jealous of a grape.
I’m the guy who laughed in a girl’s face when she thought a five-inch cock was huge.
I’m the guy who demonstrated his lack of gag reflex by sliding a 20 oz bottle into his mouth.
It arrives tomorrow. *grin*
Happy TMI Thursday, loves.
*My toy was found here
This, my dear friend, is a wake up call. Or better yet, an intervention.
I know you’re broken. And I know you are cursing yourself for opening up and not listening to your head over your heart. I also know that you are thinking you’d have been better off without knowing Eva.
At the risk of sounding childish, “liar liar pants on fucking fire”.
You care too much about people to ever be aloof again. That time? It’s come and gone. Your days of actually being coldhearted? Over. That part of you is in the past, leave it there where it belongs.
I know you have all ready started the process of shutting people out. I’ll do you this favour and let you know that the people you’ve come to know are at once too stubborn and too protective to let you flag about all on your own. Even people you’ve never met in person have offered to help.
As for thinking you’d have been better off without Eva, and by extension Daybreak, you’re a dumbass. Did she hurt you? Incredibly. But in the end, you know now that you can make a relationship work. You also know that down the line, should you ever have a child you can do leagues better than your own father. That fear of turning out like him is a thing of the past.
It is OK to be angry. It is OK to be confused. Despite what you have trained yourself to believe, you do have the right to feel that way.
In spite of what you said during your rant to Tink, you do still believe in love. You are still an optimist at the core. Somewhere, buried beneath all the baggage and other trauma, is someone who believes that love is worth the risk and possible fallout. More importantly, that it doesn’t have to end in pain.
You still see the good in everyone. You still have the ability to forgive if someone is sincerely sorry. You are still a good man. You are still the same impulsive, headstrong, caring, and more than slightly quirky individual you were before all of this.
Don’t change that.
So stand up and walk forward with your head held high. People still think the world of you and I will be damned if you let them down.
You are stronger than this. Better.
This is my submission for the 20SB January Blog Carnival.
“We are starting off the New Year thinking all about “firsts.”
So, tell us about your first kiss! Sloppy, magical, awkward, non-existent? Spill it!”
Oh, Internet, the things I put myself through for your entertainment.
Let us go back to January 2007, to a time when me and Tinkerbell are not dating yet. Actually at this point neither has admitted out loud to liking the other. We are on the hallway of her floor as she has (for 2,502,713th time) stolen my cell phone. In a moment of what I thought was brilliance I held her wrists while reaching for the phone.
“I bet I can get you to let go of me.”
“How is that?”
Now I had assumed she meant kneeing me in the stomach so I prepared to move out of the way. I obviously had forgotten just who exactly I was dealing with and a lesson around Tinkerbell is to always always ALWAYS expect the unexpected. Before I really knew what was happening, she had leaned up and kissed me.
Folks if anyone had taken a picture of us at that moment here’s what they would have seen.
Me with the single most pole-axed look I think I had ever had in my life and one hand absently touching my lips.
Tinkerbell with a smug grin on her face as she stepped out of my loose grip.
Because I was convinced there was no way she could like me in that way, I reasoned to myself she was merely playing around. Despite the fact that EVERY. LAST. ONE. of our friends told us to stop going in circles and start dating. Hell, one mutual friend actually refused to speak to us until we had started dating.
God, I was such an utterly clueless bastard.
But wait, it gets better.
Now I had been too surprised (which I want to beat myself for in hindsight) to kiss her back but my chance came about a week and a half later. She had walked me down to my floor as my knee had decided it wanted to be a bitch and was thus concerned I would fall down the steps. Now what she could have really done if I had aside from calling 911 I don’t know but it’s the thought that counts right?
Anyway, I digress.
So we’re standing outside the door and I looked at her and now knowing that she did like me I decided ‘to hell with it’ and kissed her. I don’t know about fireworks but I was most definitely lightheaded after we broke apart. We were both slightly out of breath and me being who I am just have to say something to ruin the moment.
“[Tinkerbell], what the hell are we?”
Yes, you did read that correctly.
To her credit, she merely laughed at my question instead of slugging me in the face.
Instead she has deigned not to let me live that down two years later.