Sex and Love

Sex and Love are two very different things. Most days, I spend my time wondering where all this sex is going to end up. In college, promiscuity wasn't hard. It was easy getting the one night stands, it was easier to more or less forget the person that I had sex with. Sex, especially in this day and age, is something so standard and common. It seems so casual that it's easier to have sex to get to know someone than it is to go out on a date. I look back at past relationships and I see how often they started with sex. How few dates I have actually ever been on. How I've made an ass of myself when ever anyone actually showed real affection instead of just lust. It seems like sex is just easier. Love can be messy and complicated. Love can leave you completely destroyed if it goes wrong. As time ticks on, as every birthday passes, as I see more and more people I know getting married and starting families, my mind always wanders back to the same question; Will it ever happen to me? 


I've been in love several times, but it always seems to slowly crawl to the end. You can always feel the end of a relationship. Being around your significant other starts to feel... distant, strange, almost broken. It feels like all the sudden, there is an ocean filling up between you, and neither of you have a way to cross it and reconnect. I wonder how other people deal with it. The distance. How do people that have been together 5, 10, even 15 years not feel that? Will I ever not feel that way? 


I have been blaming my location lately for my lack of romantic relationships. Especially since the last one, who ate my heart and shit it back out. Maybe, that is not the case. To be completely honest, I don't have an answer. I  have had several sexual partners since my last relationship, but nothing usually more than one night and if they were longer, I fucked it all up pretty quick. Who knows, maybe I'm at that age where relationships are "over rated". I don't think that's true. After being single for about a year, there is one thing I have realized. It really, really, really sucks to fall asleep alone every night. It sucks to rely on batteries for your only sexual contact. Most of all, knowing that all my friends are in couples, I am fucking sick and tired of being a third wheel. Or being cancelled on for the S.O. Or just realizing that when I want to go out, I'm usually going out alone. Because most of my friends are in couples, or wanting to be, or have kids, I usually go to movies alone. I go out for food alone. I go shopping alone. I spend pretty much every day alone. It's nice, sometimes. I don't think people who realize that there is always someone around realize how being alone can slowly turn you into someone different. The person I was a year ago is different than the person I am now. I know that happens to everyone, but this is a drastic feeling.


Even when all these thoughts and feelings get me down, I have to force myself to push through. Keep thinking, Maybe Someday. You know what they say though... Someday never seems to come. 


Anyway, stay sexy, lovelies!

Sex is offensive?

I went to the local watering hole last night and as I walked in, my BFF was almost screaming to get my attention. Now, my promiscuity is not a secret but most of the people I've slept with are. It's better that way, for their reputation as well as my own. I would estimate that in my 23 (almost 24) years, the number of sexual partners I have had well outnumber my own age. How did this happen? You may ask. Well, I contribute it to a lot of different combinations of drugs and alcohol. Plus, desperate drunk lonely bar guys are almost easier picking than the women.


Anyway, my BFF is calling me over and pointing at her phone. Apparently, someone we know that lives a town or so over but still comes in to drink, is a registered sex offender. For incest. Now, he's a perfectly sweet guy albeit a little strange. And he's a registered sex offender. For incest. That I slept with over 2 years ago. The drink almost slipped from my hand, and I could taste bile bubbling up to the back of my throat. 


Now, every girl has a list. Just like every guy has a list. It's called a "fuck-it list" if I remember the vernacular. What most guys don't know is every girl has a "please, god, never let it happen" list. This includes most of the horrible things that generally happen to women (fictional or otherwise) in dark alleys or sweaty late nights in high school. I'm sure if guys have a list like this, the only thing that would be on there is "Don't get fucked in the ass." Unless you're a gay guy. Or you like it that way. Who knows, everybody likes their coffee a different way. Fucking a sex offender? That is definitely on the "Please, god" list. It would be different if I knew before, but as someone who has a highly infectious STD that will never ever go away, I know what it's like when you tell someone before compared to after. If he had told me before, like 80% of the people I hit on, I would have walked away. No matter my level of attraction or lust. Finding out after, it's a whole different ball game. Thank god I've always been up front and honest, even if I have whispered their name in hopes I passed it on.


Does this really stop me? Will this slow me down? Probably not. Considering I don't get much anymore, ie- that stubborn 80%, I will keep flirting, hitting on, trying to seduce and occasionally succeed until I can't anymore. Or until I find that guy that every girl is looking for. Or the girl that every girl is looking for. The one that makes you happy beyond it all. Sex offender guy? He wasn't passionate in the bed room, and it was awkward and slightly uncomfortable. Sex should be something you live for, something that makes you vanish into the other person. Not something you tolerate. Ever.


Until next time, lovelies.
Stay Sexy!

Ah, of course. The Explanation.

So I feel like this all deserves a little explanation. I can't really say much... working for a place like this is like working for the CIA. I could tell you, but then I would probably get fired. So anonymity is going to be the total name of the game. 

What I can say is this: I'm 23 years old. I have a bachelors degree in bologna (of arts) from a liberal arts college. I have worked in exactly three careers: Janitorial, Theatrical and Medical. I ended up being fired from most of these positions, mostly with a sour taste left in my mouth. And not the good kind. So I started for looking for a job.

At first, I was looking for something that I could make more than $10 dollars an hour. That was laughable at the very least. The last job I held, I was an in home care taker for the developmentally disabled. The woman I took care of was in a wheel chair and would insult the living hell out of me. When I met her, the first time, I had shoulder length pink hair. She called me a dyke and wouldn't let me touch her... at all. So after ruining my hair a few more times with other colors, we finally settled on brown and she just went on to calling me such lovely titles as "fat bitch", "ho bag", "fucktard" and other such sweet nothings that left me wanting to punch something small and cute, just to ruin it. To be verbally abused for at least 8 hours a day, I got paid less than $10 bucks. I didn't last there long. I was "forced to resign", which anyone knows is a fancy way of getting fired without being able to collect unemployment, in January of 2012. I have been looking for work ever since, and it hasn't been easy. In this world, especially the smallish town I am blogging out of, no employer wants to spend the money to train you when they can easily find someone who already has the experience. Meaning my experience is limited to being abused by those who either honestly don't know better or cannot control themselves. No fucking way. Not again.

I applied to fast food joints. No response. Medical billing. No response. Medical receptionist. No response. A maid. No response. There was one place I could go... but in all honesty, since my BFF's boyfriend works there, I really didn't want to work there. I mean, he's a great guy, but that type of work, that type of environment and it was hard enough on our friendship when we were working for the same company on the same team with that same cold woman in the wheelchair. I couldn't imagine if all the sudden, I started spending more time with him than her. Talking to him instead of her. Anyway, that's not what this blog is about. Point is, I was running out of options. And then like a messenger from the heavens on a cloudy day, came my friend saying where she worked. 

We were at the local watering hole, and I was halfway through my second double tequila seven, lamenting about my joblessness. She pulled me close and said, "I can get you a job." Of course my tipsy eyes turn into dinner plates and go "No way. What do you do?" She looked around and pulled in a little closer, "I'm a phone sex operator."

All the sudden my brain whirls at a million miles an hour, which was kind of disorienting with the tequila lubricating the spin. A sex phone operator... I thought. I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT.

Now, I wish I could tell you that it was all the tequila talking. I wish I could also tell you that I'm a 5'7" blonde, with blue eyes, D cups and weigh like 110. Both of those are lies. Don't get me wrong, I get my own booty on my own. When I was growing up, actresses were glamorous. Porn stars were infamous. Sex is the ultimate form of abandon, the ultimate form of degradation, the ultimate form of love. Whatever your definition, I'm sure people like Jenna Jameson and Carmen Electra pop into your head faster when sex is mentioned than Penelope Cruz or Cameron Diaz. I thought I would be such an awesome porn star if I could get the chance, but porn is no place for chubby girls. There was, of course, a second option. Cyberslut. You could look like whatever you described and no one was the wiser. Then I found the phone was the same way. I could do this.

So I called the number, I set up an interview and I met one of the owners of a company. Who just happened to be a chubby girl like me. As much as I was ready for this, I forgot about the enticement aspect of the job. I have to get these guys to want to call me, and apparently it's over the internet. I'm going out of town next weekend, so I can't start until June anyway, but I have homework. Not only do I have to write a graphically written bio about "myself" but I have to pick a new name and "model" to post on the site to entice these men. I have to go from being a jaded, sarcastic, cool chick, to the non-moody, perfect girl next door. So basically, what I am doing right now is writing a bio about myself and my sexuality (what I like and what I don't) and looking at porn to find a woman that I would like to represent in their imagination.

The only problem I've been having right now, at least with finding a model, is what my soon-to-be-new boss told me in my interview.

"If you're short, find someone short. You don't know what it's like to be tall and have sex. Same goes with boobs. You have small boobs, find someone who also has small boobs. You can't fake it, at least not realistically if you don't know what it's like."

So how am I supposed to phone with guys as a 150lb girl pretending to be 110lb?

I can write dirty things about myself. I can pretend to be into things I'm really not. I can get you off to the best of my cyber and phone ability. How am I supposed to pretend that fundamentally I'm someone else?

I knew this job would challenge me. I knew it would be mentally and emotionally taxing. I am hoping that this one hurtle alone will bring me an amount of strength that I have been missing for a long time. I'm not trying to get over an ex, or abuse, or sexual rejection. It's just sort of... odd. Maybe I'll be able to describe it as it comes.

Well... that's all for tonight. 

Keep it sexy, guys!