50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

Just slip out the back, Jack.

Make a new plan, Stan.

No need to be coy, Roy.

Or as Globe Trotter in Lingerie says:

“Run. Make sure you weave in case you shoot. Of course, I’m usually the one doing the shooting.”

For my part, I am six weeks in with The Storyteller and blissfully happy, despite all practical considerations. Which makes for really shitty blog material!

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. 0 Reasons.

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Dating a Liar

See, the thing is that most people would list “honesty” as one of the top things they want in a partner. But in fact, everybody lies. We lie to avoid conflict, we lie to present ourselves in a better light, we lie to get what we want. So I’m not surprised when I catch a man in a lie. But sometimes the lies are so outlandish or so unnecessary that I am mystified. What on earth would possess an intelligent person to tell such a stupid fib?

The past three winners have told me A.) that he was doing cocaine but kicked the habit (trying to excuse bad behavior & get me back), B.) that he had slept with two girls when in fact he was a virgin (trying to avoid embarrassment), and C.) that he had a girlfriend, and then that he was moving to New York (trying to make me jealous and then trying to shock me into confessing my nonexistent feeling for him). All understandable motivations, so really what bothered me the most was that these guys would think that I would believe them. OK, I’m trusting, even gullible perhaps, but I’m not dumb.

Fast forward to this week, and I’ve gone on two dates with Jay. Let’s call him The Story Teller. If you believe everything he tells you, he’s lived an amazing life filled to bursting with exceptional experiences … home-schooled until he graduated from high school at 16 when he began college with the dream of becoming a surgeon, professional dancer, raped repeatedly as a child, engaged to be married twice by the age of 17 (once to a woman 10 years his senior, once to a girl pregnant with another man’s baby who miscarried when her father threw her down some stairs), ex-member of a cult (which he escaped by physically fighting his way out), experimented with gay sex, ex-stripper, twice attempted suicide, survived multiple drug overdoses and alcohol poisoning, now a dance instructor and aspiring professional pool player and psychology major and juvenile addiction counselor. And perhaps strangest of all, willing and eager even to talk about all of these things on a first and second date with a virtual stranger.

So if he’s lying, or at least strongly embellishing his life story, why? Is he a pathological liar that can’t help himself? Is his confidence so low that he thinks he needs to have all these tragic or exotic stories to be interesting? This is a 6’5″ well built, very attractive, well-spoken and well-written thoughtful and courteous 24 year old with a job(s), a car, and pursuing a masters degree. Granted, he lives with his parents but he’s 24 not 34 and going to school, so that’s not so bad.

I am utterly fascinated, totally bemused, and extremely wary. There will be no saying later that I didn’t see the red flags if it all blows up in my face. But I’m going down the rabbit hole… Liar or not, I’m hopelessly hooked.

So later, feel free to tell me, “I told me so.”

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

My Orgazmic Resolution

For New Years I always make a few… private… resolutions. And I always, always keep them.

This year I resolve to be nicer to animals. Especially cats.

Now, I have never been a cat person. When I was a teenager, my mom told me:

Every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten.

And that was when I pretty much decided that cats could go to hell. Every time I see one, I have to repress the urge to kick it. For me cats represent some sexually repressed boy with blue balls who finally snaps and molests his little brother or sister. They stand for every time a wife throws out her husband’s porn collection in disgust. For every good little Catholic girl’s guilty confession to a priest who is jacking off behind the screen even as he prescribes 10 Hail Marys for her absolution.

But this year, I will make my peace with cats. I resolve to pet the kitty every chance I get.

No, that’s not enough. Fully embracing kitty cat welfare needs to become a global movement. I will write President Obama and propose that January be declared Pussy ‘Ppreciation Month. Everyone should think of nice things they could do for the pussy in their life. Perhaps they could buy it some new toys. Maybe give it a good grooming. Some pussies love to be teased with a feather. Stroke your kitty until it purrs. Gentleman should take note of the way the cat uses its tongue to clean itself, and perhaps offer to help any pussies that aren’t able to do this for themselves.

Gotta go. As Gandhi said, be the change you wish to see in the world. I’ve got a New Year’s Resolution to keep.

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Guys that Can’t Take the Hint

Globe Trotter in Lingerie told me that Airport Man just sent her an e-mail (maybe she’ll let you in on what it said, don’t ask me, I don’t know!). Last week Geocacher invited me to a work party after minimal contact by text message since our date on Halloween. What is up with these guys that won’t take a hint?

I went on a date with a Nice Guy this June. He was a One Date Wonder but so into me after the first date that he sent me one text a week for the following SIX WEEKS just checking to see if I wanted to reconsider. Let me think about it… are you still spineless? Do you still live an hour away? Do you still have no car? Do you still have three kids AND A WIFE THAT YOU LIED ABOUT WHEN I AGREED TO MEET YOU? Yeah… the answer’s still no thanks, Pal.

But this guy takes the fucking cake. This e-mail was posted on The Stir. See the original post.

Hi Lauren,

I’m disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that I haven’t gotten a response to my voicemail and text messages. FYI, I suggest that you keep in mind that emails sound more impersonal, harsher, and are easier to misinterpret than in-person or phone communication. After all, people can’t see someone’s body language or tone of voice in an email. I’m not trying to be harsh, patronizing, or insulting in this email. I’m honest and direct by nature, and I’m going to be that way in this email. By the way, I did a google search, so that’s how I came across your email.

I assume that you no longer want to go out with me. (If you do want to go out with me, then you should let me know.) I suggest that you make a sincere apology to me for giving me mixed signals. I feel led on by you.

Things that happened during our date include, but are not limited to, the following:

-You played with your hair a lot. A woman playing with her hair is a common sign of flirtation. You can even do a google search on it. When a woman plays with her hair, she is preening. I’ve never had a date where a woman played with her hair as much as you did. In addition, it didn’t look like you were playing with your hair out of nervousness.

-We had lots of eye contact during our date. On a per-minute basis, I’ve never had as much eye contact during a date as I did with you.

-You said, “It was nice to meet you.” at the end of our date. A woman could say this statement as a way to show that she isn’t interested in seeing a man again or she could mean what she said–that it was nice to meet you. The statement, by itself, is inconclusive.

-We had a nice conversation over dinner. I don’t think I’m being delusional in saying this statement.

In my opinion, leading someone on (i.e., giving mixed signals) is impolite and immature. It’s bad to do that.

Normally, I would not be asking for information if a woman and I don’t go out again after a first date. However, in our case, I’m curious because I think our date went well and that there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship. Of course, it’s difficult to predict what would happen, but I think there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship developing between us one day (or least there was before your non-response to my voicemail and text messages).

I think we should go out on a second date. In my opinion, our first date was good enough to lead to a second date.

Why am I writing you? Well, hopefully, we will go out again. Even if we don’t, I gain utility from expressing my thoughts to you. In addition, even if you don’t want to go out again, I would like to get feedback as to why you wouldn’t want to go again. Normally, I wouldn’t ask a woman for this type of feedback after a first date, but this is an exception given I think we have a lot of potential.

If you don’t want to go again, then apparently you didn’t think our first date was good enough to lead to a second date. Dating or a relationship is not a Hollywood movie. It’s good to keep that in mind. In general, I thought the date went well and was expecting that we would go out on a second date.

If you’re not interested in going out again, then I would have preferred if you hadn’t given those mixed signals. I feel led on. We have a number of things in common. I’ll name a few things: First, we’ve both very intelligent. Second, we both like classical music so much that we go to classical music performances by ourselves. In fact, the number one interest that I would want to have in common with a woman with whom I’m in a relationship is a liking of classical music. I wouldn’t be seriously involved with a woman if she didn’t like classical music. You said that you’re planning to go the NY Philharmonic more often in the future.

As I said, I go to the NY Philharmonic often. You’re very busy. It would be very convenient for you to date me because we have the same interests. We already go to classical music performances by ourselves. If we go to classical music performances together, it wouldn’t take any significant additional time on your part. According to the internet, you’re 33 or 32, so, at least from my point of view, we’re a good match in terms of age. I could name more things that we have in common, but I’ll stop here. I don’t understand why you apparently don’t want to go out with me again. We have numerous things in common. I assume that you find me physically attractive. If you didn’t find me physically attractive, then it would have been irrational for you to go out with me in the first place. After all, our first date was not a blind date. You already knew what I looked like before our date. Perhaps, you’re unimpressed that I manage my family’s investments and my own investments. Perhaps, you don’t think I have a “real” job. Well, I’ve done very well as an investment manager. I’ve made my parents several millions of dollars.

That’s real money. That’s not monopoly money. In my opinion, if I make real money, it’s a real job. Donald Trump’s children work for his company. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. George Soros’s sons help manage their family investments. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. In addition, I’m both a right-brain and left-brain man, given that I’m both an investment manager and a philosopher/writer. That’s a unique characteristic; most people aren’t like that. I’ve never been as disappointed and sad about having difficulty about getting a second date as I am with you. I’ve gone out with a lot of women in my life. (FYI, I’m not a serial dater. Sometimes, I’ve only gone out with a woman for one date.) People don’t grow on trees. I hope you appreciate the potential we have.

Am I sensitive person? Sure, I am. I think it’s better to be sensitive than to be insensitive. There are too many impolite, insensitive people in the world.

I suggest that we continue to go out and see what happens. Needless to say, I find you less appealing now (given that you haven’t returned my messages) than I did at our first date. However, I would be willing to go out with you again. I’m open minded and flexible and am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wish you would give me the benefit of the doubt too. If you don’t want to go out again, in my opinion, you would be making a big mistake, perhaps one of the biggest mistakes in your life. If you don’t want to go out again, then you should have called to tell me so. Even sending a text message would have been better than nothing. In my opinion, not responding to my messages is impolite, immature, passive aggressive, and cowardly. I spent time, effort, and money meeting you for dinner. Getting back to me in response to my messages would have been a reasonable thing for you to do. In addition, you arrived about 30 minutes late for our date. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if a man showed up thirty minutes late for a first date with you.

If you’re concerned that you will hurt my feelings by providing specific information about why you don’t want to go with me again, well, my feeling are already hurt. I’m sad and disappointed about this situation. If you give information, at least I can understand the situation better. I might even learn something that is beneficial.

If you don’t want to go out again, that I request that you call me and make a sincere apology for leading me on (i.e., giving me mixed signals). In my opinion, you shouldn’t act that way toward a man and then not go out with him again. It’s bad to play with your hair so much and make so much eye contact if you’re not interested in going out with me again. I have tried to write this email well, but it’s not perfect. Again, I’m not trying to be harsh, insulting, patronizing, etc. I’m disappointed, sad, etc. I would like to talk to you on the phone. I hope you will call me back at xxx-xxx-xxxx> (if it’s inconvenient for you to talk on the phone when you read this email, you can let me know via email that you are willing to talk on the phone and I’ll call you). If you get my voicemail, you can a leave a message and I can call you back. Even if you don’t want to go out again, I would appreciate it if you give me the courtesy of calling me and talking to me. Yes, you might say things that hurt me, but my feelings are already hurt. Sending me an email response (instead of talking on the phone) would better than no response at all, but I think it would be better to talk on the phone. Email communication has too much potential for misinterpretation, etc.

Best, Mike

Holy shit. This guy is so crushingly oblivious and devastatingly neurotic that I actually feel sorry for him. But the pity is dulled by the equally strong desire to gouge out his fucking eyes and make him eat them. Some guys just can’t take the hint!

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Profile: The First Lover

I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 22. Not because I was waiting until marriage or anything (I’m an Atheist anyway), but it just didn’t feel right with my main high school boyfriend or my college boyfriend. When I met Antonio, though, I knew I wanted him to be my first lover.

This was totally inappropriate for several reasons. Firstly, he spoke no English. Secondly, he was a smoker, which I detest. And thirdly and most critically… he worked under me at the horse farm that I managed for the absentee owners. “Worked under me” was not (in the beginning at least) a sexual innuendo. I was the manager and he was one of four illegal immigrants that we illegally employed to take care of the horses and the facility.

This was no innocent puppy love accident. I made up my mind that I wanted him and very deliberately went about seducing him. Which was ridiculously easy to do, as you might imagine. I still remember the first words that I said to him (in Spanish) as a calculated flirtation: “I like your smile.” To which he responded instantly “Why?” And so it began.

Within a week of acknowledging the possibility we had slept together. To my very great surprise, he was a virgin, too. He had never even kissed a girl, but let me tell you… the boy was a quick study. We were pretty sure that we were the first people ever to discover sex and it was the best thing ever.What both of us lacked in experience we more than made up for in enthusiasm and creativity. More than one morning we were late to work because one of us had kissed the other goodbye and we wound up on the floor. We broke a bed. We came down from the hay loft with rumpled clothing and hay in our hair. We had to pull off the road driving together many times because we were making each other so hot. Once, his brother nearly walked in on us on his living room floor and later discovered one of my socks on a stack of dinner plates on a kitchen shelf. “How did you start?!” he asked in disbelief. I blushed.

Our relationship remained a secret from the clients and our boss for the two years we were together. My Spanish got really good. Funnest way ever to learn a new language is to fuck a beautiful foreigner.We had very little in common besides intense physical attraction, and that plus probably the excitement of a forbidden romance and the fact that we worked together and saw each other every day took us surprisingly far. Our fights were spectacular. I’m not easily provoked to anger, but Antonio could push my buttons like no one before or since. He had technique of deflecting any sort of attempt to talk about something that was bothering me by saying “So, you want to break up. You’ve decided you don’t want to be with a Mexican.” That was guaranteed to drive me crazy! I’m most ashamed of the time I responded by shrieking “Don’t be such a child!” while simultaneously flinging a handful of baby carrots at him. I was so furious at the time that the irony completely escaped me. In bed afterwards, we laughed our asses off. Naturally, the make-up sex was mind blowing. Looking back, I suspect he sometimes goaded me into fits of temper because it brought out my “inner Latina” that he claimed to adore.

And then I got pregnant. I was not prepared for how this would effect either of us. I knew I didn’t want to have a baby, I grew up liberal and fiercely pro-choice, and to me an abortion was the rational, logical, obvious solution. But I had a fucking emotional meltdown. I told no one except Antonio, who really wanted the baby and also went to pieces. I’ll never forget a horrible night of him pleading with me and then literally sobbing in my arms once he realized I couldn’t be talked out of having the abortion. That terrified me. I realized that I was totally out of my depth… Antonio wanted someone to be with forever and raise a family. He had decided that “someone” was me. And I didn’t want that at all.

I miscarried the day before I was scheduled to go in to pick up the pills that would cause the abortion. I had decided for some reason that the pill option would be better and more private somehow than the surgical option, even though the pills were less effective, would cause me to be sick, and would required extra visits to the clinic. Not having anyone to talk to, because I hadn’t confided in anyone other than Antonio who was more clueless that I was and was an emotional wreck himself, I panicked over the bleeding and called a crisis hotline when I couldn’t reach my doctor at night. The crisis hotline I had picked from the phone book ended up being a Pro-Life counseling center in disguise. The woman on the phone talked down to me implying that I was getting what I deserved when she found out that I had scheduled an abortion and wasn’t Christian. She was still trying to talk me into considering adoption when I hung up on her. I was bleeding and crying all over my bathroom floor. All I wanted to know was whether or not I was miscarrying and if I needed to go to the hospital and she wouldn’t even tell me that. I’m still not sure how she could justify her behavior as the “compassionate” stance….

That was the beginning of the end of Antonio and I. We continued dating for a few months after that, but it wasn’t the same. The fact that I was going to break his heart loomed over us both and it wasn’t fun anymore. We couldn’t enjoy the present when we knew that I didn’t want the same future together that he did. The fighting got worse. We broke up. He quit working at the farm. We got back together briefly, but it didn’t last.

I look back fondly at much of that time, even if the end was bittersweet. I wonder how he sees it. We are totally out of touch now; it’s been more than seven years since I last saw him. I imagine he’s married with children by now. I hope he’s happy.

You never forget your first love.

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

This one’s for the Drunk Dialers

OK, Singletons… ‘fess up. You’ve done it. We’ve all done it. No, not that, you freak. I’m talking about the Drunk Dial. Or perhaps it was a text. Anyway, it was a lonely Friday night and you put down your third glass of wine/beer/whipped cream vodka and Fanta (don’t judge me, we’ve all got our preferences) and picked up the phone. And in the morning? Humiliation. Regret. Self-loathing.

I want to invent an App that would block the user from calling or texting certain numbers for a specified amount of time. You could set it when you start drinking, or if you know you’re feeling especially vulnerable. Because let’s face it… many of us don’t need to get drunk to lack impulse control and have serious lapses in judgement. Hell, listening to Gravity is as dangerous as four rum-and-cokes for facilitating a pathetic late night text.

Mac already has a computer program called Self Control that you can use to block yourself from certain websites. After reading about it on takingbacksingle’s blog I found the review on Self Control from Wired magazine. So it can’t be long now until they realize emotional kleptomaniacs like me could use one for their phones, too.

Who’s in?

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe….

The online dating scene is looking fairly bleak, ladies and gents.

Potential Date #1 (after I requested that he tell me an interesting story about himself):

I once woke up at a mortician’s house being accused of stealing drugs that he would smuggle in the bodies. I also didn’t know where I was.

My Response: Impressive, no grammatical or spelling errors. Wait… WHAT THE FUCK?!

Potential Date #2 (sent at 4:32 in the morning. Yes, I notice these things):

Hi, I read your profile 3 times. It is amazing. So how are you?

My Response: Creeeeeppppperrrrrrrrrrr. OK, I can deal with socially awkward (hell, I SPECIALIZE in socially awkward), but I can’t do stalkers. Which one are you???

Potential Date #3:

Hey, this is a public service message. I was looking at your profile and on the side bar there were suggestions for others users being compared to you. All of them were described as “less kinky” or “less desiring of sex.” I’m not sure what you put in your profile but somehow this dating site seems to think you’re a freak. You seem like a nice girl and I thought you should know. lol

My Response: Very smooth. Do you need a sponsor for Sex Addicts Anonymous? I can hook you up.

And from The Cinematographer. No, that’s not what he’s best known for… he’ll have to be known as Dick Pic now:

Hey, hot sauce… how you been?

My Response: ‘Bout the same since you texted me naked photos of yourself and set up three dates with me all of which you either canceled or didn’t confirm, resulting in me standing you up. You?

Sigh… it’s a jungle out there, and most of the animals are fucking retarded.

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Help Wanted

Well, it’s raining outside today, but I’ve been absent from the blog due to a dry spell. My personal life is lacking in… personnel. You might say I’m short-staffed, that I’m having trouble filling the position, or that multiple lay-offs have resulted in a lack of getting laid. The summer fling with The Baptist has been flung, the Fall interlude with the Something Serious candidate withered on the vine, and October madness with the Geocacher became just plain madness. I mean, once neither of you can even be bothered to pretend to be interested in the other outside the bedroom… it’s pretty much over.

So. Applications are currently being accepted for seasonal employment. Candidates must have a backbone, a funny bone, a wishbone, and a boner.

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

One Date Wonders

As promised, a summary of the guys that never made it to date number two. Which ties in nicely to the October 13th 2011 post, The Seven Deadly Sins of Dating.

The Bore. This date was actually several years ago, but it stands out in my mind as a really disappointing date because he was the poster child for the first of the Seven Deadly Sins of Dating… apathy. The Bore was very good looking, tall and dark with striking features. He drove a nice car and was intelligent. But he had no spark, no curiosity about the world. We went to a children’s science museum for Pete’s sake. And he showed no enthusiasm, wonder, or play. Not at the giant bubble blowing station. Not at the naked mole rats. Not at the lightning in a bottle. Nothing. Buh-bye!

The Activist. Oh, this one looked really good on paper. Passionate, worldly, liberal, literate. Not exactly easy to come by in my zip code! But he fell immediately victim to the most vicious of the deadlies: No attraction. He was not bad looking, but just something about the way he carried himself was completely unappealing. Guy (The Buddy) told me once that the first subconscious thought a women has when she sees a man is “Would I sleep with him?” I’m not sure if science backs him up, but certainly in this case I can, and the answer was a resounding Not a snowball’s chance in Hell.

The Soldier. I just think The Soldier was not the sharpest tack in the bulletin board. I usually do a better job of weeding the stupid ones out, but this one slipped through due to his fun flirty sense of humor and my need for a distraction in the weeks following Chris (The Unattainable) leaving. I was regretting this date the moment I met him. He was wearing cowboy boots in an attempt to impress me because he knew I liked horses. And it went downhill from there. I actually would have felt sorry for the guy if he were more likable. He unwittingly took me to the last restaurant I’d been to with Chris, where the same server was wearing the same dress, and The Soldier even ordered the same thing that Chris had! This was the one and only time I went home and cried after a first date, which is actually probably pretty good considering how many I’ve been on this year.

The Cop. This guy turned out to totally exceed my expectations (which were admittedly in the toilet), and it was my fault that there was no second date on this one. He is the only one of these One Date Wonders who would have gotten a second date if he had asked.

The Nice Guy. Texting me after the date, he actually said, “I’m so grateful that a woman as attractive as you would agree to spend time with me.” And I think I felt so bad for him at that point that I said, “Do yourself a favor and don’t ever say that again! Pretty girls can smell insecurity and they will walk all over you.” The Deadly? You guessed it… #6 No Spine.

The Storm Chaser. Guilty of Sin #3: no attraction. Like The Activist, he sounded fascinating, well-traveled, adventurous, and intelligent. And he probably was all of these things, but they were totally obscured by his lack of ability to carry on a comfortable conversation. He was so socially awkward it was painful.  He looked at least 15 years older than he was and he moved very stiffly from an old car accident. Poor guy… he’s got an uphill battle ahead of him on the dating scene.

The Cinematographer (AKA “the Dick Pic”). I never actually met this one, but he gets an honorable mention as the subject of the previous post The Art of the Dick Pic and because I wasted a fair amount of time on this one because he texted me repeatedly and we even set up 3 dates all of which fell through. If there were an 8th Deadly Sin of Flakiness, this guy would have it nailed down for sure! I adore the artistic temperament, but The Cinematographer took it to an extreme, and I blew him off shaking my head in wonder the whole time.

You know you’re single if…

… calling him by the wrong name is a legitimate concern. (Can’t go wrong with “baby”)

… you’ve ever found The Missing Condom from last week’s boy while in bed with this week’s boy and surreptitiously hid it in the pillowcase so you don’t have to answer uncomfortable questions. (Oh, don’t be a weeny. It was unwrapped but unused.)

… his brother nearly walks in on the two of you on the floor of his living room and later wants to know how one of your socks got to be on the shelf with the wineglasses in the kitchen. (I actually have no idea either.)

… on the second date, he tells you that he understands that you’re going through a “whoring phase” and you can’t really argue with that. (Secretly pleased that he cottoned on so quickly.)

… the man who wakes up in your bed on Wednesday morning is not the man who kissed you good-bye on Tuesday morning, and Wednesday’s man has to be reminded of how Tuesday night’s date went. (Dinner was delicious. No, we did not have sex. Yes, you drank too much and passed out on my couch.)

OK, best 3 out of 5. Can you add your own to the list?

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Flirt Like a Cowgirl

Being a horseback rider has serious perks when it comes to interacting with men. You can be honest and dirty at the same time. After all, how many women can legitimately end a phone conversation like this:

Gotta go. I’m about to ride the stallion and I’m going to need both hands.

Or how about innocently musing when you can tell he’s starting to glaze over listening to you talk:

You know, ass-less chaps is really a misnomer. All chaps are ass-less. (Thanks, GTiL!)

If he’s pissing you off:

I held down 3 colts for castration this morning. I’m not too tired to do one more.

He needs to be taken down a peg? Try:

Awww, honey, really… it’s so cute! The miniature pony’s is almost as little as yours.

But unless you’re into the really kinky shit, never let him see your collection of whips and spurs!

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Cure for Hump Day Blues

Globe Trotter in Lingerie: How are you?

Sex Kitten: I think I caught your deep blue funk. How’re you?

GTiL: Wine, chocolate, and a good love story 🙂

SK: Hot Damn, girl! That’s how you are?! Or that’s your prescription for the blues?

GTiL: That’s your cure LOL

SK: Nah, I’m self-medicating… Italian & an Italian. Geocacher is taking me out to dinner tonight.

GTiL: Yum! In pursuit of my current circumstances, I’ve decided to be an ‘Evil Maiden’ for Halloween.

SK: So, what, you’re not dressing up? Lame.

GTiL: Bite me.

SK: That’s what he said….

Globe Trotter in Lingerie, every girl should be lucky enough to have a friend like you! 🙂

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Sexting Mad Libs

Yeah, the rumor is that I’m wearing the BDT for um, certain activities conducted over a weekend trip with The Geocacher. What happens at The Courtyard Marriott stays there, but with some imagination you can fill in the gaps with Sexting Madlibs!

You remember Mad Libs from when you were a kid, right? One person supplies a word for each blank, and then the other person reads the completed conversation back. I wonder if yours will be as fun and dirty as our actual conversation!

Geocacher: I thought you might be miffed because I couldn’t _________________ (verb). But you had me pretty _____________ (adjective).

Sex Kitten: Of the two of us, I will take the _______________ (choose one: credit/blame) for ________________ (verb -ing). You were ________________ (adjective) and I didn’t feel ____________________ (adj) or __________________ (adj) at all.

Geocacher: There was a moment when I was glad you _______________ (past tense verb). But just imagine what we could do with _____________ (noun), ________________ (plural noun), and a __________________ (noun)! LOL!

Sex Kitten: So, favorite _____________________ (plural noun)?

Geocacher: One was when you __________________ (past tense verb) my _______________________ (body part).

Sex Kitten: I could have guessed that from your response!

Geocacher: The other was when you put my ______________________ (body part) in your ______________________ (body part). Unbelievable. I almost ______________________ (past tense verb) in my ____________________ (item of clothing).

Sex Kitten: Lucky man. You’ve met a girl who likes _______________________ (verb -ing). But I don’t care for _________________ (verb-ing). That has always seemed ___________________ (adj) to me.

Geocacher: I’ve never met a women who would let me ______________________ (verb) on her ____________________ (body part). The closest was __________________ (adj) ______________________ (noun), but that’s another story. LOL!

Sex Kitten: Well, think about it. Unless you like a girl to ___________________ (verb) on your _____________________ (body part) or something, it seems pretty _____________________ (adj) and ________________ (adj).

Geocacher: I understand. No ___________________ (verb-ing). And ___________________________ (verb-ing) is also off-limits! But you women have more ______________ (plural noun). Men just have ______________________ (noun).

Sex Kitten: Would you believe me if I told you I never ______________________ (past tense verb) or ________________ (past tense verb)?

Geocacher: Seriously? That’s not normal!

Sex Kitten: I’ve got to ________________________ (verb) now.

Geocacher: And I need a _____________________ (adj) ____________________ (noun) before I _______________ (verb).

Sex Kitten: I don’t envy you!

So, you like sexting, do you? Check out The Art of the Dick Pic, Funny Texts with Strangers, Texting 101 for Dating Men, and Best of: Texts Actually on my Phone Right Now

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

The Dilemma

Strivetwosucceed, a fellow WordPress blogger, read my post Ghosts of Dating Past and asked me an interesting question that was already on my mind:

What do you need to know about the other person to move from “casual dating” to something more substantial?

I’ve been wondering that myself, as there is a Something Serious candidate in my life at the moment, and I go back and forth about whether I want to be in a substantial relationship at this point in my life. The Potato Chip Theory of Dating would suggest that I don’t. And yet.

What makes a Something Serious candidate is his character. Character trumps nearly everything else, because it is immutable. Behavior can change. Circumstances can change. But character stays the same, and it is shockingly rare for me to encounter a person who has the caliber of character than I’m looking for and who also doesn’t exhibit any of the Seven Deadly Sins of Dating.

Is it part of the human condition to simultaneously crave freedom from loneliness and complete independence? Or am I just fucked?

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)