More than friends?

So I wrote, for the first time in ages, only a couple days ago … about my bestie guy friend and our killer sex life behind his serious girlfriend’s back.  Well let me tell ya (and trust I will go back and write about my FF and his huge fucking hose soon) things have taken a HARD CORE left turn … er right turn … not entirely sure.

Let me start with this … I adore this man.  He rocks my world in so many ways its not even funny.  He is the ONE person I know I can be ME totally ME around.  In all my geeky retarded splendor.  Oh yeah.  He likes me for the stupid me.  Those guys are few and far between.

So here is this guy, so perfect it’s like I was cut from his missing rib, but so far from my type it would make your head spin.  I date bikers and truckers, zz tops lookin’ mother fuckers and bad ass boys.  And here is this mostly put together business man who comes home from work in dress pants/shoes/shirt/and even a tie at times.  WHAAAA???!!!  No 9″ long goatee.  No tattoos.  No oddball piercings.  No record (that I know of) and yet someone that drives me so crazy I want to hump his leg randomly when we’re out.

So his birthday was this past Friday.  I thought long and hard and came up with a gift that no one but me would ever get him.  Story for another time…

Thursday we had an epic day together – hot and heavy in an abandoned army depot.  Friday, major suck fest, and not in the hot and sexy way.  In the “my life sucks” way.  Hard to face not seeing him because he is with his girlfriend.  Major gut check.  I wasn’t shy about how I felt and he caught onto the fact that I’m tired of waiting for him to get shit figured out.

~Not Yer Bitch


Friends with benefits, so sooooooo many benefits

Hate me all you want for not writing for so long if you must; but if you want a real reason to hate me, read on.

It took a while after my divorce was over for me to get back into the swing of things, at least in the bedroom.  After over 9 years “off the market” the idea of finding someone who seemed worthy of a romp, much less getting naked with someone I don’t know very well … yeah … horrifying at best.

If you have to ease your way back into bed with someone, I always never recommend doing it with someone who you consider to be one of your best friends.  I also rarely take my own advice so guess what?  Who would’ve known that a man I have come to adore for who he is and how he makes me laugh and smile, who is 8 years my senior, and totally not my normal type … would be a rockstar in bed like I can not even express.

I’ll admit that sparks had been flying for some time.  Our version of fun together is breaking into abandoned, partially destroyed, and wildly unsafe buildings … to take pictures.  That’s smart … and a nice way to get the adrenaline juices flowing freely.  It didn’t take long for the innuendos to start flying between us, thick enough to cut with a knife.  Everyone who spent time with us asked if we were together, some even made comments about us needing to be separated via means such as fabric softener or pry bar.

But leave it to me to spin off a fantasy sexual relationship with a man who has a girlfriend.  So I did my best to behave—I suck at that.  After a few clearly intentional touches  from him on a very early, very cold, very abandoned Sunday morning, I made up my mind that at some point I would make that epic first post-divorce move and plant one on this guy.  I mean seriously, what did I have to lose?  A few days passed and he came for dinner.  We hung out for a while and in a random moment of silently looking at each other (and with the encouragement of half a bottle of Jim Beam) I literally announced “Fuck it!” out loud and then lunged across the room at him.

As if the fact that I had strong feelings for this guy wasn’t enough to complicate my barely post-divorce mind, he surprisingly not only accepted my advance but dove in head first.  Clothes flying in all directions, limbs tangled up, tongues and hands and lips running over skin like months worth of sexual tension had just broke.

I shit you not—THREE hours later—he was still going.  I on the other hand, was used to a “15 minute fuck and roll over” with my ex—I was a twisted combination of exhausted and so hooked it wasn’t even funny.

*NOTE TO WOMEN*  If you aren’t gonna give your man what he wants, the way he wants it, and make him squirm, moan and say “holy fuck” when he’s done, someone else will.  Apparently, I’m that someone.  Yeah I’m a dirty whore.  Guess what? I’m okay with it.

So its been just about a month and a half since my 3-hour-romp with an older man (who I adore) that has a 7-year-long relationship with a girlfriend who has NO idea there’s something going on.  I have a God given talent to ignore my conscious and a incredibly threadbare moral fiber which has allowed me to continue taking this guy into my bed for hours on end, sometimes 3 times a day.  It’s worth every second of it.  Gotta keep my heart and head in check, but that is a story (and a guy) for another day.

~Not Yer Bitch (but on occasion I’ll be his!)

You’re fuckin lazy

I admit it.  When we separated, my husband hadn’t even been out of the house a full 48 hours when I logged online and ordered some personal pleasure items.  A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.  And doing him, was clearly not in the stars for the time being.

I was like a little kid opening a present when my “tools” got here.  I say tools cuz well, I’m more of a get the job done kinda girl than a play around girl.  I don’t have time to spend hours and hours double clicking any mouse other than the one on my computer.

The first time was awkward but soon I realized that sometimes, we do ourselves better than others do.  Needless to say, I got my money out of them very quickly.

Fast forward to the douche bag husband coming out with the fact that he had been having a long-ish term affair, with a girl I know.

Nothing kills the sex drive like closing your eyes to masturbate and picturing your husband riding an ugly fat bitch who talks like a 15 year old valley girl and gets passed around like a mo-ped at a fraternity house.  My poor tools got shelved.  I tried.  Trust me, I tried.  And tried.  And tried to get even the slightest little fun out of it.  All I could think was that line from the old Greenday song “when masturbation’s lost its fun, you’re fucking lazy”.  Mother fucker!

After a few months of frustration building up I was ready to join the penguins and never have sex again.  Um … in case you missed that, penguins = nuns.  Don’t be offended.  Okay be offended, whatever.

Que a sexy South American man.  Oh yeah.  I said it, not Globe Trotter!  Who woulda thunk it?!?  The last few nap times and nights have been full of fun and games with my tools of the trade and thoughts of tanned hands running up and down my skin.  I got it back, the click click of the mouse and the boom that comes after it!  No thoughts of my cheating d-bag riding the hose beast like a cowboy runnin’ from the law!  I got my partial groove back … now lets just get some live meat in my bed!


The Scarlet Letter

Let me tell you a tale about what happens when someone falls off the stupid tree and lands in such a manner as to cram their head square up their sphincter.

There are so many things a person can do that make everyone stop and stare in confusion and amazement at the wonder of the sheer absurdity of their actions. Right now, one in particular…er I guess 2, stick out like a well quite frankly like a hooker in a high class establishment. Although hookers get paid … just sayin’.

Its a funny thing about small towns.  Townies think they’re untouchable.  They think they have a God given right to act like they’re better than everyone else.  News flash, decades of family members never venturing out of a 6 block by 11 block middle of nowhere village does not produce top breeding quality.  It produces wide child bearing hips and kids with buck teeth *cough*inbreeding*cough*.

I was born in a small town and I like the small town life, until that is, I have to deal with THAT sort of townie.  Here’s the thing.  I don’t give a fuck who you think you or what horse you rode in are, I’m NOT the person to start a war with.  No one is untouchable and thinking you’re entitled only makes you look like a stupid cunt.

So back to absurd actions…aside from the entire concept of delusions of grandeur…well, I’ll just say it flat out.  Fucking another woman’s husband is a BAD IDEA.  Fucking MY husband in particular…a WORSE idea.

When you watch a mess like that unravel no matter how close or far you are from the core of it, its like seeing not one train but stacks and stacks of trains wreck into one another and topple every which way as they spill off the tracks.  I wanna quote songs left and right cuz we had a blast on FB the other day posting the videos of all the songs we could think of that refer to this sort of stupidity and whorish actions.  I will try to refrain from too much of it.

When you cheat.  It gets out.  There is NO such thing as an affair that no one ever finds out about.  Someone always slips, gets psycho, changes their mind, or confides in the wrong person.  Uhm this situation that I watched unravel over the last few weeks…gets a big check check check and check on all those points.  Long story short, once upon a time a girl (me) THOUGHT she had a friend and entrusted her friend with her emotions and feelings about her and her husband drifting apart.  Said “friend” turned out to be a skeevy homewrecker with an inability to  keep her pussy glued shut and her hands off other people’s man meat.  Oh, and have I mentioned, she’s married.  Yeah.  Klassy with a capital K.  That’s right, I said K, not C.  Get with it.

Well, sluts are sluts at any age and guys are stupid and think with their little heads, mainly cuz well…guys suck.  Skeevy bitch + marriage in trouble + mediocre sex with said skeevy bitch = short term affair.  Like all that’s not stupid enough, there’s 2 things that people never think about before they do something like this.

1.  What do you REALLY know about the person who you’re crossing.  People let you know what they want you to know about them.  The secrets that lie beneath,are what create the core fabric of who those people are, and unless you know how tightly threaded they are and if there are holes or if they’re made of kevlar and spikes … you really should choose who you go to battle with very cautiously.

Some people have no problem in a situation like this, putting it out there for the world to know that the affair happened.  And that’s what happened here.  The wife (cough*me*cough) finds out, and BAM the whole town knows, the whole internet knows, literally by name…who, what, where, and when.  In a town of less than a thousand people, news like that spreads like wide fire and that’s just what I wanted…especially because the skeever (yes its a word…er is now)  has a rep for this shit already.

Remember, we’re talking about a townie whore.  That means lots of family and long time friends now know what’s happened.  The chick actually had the balls to ask the me to apologize for letting everyone know what happened.  Really?  Are you out of your shit spreadin’, corn shuckin’, cousin kissin’ mind?!?!  How, in ANY WAY, is what happened, or it getting out, something I should have to apologize for?  Simple truth is, if you dont want it to get out, don’t do it.  If it gets out, you have no one to blame but yourself for spreadin’ your hoo-ha like I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.  Yeah!  FUCK THAT!

Here’s how it really went down.  I lost a baby.  I dealt with it.  My husband…yeah not so much.  I got knocked the fuck up again 3 months later and baddah bing baddah boom here’s a baby boy.  The man child sleeps…uhm…never.  I get up always.  Husband has a high risk job so of course the stay at home wife takes over night wakings to keep her hubby safe at work.  What happens then…PPD otherwise known as “I had a fucking baby and my happy hormones went BUH BYE” depression.  So I am no longer “me” and his shit blows up with his ex and guess who he normally turns to…uhm not the girl I was at the time.  X+y to the 3rd pile of shit = separation.

Waiting for the happy ending?  So am I.  But lets be real…as every day passes I realize more and more that the happy ending is no more real than the dream I had of the perfect baby girl I lost 2+years ago…fucking pipe dream.  Beautiful in the moment but when you rub your eyes and sit up … yeah.  Reality sets in.

So what happens now … he wants me back.  But that is a story for another day.  Hang tight.  Its a wild ride right now and you’re in the thick with me.  More to come … tomorrow 😉


Last to the party …

As always. I’m the last to the party but usually the last one to leave too.  Life’s been a rockin’ ass roller coaster for me the last bajillion years a.k.a. few months.  I love like a mother fucker, live like a rock star, but rock out the domestic thing despite my counterparts’ claims about there being nothing domestic about me.

A sudden separation turned to a long-term disappointment and then back around to a laugh my ass off opportunity today as my soon-to-be-ex announced that his mistress was leaving him to go back to her husband.  Ouch.

As my evening progressed, his desperation became more and more apparent via text – which is something that I have to give him props for – because I’m a firm believer there should be specific fonts for sarcasm, desperation, and begging.

I have to stop and reflect back briefly on my last few months, which trust me, I will go into depth with later.  Husband leaves.  Heart is broken.  County cop comes to the rescue … not so much of my heart as my sobbing vagina who was missing all the attention she was used to.  Cop was a bit of a disappointment in the bed but come on, a man in uniform + cuffs + power trip = lots of fun!