The Mirror

It was months until I finally decided it was time to cut the cord. It was extremely easy and I will get into that in a moment.
Our story was stained from the beginning: I saw in him nothing else than this spoiled kid that was good in bed and that was all. He possessed no other value to me than the fact he and I crafted perfectly sequenced orgasms but I knew from the get go, that I could never fall in love with this guy. I passed sentence to the whole relationship since I pronounced the first 'hello'.
He remained nameless for my friends -even thought they knew I was getting 'some'- therefore there were no stories related to him, no dates, no social events where I would wanted to take him, no feelings he sparked in me, no emotions.

I had a non human friend that made love to me, period.

What was the trigger for me deciding, I had to put an end to the whole thing?
After the boy was M.I.A for a few days I met a gorgeous man, nor was I looking for it, nor did I initiate anything. I was sitting talking to some new friends, and he approached me. His nordic height, hair, accent were an easy sell and boy, when I have these encounters I realize how much I crave the company of these humans that are so astonishing to me. Later that night, we became this convoluted mass of bicolored everything. I would stop just to see how his long hair would look next to mine, when he was under me and our foreheads were brushing each other. We made love many times, we laughed, we had champagne for breakfast and we also played dress up with my fur coats. He would prove my point as he looked better in them.

Sex was indeed pleasant but I couldn't help to compare between the two. Where was this boy that will take me to extremes and made me so hungry for us? Where was the one that while making love, made me feel we have known each other for centuries and with just a glimpse, we shared in silence our fears, our sins, our love, our inner battles. Our loyalties and our honor for both?

I missed him.

Over the weekend we met again with Mr. Mischief but since I saw him, I felt something changed. The night ran its course, with his usual routines of not listening to any conversations, to overcompensating for his lack of purpose and trying so hard, oh God, so hard to make himself useful with new acquantainces but not quite getting there. The run-ins for drugs, the lies, the tricks, the friends that were not for real. The absolute power, given to everything outside himself.

We came home and made love and everything I had for him, was gone.

Days after, I called him and said just exactly that: babe, I just don't feel it anymore...

I didn't want to get into the fact that I was never fully IN. I didn't want to say that I was completely worn off by the fact that I did see a human being with a lot of talent and potential regardless of what I saw our relationship shaping up to be. I saw a man trying to be liked, lost in his own mind, falling for every vice because being numb was always the option, a man for whom the word sobriety was closest to eternal pain, someone that had let his self love slip through his own hands every time the sun went down.

...And I started to despise him.

Maybe he was a mirror I did not want to see anymore, maybe he reminded me of me.



(Peace, bro)

This is a man

1- The one that can't believe you are talking to him but rather takes it slow with poise,  and knows that a smile or a good conversation in a room full of hotter dudes -that have been eye-fucking you- won't mean that you will perform the Kama Sutra on his face the same night.

2- The one that is smart enough to feel, that you may.

3- The one that won't charm you with the expectation of a life you clearly won't be part of, although he once thought this was a killer tactic 'to get in yo' pants mama'

People. it takes a lot to impress me. A huge dick, for example.

4- The one that after you slept with him and shared some big 'Lifetime' moments (yes, the ultra-uber-insanely corny network. Think of Steel Magnolias on a fucking Trazodone binge, and no food) and the same week still will call you with a casual 'whats up girl, what are you doing tonight?' and won't expect that you do a replay or be offended by the fact that you have other plans at somebody else's bed... for example?

This is the same man that the following week, fearlessly, will ask you out again.

5- The one that doesn't call you 'cause in his asshole heart, he knows you are better off without him, BUT will find the way to let you know about it.

6- He whom knows that after that late night you went 'downtown', and both of you are SURE that you are not that into him, but in spite of it will remain courtly and gallant, and also will be this guy who is accepting it with dignity and won't be offended by the fact that you were just horny.

FYI those are the best nights to bump into me.

7- This guy who can embrace his own awkwardness and will have a blast sharing it with you.
8-  The dude that is gracious when you introduce him to the whole city that has been your boyfriend.
9- The one that does not make any decisions for you i.e I am not sure she likes me that much.
10- The one that is sure no matter what, that I am a fucking romantic, loyal, faithful and full of admiration for him, particularly in the mornings while I am being handcuffed.

Savages

I call him savage.
 
... and the reason is very simple: we shared around 10 hours of exquisite raw sex.

Not only I had no hope for this twenty something boy, but this particular time I was not actively searching for anything: sweet or bitter. Or hot. Or heavier. Or rough. (or so I thought) I was just contemplating these new group of humans in a new city, in a new country.

At the bar, middle of August, full summer after dancing all kinds of 90´s classics, we stood in front of each other -all sweaty and agitated- and did not exchange a word until it was time to go somewhere else. Bar lights went on, 'O.K guys time to go home' (its equivalent in French) and the boy  asked me If I wanted to join him for a walk. (Hey, you gotta at least admire he was a bit creative)

 I accepted.


We ended up going to his friend´s place who was out of town. There were pieces of a messy human being, dishes with unfinished cereal, glasses, a half eaten clementine, some bananas a couple of days after their time.  I sat on the part of the couch that had no bags, clothing and papers on it. He offered me some water, followed by some random small talk and then there it was... that recognizable and mute glimpse that clearly says 'I want to fuck your brains out' followed by some silence, and then his 21 year old lips pronounced: 'I wonder how it would be like to kiss you'. To which I replied, getting closer to him and grabbing his chin 'I can help you with that.'

At first he seemed too eager and anxious. It took him exactly 30 seconds to get on top of me. I was immediately reminded of those high school encounters, charged with heavy breathing, clumsiness and desperation and the impending curiosity to feel anything that could mean going further. He lifted me up and took me to the bed (also full of crap). He pulled up my skirt and took  my underwear off and proceeded to lick me. This time he was assertive, slow and had that precise rhythm that this delicate piece of anatomy requires.

Happy Birthday to me.

Hours into the game, and what it must have seemed like days for patient neighbors, the boy wouldn't stop. I didn't want to either, I found a new 6 feet 5 inches lot where I could just do it all. He allowed me to play what I pleased, as he played with me, while we continued the devouring rituals.  We slipped over each other, and from time to time drops of salty, transparent water fell over my cheeks and then it was like a stream that wouldn't end running. I decided to completely surrender to the water, the salt, to the constant dripping almost hurting my face.

I stuck my tongue out so I can only (and intentionally) barely touch his lips.  Words that come to mind now: slower, closer, surprise, push, switch, tease=GAME.

Savage appetite was only fueled by the fact that this body was extremely foreign to him, as his was to me and I must add, while lost in the long swaying, there was a pact of vanishing in both our eyes that concurred: no fear, no future, no past, no intention, no harm.


He was an easy one that would gladly get lost in his body and somebody's but also, It took another encounter for me to learn that Savage, was one very dirty (and scary) boy. VERY.

Naked New York's Finest

I joined a dating service called Happn and what it does, is to connect you with people that you've crossed paths with. Let me tell you, the premise sounded super cool to me, 'cause in all honesty I have at least 3 crushes a day with dudes that I find delicious.
(As I am writing this entry there is one sitting in front of me at this coffee shop.)

On my first week of having the app, let's talk of one of those Fridays when I came back home at 2am, with maybe one too many Jameson's on my body, I decided to check out the app and see what up. Well, what was up was this police dude who contacted me and immediately during our 2 minute text exchange, he proceeded to send me the picture that 'adornes' this post. My reaction was -huh?- even though I was drunk I still thought of the following:

1- Is he hot or not
2- Wait. Weren't we just texting for about just 2 min+
3- This is a police man. Police man. Police man. Yum... maybe?
4- Indiscretions like these, are great writing material.

I did reply. with a: Is this you right now? (code for: Perhaps I will be the equivalent of Samantha at FDNY's station... I wouldn't mind...)

He said no. He was on duty and driving on a car patrolling the streets of the very dangerous Upper East Side. Right after, he sent me a dark pic of him while he was working. Didn't like his face very much. He was wearing glasses and seemed a bit off, kinda insecure. Mmmm.

I kept on drinking tequila and we continued our conversation escalating into the very sexual.
I gotta admit I was pushing it, and being really flirtatious because I really wanted to see, how far this will go.

In every sense.

...It was already very late and I started to feel drunk-leepy (yeah, you know, the drunk the falls asleep on the couch 'cause he or she just wanted to the rest the eyes for 5m) He said he was going to take a break.

I fell asleep (I think in the couch) and woke up to see more messages of him pushing me to send him a picture: I. Don't. Do. That. And with the morning light he sent me another pic. still looked not hot, insecure and ... just not my type. I also remembered the naked picture and said: What the fuck was he thinking?

Unlike our Congressmen, Senators, public figures etc. I am somehow careful when it comes to this. God forbid it ends up at a blog like mine.

Sex is my trap

It is the truth. I have tried what I would like to call my own 'sex-hab' which is some kind of rehab for sex addicts, like me. Before we continue, let me explain a little bit more about my addiction: mine consists of adoring the way sex makes me feel, and the more I know myself, it is even more intense. I feel free. I reach the highest altitudes of mind: so much, I need to meditate afterwards to come down. It can also take me hours to 'recover'. And my favorite part, it makes me worship every inch of my body as I would do, with yours. I am addict to watch and why not since we are at the accepting part of it, I am a total slave of my senses.

Just now writing these lines -I think- this doesn't sound bad.

What is bad is, because of these myriad of sensations that transform me into a heavenly creature and a beast -making me love and get deeper into every stage of it- is the fact that I get trapped in those, so what happens is that I make of myself my own object of 'feeling' and I do the same with you, which greatly limits any capacity to see anything else beyond that. So when I lose you, I lose me.

And I hate to fucking lose.

...Then the cycle starts and ends, once again.

My addiction is my perdition and I KNOW IT. It is because of that reasoning (and also because I feel like shit) that I have decided to surrender to these thoughts on an honest attempt to come out of this cyclic and sweet trap with a lovingly open heart,  because I also know how he is vast in love and immense, the second component to this sex-hab: is accepting the power that my physical self has over me with my head as the commander.

And the third part is: I am writing these lines because is the only way I know, to let me out of this.

Husband!

I recently joined Tinder to see what the 'excessive excitement' was about. These are the words that come to mind after my 3 week stint: Douche Bags and Interstate Love. I would react with a resounding NO to the first and I would definitely  consider the other but, my dudes: Help. Yourselves.

Now let's take a look at your profile.  Are you guilty of any of the following? Right below you will see exactly how my brain reacts to it.

Do you appear with an earpiece? 
My Brain:
Miami Vice. Or Secret Service (yumm...but no) perhaps if you were in fact Secret Service you wouldn't be on Tinder to begin with. Hiccup. Sorry, my bad. I just remembered the discreet affair with the screaming 'lady' in Cartagena.

Are you holding a fish?
My Brain: Huh?


Do you exclusively have pictures with Asian chicks?
My brain: Mmm. Swipe.

Do you appear on pictures with friends that are hotter than you?
My Brain: (I think)
The risk of me wanting to meet you, so I can meet them, is 98%

Do you only have your height as the best line you could come up with on your profile? 
Do me a favor, at least show a bit of an effort and you may get laid. (two lines or less will do for me, I swear.)

Do you have more than one image when you are drunk beyond recognition? 
My Brain:
Dude, spring break 1989 revival... every weekend?

In your gallery your 'pecs' look bigger than mine?
My Brain:
Pleeeease. We haven't met and you made me feel bad already? Sad Face.



Is your name Knut?
My brain:
I would have  sued my parents and then I would have lied. All my life. Everywhere. What the hell.

Do you have an altered picture using any of those photo editors, where you appear with two heads and thought: 'Shit, this is so awesome!'
My Brain:
Is not. And where the fuck were your friends?. Swipe.

You have a photo of 'A' bicep, blurry as hell, no filters could have ever saved it... and that's it?
My Brain:
HUSBAND!

I am game

The One Night (5 Minute) Stand

It was one of those nights when I wanted to fuck or fight. I felt feisty, fiery and primal. I was standing by the bar sipping a mezcal, when suddenly a boy that  I saw earlier outside smoking a cig, introduced himself. He did spoke Spanish. I heard him before. So I went ahead and started a conversation with him. We were openly flirting and after two hours talking about I don't know what, he kissed me and I kissed him back.
He was visiting and was in hotel in Midtown.
We jumped into a cab together with my apartment as the destination in mind. Meanhwile in the cab, we were all hands over each other and lips that hardly were able to separate. Only from time time, just to breath.

The night looked promising. I could only visualize this beautiful blue eyed man, 6' 2, slim, and with that Latin American fire, playing with me, under the sheets.

We got home and came straight to my room and immediately we were on my bed. He stripped me off of my clothes in seconds while I would try to find  moments to undress him slowly. Finally we were naked. He was beautiful, soft, well built and strong. I was only contemplating how to start tasting this delicacy.

Tangled in my bed the moment of truth arrived. He was ready, I was ready.

I wanted him.

To my disgrace or fortune while I was about to begin, he already had finished. But wait.
It gets better. He made up a leg cramp and in a quick move turned, laying on his chest. He was there for a good 10 minutes complaining and saying that he was very sorry that It was a shame that something like that, would happen that night. 'Let me go to my hotel, get my pills for the pain and I will be right back'

Sure- I said.

He walked out.

I locked the door, turned the phone off and had a wonderful night of sleep.

His

The invisible fireman

'Hey what you up to' March 30th, 12:28 am

'Hey what ya up to today' April 3rd 10:14 am

'Hey what ya up to??' April 5th 10:15 am

'Hey what ya up to??' April 7th 10:26 pm

This was pretty much my exchange with an individual whom I met through an online dating service. He looked very handsome in pictures, what he had to say about himself sounded really appealing and... he also said on his profile, he was a Fireman for the City of New York. (sold!)

In an attempt to continue finding that fascinating human being that lures my mind and my heart, I have decided to break out of my old stereotypes about people. That means, among other things, giving them a second chance and also, try to look beyond the most obvious of their personality traits. In this case, his thing was NOT communication or the subtleties of courtship. But hey, maybe he was a truly remarkable human being in other aspects. (Note to self. Remember these 4 words: benefit of the doubt)

So after the fourth, same mispelled message, spite of my widely known natural rejection to bad spelling and little patience for BS,  I kept open the communication channels trying to see if we could meet up. He kept saying he was trapped at work, he had a training, he was wiped out. So I was beginning to ask, why does he send me messages if there is no intent  to follow up with an action? Perhaps...  He is really overweight and is buying some time to shed those extra pounds? did he go under the knife and he is recuperating, therefore, he is buying some time?  Is he expecting that on a 15 m. notice I go running to Brooklyn in the middle of the afternoon for a quickie, believing that the messages gave us enough information, that we now know each other so we skipped dating, altogether?

The last time he wrote to me was May 2nd 2013 at 7:15pm.  

'Hey what ya up to??' 

No answer from me.

Sorry, but there is a time when you have to mark the limit. Even if this did not have any fundamental consequences in my life, nor altered anything at all, about how I go about relationships, monotony really bores the hell out of me. So next time dudes, If you want a quickie, if you don't want a relationship, if you  want to indulge in crazy, animal sex with me JUST SAY IT.  Maybe, I won't have a problem with that.

Wear something sexy

My friend J and I have met ocassionally at night for  the widely known 'booty call'. After some time, perhaps more than a year, it is a deal that goes smoothly, pretty direct. No fuss, no games.

I recall he asking me on a text: 'on my way... wear something sexy'

I laughed and I proceeded to go into my lingerie drawer and choose the perfect attire for the night. I chose it. I put in on.

I wasn't going to wait seated on my sofa surrounded by some sort of animal print paraphernalia, smoking a cig and with Edith Piaf playing on the background. Full, fire like red lips and long loops of pearls around my neck.

I decided I would wear jeans, a sweatshirt and that was it. I felt more authentic.

J got home. Once on my sofa, he unzipped my sweatshirt discovering a beautiful satin, black and peach bustiere with a little bow in the middle. J was static. He was not expecting anything special.

'Yumm...' The fact that he seemed surprised and also that I didn't feel awkward about something I did not feel like being that night, made for a truly erotic and joyful sex experience.

I see another booty call in the future... maybe this time I will be the lady with full on body wrapping latex, whip and a mask. I am moody.

Je joue

I do play with myself. And I love it. That is why I have quite a selection of various toys in all forms, shapes, colors and textures. But to be honest I have these toys for my play-dates. Somehow I do not feel inclined to use them while I am alone except just, when I buy them.
I love to see my companion´s expression when I do use them in me: contemplating in  awe the moves, the rotations... the sudden tension.

However when it comes to me, just me, I keep it pretty simple. I get entertained pretty easily and  do not open the Fun Box. What you see in the picture, is a toy that was given to me years ago, I have always found it way too complicated: it has wires, batteries, a charger and the word software is something that you will have to deal with. You read correctly. Software.

The minute I saw it it went straight into the original package and I have used it only once. But lately I have been thinking of giving it a chance since I have used all the others, and see if maybe this is going to be the one, who makes me break my habit and will get to be included in the super VIP selection my dates... with myself.

... Alright kids, gotta go. Gotta find a plug.

Let it in...

My boyfriend's brother

I was seeing this guy for a few weeks and things were going well. I met his hideouts, met his roommate, became friends with his chihuahua. There were a lot of sleepovers at his house and mine, and many BBQ's at his friend's house: an ex-marine.

Ex-marine was a very attractive guy. Tattooed, incredible body, hoarse voice, funny, sarcastic, tough looks... and married.

It turned out, all of my boyfriend's friends were ex-marines. What he didn't know is that I drool at the sight of a really good looking 'uniform'. Needless to say these encounters with his friends, were very stimulating for me and made for really good sex with him.

One weekend he announced, 'Oh, by the way my brother is coming and I want you to meet him' I said 'ok' without giving it a lot of thought. I remember now, that he mentioned that he was on the Navy but I didn't realize he was a Navy Seal.

In my book, these dudes are the top of the top of my 'military fantasies'.

He arrives, we meet him at a bar and we have a few drinks. The boy, 22, 5 9', blonde, short hair, gets totally wasted.
We took him home where we put him in the sofa, my bf says, I think we should take his clothes off.
(mamma mia) I said, 'sure let's do that.'
In the meantime he goes to the kitchen to get him some water and I start taking off his clothes. His unbuttoned shirt discovers a strong like rock chest and perfect abs. As I approach his belt and zipper I can only see this beautiful boy, totally passed out, with his pretty blue eyes closed and the sweetest expression.

I had to stop. I just watched, fantasized, and walked away.

My boyfriend comes back, we go upstairs and have amazing sex.
In the morning I walked out of the room, went downstairs completely naked, and took a look of him hoping his eyes were opened.

Deep down inside all I wanted for him was to watch, fantasize and walk away...

I am loud

Surprise, surprise.

I received this letter after my neighbor complained with my landlord, about loud noises in my apartment. First, let's talk facts:

-I have been living in the same apartment for 6 years
-The dude that lives next door has been there for 2 years and never complained about it
-When I have sex, I am loud and I like it.

But something changed. One  night I was with someone in my apartment and let's say things got a bit out of control. Sex was intense, long and extremely enjoyable when suddenly, I heard a really aggressive knocking coming from the other side of the wall. We both jumped  out of bed because we didn't know we were being that loud and because it was completely unexpected. (we also laughed a bit, too)
The following week I received this letter on the mail from my landlord and immediatly I addressed the situation face to face with my neighbor, who seems pretty reasonable. I stated the facts:

-I have been living here for 6 years and nobody ever complained before.
-YOU have never complained about it.
-Loud sex it is not the type of complaint the city of New York and the judicial system will take seriously.
-I suggest you move your bed to the other side of the room, so it is not against my wall.

Then he answered:

'I just got married'

'Oh wow' 'Congratulations' I said.

(Translation: 'Married? and you brought her to live in this studio apartment where there are very thin walls and you have a neighbor -a chick- who happens to enjoy sex -apparently- more than you two?')

I felt kinda bad. But also, I didn't feel I have to apologize for my lifestyle and much less because we both have to tolerate some stuff, up until to a certain degree. I have to listen to them talking ALL the time, running around the apartment, laughing out loud, grunting (yes, grunting) his opening and closing the door 20 times a day, plus the clumsiness on a daily basis where they always seem to bump into something at 6am, that falls to the floor and make an excruciating noise.

I don't know, suddenly it seems sex it is a sin for some and should be 'punished'.
Alright. I want to be punished. I promise to be loud, once again.

Match.com another creepy first date?

Yes, the text that you see above was in fact sent to me by a guy I saw only once, on a first date. To be exact 10 minutes after the date ended and the date was the first and the last.

And please allow me to explain why.

His pictures -although a bit blurry- were not so bad. I gave him the benefit of the doubt: guys are not exactly into putting a lot of effort on displaying their best 'graphic material'. Strangely enough they choose to put pictures where they are with a bunch of girls (that are totally the opposite of how you look like) or with other dudes that are actually way hotter than they are.

Yes, yes. I read his bio -Of course- And that is why I decided to go out with him.

I saw him coming into the place: very tall, nice built... but wait... Do I see Botox on his cheekbones? and to top it all off (FYI my all time UN-favorite)  are his eyebrows thinner, shorter, more dramatic than mine? Mmm. To put it in more mundane terms, the date didn't even started and I wanted it over because basically:

I.Did.Not.Like.Him.

But I also thought: how will I just walk away, how will I justify that I needed to go just right after taking a look at him, If I was him, how would that make me feel when suddenly 'disqualified' by the way you look? or worst because of the way you look, you suddenly 'make the cut'?

Really. Awful thinking.

I decided to stay and get to know him. So I did. He didn't like the place I chose, a little wine bar, so we went to a Pub where we tried to talk, but the conversation was not flowing, he was interested on watching the game that was on the TV at the bar and would only have less than 'four word' comments or questions about totally random topics.

He also managed to chugged down, four vodka tonics.

I decided that it was time to go, and as the lady I am, I proceeded to gracefully leave the scene. He put me in a cab, was completely sure that there were not going to be more dates as when I was saying good bye, he said 'yeah, yeah nice to meet you, blah, blah, thank you' I smiled at him and closed the door.

And then of course, the TEXT.

Tonight, I have another  match.com first date. We'll see how this one goes.

...He also seems 'normal' on paper.