The Douche is back and NOT in a good way!

So I opened my Inbox on TSS the day after my diary post on Big Willy Profile Pics.

I settled back waiting to be propositioned (usually accompanied by a side order of one of the following: titillated / charmed / shocked / insulted / amused / appalled / rendered speechless) by the messages waiting for me. Thus, imagine the unpleasant surprise of finding not one, but two, messages from that creepy, uncomfortable, unattractive individual: The Lawyer aka The Mistake aka The Douche.

Well, looks like I am still paying for that lack of judgement call (and, as I said, renaming him the Douche … finger SO on the pulse!).

Because check this out (all in response to to a couple of lines vaguely referring to him) and I mean, seriously? How self-involved can one person be?



Well, in his case, this self-involved:

Today at 3:25pm —

SUBJECT: Not entirely sure why you are so antagonistic...
 Hi E. 

 I am still not entirely sure why you have got so antagonistic towards me. It really floors me actually. If I have hurt you in some way, it was unintentional and I am sorry. I had a very good reason for asking you to take down the post and I am very grateful to you that you did. I don't see it as "caving" in any way. You just did me a favour. 
Regards, 


Today at 5:50pm —

SUBJECT: Terms of Use

Given the way you have treated me I should also mention that I am getting close to relying on Clause 9 of the Terms of Agreement of your site, which amongst other things, will allow me to get you shut down and have your identity disclosed to me. 

 If you will be happy to drop this matter, however, so will I. I've got better things to do. 

I have tried to be civil to you. I thought we had some mutual respect between us. At one stage I even thought we could even be friends. But you slapped me in the face. That said, I am still grateful to you for taking down the post. 
Keep well.

I couldn’t believe the absurdity of all this – and the contradictions!

Like: “I’ve got better things to do”. Okay, then ... prove it you tosser and stop bugging me!

And “antagonistic towards me”? WTF? I had mentioned him briefly, not with affection, but by no stretch of the imagination had I been antagonistic!

Mountain … mole hill … per haps?

Also, I hate to point this out. But if you really want to be nit-picky about all this, let’s look at your afternoon, Mr. Lawyer Who is Supposed to be Concentrating All His Energy on Opening a New Practice in Another City:

10:14: You look at my profile on TSS (yes, I can see if and when and how often you check me out. And yes, I find it distinctly creepy that you do – once a week to be exact, even though we have had Zero contact since that ill-fated coffee 34 days ago!).

13:35: You look at my profile again.

15:25: You write me Email No. 1 - obviously having stewed over it all morning and throughout lunch. Not enough stewing, though I guess because:

17:50: You are back again.

In a nutshell, I’d say your entire day was taken up thinking about and expending energy over several lines in a diary post.

Seriously? Let it go already dude!

But that was my sane side talking. My less rational side was livid. Beyond furious and itching for a fight / show down.

Potential replies were flashing through my mind:

How DARE you threaten me??

(Quick recap of what he said: “close to relying on Clause 9 … which will allow me to get you shut down and have your identity disclosed to me .. blah blah crap”). (And, please excuse my language here but ...)

You complete fucking arsehole! How dare you? How fucking dare you?!! You try and use your bullshit lawyer jargon to frighten me? And, if you succeed, then what exactly? I have to shut up and saying nothing about you at all, not even draw a passing comparison. Nada. Klum. Niet. Niks. Rien? Seriously? Or, perhaps, I am allowed to write about you if I am complimentary. Is that an option?

No, but seriously now: WTF?!!

Who do you think you are anyway? The Dear Diary Nazi Police Who Can Tell Me What I Can or Cannot Feel and / or Post? Seriously? Take that Serious Stick out your ass and lighten up dude! Its just my musings … my insignificant, inconsequential mind meanderings!

That was just the tangent in my mind though. I didn't reply to him.

Off to have a HUGE drink now.  I beyond need it.

x

Question:  You are in a room with Mussolini, Hitler, and the lawyer of your choice. 

You have a gun, but only two bullets. Which do you shoot?
 

Answer:  The lawyer, twice.

Always trust your instincts, especially when it comes to lawyers

I SO should have heard the warning bells loud and clear when The Douche wrote me this UN-Believably un-erotic email in an attempt to get me to meet him in person:

Mr Douche: I entered into the F-Buddy thing (also my first time, incidentally) because I thought I might find someone who would be prepared to carry out a purely physical relationship, at least for the time being. So, I suppose I really do hope for an NSA arrangement for now.

If this is NQOCOTD for you then I may still be interested in having you as a friend to go to the odd movie with, etc.

So you have the possibility of someone to suck your tits and fuck you from time to time (whenever you summoned me on Gmail). A relationship? Probably not at this time. Also, I would want to restrict communication to Gmail, because cellphones just cause trouble...

Me: Hmmm ... onto more explicit talk now, I see. Good thing you didn't go into writing Erotic Literature as a profession ... Oh well ... I’m pretty deep in this already, so why not meet up at least for a drink? I'll let you know ... Maybe later this week?

(What can I say, in my defense, your Honour? I was bored. He was nearby, willing and - damn my addiction for the written word - had good spelling.)

His reply should have been the Big Clanger. His complete lack of humour and dry tone could have stripped paint off a wall! (Btw, I had to date sent him one photo of me in a bikini – shot at a distance of about 10 feet on the rooftop of a hotel in Barcelona a year ago): 

Mr Douche: The drink sounds good.

I can write. And I can write erotic stuff if I put my mind to it. However, at the moment I think it is important that we call a spade a spade... It is hard for me to get my passion and sexual, creative juices running based on a very dark picture of a set of chilogers and shoulders and a horizon shot of half a bikini-clad torso in a swimming pool.

Any more pics for me? What are the chances of you sending me one of your pussy (no identifying features necessary)...?

Eeeeeeeeeeeew!!!!

I should have blocked him there and then. 

x

Question: What's black and brown and looks good on a lawyer?
 

Answer: A doberman pinscher.

Side of Phallus with your morning coffee?

Ummm .... no thanks?

So I posted this Dear Diary post on TSS the other day because I seriously am getting fed up of a whole lot of willies staring me in the face the minute I open my Inbox. And some one needs to tell some of these guys that the way they are going about trying to get NSA sex is not as sexy as they might think.

They seem to be under the impression that every girl on this site is exactly like them and wants dirty, twisted, smutty and very graphic from the word “Go”.

I admit, I am more up for this that I ever could have imagined. But a girl still needs a certain amount of wooing, even if it is just a nice profile photo and a message that is spelt properly.

Okay, I know I might not have a whole lot of experience yet in this game (yes, for those of you who are counting, it has only been Mr. X I have gotten down and dirty with so far - even if we didn't go as far as we might have ...). But some one has to give some of these guys a couple of pointers!

So here it is:

Yes, yes. I am a big, fat liar (figuratively, not literally - promise!).

So I did hook up with a married man ... 

But I am keeping my diary entries to a minimum now, for various reasons.

Including the fact that The Lawyer (aka The Mistake) got really pissed off with my diary entry about him and told me that I didn't have his permission to quote his private emails to me (yes, complete douche!) and to please delete said post.

So I caved (without so much as consulting my legal connections first – silly, silly girl!) and removed that diary post.

Pity, some of my best writing ... but watch this space. Might have a vindictive moment and re-post it (in an even less flattering light) just to bug him.

Hee hee ... 

Anyway, back to the point at hand:

So, I got an email from this guy on The Sexy Site aka TSS (okay, about 10 of them) and, basically, he was really pissed because I had not replied to any of his messages.

What is it about guys and their fragile egos on this site?

Deep breath, guys. Deep breath.

And repeat after me: NSA, NSA.  

“S” standing not only for “Strings”, but also “Sentiments” and “Sensitivities”.

Listen dude. I click on profiles and / or messages that I like the look of. And that obviously rules out yours. Because the last thing I want to be looking at while I type you a message is a close-up of your T-H-A-N-G.

As much as I might very well want it doing all sorts of wicked things to me later, I do like to start slow … Yes, even if this IS an online random hook-up, sex site.

So, right in my face from the word "Go!" ... umm ... Can we slow it down just a tad?

Maybe try and see this whole online sex thing as very similar to anal sex.

You have to ease into it … slowly.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course I am curious as to size, shape, cut, uncut, etc. etc.. But couldn’t we start a little more gently (again, think anal), like maybe with a picture of your face or chest or back?

And if it has to be sexy, how about a photo of said Impressive Member entering a lady, for example. And once again, think … yes: anal!

Or better yet, a profile pic of your back and your bum. Oh, wow! I have yet to meet a guy who doesn’t look good from the back: your tight cheeks, those shoulders …

Oh God, Yes Please!

Yet hardly a one of you guys on TSS have such a profile pic.

Hmmm, go figure …

So, basically, I don’t want your Organ straight in my face immediately. Maybe later, okay?

… Or actually … I very much hope later!

But for the moment, as in right now, when I am online checking you out and have only your profile pic to go on ... not so much.

So if you have a huge close-up of your Willy as your main profile pic, chances are I am not gonna click on you, let alone read your message.

Same goes for the guys whose faces I don’t like. Look dude, you have NO RIGHT whatsoever to get offended. Pretty much same as in real life - if i ignore you, its because I am not interested, full stop.

And anyway, this site is not that different to online shopping. It goes more often than not as follows:

1.  I click on what I like the look of (and yes, the face is pretty much the deciding factor. But hey, that’s just me … What can I say? I’m an aesthetic whore!).

2.  If I decide I want it, I order it. 

3.   In lieu of payment I give my telephone number and / or address. 

4.   Then, when the “Goods” arrive, I check them out and sample them. 

5.   If satisfied, I settle in to enjoy said Goods. 

6.   If I'm not happy with what I see / smell / feel, I send the Goods packing.

Simple as that.

Understood?

Great.

Now onto a couple of other pointers about profile pics on TSS:

If you have no profile picture whatsoever, forget it. No! I am not wasting my time. (Yes, I DO receive that many messages.)

And if you have done that creepy thing where you put a black strip across your eyes - Hell no! Let's just say, it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in me ... and conjures up images of seriously dodgy individuals (the words “paedophile”, “rapist”, "mug shot" spring to mind ...).

But then again, don't quote me on any of this. Week end, I might throw this preference out the window without so much as a second glance.

Case in point: my stance on married men. Ha ha! That one lasted all of 22 hours!

Now time to sit back and let’s see if any of these aesthetically challenged individuals take my words to heart (Don’t worry, I’m not holding my breath either).

x

"You know the worst thing about oral sex ? The view."

Maureen Lipman

I so need a new cell phone

… reserved solely for potential lovers / hook-ups.

It is beyond disconcerting to hear your phone beep and you pick it up, expecting it to be a dirty sms or sexy phone call from a lover / potential lover, and answer ... only to hear your mother on the other side of the phone!

Or that feeling of my heart being in my mouth when I send an sms, wondering if by some fluke, I sent it to a friend or family member by mistake. 

Fyi: Worst feeling ever - as I discovered this afternoon. 

I received this sms from Mum:

“Good. Happy when you are happy. Please keep in touch.”

WTF?!! I haven't spoken to her in 6 days! Let alone sent an sms.

My heart started beating wildly. Okay, I had sent 2 sms's in the last 24 hours - one to Hunky Hugo and the other to The Shark. 

Eek! Had I sent something to the wrong address? Why did my mother suddenly think I was so happy? I had not sent her an sms regaling any such information or otherwise in the last week.

OMG! I was freaking out! I checked all my sent messages to make sure I hadn't inadvertently sent her something. 

I hadn't (Huge Whew!).

But things were now getting kind of complicated on my cell. It was no longer only Mr. X who had my private phone number. The list now included: The Lawyer (“Major Douche” from now on, I think, considering his recent behaviour – more about that later), Hunky Hugo, The Surfer and Sharky-Shark.

It didn't help matters that Mr. Maybe has two numbers, thereby only adding to the confusion. I mean I can only add so many numbers under “XX” on my mobile.

So that’s now six XX telephone numbers stored in there.

Technically only five guys, but six numbers … and counting.

But that’s still five too many on my "Real Life" phone.

x

I tried phone sex once, but the holes were too small.

Bumper Sticker

Love is not a giant that lives in a hillside cave

So I have been chatting more than usual online. I think I am losing my way slightly. I should be out there soliciting men for illicit affairs but instead I'm spending a whole lot of time chatting to The Litigating Lover (Mr. Licentious) aka Caleb and Shrek about potential hook-ups and their illicit trysts (hey, I AM generous. Just because I'm not getting any, I'd might as well live vicariously through others!).

A normal Tuesday morning chat with the Litigating Lover aka Caleb:

Me:  So this one guy I’m chatting to on TSS right now: Older Surfer Married Guy ... that's quite a mouthful ... what else .. ah .. easy! Old Guy - because he's 51. And lets' be honest here, I don't think I'm gonna go much above that. So Old Guy it is.

Anyway, the reason (well, one of) I am pretty keen to meet Older Guy is because he writes BEAUTIFULLY! I know, I know. I so gotta get over this if I wanna get to the seriously twisted and kinky ones ... but major turn on when he writes so well, and not so much as a hint of a spelling mistake ... Not a one!

I did ask Mr. X (the first day I joined) how one avoided meeting, like, lower class types and he said spelling was pretty much a dead giveaway ... so I posed a "What if you got the opportunity to score with an insanely hot Brazilian but you blank her coz she can't spell right" kinda scenario and he shot back - no, not possible coz of different sentence structure, etc.

Anyway. But like how creepy is this? Yesterday - Monday - this guy offered to meet up and sent me some photos. Then he wrote this:  "a photo isnt that important to me ... i dont care what you look like. sounds like bragging... but i can make you quiver ..."

Eeeeew!!!!  Totally beyond a turn-off, no? Basically, he will shag ANYThing that moves! That kind of skeeved me out for the rest of the day. Actually I'm still pretty creeped out ...

Caleb:  I am falling asleep at my desk, not good. Could be because I got up at 4:15 this morning to go riding. I wanted to go home early to sleep this afternoon, but I have a fucking interview for a secretary. Fuck.

As much as I consider myself open-minded, not a fuck am I screwing despite what they look like. I tried that once in a drunken stupor and even with my loosened inhibitions I couldn't bring myself to fuck a fat ugly chick. I left her in her bed asking me not to leave (her dog wanted me to leave, though). I feel bad now, but thank the Lord I didn't tap that.

With my baby right now (I'll call her T), I'm so in love with her. She came over last night, to my office. She likes fucking me in my office, in my chair, on the desk. She is SO FUCKING SEXY. I love what she wears, how she moves, what she says, that she will take anything from me. I think its the best sex I ever had. And I was in high school with her. All we talk about is how fucking stupid we were not to hook up in high school.

I think it's probably safer to judge a potential online date with a dick shot than it is with writing skills.

Seriously.

Me:  Hmmm. You're looking for a secretary ... hmmmm. Okay, I SO shouldn't go there ... Otherwise, know any raunchy magazines that are looking for writers? I really think I am unemployable! After 8 years at (famous international organization that I shall leave unnamed here for reasons of security) as a sub-editor, let's just say, am not having a whole lot of joy finding a job. Not that I've been looking very hard ... if at all since joining TSS. I really do get a bit too single-minded about things!

As for your comment on dick shots rather than literary skills, I have to disagree dear. I still cannot stomach a dick in my face over morning coffee while choosing a potential conquest, no matter what you say.

Oooh .. you said the "L" word! So you seriously in love?  Biggest shadow trait ever btw (you'll know what I'm talking about if you read Jung)

Caleb:  I read your latest post and trust me, I'm not going to get all submissive on anybody ever, or call anyone mistress. Maybe that makes me boring, but I DO NOT feel that at all.

God fobid I ever end up with a half-attractive secretary. It would be over for me. Everything. I have such cool secretary fantasies (have you seen the movie secretary with James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhall (sp?), it's a good one. Sexy as hell). You are too smart to be my secretary, I would bore the shit out of you.

I'm getting off that site tomorrow. Honestly, I met nobody worthwhile there, the only interesting person is you. There is another girl who has promised to camera call me when a sex toy is delivered to her office, so I can watch her open the box and fuck it, but we'll see if that happens.

Maybe you are right about dick shots. I know I have trouble with eating scrambled egg with a spreadeagled pussy on my screen. Fuck there are some nasty chicks on that site.

Ok, I did a few years of psychology at university. But I know NOTHING about Jung. I feel bad about that, and I'm asking really nicely for you to break down the shadow trait thing. Please. I know I could look it up myself, but I would prefer you to tell me.

I think I am easily able to use the "L" word, and I think the "L" word has been made way bigger than it is. Love is not a giant that lives on a hillside and raids the village every so often. It should not be guarded against. It is beautiful and takes all kinds of forms and we should drench ourselves in it. I'm not scared of saying I love someone, or telling them that I do.

So what's been going on? Are you getting sick of online dating, sexy talk, fantasies and all that? I know that in a way, I am. I love sex but fuck, can I really spend all day talking about it and getting hard and then not doing anything. It gets to me. I like dirty talk when my hands are on someone, and my mouth is by their ear. Plus I'll be fucked if I'm dropping another R100 just so I can check out juicy pussies belonging to semi-literate hustlers.

Although, given the opportunity, I would probably fuck a semi-literate hustler in a heartbeat.

Don't judge me.

Me:  Shadow Trait: Well, the Shadow is our unconscious side or the parts of ourselves we hide or refuse to acknowledge because we’ve been taught by society / family that they are wrong and bad not "nice".  We’re taught to be nice, that God is good and Satan is evil, to always be polite, etc. etc. And we’re taught that the opposite of all of those is bad.  Only the light is good, blah blah blah … from the cradle we are brainwashed, all through school and it continues.

So whenever we have a "bad" urge, we don’t acknowledge it. We bury it. We avoid it. We don’t admit openly to having that feeling / thought / desire / whatever. So we hide it.  And that’s the shadow: It’s the part of ourselves that is hidden from us.

But the problem is that a person could get a lot of power from our dark side, if we just acknowledge and respect it. And don’t treat it like some deformed monster in the attic … rather integrate it, accept it, and incorporate it into ourselves. Not that we have to act on any of these urges, but just the mere act of recognizing these urges / feelings / impulses is enough. Most people never do though.  And, when we don’t accept our Shadow, it grows and becomes more and more destructive and deformed inside. Our mask that we wear to the outside world becomes thicker and thicker.

And most times, when we fall in love we project onto the other person. We project what we want to see, what we want to be there. Then when the projection starts to crack and we see the real person … well, that’s when the real relationship starts … but often people don’t accept or like what they see … but that’s a whole other story … Projection is a huge shadow trait coz its basically us projecting what we are repressing in ourselves onto some one else, so that we can externalize it, thereby releasing (in our conscious minds) all responsibility …

"Repressed qualities are relocated feelings and emotions that were thrown into the depths of the unconscious, condemned to be projected in a shadow-play. To help keep repressed feelings safely tucked away, the Ego dons a mask (persona), a societal role that gives an impression of identity with the community. This simultaneously hides the repressed qualities, which are, instead, cast onto others (projection or scapegoating). The persona is a psychological construct designed to help one fit in with the local culture by covering the individual's uniqueness."

Gregory Mitchell

Anyway, that's a bit about the Shadow and love. Or rather, just the tip of the ice berg …

I just bought some suspenders.  Sure you don’t need a secretary that has sexy underwear … oops, Freudian slip. I meant: good punctuation and spelling?

x

Hugo The Hunky Hunk

So, update on my progress … Not much.

Since joining TSS, I have not really moved beyond the Big Three (Mr. X, The Shark and Mr. Maybe; Mr. X being the only one to – almost – pop my NSA-online cherry), with a couple of others making the odd guest appearance (Donovan The Beautiful, Meerkat The Long-Distant Potential, Shrek, to name a few).

Until I started chatting to Hugo aka The Huguenot Hunk.

His profile picture couldn’t but catch my eye on TSS: hot, muscular, tanned, definitely a body builder - just a huge stud muffin, really. Not normally my type at all. But the whole Neanderthal thing was appealing to me big time (especially after Sharky-Shark went all submissive on me).

Jumping to the very generic conclusion that he was a proverbial player, I guess I revealed as much in my questions to him.

This not-so-subtle picture I had etched in my mind was not lost on him however and he said:

“I think your perception of me is that of a very shallow, not-too-bright individual that thinks he can undress any woman by flexing his abs. Ha ha ha! I’m a little more evolved then that I'll have you know ... I’ve only been with one woman from this sight and that was about a year ago … And NO I don't actually just sleep around ... lol. I'm fussy and very health, etc., conscious. Sorry for the English... a steroid-induced Boertjie like me don't do English as often … “

Okay, I will happily admit when I am wrong.

And I was VERY happy!

Thus started a very amusing and pleasurable exchange of messages on TSS (random winks and chats), emails (flirty), photos (clothed), phone calls (innocent) and he even offered to fly me down to his part of the country (I ignored that offer. I mean what if I didn’t like him when I saw him? Would I be obliged to sleep with him because he paid for my ticket? Wouldn’t that be bordering on Literal Whoredom, letting a guy pay for me to visit him? No. Let’s not go there! So I didn’t … for the time being.).

He happened to be online after the whole sms fiasco with Mr. X and I had to tell some one (yes, it’s a total girl thing) so I dumped it all on him. And you know when you know something deep down but you don’t want to admit it to yourself and therefore just remain in a befuddled state of self-induced confusion? Okay. So that’s exactly where I was. But he helped me in the sweetest way possible to see what a sop I was being about all this Mr. X business in his next message:

“Hey gorgeous. Well I’ve got 1 word for you: "crush”. And actually it’s not so uncommon for someone - especially you girls - to develop a crush on somebody that you had some kind of sexual thing with. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been there, done that and YES from this site.”

Yet, despite him breaking to me what I had known deep down all along, I still felt stupid. For being so open emotionally and getting all attached and girly and – despite The Hunk’s following messages (very sweet ones): first asking for a picture – “Clothed of course” – you gotta love the manners  of the Afrikaans! Upon receipt of said photo: “You're quite the looker”. Then: “Question: you sure you’re 35? You look younger … And YES that’s meant as a compliment. But also as a honest question.“ – I still felt surprisingly deflated, raw and a little sad.

Oh crap! And I thought this whole online hookup NSA stuff would all be so easy, painless and emotion-free …

x

- Have you ever paid for sex?

- Only emotionally.

Lee Hurst

Too Many Friday Fantasies Fried My Brain ...

I am exhausted!

After 4 straight hours of Gmail Sexy Talk with Sharky-Shark this afternoon, I cannot quite focus on the computer screen anymore.

And my fingers are sore … from typing!

(What were you thinking?)

It was crazy hot. This is one twisted boy! The deeper we go, the more filthy he gets! 


But I have a question: What is it with guys and dominance? Just as the conversation / fantasies were peaking (in the shower, lots of sex toys, soap and steam), he went all submissive on me ("I am your servant - tell me what to do", “Yes Mistress”  … that kind of thing.).

Hmmm, note to self: Next subject to research: the male and his secret fantasy of being dominated.

Talking of reading, I have to share this with you. I just read the most amusing take on certain threads in the Harry Potter books. Giggled throughout:

The 5 Most Depraved Sex Scenes Implied by 'Harry Potter'

And since I am too lazy / sore / fried to write much today, some further reading material for all you guys whose girlfriends' are pumping their bodies full of horrible hormones just so you don’t have to wear a condom:

Birth control beads 95 percent effective

Bloody brilliant is all I can say.

It does work, by the way. 


I have never used birth control pills and with my last two boyfriends (4 years and 3 years together respectively), I used this kind of method. I kept a check on when I was ovulating and, during that time, we would use either a condom or the withdrawal method.

And I guess it worked because … no kids!

On that note, off to have a huge drink … or several.

Not having kids SO has its bonuses sometimes.

x

My husband and I are either going to buy a dog or have a child. We can't decide whether to ruin our carpet or ruin our lives.

Rita Rudner

The Predictability of Men

Less than 24 hours after I had posted the Bartender BJ story in my Diary on TSS, I heard from Mr. X (and yes, it would have been a surprise … had he not been so textbook-style predictable).

After standing me up last Saturday and not a peep since (no email, no sms, no phone call – Nada!), he popped up as nonchalant as can be (Ha ha dude! You are SO hoping to play “Bartender Bring Me A Martini” with me now, aren’t you?), as if last Saturday never happened … well, it didn’t actually happen. Nothing happened! Hmmm, I am getting a little confused here … I dunno quite how to phrase that ...

Anyway, he texts me this (I still cannot believe his gall!):

"Hey you how ya doing sorry I’ve been so quiet ... What you been up to?”

Seriously? I mean … SERIOUSLY?!! What have I been up to?

You have got to be kidding me!

But I guess I was still just way too enamoured or still caught up in my fantasy about my first online hook-up sex being with the first guy I met and it staying that way – wood ... trees – and therefore didn’t take the logical step back, breathe, and ignore it for a day or two – if not indefinitely.

I should have just replied exactly what I was thinking (“Seriously?”)

But instead I played all sweet and coy.

Me: "Back to play more games with me babe? "

Mr. X: "Lol ... No ... And I'm sorry for messing you around on the weekend ... Will make it up to you."

Me: "Oh promises ... promises ... "

Mr. X: "Hehehe ... Will make it up to you however you like!"

“Play it cool now. You have him exactly where you want him,” I hear you say.

Oh dear. In a word: “No”. I SO fucked this one up.

“How badly?” you ask. Well, just think: “Brian Lima’s rugby tackle on Derek Hougard in the 2002 World Cup Badly”… yup. That badly!

So here goes. This is what I wrote back:

"Well, I have no claim over you whatsoever so I am hardly going to demand an explanation for Saturday ... whatever babe ... You know where I am ... "

Like I said: bad! But I just couldn’t fake the sang-froid attitude one second longer ....

(What’s that I hear? … Hell … Fury … Woman Scorned … ?)

Oh well, I so paid for it. Because what followed was … a whole lot of nothing - pure silence. And then a longer silence (one hour) until I couldn't bear it any longer and tried to explain ... 

(Please wince now and get it over with. No. What follows is not pretty … what can I say? Yes, I still have a lot to learn in the rules of NSA!):

"Sorry ... I am just freaking out a bit.  A friend just chewed me out for doing this (even though he's gay and he does it!) and I realized what a stupid position I put myself in. I mean I read the safety rules / advice on this site today and realized that I didn't follow one single one of them with you ... Then Saturday mind fuck coupled with the fact that you know EVERYTHING about me ... Yes, my naivety in hindsight blows me away sometimes ....  ... and am kinda saturated by this all ... Its actually NOT a whole lot less effort than going out, getting wasted and picking up a random guy ... Quite the reverse actually! LOl ... Serves me right, I guess "

The subsequent silence from his side spoke volumes.

Shoulda followed that coquetry trick I learned yesterday.

… Coulda, shoulda, woulda!

 x

"Da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli modo"

("Lord, grant me chastity and continence, but not yet")

Saint Augustine

When does tease become cock tease?

Am I being too big a tease now?

Hmmmm, I was thinking: “Am I a Class-A cock tease for stringing Mr. Maybe along for such a long time now?”

I must admit I am so tempted to meet him. Yet, at the same time, this teasing is getting rather hot! And yes, I am also digging my heels in because, as sexy as he is, I have not forgotten that he is married.  Anyway, this weekend might be the one where I get to meet up with The Surfer (hot, fit body, single, well-travelled … sounds almost too good to be true, hey? Wonder what the catch is) who sent me this email today:

“I still wanna meet up with you and have some drinks, smoke a fatty, and maybe satisfy all your womanly needs …”

So, if I can just hold out a couple more days for The Surfer, I can avoid becoming a Dirty Mistress!

Over breakfast today, I was flipping through this book on seduction I bought a while ago (little did I know then how very insightful it would prove to be in only a few short months!) and read this very informative – among many – piece:

People are inherently perverse. An easy conquest has a lower value than a difficult one; we are only really excited by what is denied us, by what we cannot possess in full. Your greatest power in seduction is your ability to turn away, to make others come after you, delaying their satisfaction. Most people miscalculate and surrender too soon, worried that the other person will lose interest, or that giving the other what he or she wants will grant the giver a kind of power. The truth is the opposite: once you satisfy some one, you no longer have the initiative, and you open yourself to the possibility that he or she will lose interest at the slightest whim. Remember: vanity is critical in love. Make your targets afraid that you may be withdrawing, that you may not really be interested, and you arose their innate insecurity, their fear that as you have gotten to know them they have become less exciting to you. These insecurities are devastating. Then, once you have made them uncertain of you and of themselves, reignite their hope, making them feel desired again. Hot and cold, hot and cold – such coquetry is perversely pleasurable, heightening interest and keeping the initiative on your side. Never be put off by your target’s anger; it is a sure sign of enslavement.

The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene

Hmmm … good to know! And this satisfies my question about being too much of a tease. In a nutshell: maybe all this maybe business with Mr. Maybe is a very good thing.

I hear you going “WTF? She doesn’t NEED to seduce him. It’s in the bag, chick! This IS an online hook-up site you met on after all!”

But dear reader, it is such fun to play a little rather than going straight for the kill …

And its all semantics really: meeting and chatting over drinks OR meeting and chatting over an email; semi-naked strutting around like a peacock in a club OR semi-naked photos over the Internet; followed by revealing your potential desire for the other person and heavy petting in the parking lot OR by revealing your potential desire for the other person in an email and phone sex. 

And the grand finale, Ladies and Gentlemen (in both scenarios): full-on sex.

So, the way I see it, I AM actually following the old dating ritual / game / dance … Just to a slightly different beat, that’s all!

x

Many men like to pursue an elusive woman, like a cake of wet soap in a bathtub.

Gelett Burgess

Sunday Night Movie Marathon

So Sunday evening: eye candy, perve fest (to cheer myself up after the lack of week-end action).

These are the actors / movie characters that make me weak at the knees: Vincent Cassel, Javier Bardem, Dougray Scott (his character in Mission Impossible II makes me quiver …  literally!), Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Dexter (I know … weird!), Josh Brolin in Jonah Hex (yes, even weirder … what can I say? I’m a sucker for complex, scarred men!).

So the evening line up of movies were: Jamón, Jamón and Irréversible.

I was still slightly apprehensive about watching Irreversible though. It is a movie I have been wanting to see since I first heard about it ages ago but I’ve been hesitant, given the crazy reviews and hectic subject: rape.

Apparently, Vincent Cassel’s brother had freaked out so badly when he saw it (Cassel’s real-life partner, Monica Belluci, is his partner and the rape victim in the movie) that, to quote Cassel in an interview with the Guardian, he “stood up in the middle of a screening at the Cannes film festival ... and shouted: 'Gaspar Noe - son of a bitch! We're going to get you!' And he's a rapper. He's supposed to be hard core."

Not surprisingly, after the movie, I felt weird: totally appalled by the graphic rape and murder scenes. But, since the film is shot in reverse sequence, the most recent scene I recalled was the two of them in the bedroom … real lovers, in love, tender, sensual, erotic. So I was kind of aroused too.

I still had to take a really hot bath that night to warm me up, though. I was cold inside from seeing that rape scene. But strangely turned on by the highly charged sexual theme running throughout the movie.

So I went to bed seriously disturbed and veering between wanting straight anonymous, NSA sex, then craving love and intimacy with one person. My dreams were filled with fantasies about passion, sex and lust ... bordering on love …

And I don’t think I need an analyst to tell me what my dream last night meant:

I was with my ex (the most recent one – from France). But we were meeting up as “Friends With Benefits”. So we were in bed together. But not as a couple. Merely as … lovers.

Yes. I woke up feeling decidedly wonky.

x

Reasons not to hang out with kids 10 years younger than you

Okay, so in my last post I said that I would give an example or two of HOW dangerous it would be for me to hang out with ADD and/or his sister.

Prime example: the first time I hung out with ADD properly after 12 years overseas, had been the previous summer in Mozambique.

After a week at our resort, we went further north to visit them. ADD was there and, in one short week, had already accumulated a little posse: six of the fittest, hottest, naughtiest, most degenerate boys on the beach.

For some reason, there was a serious shortage of eligible girls in that area so, when I arrived, they visibly perked up and almost immediately started vying for my attention.

The entire posse was drinking this insane mix of … I forget what exactly... But some spirit (vodka, gin, brandy ... all three?) mixed with this noxious energy drink in a 5-litre blik.

I was on a role. I was matching the guys drink for drink.

Understandably, things got a little hazy.

Some time later, I found myself sitting between our old bank manager and the cutest of ADD’s posse. Don’t ask me how the conversation got here, but he (the cutie, NOT the bank manager!) was telling me how he wanted to take me back to their beach cottage, turn on the Jacuzzi and get into it with me. He then started telling me in rather explicit detail what he would proceed to do to me.

By this time, I was so drunk, I couldn’t take in everything he was saying. But I do know that the bank manager was highly entertained!

Both of them seemed to be enjoying it the more uncomfortable I got. But I was at that stage of drunkenness where I have trouble saying the words that are forming in my head. And the 6^th drink had brought out that little devil in me that secretly wants to hear more …

I was becoming hypnotized by his words and the look in his eyes. So I took a deep breath, willing my blushing to stop, tried to compose myself outwardly and steer the conversation onto more - or rather less - flammable material (but only because I was all too aware of the bank manager sitting right next to me listening to all this and me thinking “You play golf with my father!”), while every single cell in my body was screaming “More! Oh please, don’t stop. Tell me more about what you’re going to do to me!”

Unfortunately one of his mates (hardly, dude, if you knew what you had just interrupted!) called him away to have a down-down.

Next thing I remember was driving to a club. No, not a club: The Club, as in the only club to go to within a 60 km radius. It was fab! Dark and big with a huge balcony overlooking the beach, and a great sound system. I was on a roll! And up until about 1 am, the belle of the ball.

These boys had zero skaam. As soon as one had been rejected (yes, I do have high standards … even when I am wasted … okay, well, only up to a certain point of intoxication but by then, don’t they just call that necrophilia?), another one would take his place and start to chat me up.

I was the honey pot to their bees, the diesel pump to their empty tractors, the Aphrodite to their Greek Gods ...

Suddenly: a shift in the mood …. All of a sudden, they dispersed and started treating me like I had … no, like I WAS the Ebola Virus!

What was going on? Why were they all avoiding me now? What had happened in the short space of time between me leaving the dance floor, going down to the beach for a swim and coming back?

I cornered the previously most forward guy and asked what the hell was wrong. Why were they all steering clear of me now?

Apparently ADD had told them all: “Hands off. She’s mine.”

Ha ha! Seriously? Dude, I have known you since you were in diapers! And I have never, ever, ever been physically attracted to you … and even if I was, I SO wouldn’t go there because you are the son of just about my closest family friends in this entire country! (Don’t shit on your own doorstep and all that … )

Oh well, I was hardly going to challenge him to a duel to defend my good name (ha ha) or try to reason with him and sort out the situation. So I just left him and my (fickle) harem … and went off to dance by myself. Thus the rest of the night passed: quite uneventfully and in a drunken haze. No matter! By this time of the night … no, hang on, morning, nothing really mattered, except the music. And the dance floor.

When we got home around sunrise, ADD (true to form) seemed to have forgotten laying claim to me and gallantly offered me his bed, saying (or rather slurring) that he would be fine on the couch or in the back of the truck.

“Don’t be silly!” I said. “We can share the bed. What about the mosquitoes?” (seriously, I swear on my grandmother’s life that I am THAT not attracted to him and despite the way the evening had played out, I still saw him as a little brother type / pretty harmless family friend who wouldn’t try anything because he’s known me for, like, ever!)

So we passed out next to each other on the single mattress under the mosquito net.

A couple of hours later, I woke up to him spooning me, his boner sticking into my back … then he wriggled against me until it nestled between my bum cheeks. I had taken off my dress in my sleep and was only wearing my bikini (Yes, it WAS that hot!).

At first, when I was still coming out of my dream stage, I thought it was my boyfriend … I had only left Europe one month before and for the last 3 years, had only had his body to wake up to.  So I instinctively and luxuriously leaned back into the body behind me. His body continued to rub against me as his hands slid around my waist, grazing my thighs, bottom and stomach, before moving up and cupping my breasts.

It felt so natural and nice and normal … Until about a minute into this when I REALLY woke up and realized where I was – and with whom! On the open veranda upstairs in bed with ADD at his family’s holiday home, right next to his brother, with his mother cooking breakfast downstairs

Eeeek!

I do love the bathroom at times like these … one can hide out almost indefinitely in them!