Delicate Lady Di Orchid or Greater Bornean Venus Fly Trap

A very educational conversation I had with Shrek about The Glorious South:

Me:  I have a question.  Care to enlighten me?  If a certain gentleman (yes, I use the term very loosely) asks for a picture of – you know – The Glorious South, well how do I say "Hell no!" in a subtle way?  Or is this a completely normal request?  And if so, seriously?

Shrek:  Hey girl.  As to photos of the porno kind: they are pretty much standard nowadays.  Remember that guys are totally visual creatures, and given the fact that girls can look like anything from a delicate "Lady Di Orchid" to the "Greater Bornean Venus Fly-Trap", known not only for its fleshy coral lips but also its pungent smell, many men prefer to have something a little more substantial to look forward to, or to wank over ......  Just ensure that your face and fanny don't appear in the same frame and you are unlikely to receive a cheque in the mail from the amateur porn section of "Naughty Neighbours" Christmas 2011 edition.  Also note that he is likely to be flashing his shots of your fanny around to mates if you have no relationship or just the odd shag – only mothers, daughters, serious girlfriends and wives are sacred, unless of course you are Indian!  Bottom line – it can be a lot of fun as long as it is mutually beneficial to the both of you, with the added bonus of really defining the relationship as a sexual one primarily.  And you can always deny it belongs to you.

Me:  Thanks babe.  Very informative mail to say the least.  Btw, talking of photos, discretion is the key word, right?  (I just had a freaky image of you pulling out your iPhone tonight after a couple of drinks and showing your mates such photos).  Although I suppose us ladies - and again, I use the term very loosely - are pretty much free game once we have sent you guys photos, right?

Shrek:  At 42 years old, I would probably lose a lot of friends if I spent my time flashing fanny pics of random girls around the bar to my mates.  Not exactly a very mature thing to be doing now, is it?  If I was 24 however – you could be guaranteed that the whole of varsity would know exactly what your nibbly bits looked like within the day!  Be careful what you wish for though, you may get a pic of the ugliest dick on the planet back - put you off penises for months .... Bit of a minefield, this topic ......

Me:  Point taken.  And for the record, I’m good, thanks.  Don't have this insatiable urge to see every guy's tackle, funny as that may seem ...

x

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

Maureen Lipman

I just want a gal to treat me like a crime scene

I feel a little bad. I have only been posting the train smashes, the horrors, the cringe-making messages I have received from guys on TSS.  And I really don't want to come across as a man basher.  So I thought it high time to share a couple of great profiles – ones literally had me laughing out loud – in a good way! 

Matt, 30 – without doubt one of the best profiles I have ever read:

Hopefully I stand out from the thousands of emails you have no doubt received and too save you time I’ve brought my profile to your inbox!
Reasons NOT to contact me:

1. I don't and have never owned a motorbike.

2. Your friends and family will probably like me more than you will. 


3. I've watched Mama Mia! 


4. I'm too honest. Perfect example I admit to watching Mama Mia! 


5. I may make you laugh so much that you pee in your pants and that's just embarrassing. 


6. My profile picture isn't a penis and I won't send you one unless you ask for one! Sorry that was supposed to be under the why you SHOULD get to know me category. O well it's said now I'm not taking it back. 



If you even got this far after my picture and you're still interested then let's chat!

(Yes. We have chatted.)

And then Wayne, 29 – short but to the point:

I just want a gal to treat me like a crime scene.

"For women the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. 

He who looks for it below there is wasting his time."

Isabel Allende

Best wedding photo ever

For some reason, the thought of a big white wedding fills me with dread. The kind of dread that extends to nightmares, where I wake up in a cold sweat, heart thumping, dry mouth – and then nothing but pure, unadulterated relief that it was all just a dream.

If I ever did get married, this comes close to the picture I have in my head.

Quinn Miller Photo + Design

"Marriage is one of the leading causes of divorce."

x

It will chew you up and spit you out like an old chappie

I am sitting here listening to The Doors and Jim is singing:

 

"People are strange when you're a stranger

Faces look ugly when you're alone

Women seem wicked when you're unwanted

Streets are uneven when you're down

 ..."

Given the amount of drugs he took, he had some incredible moments of lucidity. 

And the soundtrack to my evening is rather apt considering that this website (TSS) is getting stranger and stranger (if that's possible).

I looked at Sean’s profile. Under his status, he has put "Unhappily Married" 

Ha ha. Serves you right, dude. Make your bed and all that. I don’t get these guys. Ever heard of divorce or maybe looking before you leap? Or therapy? Hell, just skip straight to sex therapy. Something - anything, please! Just don't expect ME to feel sorry for you and pick up your wife's sloppy seconds! (And btw, if you are unhappy, I can only imagine how she is feeling! And I know where my sympathy lies - with her, the wife of a philandering twit with no backbone - or morals for that matter.)

But then it gets weird. His pictures look kind of normal and then under 'Height' - wait for it: Below 5' (153 cm or less). Beyond weird. 

And as if his profile wasn’t strange enough, he throws this in after - of course - stating how hot he is:  

"Once had sex in a clothing store change room."

Umm, non sequitur anyone? Or am I just thinking too much again? 

Question for the evening: why is everyone so hooked on BBM numbers and Whatsapp?

Daniel from Sandton must have a VERY long tongue because he promised to: 

'lick it, suck it, kiss it, muff it and eat all of you, kiss you from the head to the toes'

...  After I give him my bbm code/no. or whatsapp name, of course.

Daniel. I don't have either. I like to control my intake off the Net. No BBM. No whattsap. And I am not about to run out and get either. I am quite frankly having enough trouble figuring out this stupid new iPad I just got.

But at least he was a little more forthcoming than Bon from Durban: 

"What will u like in a man?"

Anyone want to explain modal verbs to Bon? 

Or maybe he's French. In which case, isn't it a bit conceited to call yourself 'Good". 

But better I suppose than 'Chunky' from PMB .... eeeeww! The mental images that brings up!

Or Piet from Pretoria. All of 3 words: 

'You look nise.' 

Seriously? 

Okay, I don’t want to sound completely callous here. I DO understand we are living in a multi-cultural society where English is not everyone’s first language. But if you are going to send me a message like this, I would prefer it if you would revert to your mother tongue. I do speak Afrikaans, as well as Spanish and French. I am sure I can figure it out. Failing which, I can always Google Translate, which is preferable to … Well, I’ll let you judge: 

 

'HEATER sorry to hear about the bad mails u go  2) sorry about my spelling cause i am afrikaans so my engels is not that good? but must say that u are a sexy girl but it doesn't help to say it to show u that u are? I feel when it gets to sex that the girl comes first if she reach her peek the i worry about me due have my reasons for that so for play is inportent to me' 

Dude. I think that after reading that, no amount of 'FOR PLAY' in the world is going to get me in the mood.

And even less, after this clanger from Jack in Hillcrest (Jack, if you are reading this, one comment: sweetie, you might not be HIM per se but an opening line like this has something in common with the individual you just mentioned: it killed ANY desire I had to take the conversation any further. I just got scared): 

"hi. My name is jack (not jack the ripper lol ) how are you today?

"

But then there are the little gems here and there. Paulie, even though you look like you got parted from your Hells Angels Crew somewhere between Beit Bridge and Cape Town and ended up in Magalieskruin spending your time alternately drinking Klippies and Coke, avoiding having your hair cut, or going to the dentist, I still love you for your sense of humour:

 

'love your comments and ideas ... he he he . some of the women pics are so scary that you get the impression that "it" will chew you up and spit you out like an old chappie!  he he he x x x'

x 

“A man's grammar, like Caesar's wife, should not only be pure, 

but above suspicion of impurity.” 

Edgar Allan Poe 

Make love, not war

I really think its time to delete this account on TSS. No good is coming from it.

I have already had 4 major arguments … No. I can’t believe it either.

But two of them were from Johannesburg. And all were under the age of 35. Does that make it more understandable? I think so, considering the mental maturity of a male is supposedly at least 5 years less than that of a female’s.

Anyway, apropos of these chats that (quite quickly) degenerated into coming to blows, I am fast acquiring a distinct aversion to boys under the age of 30, especially those in the Gauteng area.

But am I being unreasonable?

Quick summary: this one boy emailed me from Joburg and, purely because he professed to be a “wordsmith”, I sent him a message and gave him my email address, stressing that, while I was not into long-distance anything, it might be cool to keep in touch purely to swap war stories / mutual amusement over the use of the English language on this site -- not seeing the gratification in sexting / webcam fun / whatever people 600 kms apart or more do with one another when meeting over a site like this.

I didn’t check my email the following day but was logged on here and saw that he was online too. So I winked at him. He replies with his phone number. Umm, what am I supposed to do with that? Seriously?? WTF am I supposed to do with some random’s phone number?? So I said as much ..… and pointed out that I give my number out rarely, if ever, and on top of that would never pay for anything relating to this site, let alone phone calls …

Oh, just read the mail for yourself:

‘Dude. 
I am kind of speechless.
 But I don't think you are going to see it from my point of view so ... I don't know why I am even bothering.
 But AS IF I am going to phone you.
 And I only give my phone number out after …. well, hardly ever really. Only to guys that I am actually about to or going to meet.
 Anyway, I did give you my email.
 And I don’t give that to just anyone either ....
 My rule of thumb is: maybe email.
 Then Gmail Chat 
….. and ….. rarely, if ever phone number .... 
I don't mean to sound conceited. But yes, I do get that many messages. And no, I would never pay for anything .... I don't pay for this site. 
I would never pay for a phone call to some random (however good his spelling) 
And that you think I would ...
. You still don't get it, do you?’

His reply?

I get it princess...moving on.

 You do come across as conceited. Bugger my spelling. I never expected you to call me. Thought we could chat via What's App or something, but as you say, why would you ever spend any money on someone else. I found your message witty that's why I replied, but since I'm sure your inbox is overflowing with compliments let me leave you to wallow in the awesomeness that is "Heather", and yes, you wasted your time messaging me.

Harsh? Or was I just asking for it?

And a couple of pointers, Steve 28 (and therefore mental age of about 23) from Very Far Away, from my point of view, one does not WALLOW in something as awesome as Heather. One REVELS in it.

Wallowing is something that hippos do.

Okay, so the dictionary says that to wallow is to “take swinish or gross delight in sensuality, etc” but first and foremost to “roll about in mud, sand, water, etc”, “place to which buffaloes, etc. resort to”.

1. I never wallow. I revel.

2. I am not a buffalo. I am 5.6 metres tall and weigh 54 kilograms. And the only thing I have ‘resorted to’ in my adult life is this site and the occasional line .…

Uurgh! I am bored with this already. But last thing: I am most definitely not conceited. I was simply stating a fact. On any given day I have between 5 to 50 messages / winks / favourites. And I know, without even looking into stats, that you guys far outweigh us girls on this site. So it was merely a fact, not a conceited opinion on my part.

Anyway, onto No. 2.

He was charming, nice photos. Okay, okay, I admit, his profile photos were so nice. Very tasteful: Not a piece of boerewors in sight but many allusions thereto … but before you can say “NSA”, he started asking for more photos and Skype chats, and phone numbers.

Um, demanding much?

Obviously, I declined. I mean, he’s in the Transvaal. I am in KZN. He’s a kid. Really? Am I really going to invest so much time and effort in a virtual relationship?

So I backed off and he instantly accused me of having a fake profile and not being who I professed to be.

Conversation-killer much, Craigv87?

But again, why would I want numerous photos of me out there floating on the WWW or to spend hours on end chatting to some one I don’t even know over Skype, especially a demanding pissy kid?

He said: 

‘Well with the number of people from the site who have given me the same excuses and then just vanished into obscurity once they have received a few pics I don't believe it was so outrages for me to ask.’

Hmmm. Two points:

1. ‘Outrageous’

2. I see a common denominator here. And it’s NOT me.

But here I still am.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment …

On the plus side, the older guys from Gauteng are much more hands-on and pragmatic with all this: Offers of meeting for drinks / dinner when they are down here in KZN. At least that is realistic. But these kids from the next generation and their penchant for sexting / dirty sms’s / Skype chatting. Call me old-fashioned. But isn’t sex all about sex IN PERSON / dirtying the sheets, not your phone / videoing the act together not virtually stok aleen in front of a camera?

Now the question remains: dare I? Especially after the last complete SNAFU of a meeting.

"Online dating is just as murky and full of lemons as finding a used car in the classifieds. Once you learn the lingo, it's easier to spot the models with high mileage and no warranty."

LAURIE PERRY

x

That awkward moment when you bump into some one you actually know

I was waiting for this moment sooner or later. But I was hoping deep down it would never happen.

So I received one awesome reply to my latest Dear Diary post:

Balance

Your latest diary entry had me in stitches!!!

 You sound like you have not wandered the landmine that is online dating hookups for overly long so I Just thought I'd ease you into it. I'm responding to your points below: 



1) The sites are definitely linked so I always chuckle when I see women's profile and they're looking for a soul mate... it will just end in tears... I think you can disable that feature in your profile settings, failing which, the Admins can help you. 



2) No sex offenders list available to cross check with. 



3) We all get our thrills in different ways, and there are women who will happy sext me ad nauseam... I'd call them technophiles though. Not technophobes. 



4) If a guy doesn't get how to charm a woman in real life, it will translate to the same online, usually. 



5) We all have differing levels of maturity...

Oh, the wit, the wisdom, the succinct nature of it all. I could very well have found my match.

The problem? I know this person. Yup. Like KNOW-know him, call him a friend, have his number on speed dial when I am in Cape Town, that kind of thing.

Pause for: awkward silence.

I mean, as much as I want to answer him and get more advice … I do that in real life anyway, and … okay, I admit, I am a total coward. I don’t want my Super Secret Sexy Alter Ego to be discovered by anyone in my “real” life.

Oh well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. And I guess it could have been a whole lot worse. I could have received a message from some one I know in real life that was a whole lot more X-Rated than this!

Guess I have to be grateful for small blessings!

"I'm too shy to express my sexual needs except over the phone to 

people I don't know. "

 

Garry Shandling

x

*Sigh*

So I am back on The Skanky Site (and therefore this blog - aka Dear Diary) since I find myself once again in the dastardly situation of being unemployed (read: incredibly bored).

And the honeymoon, I have to admit, is finally over. It all just seems like too much admin.

But, what can I say? 

Idle hands ... Devil's playground ... all that… 

But after a bit of musing over the whole nature of this online hookup game, I came up with these thoughts (with a little recap at the beginning) to post in my Dear Diary part of my profile on TSS:

So I came on this site because I don’t want to get into an emotionally fraught love affair and thought I could perhaps find a like-minded FWB. But this is turning out to involve a whole lot more admin than I previously anticipated.

1. This site seems to be linked to others such as “Married But Looking” thus it takes quite some weeding out the Conscience-Free Depraved Husbands Who Cheat On Their Cuckolded Unsuspecting Wives

2. I think maybe and then see the face pic and involuntarily cross myself and this site looks a whole lot more creepy (if that was possible)

3. Endless amounts of guys think that sexting, naked photos and being hundreds of miles away is really sexy. Sure. If you are a technophobic recluse with no social skills.

4. An almost equal amount of guys think that, despite not having a profile photo or even having completed their profile let alone having put in a summary about themselves, I am going to respond to a Wink. A wink?? Is that all you’ve got? … All I am thinking is: “If this is the best you can do online, I would hate to see your A-Game in the bedroom”.

5. Finally, even if this is an NSA hook-up site, it doesn’t mean that I pass my time watching porn or that I am a raging whore. And yes, Steve 31 from East London, I am talking to you.

Word of advice to other guys: this kind of message, the gem that Steve sent me, is not as sexy as you might like to think it is. Or is this just the kind of stuff I should expect? If so, I am this close to deleting my profile.

“big hard cock

hi there im steve and my cock is big and hard want to see and have some fun i love to please and to pleasre you with my tongue to lick and suck you sexy clit till you squirt and cum in my mouth and moan with pleasure oh yes”

(Btw, did this guy just call me a sexy clit … or did he just forget the comma? God! Please let it be the latter.)

x

Like everything metaphysical the harmony between thought and reality is to be found in the grammar of the language.

Ludwig Wittgenstein

Why I was AWOL for so long

I am sorry to anyone who reads this blog. I have been AWOL for far longer than I anticipated. An entire month now that I look at the blog. That is way bad!

What can I say except sorry?

I went to Cape Town, ostensibly to visit my parents but in actual fact to meet up with some one from TSS. I have not written about him yet because it was so intense and mind-blowing (yes, I was crushing huge from Day 2) that it seemed sacrilegious to do so.

I drove for 22 hours from Natal to the Cape to meet him because he was seriously derailing my life. I would spend up to 6 hours at a time chatting to him on Gmail. We texted endlessly, spoke on the phone for ages. I spent all day thinking about him and all night fantasizing. I was not getting anything in the "real" world done at all and I thought if I met him the crush would subside.

It SO didn't.

Oh dear. I think I fell in love. With some one I met on a skanky, random hook-up site. How insane is that? And I didn't even want to fall in love. That's why I joined this site in the first place!

How weird?

Anyway, that's my excuse for my lack of blogging in the last month. And I do apologize.

And furthermore, now that I have fallen for this guy, I obviously don't have the slightest inclination to carry on with my PhD in Major Whoredom. Kind of a bummer ... but at the same time, maybe I dodged a major bullet there ... or at least an STD or two.

But I do still have a fair bit to share pre-Cape Town. So I will be posting more stuff anon. Don't hold your breath though. The reason being I just got a job. But its only for a conference that will be over before Christmas. So I will only be occupied for the next couple of weeks and after that, hopefully back to pouring my heart out to my blog.

x

"You don't get to choose, you just fall."

Unknown

Losing my virginity

I wonder: If I could lose my virginity all over again and do it with an older, more experienced man, would it be better?

Because the first time totally sucked!

And no, it was not down to the circumstances in which it happened. It could not have been more perfect. All the boxes were ticked:

1. He was a good match, my first - same background, similar senses of humour, etc.
2. We had been going out for two years 
3. He was older than me, not a virgin and therefore - theoretically - more experienced
4. We were totally alone - no parents in the house 
5. It was 100% my decision 

So I had it all planned out, down to the last T - like a military operation. There was champagne (okay, sparkling wine .. but when you’re 20, what’s the difference, right?), candles everywhere, the four poster bed. And we had been doing trial runs all week … well, lots of “dry humping” as his digsmates called it. So I decided that I was now ready for the real thing.

It could not have been more perfect. It WAS perfect … In theory.

Except it was horrible. Terrible!  Despite the candlelight, the roses, the wine  … it totally sucked!  When he finally entered me … I felt like I wanted to … do a No. 2.  Seriously! Embarrassing admission. But that is the Honest-to-God Truth!

And Kim, your question on Yahoo Answers ... yep! That's pretty much what it feels like!

I was so disappointed. I was horrified by the appalling discomfort of it all rather than the huge explosion I was expecting and had heard so much about.  Obviously, I was so pissed off with No. 1 the next day that I refused to talk to him at all, except to give him directions to the Chemist to get me the morning after pill.

Later on, he admitted to me that he thought I was going to break up with him.  I almost did. But my mother always said that you marry the first guy you sleep with … so I carried on deluding myself into believing that one for another couple of years.

Oh well, I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. Like the psychologist Joyce Brothers said:

“Virginity is such a personal thing. You can't judge anyone on it. A lot of young women feel they want to save themselves for the man who they think they'll love forever.”

x

I feel like I was just violated

... in a million different ways.

Yes. I just got my first full Brazilian.

I think I am officially traumatized now.

I thought I was traumatized after reading this:  99 Ways To Impress Your Girlfriend. But the Brazilian wins. Hands down. I mean, I thought my pain threshold was pretty damn high. Until today that is.

And then, as if my day wasn't crazy enough, what with all the ripping (of my delicate flower and innocent mind - yes, some of those 99 things ... let's just say "Blew my mind" would be a major understatement) and screaming and general mental and physical pain, it was not over.

When I got home, I logged onto TSS and found this message from one potential hook-up (Mr. Maybe being on holiday, I thought I should try out some one different or at least broaden my horizons - can't get too used to Mr. M, being married and all that):

"I was going to ask for a photo from you but it actually isnt that important to me. if you just want to share in new experiences for the pure pleasure of sex with someone who feels the same then i dont care what you look like. sounds like bragging i know, but i can make you quiver. Cheers, Phil" 

And I thought I was traumatized before?

I'm off to curl up in a little ball with an Enid Blyton book. And try to forget that today ever happened.

A man will go to war, fight and die for his country. But he won't get a bikini wax. 

Rita Rudner 

(Clever man)

x

Back to the Penis Profile Pic Debate

So in the name of research, I recently started listening to Dan Savage’s podcasts.

I’ve had them on my Apple for over 4 years but never listened to them. I don’t know why. My Gay BFF loves him. Like he would gush and gush about him. He’s the one who made me download those podcasts. And so I humoured him. Kind of like “If I download this stuff, will you just stop talking about him already?” . Oh boy. My loss is all I can say. My loss. That’s 4 years I didn’t have Dan ‘Swoon’ Savage in my life.

I spent this evening studying – by which I mean reading Dan Savage’s columns until my eyes started bleeding. And imagine my joy when I came across the exact same question I was pondering in my Diary a couple of weeks ago. And, in the interest of getting this message across to as many guys with scary profile pics as possible, here it is – or you can go to the entire column here:

Totally Confused Female's question:

I'm wondering whether you have any thoughts on the male tendency when sharing "naughty" photos to go straight for a close-up shot of the penis. Representative Anthony Weiner's tweeting disaster has brought to mind a number of recent cases where high-profile men—such as Brett Favre—sent other women similar shots in an apparent attempt to seduce them. However, the response I've heard from women to such offerings can be summed up as "Ew, yuck!" Do you have any insight on why some men think this sort of overture would work?

Dan Savage's reply:

Some men think this sort of overture works, TCF, because sometimes it works.

... The cock-shot overture doesn't work on most women, I'll grant you, but guys who send cock shots aren't interested in most women. They're interested in the sort of women that this sort of overture works on. And the sort of men who think only with their dicks—and not all men are that sort—figure the quickest way to determine if a woman is that sort of woman is to send the cock shot. And one of the women you talked to about cock shots may have been that sort of woman, TCF, but told you, "Ew, yuck!" because it was clear from the "Ew, yuck!" look on your face that "Ew, yuck!" was what you wanted to hear. 

Gentlemen: The existence of a handful of women who welcome cock shots does not give you license to send cock shots to all women. Cock shots are for women who have expressed a clear and unambiguous interest in receiving cock shots. 

x

“I don't think people should do things that make them miserable. And if being an 

in-shape, sober, monogamous heterosexual makes you miserable, don't do it. And 

if being an in-shape, sober, monogamous heterosexual makes you happy, do it.” 

Dan Savage

Ethical Slut. An oxymoron? Hardly …

“An oxymoron, you say? Hardly. It's one thing to 
be a slut and another thing to be ethical.”

I am seriously thinking about buying this book: The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures by Dossie Easton and Catherine Liszt. 

Basically, it’s all about how you can live your life in an honest and open way with more than one lover at the same time.

I so have to buy it! I mean it has chapters on just about everything, from how to find and keep partners, to tips on handling scheduling with various partners (how incredibly Martha Stewart and grown up!) to (get this!) “Etiquette for group sexual encounters”. (I know Mum would approve. She is always so worried about what other people think and the way my sisters and I conduct ourselves in public.). 

Now tell me this does not sound like the best book ever!

The term “slut” is reclaimed from its slang meaning and is seen “as a term of approval, even endearment. To us, a slut is a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you”.

How cool? I think this is my kind of book!

“We believe that it is fundamentally a radical political act to deprivatize sex. So much oppression in our culture is based on shame about sex: the oppression of women, of cultural minorities, oppression in the name of the (presumably asexual) family, oppression of sexual minorities. We are all oppressed. We have all been taught, one way or another, that our desires, our bodies, our sexualities, are shameful. What better way to defeat oppression than to get together in communities and celebrate the wonders of sex?

... It is amazing to us to think ... that most people in our culture have never had a chance to watch another person enjoy sex. No wonder we worry so much about our appearance.”

I have a feeling that The Ethical Slut could be my own personal bible in this whole quest of mine. And at the very least, a life line. These last couple of weeks I have had moments of crippling guilt brought on by my conditioning: the Very Christian, Very Moralistic, Very Proper Ideals of my family, my class and my surroundings (Yes, it IS still a total mind fuck being back here in this constricting society after so many years of relative freedom and maturity of Continental Europe).

And I so don’t want to look back and admit that I threw this whole experiment out the window for fear of going to Hell for it!

I don’t, however, think that I should add this particular book to my Wish List on Amazon. Might make for some awkward looks from the family at Christmas when we open our presents.

x

"Easy": Is there, we wonder, some value in being difficult?

The Ethical Slut

I'm attracted to you. Are you attracted to me?

Today when I opened my Inbox on TSS, I found this message from Donavin, 35:

SUBJECT: Contact me

I'm attracted to you. Are you attracted to me?

Wildly, Donavin with an ‘i’. Wildly! Hold me back. I can barely contain my attraction! I will contact you right now this very instant.

Seriously? I mean seriously? DonavIn has only a picture of my toes and one of my upper (nose to belly button) bikini-clad torso to go on when it comes to gauging his attraction to me. And his photo could be anyone really. He is standing next to a fishing boat. And you can see more of the boat than him in the photo. Is he perhaps secretly hoping that I have a penchant for men with boats? Who the hell knows? Maybe this line's worked for him before.

I honestly don't know. Why am I even trying to figure it out?

My head hurts.

Oh well. Good to know that there are others out there who have a harder time than me with this whole online hook-up thing. Like I just read this pretty hysterical take on meeting people online in Dave's blog in Australia: Internet Dating on the Dole.

Have a read. I giggled throughout.

And Tip #07 (Profile Photos Should Frame the Face in a Natural Demeanour) from Dave certainly gave me such a simple yet brilliant summary of what Donavin's profile shot might be all about:

"... the holiday photo capturing an adventurous or spontaneous spirit, but taken from across the road ... or obscured by extreme clothing and a safety helmet ... because of distance, you could be suggesting, ‘I look like a minga but I’m fucking fit.’ "

So maybe its as simple as that: Donavin is a total minga ... but fucking fit. 

It really is so good I just have to reblog a few more of his thoughts on profile pics here in case you don't read the entire post:

"I was initially shocked by the general lack of concern about appearance on internet dating sites. Part of me was quietly impressed by this. In a world of narcissism, Photoshop, digital filters, cosmetics and fashion; where much of what surrounds us is not what it seems, it was a pleasant surprise. 

... I wondered if there was an unspoken directive by the majority of the Internet dating community to retain truthful representations to avoid future disappointments ... Or perhaps people just didn’t give a shit, because so many chicks’ photo galleries exhibited an array of bad or unhelpful pictures. 

Some women have simply stood in from of a mirror with a digital camera. I mean just because you’re out of love doesn’t mean you should suggest you’re out of friends as well. Even if you are, digital cameras have timers. And there is plenty household furniture to place a camera on for an authentic mise-en-scéne image. 

Equally tragic are profiles that think more is better and photo galleries inevitably reach the clubbing snap where the offender is clearly boiled and wrapped around a bottle of booze with one eye gone to the shops while the other one is left waiting. 

I don’t mean to sound hypocritical. I love a bloody drink ... but there are possibly more charming ways than a greased up mobile phone photo to express how much you enjoy life." 

Oh wow! He does have a way with words. I shouldn't reblog his stuff anymore. I feel rather inferior by comparison.

I'm going drinking now. I think I need it.

x

"I got to thinking about relationships and partial lobotomies: two seemingly different 

ideas that might just be perfect together — like chocolate and peanut butter."

Carrie Bradshaw, SATC

Visual stimulation: not just a guy thing

So yesterday evening, I had my second visit from Mr. Maybe.

Okay, let’s not call him Mr. Maybe anymore. After all, that so went out the window the minute he lowered his sexy mouth onto me at the dam the other day.  What to rename him? Well, he has a certain tattoo on his chest and because of what it is and because of the way he is built (big, strong, but slightly chunky), lets call him The Bull (not very subtle I know, but it’s the best I can come up with at 2 a.m.).

And this time, he so didn’t lie. The first time, he promised me that I would hardly be able to walk when he was done with me. Not so. I could walk just fine. But today? Let’s just say it hurts like hell on the insides of my thighs when I try to dance or do stretches.

But I discovered something quite incredible since meeting up with The Bull: having a lover is amazing in that there are none of the normal constraints of a conventional relationship. I don’t have to worry about him respecting me or even liking me. So I can be as dirty and twisted in the bedroom as I want. I could play out my wildest fantasies and there is no way he will judge me. Worship me, more like it! And hopefully also get off even more courtesy of my twisted hidden desires! It is so uninhibiting!

Not that I have gotten to that point, mind you. But just the realization, that’s good enough for me right now.

Last night was so good. We were in the bedroom and there is a huge mirror next to my bed so if I looked over, I could see everything. I didn't want to blatantly stare so just a glimpse at our reflections here and there - tres sexy!

But something was missing … I didn’t look exactly like the dirty mistress. I looked like me, just a bit more flushed and mussed up than normal.

I must get some dirty, sexy lingerie now. I did log onto Victoria’s Secret yesterday. OMG. Those girls are so hot!

Hmmmm, perhaps time to get a job so I can start using my credit card again.

x

“Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite 

to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.”

Marquis De Sade

Anyone parle punani patois?

My TSS Inbox is in a constant flux of ebb and flow. Never less than one new message a day. But when I update my profile or post a Dear Diary entry, there can be anywhere up to forty or fifty.

I don’t even count winks and requests for more photos – those computer-generated replies are – to me – the ultimate in laziness and scream lack of imagination or genuine interest in this whole thing. Its kind of like just taking potluck. If you throw enough out there, hey you might just get lucky!

Just not with me, dude (unless, of course, you are really, really ridiculously good-looking. Hey! Don’t judge me. I already admitted that I’m a total aesthetic whore.).

But I mean, if an automatic cyber message is the only way a guy can think of catching my attention, well then the dude gets as good as he gives. And about as much time and effort as he afforded me – a millisecond.

And I guess I am not quite as unshockable as I might have thought after over a month (almost two?) on TSS because there are still the ones that make me blush. Like AJ, 29:

Sexy toes … can I suck them while I fuck Ur pussy good?

Sweet Baby Jesus, AJ. Does your mother know you talk like that?

(My profile pic, btw, is a close-up of my feet after a fab pedicure.)

Now for just the pure crazy (or illiterate?): Bertie 49 – okay, I know that English is probably his second language, but seriously? I defy even him to make sense of what he wrote to me:

Hi. 
I like yr profile. Am visiting Pyou.E soon and will NSA with

Hummmm ... Is this aversion to actually reading what you type before sending it contagious or something? Because the very next message in my Inbox from Valentino, 31, was this:

hey there sweety wuu2

Like I said before … Anyone understand the patois of the Punani Seeker?

x

Words can only hurt you if you try to read them. Don't play their game!

Derek Zoolander

Who wants to be King of Lesotho anyway?

So Mr. Licentious the Litigating Lover read my blog post about Mr. Maybe claiming to be The King of Cunnilingus and had this to say on the subject:

"So I'm confused about Mr. Maybe. Have you been with him? Haven't you? Is he the King of Cunnilingus or does he just claim to be? I bet I could knock his useless ass off his throne. I'm not bragging. I'm just stating facts. Anyway, being King of Cunnilingus is like being King of Lesotho. I would rather be King of Dick Fucking, for we all know that is what counts. That would be like being King of Russia. That's what I think anyway. Russia has gold, Siberian tigers, big trout and good-looking sluts are a dime a dozen. Who wouldn't want to be king of that shit?"

Oh wow! I so need to get my ass up to Joburg to meet this guy.

Or not.

I mean it’s never great meeting a potential hook-up and there being no spark. But to lose a half-decent conversationalist? Now that in my books … that would just be stupid.

Especially since I am still soldiering on with Hugo The Hunk (yes, his body and face ARE all that) but it is by no means easy going.

After the whole counselling session re: crushing on Mr. X, we carried on chatting:

"ME: Shit! Okay, my bad! But I AM so new to this and I can make one mistake, can't I? Anyway, they always say you remember your first. So there we go, that is out of the way now. I have that one (my Mr. X) that I kind of fell in love with. But now its time to play with others. … If I have the nerve that is. Oh, I so wish I was in CT so I could meet you and you could show me the ropes ... I mean, I don't want to be a sexual predator or anything. I just want some fun s-x with some one who will be straight and honest with me. Hmmmm .... Now ... where to go from here? ;)

HUGO: lol Now your talking my language.. lol fun fun fun.. don't take things so darn cerious.. So you up for talking with me? via voice that is..

ME: Hmmmm, but where would that lead babes? Phone sex? Never done anything like that before. And I really don't think I am up for it. I am so so so frustrated and I only really want the real thing ... not more sexy talking then no action. I just couldn't handle it! Sorry to be so frank, but that is REALLY where I am at right now.

HUGO: ... hahaha.. well for 1 I don't really like the phonesex thing.. neither do i think its cool doing it while I'm at work ... and your point i suppose is vallid but then if you think about it it probebly makes this email chat between us pointless aswell. hahaha. Don’t you think? Like you i also prefer the real thing.. way better.. but I also love getting to know people and how they tick. haha ha lets say I love seico analizing."

I mean, it's kind of a turn-off to read psychoanalysing spelt like that (and why is everything in his little cyber-world so freakin’ “lol” and “hahaha” all the time? What is he smoking that I haven’t heard of?).

Am I being unreasonable?

Is my libido a punctuation and grammar snob?

I’m thinking too much, aren’t I?

I should just listen to Hugo and not take everything so darn cerious.

x

“A woman’s most erogenous zone is her mind.”

Raquel Welch

Men are chiefly good lovers when they are betraying their wives

So finally I was going to meet Mr. Maybe.

I had 40 minutes tops. I looked up from my computer.

Oh Crap!! The place looked like an absolute tip. I hadn’t done the dishes. An ashtray was strewn across the floor (casualty of 5 am dance fest) and the table next to my armchair was a mountain of chocolate papers, tissues, unopened candy packets, water glasses, coffee mugs, note books, scraps of paper, pens, pencils, marijuana seeds and other flotsam. Books, magazines and newspapers were strewn across every conceivable surface.

I tried to reduce the carnage of the place to a vaguely acceptable minimum, i.e. I swept up the upended ashtray’s contents and dumped all the mugs in the sink.

Hmmm … Question: exactly HOW lazy would it make me if I had a maid come in every day even though I have all the time in the world to clean since I am not working at the moment?

Ha ha! Rhetorical question … I understand the concept of cleaning, just not as it applies to me … and we are in Africa, after all, where slave labour might not be the politically correct term … but let’s just call a spade a spade. It is so cheap to hire help here that even when one is unemployed, one can afford it.

I ran out the door, dropped off my way overdue DVD’s and then went to Spar to get beers, ice and cigarettes. It all took a bit longer than I expected, not least because I was as nervous as a tick ….

I was jumpy and breathless with anticipation.

And with my mind in such turmoil (I’m finally going to get laid!!!! After 9 months of permanent celibacy!), my sense of direction went even more out the window than usual (yes, I am a typical woman in that sense: geographically dyslexic!).

Long story short: I went in totally the wrong direction and started driving towards the mountains! I could see the dam to my right, getting further and further away.

Aaaargh! Why does this always happen to me? Another couple of ridiculous mistakes later and I got to the Reserve. It was 5 pm. They were closing the gates at 6 pm. Hmmm … not half as much time as I would have liked for this particular rendezvous!

I drove down and followed the directions he’d sent via sms. (Yes, I got lost again twice). Driving past all these purposeful, wholesome joggers and walkers (bet they weren’t having illicit trysts with lovers they had met online), I felt slimy but also naughty in a nice way. I mean, I was about to do something so verboten!

Okay, so my fantasy wasn’t playing out EXACTLY as I had imagined (me reclining on a blanket overlooking that magnificent stretch of water, seductive pose, cold beer waiting for him, as he drove up) but I was actually going through with this!

It did have its bonuses though, arriving after him because as I drove up slowly, I got a good overview (he was clad, typically Southern African style, in jeans with a cap and dark glasses). And may I just say ... YUM! (What a relief!) 

It hit me how highly charged all that waiting and teasing and hinting was …  what an aphrodisiac! As I got out of my vehicle, I could literally feel the sparks in the air – corny as it sounds.

He walked straight up to me and said: “Don’t I get a hug?”

As he hugged me, I just stood there. I guess I was still in a slight state of shock (and reality certainly hadn't kicked in yet) so I didn’t hug him back.

“Hey, why are you shaking?” he whispered.

I was. My mouth was dry despite the chewing gum. I stuttered something unintelligible. He smiled at me and took the cooler box from me.

We sat down on the grass and opened our beers (Thank God he smoked too).

Finally, when I couldn’t wait any longer for him to make the first move (I mean, as interesting as his conversation might have been, I SO had not come here for that), I sat up and kneeled in front of him. I shifted forwards and then I was as close to him as I could get, I took a breath, told myself “You can do this. You are now almost a fully-fledged dirty whore! Don't stop now. Just do it already!” and threw one leg over his lap so I was straddling him.

There. Done. Not so hard after all!

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He kissed me and immediately started moving his hands all over my body, biting me, licking me, taking my clothes off.

Suffice to say: Pure Heaven.

But five minutes later, he murmured a word I am not particularly fond of, especially in a situation like this: “Crap”.

I turned around.

A car had pulled up directly in our line of vision.

He picked me up (yes, he was that tall and strong) and wrapped my legs around his waist.

He opened the back of his car and laid me down on the back seat of his car. He then lifted my legs and pulled off my jeans and panties.

Oh my God! He had SO not lied. He was amazing. His tongue was doing such magical things down there, I cannot even begin to describe!

And the ultimate thing is that he did it all in such a totally unhurried, languid manner, like he really really did love doing it and wasn’t doing it, like a lot of guys did: 

     (a) just to please me, 

     (b) to get a blowjob in return, 

     (c) solely in order to get me wet so he could enter me easily, or 

     (d) because of expectation / obligation / part of the seduction ritual.

It was unreal!

At one point I leaned up on my elbows, and – through my ragged breath – said “U so didn’t lie! You ARE that good”

He just looked at me, and said “Lie down. Lie down, now.”

Omg! Masterful too. I was in Nirvana!

x

“Men are chiefly good lovers when they are betraying their wives”

Marilyn Monroe