The morning of our second date we met for coffee and took a twelve mile bike ride. It was very difficult getting there at all seeing I had only two hours of sleep and left PJ in my bed with a promise he'd wait for me. While I enjoyed the day in the sun and the exercise, I did note that Dale had a habit of pointing out flaws in people. This was particularly true of women.
The good news is that I've hired a photographer to get my pic up to par, but I desperately need help with my profile introduction. I know, I know, I'm a writer--this should not be difficult--but I'm just not getting the results I want. Remember the fanny-pack guy? Remember Mr. Tickles? So, I've cut and pasted in a profile I let run on Plenty of Fish (Cassie calls it Barrel of Monkeys) for a few months.
by Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties So, while it’s true that, “Here, give me a hug,” is better than reaching out his hand to say goodnight, when Butthead Bob leaned forward, arms open wide, I internally cringed: Another bad exit. Pleasant conversation. Check. Flirtatious fun. Check. Nothing overly offensive, obnoxious, nor overtly sexual. Check. Bad exit. I will never see or hear from Butthead Bob again.
by Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties While mingling in a room packed full of good looking strangers, I spotted an attractive blonde wearing a plaid red shirt who was clearly enjoying himself. At the time I was eyeballing him, he was busy flirting with a woman who had some funky horned rimmed glasses, and he decided it was a good idea to try them on. He was right: that combination of geek with suave worked wonders as I tried to peel myself away from their bubble of fun without being noticed.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties . . . . If I had been pissed off, I would have told Panther a thing or two. Tears would have been shed. The door slammed. The thing about being angry is that it’s a sign you care. And the moment I decided to pack up my dog and slip out of his house, I understood two things: There would be no going back and I certainly didn’t care.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties Two years ago I set out to write a book chronicling what happened when I took advice from dating self-help gurus. I read seven books on how to get and keep a man and did the best I could to follow that advice. The books ranged in levels of militancy in terms of how to behave—but mostly they all agreed to avoid having sex with men so they could enjoy the chase. My lack of success was staggering.
by Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties Drunken dialing while stone, cold sober may sound like an anomaly, but I assure you, it does occur. The moments when I’m all alone and wishing I was not and trying to make the best of the situation with my moist fingers or vibrating toy sneak up and take hold. I get it in my head that it’s a good idea to reach out to a lover or friend to see if he could come over. Maybe we could hang out and drink a few beers?
by Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties Waking up disoriented in a strange hotel room sounds like the beginnings of an urban legend. Maybe it was because I hadn’t had all that much to drink the night before OR maybe because my dog was there beside me OR maybe because my host had left hours earlier—but I did not find WELCOME TO AIDS scrawled in lipstick on the bathroom mirror or a stranger soaking in an ice-filled bathtub with a recently removed kidney. I did find a few spent condoms in the trash.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties Playing to every man’s fantasy wasn’t exactly a dream of mine, but now that I’ve done it, I’m glad I did. Dancing topless for a group of guys with perma-grins and wads of one dollar bills (or even better—expense accounts!) can make a girl feel sexy, alluring, and alive. Raking in over a grand a night is even better.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties Yeah, sure, it seems like the real deal. Here he is telling me all of the racing thoughts going through his head the last time he ducked out on me: God, damn! I just want to go back and fuck her brains out! Here I go again, why do I keep doing this? What the hell am I doing? Ok, just one more time. . . .
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties I’ve slept with married men before, and I suspect I probably will again at some point, but they are definitely not my first choice. No, it’s not because they have a wife and kids. No, it’s not because I would have to host all of the time. I don’t even care all that much that it would never go anywhere. The main reason I don’t like to mess around with married men is because if their wife is not having sex with them, chances are they are selfish lovers.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties The words that keep running through my mind this morning are, “Oh, my God . . . .Oh, my God. . . . OH, MY GOD!” Again and again this simple I-can’t-believe-I-got-fucked-like-I-did mantra seeps into my brain taking me back to last night.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties When I see his name flash on my phone, I’m more than a little pleased. Just last night I texted him asking if he had any friends who might want to come out and play? Of course, I really wanted him, but he has a girlfriend now, and so I’m strictly off limits. Bad Boy Abercrombie was my birthday present this year, and I must say, unwrapping his package made more than one wish come true that night.
Panty Parade / Off Go the Panties If you ever find yourself saying, I only get to have sex once in a blue moon OR I haven’t really enjoyed sex in years OR Sex? What’s that? It may be about time to make a fucket list.
If you ever find yourself completely bored AND horny AND without a date on a night when you REALLY want a date . . . . Then I sort of recommend checking out the Craigslist personals. Mind you, this is not a full fledge referral. In fact, based on my recent experience with answering a dozen advertisements on CL, I would have to say I’m only mildly lukewarm, half-heartedly encouraging you to try it. Want to know why? Because the men there are not really looking for what they say they want. I know—confused men on the Internet?—surprise!
by Julie Robinson There’s nothing better than watching your front door fly open; having your clothes torn off; allowing your body to melt into another; and being left damp, panting, and tingling all over. There’s nothing worse than offering yourself over to a man who takes you without a word, pleases himself only, and leaves so quickly the back door nearly nips his ass. I guess that explains why I have a love / hate relationship with the quickie.
YourTango recently caught up with the woman behind the online phenomenon Single Girl Problems, a blog dedicated to the trials and tribulations of single women around the world. Here, she sheds her nuggets of wisdom on love, sex, relationships ... and everything in-between. Be sure to catch her on Twitter @snglegrlprblms.