So, my suicidal, tattooed friend who loves anal sex and getting punched in the face (preferably during) recently had a date planned with a guy she’s referring to as “That Irish Guy.” The date was basically him coming over. That’s it. They were just going to have sex, and maybe order food. She complained to me that it didn’t sound very exciting or interesting, but she’d already basically consented, so she guessed she’d go through with it.
Another friend of mine (in London), who loves none of those things and gets squeamish at the word “vagina,” had a guy coming over to her houseboat to hang out. He pushed for a “no-sex” sleepover and she agreed. She texted me before he arrived, totally dejected and wishing she was having a regular date. Staring down the barrel of being with someone she hardly knows for a good 14 hours, and knowing that it would probably have to kick off with sex (even though they totally weren’t supposed to) had her incredibly down.
This type of thing is happening a lot lately and I think it’s really interesting how we (meaning, anecdotally speaking, the people around me who are dating, which I take as indication that it’s happening all over a LOT MORE frequently) are pre-arranging sex more and more often and getting less and less interested in actually seeing it through. Continue reading Meet Me Tomorrow, We’ll Be Fucking
So recently, over a bucket of Bud Lights (they were out of Corona, but really once the bottles hit the bucket, they all taste like Coors) and a pair of Michter’s rockses, I asked a friend of mine a question that’s been lurking around in my brain (and the formant pages of my seedling memoir) lately. It’s a tough one to ask because it really makes you look like a prick to even ask the question these days. And honestly I don’t think there were ever days in the past when the question was framed in quite this way. In the past, the question I asked went like this: Continue reading Is this my stop?
NOTE! This was posted a few months after the events happened. I wrote it and forgot it. I think that’s how I’m gonna deal with the danger that some people might be reading about themselves here from now on.
I thought I’d have dropped this idea of recapping the previous night’s events, but as I’ve been taking writing about my life more seriously, I’ve realized that some of my best shit is my bizarrely interesting interactions with the ladays. Continue reading Tales From Last Night Vol.2, Cock Block Edition
Ok. So. I have a couple of topics that are kicking around in my head-bucket right now, but the thing is, they kinda hit a nerve in my life if I dig too deep into them and I get all whiny and annoying, so I’m struggling currently with a way to discuss them without degrading into melancholic mental masturbation (the triple M, believe it).
First is sex-associated guilt. Continue reading Pride of the Protestants