The Sober Sex

Wine ✔️
Delicious Cake ✔️
Girl Friend ✔️
Adult Sleep Over ✔
Sex Talk ✔️✔️

Last other night was special, really special…my friend and I learned that we are down right dirty little woman…and by that I mean hoochie mamas…I thought being promiscuous was only for your late teens and early twenties not mid twenties, I was wrong.

Here we are, two single, attractive, career orientated women in not so attractive pajamas stuffing our faces with moist chocolate cake as we watch some odd movie that had some graphic sex…we noticed they only have boring missionary. We converse on their sex position and then wham, at the same time we say loudly, “I don’t know the last time I had sober sex.” We literally abrupt in laughter, I don’t know if it was because we had the same train of thought or if it was the elephant in the room of our skank hood. Either way, we cheers’d our glasses and began the intense back log of sexual relations…which that began the hilarious log of men; sweaty fart guy, drunk Dave, blood diamond, 6’10, navy man, annoying bartender, Lenard, that old guy, never sober exs and lesbian sex (which she told me didn’t count, I beg to differ). We went back years, we both couldn’t remember, any sexual relations in which we were completely sober…I calculated mine to the ex with the one eye which was over two years and even towards the end of that hellish relationship I was drunk anytime we had sex.

Now, before you think I’m a raging drunk who just gets after it, that’s far from the case…I just happen to enjoy wine and it makes me kinda frisky plus tipsy sex is the best, and I only might be saying that because it’s been years since sober sex. Either way, least I’m still getting some?!

I’m on a mission now, no sex unless in a relationship and let’s try to be sober…I’ll keep you posted on how that works (I’ll try my hardest but no promises).

Who knew that many women lead promiscuous lives even when they have these fabulous careers. It’s insane to me what I thought was promiscuous in my early twenties to now, shit I was tame back then. I’ve somehow turned into a hoochie mama with no care in the world (I’m not an idiot, protection ALWAYS)…it’s true, the older I get, the more sexual I become and I honestly didn’t think that was possible.

Hmmm…2015, the year of sober sex, maybe, maybe more sober sex with someone amazing…. 🙂

The Welcome Back

…and on a chilly December day she came back, better and bitchier than ever.

The ramblings of me.

Here I am, still single , and still wondering why the crazies find me. With the months of me being blog free nothing has changed much, literally, ex boyfriends still show up at my house (new ex flings do too (I must have missed the memo because this is a weekly thing)), I’m still trying to figure out how to lasso in dapper man and I’m still chugging wine at the end of each evening.

So I’ve dated…whoop whoop, I beg and cry to my besties that all I want is a attractive, funny, blah blah blah man to swoop me off my clumsy feet and pull my curvy body into his bodacious one…is that so much for me to fucking ask for? Instead, I’ve met every damn stage five clinger on this side of the Mississippi (I’m so west coast that I’m basically in the Pacific Ocean). For some reason, I can attract men, handsome ones but they all latch onto me after a few days of simple conversing. They are life suckers trying to feed off my happiness and I can’t escape them. The really weird thing too, they think I’m sweet…still trying to piece that together.

I’m beginning to think that there is a website with my photograph and some sort of crazy tagline that get all these men to swoon after me…or give me crazy pickup lines.

Pickup Lines:
* You’re face is pretty but your hair is ugly
* You’re beautiful but my mother would laugh when she saw you
* You’re surprisingly attractive
* Does the carpet match the drapes
* You have long finger nails, I’d love them on my back

The list goes on and on…most men seem to insult me by trying to crack a joke at my naturally curly Afro….they tend to fail and end up chasing me outside of a restaurant (yes, shit you not). Good thing, I have thick skin and good friends that hold me back from making a snide remark or punching them in the throat…which, I’m certain one day will happen but there is only so many times a girl can hear, “I would love to pull just the pink side of your hair…mmmmm”, as I can feel their warm cigarette breath hitting my lower neck, literally…that happens more often than not…I’ve discovered that I’m not exotic looking nor plan, I wouldn’t consider myself edgy or vintage but something about my porcelain skin, curvy body and wild hair seems to make men lose all common sense and they tend to word vomit. Which, is strange to me…if I was Eva Mendes then you can word vomit but not with me (no, I’m not saying I’m self conscious, just saying I’m nothing like Halle Berry, the closest celebrity I resemble is Martha Stewart and not in looks but with all my home decor and love for baking).

So in the mean time I’m over here shoving my hot Chai Spice Loaf in my mouth ranting how I’m burning my tongue because I couldn’t wait to see if the new recipe was good and the loaf literally just came from the oven. Any day now Mr. Not So Perfect But Perfect For Me can waltz his happy ass into my life and take me home to watch lifetime movies and drink wine…I’ll be waiting patiently (kinda).

I’m back bitches and I have so much more to say, you’re warned!!!