Out with the Old and in with the Right Now (warning to family: I talk about sex)

(Alternative Title: In Which I Appear to be a Slut)

I broke up with Murdoch.I actually called him this time. Twice. Because of course he wasn't going to answer his phone. So I called and left a message. I later emailed him one of those terrible emails you send to someone you break up with. You start out saying that you don't understand how you can miss the person and you end up figuring out just what an asshole that person really is. His immediate reaction to my panic attacks/nervous breakdown was "we should take some time apart". Some time apart my ass.

But that isn't important. The day after I dumped him, I called Guitar Hero*, the guy I went to the lake with. We went to lunch that afternoon and he sounded a bit bitter. Apparently the dating scene has not been good to him. Later that evening, he called me up to see what I was doing and asked if I wanted company. I figured "fuck it, why not" and he came over. We drank some beer and sat on my patio and bullshitted back and forth. It was companionable and nice. He stayed over to avoid drunk driving but there was no hanky panky. He did seem less bitter though.

And I saw him again Wednesday. This would be our fourth time hanging out and I shit you not, he actually texted me and said that he hadn't liked the date he'd been on the night before and wouldn't be seeing her again. OK, that doesn't seem odd so I should have held off on the "I shit you not" part until here: he then asked if he could ask me a bold question about what he'd been wondering and I said go for it and he said he wondered if we were sexually compatible and would I be open to trying that tonight.

Right? So I said what any girl in my position (just dumped my boyfriend, whom I had not seen since August 14th when I picked up the cat and who was an utter dick) would say: "Bring condoms."

The rest of the day there was a bunch of back and forth about what do you like sexually and this and that and I'm not going to get into it because although I know I do the TMI thing (fuck you, it's my blog), I do have some limits. At one point I asked if he would bring me some cheap flowers or something just to make it feel a little less clinical/instructive, and he said sure and he brought me some Bethlehem Stars, flowers I've never received before. They're lovely and smell like summer time.

We drank and hung out for awhile before getting down to business. I was so incredibly nervous. I told Tits (who I'd been treating as my Twitter feed all day) that it was like I was 17 and going to prom and worrying about what my boyfriend's expectations were. But in the end, it worked out fine. I'll only say two things about the sex itself:

1. These East Texas boys really know what they were doing. One of my regrets about Murdoch was that the sex was so good. GH to the rescue; and
2. Tits was right. One of the fastest ways to get over someone is to get under somebody else.

So I'm a four date girl these days I guess. I think I'd hung out with Murdoch four times as well before we had at it. GH and I have made it clear to one another that we aren't committing to any form of serious relationship (aren't we just so modern) and are, as he put it "going to just hang out and satisfy the hell out of one another maybe a few times a week." I guess the term is friends with benefits (or for the more conservative of you, a guy and a slut) but it works fine for me. I don't want a real relationship, not yet, not after my last one. And I don't see GH and I being anything serious ever. I think in the end we'll just be friends (sans benefits).

I do still miss Murdoch sometimes, as much as I hate to say that. He wasn't all bad. But thinking back, I'm not stunned at my behavior, jumping into bed with a new guy so seemingly soon. Like I said, I hadn't seen Murdoch since 8/14 and that was just to pick up the cat. We had a huge fight that night and although we made it up, he barely spoke to me until he just totally jetted. The last time I hung out with him at all properly was 8/10. Going so long without speaking to me. Being fine without any contact at all. Text only communication. Maybe see him for three hours once a week. What kind of relationship is that? The sort I want to avoid ever having again. That's the nice thing about GH. We are both figuring out what exactly we want and we are figuring out who is going to give it to us. In the meantime, we have each other for company and for biological needs (Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs anyone?) 

That and, like I said, the raise those boys right in East Texas.   

*He plays guitar and is really into heavy metal music, something I am familiar with from my old married lady days. Thus, Guitar Hero.

Balls Will Always Be Funny

We all have certain things that make us cranky, whether it be low blood sugar, hunger, boredom, sexual frustration*, etc. For me it appears to be lack of sleep. I didn't get more than four hours last night and felt sick with fatigue all day, which caused me to act like a total bitch. Not to acquaintances and clients, of course, just to my friends and my mother. Why the fuck do we do that, reserve all civil behavior for those we don't really care about on a significant level whilst subjecting the people we actually like to our worse behavior? I all but picked fights with two of my friends and was flat out rude to my mom over email. But when I had to train a colleague I don't work with much, I had all the patience and calm in the world and reassured her that what she needed to do was simple and I would always be available to help her. Is it because we know that the people who care about us will understand and love us anyway even if we act like complete twats from time to time? I don't know if I am the easiest person to take on a regular basis but when I'm moody, forget having a civil discussion with me on any topic other than "holy fuck am I in a bad mood and you know what, mother fucker? I don't give a fuck about anything today and will not give a fuck until I get some mother fucking sleep." Little ray of sunshine, that's what they call me.

 But certain things still made me laugh throughout the day and they are too good to keep to myself. One of the best was the phrase "enlarged scrotal vein removal." I didn't even know that was a thing! But balls will always make me laugh because I'm secretly a 13 year old girl who laughs at things like the word "testicles". I looked it up (wikipedia's blackout was annoying but there are always other sources) and it just got better when I found this site and read about the symptoms. Feeling a little dragging or heaviness in your nuts there buddy? When you were playing with your garbage did you happen to feel something like worms or spaghetti? Don't worry, we can take care of that for you. Heh heh, nuts.

One of the first things to make me smile was a column from Dear Abby. "Olympia" is 18, lost her first ever job but has two offers for college, and has decided she is going to work as a prostitute. As my friend pointed out, this was a 'do not pass go' move straight to hooking without any of that silly toe in the water stripping nonsense. Not only did she go from some ordinary job to selling her honey badger, she told her mother about the decision! Who the fuck does that? "You know what, mom, I'm not going to be a sucker like you working for peanuts. I have a perfectly good vag that I can sell and make a killing. You're dumb, you should have been a prostitute." And Abby's response was pretty cute what with her comment that this line of work will only be an option while "Olympia"s looks hold. Abs evidently hasn't seen the movie Monster or else she'd realize that men will fuck anything - and even pay for it.

Finally, on my ride home, listening to NPR, I heard the following statement made regarding Francesco Shettino, the captain of that cruise ship that partially sunk: "claimed he accidentally fell into a lifeboat". What an awesomely terrible excuse for abandoning ship during an emergency! I wonder if he also 'accidentally' pushed old people out of the way before falling overboard. Maybe he 'accidentally' grabbed a baby from a mother's arms as an excuse to get to one of the lifeboats first (by accident of course). Is anyone really supposed to buy that?

And with that I bid you adieu as I need to get a few things done before I pop some Nyquil at 8 o'clock so that I can get some sleep. I have a feeling I'm lucky to have the friends that I do so I can't exactly push my luck with more bad behavior.

*Be warned that this is TMI - Here's hoping that sexual frustration isn't one of my 'buttons' or else I'm going to be a stark raving cunt pretty soon.

Don't beat it. No, really, don't.

I forgot to pack a green apple with my lunch today. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. I've spoken about how time consuming I find apples in general (it's somewhere on this blog but I have no idea where... I did look, marginally, but didn't find it in two minutes so quit) and how if I cut one up I end up looking into the bowl thinking "well, I guess this is what I'm doing today." But we are not in normal times when we are detoxing from sugar. All I have to look forward to is one green apple a day, which I consume at work, and a couple of glasses of club soda with lime wedges in the evening. Sad, I know, but this is all part of learning to eat for fuel rather than fun or emotion. If I'd done this a long time ago I'd probably have far, far, far less weight to lose and I'd have developed a taste for my arch nemeses, vegetables, which I'm slowly doing.

Thus, the forgotten green apple was something of an emotional crisis. So much so, in fact, that I ran out just now for the sole purpose of purchasing a single apple and some pistachios. I asked my friend if she needed anything and she gave me a couple of bucks to grab her something for lunch and off I dashed down the road. And you know what? Everything was a round number. How often does that happen? I did two transactions since my friend was using cash and I was using a card. Her lean cuisine came out to $2 exactly and my purchases were $4. How does that even happen? I mean, they have tax here in Ohio so shouldn't it have at least been something like $4.07? Not that I'm complaining, mind, I was just really surprised.

On my way back to work, I had the following thought, out of nowhere:  In my opinion, 'beating off' is my least favorite term for male masturbation. Where the fuck did that come from? I wasn't thinking about any type of masturbation or even sex so how did my brain jump to "neat! Rounded numbers!" to euphemisms for jerking off? I suppose it doesn't matter; what does matter is that it is true. I really don't like the terminology or sound of 'beating off.' Can you believe that is the reason I decided to write this post? Just so I could say "my least favorite term for male masturbation is 'beating off'"?

Clearly, I only give my readers (all 2.56 of you) the very best when it comes to my genius and mad, gangsta prose style.