I never said never...

Let's cut to the chase. The Ex is a fantastic lay.

He's damn near perfect. Great size. Perfect shape. His skills are on point. He knows when to slow down, when to speed up, and is smart enough to know not to friggin' jack rabbit me. It doesn't hurt that he is extremely hot and that we have a sexual connection that makes things that much hotter. Not many guys(and there have been more than enough) are quite as good as he, so I have a tendency to want it from him.

In the conversations leading to the end of our together-ness, I offered him an offer that I thought he couldn't refuse: to be a no strings attached stress reliever at least 3 times per week. The bastard turned me down. I spent weeks without, which made me completely insane. Because I think that I NEED sex. I crave it. Taking matters into my own hands, literally, gets old fast.

Lately, The Ex has been trying to rekindle some of what was good before things went bad in our relationship. Me, being the smut that I am, used this as an opportunity to talk him into bed. It worked. And it was fantastic, as it's always been. But now, one day later, I'm craving it again. I know this isn't such a great idea, but if you read you know that I tend to do stupid shit.

Don't get me wrong. The Ex is hot. He's great fun to be around(and even more fun in bed). I can't be with him, though. He's an idiot, a liar, a cheater, and has serious commitment issues. We dated for nearly a year and, after about 3 months of dating, I began to see his shady ways. It was tough to be with him, but I often couldn't help myself. Now, I don't want to be with him and I've told him that. The sex is great, he's a cool guy, but all he can be is my jumpoff.

And the text is sent...

He Returns...

Anyone who knows me knows that I love Queens of the Stone Age. I can relate to a lot of their lyrics and the band just kind of rocks. Very me. It's what gets me motivated to run hill sprints. It gets me through some frustrating times. It's just damn good music.

Today, The Ex returned. Today with an email. So, like a fool, I entertain it to get my rocks off. He ended up calling me. I sang this song to him:

Hypocritical Much?

Yesterday, I had a conversation with LB about my nutrition and training practices. I generally eat a vegetarian diet, consuming fish only a few times per month, and I am very careful about what I do eat. I train hard, lifting several times per week as well as a few sessions of cardio. Yes, I'd like to lose a couple of 20 lbs, but what girl doesn't?

In the past, LB and I have discussed girls that he thinks are hot. No, I did not initiate the conversation. Yes, it was utterly ridiculous and I realize I should have cut it short. I mostly entertained it to see where his head was and what he liked physically. Of course, I heard the typical Beyonce, Halle Berry, Jessica Alba answer. Don't get me wrong: these are beautiful women with beautiful bodies, but I am not even close to that.

That's not to say that I don't think I'm beautiful either. Hell, I think I'm pretty damn hot in a Sara Ramirez sort of way. And I've got muscles, too! Without this layer of fat, I'm a pretty bad broad. And although I think that I am just as sexy as Jennifer Hudson, I'm not quite good enough to be as hot as Beyonce. At least as far as the media and the general population are concerned.

What makes this so ridiculous with LB is not that he thinks those women are hot. We all have preferences. LB made the comment that if a woman looks good, she looks good. He noted that he thinks I am hot and I don't need to lose weight. When I told him about the pressures of society, he stated;

"That's not true. Jennifer Hudson is hot. She could stand to lose 10 or 15 lbs, but she's still hot. If she didn't lose it, she'd be hot."

Say what?

Who? Moi?

Yesterday, a friend told me that I was too boring. She asked what I had planned this weekend and, truly, I had nothing. Hang out with my parents, tidy my place, the normal things. Truth be told, I'm working hard at saving money so to that when my house is complete, I can buy the things that I want and need and feel secure about the decision to do so.

Of course, she protested.

And, as it ended, I didn't do a damn thing! I tidied my place, went to my parents' house for a while, and crashed on the sofa to watch a movie. A movie I've seen a million times, but can't get enough of watching. I'm a romantic at heart, but not one that truly believes in love the way you see it on TV. Under the Tuscan Sun is not a sap-tastic romance, but more of my idea of love. You see what you think is love, it smiles at you then slaps you in the face, and walks of content knowing it just screwed you over. With that said...

Where can I get one of these?

(Yes, I know that this was one of her loves slapping her in the face. But, please...just let one like that smile at me. He can slap me, too. I might like it!)

Will I ever learn?

I'll be honest: I do stupid things. No matter how smart, how amazing, or how great you think I am, I do stupid things. Every Friday, I'll be posting a countdown of the 3 most idiotic things I've done for the week. Let's get this party started right:

3. Attempting to rationalize with Little Bit - You see, Little Bit, who I will refer to as LB, is a younger guy. Much younger. In an effort to create a situation that should have been easy for the both of us, I tried explaining why we could never be together and why he should see other people. Of course, LB doesn't quite understand my idea of "managing expectations."

2. Attempting to rationalize with pompous arses - I think this is pretty clear. It just ain't happening.

1. Admitting to going on a date with someone else - This is always a questionable act. The outcome can be either really good or really, really bad. LB didn't seem to get the message when we spoke about expectations, so I thought telling him that I was going on date with another guy would have taken care of any dreams he had of being in a relationship with me. Not only did I admit this to him, but I blocked all incoming calls so that he could not contact me even if he wanted. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned. Now, I have a whining, crying, tempermental male human on my hands who appears will stop at nothing to convince me that I should not date other people and be with him. I can be assured that this will follow me through next week and into the top 3 again.

Oh, joy.

Missing the top 3 by a sliver of stupidity: (1)Taking caffeine pills at a ridiculous hour, causing loss of sleep and a generally crappy attitude and (2)doing something terribly mean to LB in hopes that he would get the message. He didn't.

The weekend is here, my prime time for more stupidity. It's on!

The Moment of Enlightenment

"That's why you're sitting there alone."

Those are the famous last words from a loving relative at the height of the most ridiculous arguement I've ever had in my life. Being that said relative has the perfect life: great job, great(so it appears) marriage, great(or, so they hope) kids, the comment stung. In the heat of the moment or drunk, people are usually most honest. Is this what said relative thought of me? That I was alone because I was not quite capable of sitting down and shutting up?

Well, I'll be damned.

Truth be told, I can't pinpoint one particular reason why I am single. Maybe it's because my dating experiences have been less than optimal. Or maybe I am not quite into being in a serious relationship at the time. Quite possibly, it's because I'm so sick of dealing with pompous arses that I'd rather toy with them and enjoy myself while they drive themselves mad.

No reference to noted relative being a pompous arse, but whatever.

My last relationship was with The Ex. The Ex was a nice looking guy of the tall, dark, and handsome variety. He was also a user who broke it off with me because I was not willing to support him and his silly spending habits. He found it ideal to date others who were willing to give him money while in a 'relationship' with me. This did not bode well for The Ex, who begged relentlessly for 2 months before I blocked him from calling me. Alas, I think he is gone for good.

This blog will chronical what it's like to be a late twenty-something living in a metropolis - the good, the bad, and the ugly. And boy, does it get ugly...