BROKEN RULES AND A CROTCH HEART

After the whole MainSqueeze thing blew up in my face I vowed that I would never again let my heart live in my vagina.

I admit I've had some set backs in the whole heart in the crotch department. I've grown attached to some of my men over the years but nothing as delusional as that first real man-stake with MainSqueeze.

Now I'd like to say that it's been a wonderful world of detached sex but it's had its ups and downs. I mean on one hand you're already playing the chance game of one night stands but then you also have the bedroom politics. Some men don't like a woman who plays the emotionless sex game. God forbid you scream their names at night then leave without a kiss goodbye in the morning.

But if you ask for a number then you're needy.

Oh sweet jesus let me just bask in the hypocrisy that is men.

I'm getting off track. Where were we? Oh yes, detached sex and not letting my chatch rule my heart.

Sometimes it gets lonely. Sometimes I just want someone to talk to and tell them how my day went. Some days I wake up and wish that I had more to look forward to with my partner than a morning orgasm.

Other days I just want the orgasm.

See, I'm not completely heartless. I do want to find a boyfriend. Hell I'd even like to find a husband before I reach 30. But I'm also aware that pining over one night stands and secret bad boy flings doesn't get me anywhere closer to that pipe dream.

It is brutally obvious that when I'm only in town for 2 weeks, the guy I take home from the bar won't be my soulmate. Hell, even when I'm in town for 2 years that guy still probably isn't the one I want to spend rainy sunday mornings with.

So why, WHY DEAR GOD, am I starting to harbor feelings for a fling?

It's not even a plausible one. It's not like I'm in love with Mr. FancyPants Sebastian and his high school diploma, who at least lives in the same country as me. Nope. I've gone and developed wibbly girly feelings for a guy that lives a world away. I dunno if I should even say which of my escapades I'm referring to because it's just so implausible.

We have nothing in common, we barely ever talk and it's doubtful we'll ever be in the same location for very long.

Yet here I am, sitting up at night, thinking about him.

Someone shoot me, I think I have a crush.

It's just... despite not having anything in common with him and barely ever talking he is the guy that I want to spent rainy sunday mornings with. I think we'd be happy spending a night together where all of our clothes stay on. I believe he'd find my love of water gun fights endearing and sexy.

My day dreams often involve water gun fights.

None of this changes that it's ridiculous and stupid and could never work.

Also this doesn't take into account that, while I do think he enjoyed screwing me, I have no idea if he even sees me like that. I gotta figure out a way to shake this.

No, the answer is not to get over him by getting under someone else. I've already done that. It doesn't work. So if you have any useful advice for me, please send it my way. Because I feel like a right idiot.


Stoopid Vagina


xxKK

ON POPPING MY BRITISH CHERRY

So now that I've finished my rant about women having the right do to whatever the fuck they want with their vaginas I decided to go out for a rage and.. well.. do whatever the fuck I wanted with my vagina.

So I met up with my london gal pal and partner in crime, Charlotte, and we headed out into the night equipped with our wedges, lipgloss and predrink buzz.

We ended up at this bar that mostly smelt like vomit with potent drinks (hence the vomit smell) and an... erratic DJ.
Seriously I have to assume this guy was trippin balls on ritalin laced with acid because his music selection was just.. impossible. We're talking savage garden followed by old school beastie boys then backstreet boys then just compilations of lasers and dying animals.

And the crowd was loving it! There was some serious raging going on on the dance floor.

At first I felt that I was a littttle out of my element. But then I said fuck it, theres booze, how out of my element could I be?

3 hours later we were smashed, had lost 5 of the 7 people we'd arrived with and were ready to crawl back home. Charlotte stopped to bum a ciggy off of some fine gentleman from Australia and that's when I met him.

His name is Nathaniel.

Nathaniel.

Seriously?

I must be in England because that's a fancy ass name. And he looked fancy to match it. Despite the messy sort of night we'd had and the messy sort of bar we were in, Nathaniel was still perfectly pressed in a crisp white shirt that was tucked into jeans that cost more than my monthly rent. And don't even get me started on his perfect fucking face.

Needless to say we did not go home and get into our jammies like good girls should, noooo, we stayed and had more drinks and then when we were really tired we went back to Charlottes house and had a few more drinks.

That's about the time that Nathaniel, in very polite and proper fashion, invited me home with him.

Well. It's gotta happen some time and if I have to pick someone to pop my British cherry with I'm gonna take a guy that looks like he belongs in a magazine.

So we head off and we're chatting and then it slips out. He's a bit younger than me. I think, not a big deal, if you remember I just had Giles, the 20 year old, back home. Young is clearly not a problem for me.

No biggie.

So we get home and have some really glorious sex. This was not a Giles re-do, this kid knew exactly what he was doing.

*sigh*

The sad thing about great sex is that it always has to come to an end.

Which it did. But in the morning I got to have round 2,3 and 4. So I guess I can't really complain ;)

And in the morning we're lying there in post-mind-blowing-sex glory and we start chatting some more and I'm being nosy and looking around his immaculate room in his immaculate apartment and I spy a yearbook.

I love yearbooks (I was editor in chief of mine) so I grab it to leaf through and look at what a fancy English boarding school looks like when I catch sight of something terrifying.

"2012"

....

It's printed across the front of the yearbook in great big golden letters.

So, trying not to have a full freak out, I casually ask "is this yours?"

He tells me yes, and I say "but it says 2012" and he says "yeah. I graduated in June."

As in.. June 2012. As in this past June. As in the kid I just spent hours having sex with was graduating high school a year after I graduated from college.

This prompted a litttttle bit of a freak out which led to him telling me that it's fine... he's old for his year, he's been 19 for ages.

Somehow that just didn't make me feel better.

Anyways, on that horrifying note I found it was about that time to put my pants back on and crawl back to Charlottes so that I could try to sleep away some of the shame.

Naps had no effect unfortunately.

Once I made it home and had brushed out the sex-induced knots in my hair and told the story to a few friends it didn't seem so bad and now I'm basically over the shock and into the phase where I pat myself on the back for pulling a hot guy who's actually awesome in bed.

Good job Kitty. Good to know the move hasn't hurt your game. If anything, in fact, it seems to have upped your skillz. I'm slightly more confident now. Still need to get a job and figure out all this relocation stuff but hey, at least I've got one thing down pat.

xxKK

THOUGHTS ON DOUBLE STANDARDS

Todays post is going to be a little different than my usual foray into manventures. I was talking this morning to one of my guy friends about his various lady problems and I was giving him some advice about how to drop a summer fling and how to avoid being friend zoned. Somewhere in the mix I said how I would have made such a better man than a girl.

And I do believe that on some level. I always end up hanging out with the guys and I've had way more close guy friends in my life than girl friends. I've always been attracted to the more masculine things in life. I like video games and taking apart electronics and football etc, etc.

And I often lump sex into that.

That's a problem. It's a double standard. I'm basically saying that it's more acceptable for guys to be sexually experienced. And yeah, sometimes I make poor decisions and I don't always have the best judgement when it comes to partners but does that mean I should be looked at as a slut or be given a bad reputation? If I were a guy I might get a little judgement for the quality of ass that I pulled but it wouldn't be seen as slutty or wrong.

How can I agree with that? When did I start letting other people tell me how I should live my life? Do I think I've made mistakes? Yes. Have some of those been sexual? Yes. But in the grand scheme of things does it make me a worse person?

No.

It doesn't. I enjoy sex and in my perfect world I would have a boyfriend who gave it to me regularly but just because I don't have the boyfriend doesn't mean I can't have the sex.

I have regrets but most of those revolve around the times that I've hurt someone. It's not like "oh no! I slept with someone else and am not immoral and slutty and stupid and I hate myself." No. It's usually "oh no... I didn't realize the effect that would have on that person I care about. I feel horrible that I hurt them."

So I'm taking back what I said to my friend this morning. I do still think my life would be easier if I were a man (I mean... no more cramps would be nice) but easier doesn't mean better. And being a girl I get to do things I wouldn't as a man... like give birth or wear high heels or change the double standard that comes with sexual experience.

I'm a girl. One who likes sex and has a lot of it. And I'm a goddamn fucking lady. And I refuse to let anyone, including myself, tell me otherwise.

I'm taking a stand and taking back my sexual identity. This is my body and these are my choices and I'm going to continue to make mistakes but I'm also going to continue enjoying my life and living by my terms.

xxKK

RECAP AND CATCH UP

Hey kids,

Long time no see. My fault, I know. I've been a little MIA for the past, oh I dunno, 3 months. But I had this whole debacle happen with Skip and Eric and then some work drama and moving drama and moving away from New York drama and it just all got a little much.

But its still not fair. I promised debauchery! And things are a little different now so I don't know how much of that promise I'll be able to keep but by god I will try.

Let's catch up.

So Skip found out that I had hooked up with Eric and stopped talking to me.

I vowed never again to see Eric but then Skip still didn't talk to/ forgive me so when Eric invited me out for his birthday I went.

That "early night" turned into triple shots of jager and crawling back into Erics bed.

Eric, instead of being fun drunk, decided to get all deep and emotional and thats not really my thing so that was a buzzkill. He still tried to insist on birthday sex... and we sort of did but he was drunk and couldn't keep up so my birthday present to him was pretending it was good for me.

After that he started texting and calling me all the time. Started talking about how he knew all the guys I slept with. In a creepy he-remembers-better-than-I-do way. Told half the people I know that we were dating and the other half that we had soooo much sex.

This was a clingy situation and, frankly, not to my liking so I cut him from my roster.

Run into Skip a few days later and he's completely find with me. like no problem at all. Because he wasn't mad.. no of course not.. he was just busy with his new job. I mean... why would he be mad that I was hanging out with his best friend? Right?

Yeah...

That awkward answer led to him asking if I'd slept with Eric... it's a small town. People talk. I wasn't going to lie to him! So I told Skip the truth and then he was mad for real.

But whatever.

You can't sex breakup with me and then get mad when I sleep with your best friend! I mean I get that it was kind of slutty but it's not like I knew who he was when I met him. Gosh.

After that I took some detours along the slutty train to make out with some ex-coworkers and a boy in a hot tub.

Then I took a trip to uncharted territory.

I became a cougarette.

I was partying with some boys I know from high school and they had this hot guy I'd never seen before with them. And he gave me that look. The one that lets you know that they want to take you home. And they get what they want.

I wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such a look.

I swooned.

Now lemme paint you a little picture. This guy, looked like Josh Harnett, circa 2002, with blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.

Spitting image. 

Swoon with me this time kids.

So we start talking and its charged and sexual and he invites me to an afterparty where we make out until one of my old buddies from HS tells me exactly who I'm kissing.

This is Giles... Charlie's baby cousin. Who is 20. Who just turned 20. And is three years younger than me and related to my very serious ex.

I tell Giles this isnt a good idea but hey, he's young, they're second cousins and he's very persuasive.

So we go back to his apartment and I learn that some kids just don't know how to use what god gave them.

So disappointing.

But at least I got to look at that beautiful face while I was disappointed.

The next morning Giles tried to get my number so we could hang out and I laughed a little and  then told him I was leaving in two days. He was sad, but that's to be expected. Oh well.

Two days later Skip calls and wants to get together on my last night at home. I think we're gonna make up and... make up... but after a drink that I stretched a painful 2 hours and a rousing conversation about my big move he kissed me on the cheek and wished me well.

What the fuck?

You don't just call up a sex buddy that you aren't speaking to for drinks and then not sleep with them. It's just mean.

So being a child I instantly texted one of my guys friends, Austin, about my disappointing turn of events and he invited me over to remedy the situation.

Now... this was a little out of the blue. I mean I've known Austin since I was 14 and other than this one time when I was 15 where I made out with him for like 20 seconds I haven't had any interaction like that with him before. We're buddies. He helps me with my inability to fill motor vehicles with fuel and I provide witty commentary and banter.

But I was bored, super stressed about the move and 5 minutes from him so I threw on my sweat pants and went to Austins.

He greeted me in basketball shorts and a wifebeater, looking pretty fine, and then we just chilled out for 2 hours. We were sort of watching Transformers but that just turned into my ragging on Megan Fox and her bitchy cheekbones so after a while he turned it off and asked what I wanted to do.

Well... you know me..

Anyways I won't give you the details because this is just an overview, a quick catch up and it's getting pretty long, but I will say that it was the best fucking stress relief I've ever had. And Austin is fucking mad cool so I'm really hoping that we continue to... help each other out... whenever I'm home.

He's one of like... 3 people I talk to regularly from home.

Well.

That was summer back home. I have one story from my brief visit back to New York and a load of stuff to tell you about my new home but for now I'll just bid you adieu and say I've missed you and I hope that you're still checking in every now and then, even if I did desert you for a few months.

Love love love.

xxKK

LIGHT ME UP LIKE A GLOW STICK, BABY.

After the injuries of last week I decided I needed to a) not hook up with vag breakers anymore b) probably find a new playmate and c) rave the pain away.

Success on all counts.

A) I saw Grant at happy hour and, despite the fact that I basically walked into a trashcan, I managed to play it cool and just give him a friendly wave. 

B) While out on Thursday night I found myself in VIP with bottle service with some old coworkers and  I met two new hot boy friends. One, who right now doesn't really matter, and Eric. A blue eyed bad boy with a wicked smile and sense of humor. He worked pretty hard to keep my attention and, not only did he ask for my number, but he also used it. He used it to send me sweet nothings and make plans for the next night.

C) About that next night. There was a rave at one of the bars so after I went to happy hour, dinner and drinks with Marie, I met up with Eric and my girls and went down, dressed in a blindingly neon green shirt and sunglasses. Because I wear sunglasses at night. Because I'm a douchebag. 

Now, for the record, I haven't been to a rave since I went through my... precarious party phase in New York. And I don't really rage like that anymore so I went thinking I'd have a few drinks, dance under the strobe light, head home early. 

NOT THE CASE.

I had a few drinks, danced under the strobe light, fell down some stairs, raged like a true raver, ended up on stage at some point, got yelled at by the bouncer and, at around 2:30, blitzed out of my mind, left with Eric. 

First we went back to Eric's friends house to listen to a really weird mix of music and do vodka shots and be weird. Left around 6 am. Went to Eric's where I promptly demanded to be horizontal and opted out of a shower so I could climb into bed. 

Probably a bad idea. I was so dirty. 

I had god only knows what in my hair, I was sweaty, covered in booze and neon paint and I looked worse than I've looked in a loooong time. But when Eric got back from his shower none of that dirtiness stopped him from jumping right into bed with me. At first, respecting the post rave exhaustion, he just cuddled and rubbed my back. Once I'd slept a while we began to play. 

No sex but a lot of fun. 

In the morning we realized that, having left his bike in town we had no trans so Eric starts to text his nearby friends to see if anyone will give us a ride. And we're snuggling and I can see him texting and I notice that he's talking to someone named Skip.

Yup.

Skip.

My Skipper.

And here Eric is... asking him to come pick us up. So I mention that maybe, just maybe, that's not the greatest idea. Because I know him.

In the biblical sense.

And this it hits me. This is Eric. This is Skipper's best friend Eric. Who Skip has told me about in detail. HIS BEST FRIEND. So of course immediately Eric tells Skip that he's with me.

Radio Silence.

Apparently Skipper didn't want to sleep with me anymore... but he also didn't want his friends to either...

Oops.

I mean... what's the protocol for something like this? What does whore etiquette dictate for accidental best friend seducing?

The good news is that being Eskimo buddies with Skip doesn't seem to bother Eric.
We ended up calling a cab and I got redressed in my neon green dress, looked at myself in the mirror and tried, in vain, to pull myself together into some semblance of normalcy. Because I looked like shit. On top of the previous nights mess I now had bed head and some serious pillow marks.

Plus you know how after you've raged you wake up with everything looking different. Like your eyes are dull and your skin is gross looking and you smell like death.

Yeah.

That.

So I threw on some emergency makeup, tried to tame my hair into a bun and walked out in a slutty slutty rave outfit.

Neon Walk Of Shame.

When I stopped to get cash out it was mortifying. I'm dressed like a fucking highlighter and everybody is staring at me. A bright light of shame. Or game. Either one.

Anyways, I think it might have been worth the shame because I found a fun playmate for, hopefully, the rest of the summer. I thought that, like most boys, he would just sort of disappear. That once I was out of sight I'd be out his thoughts too. But no. It's Sunday and ever since I left his side yesterday I've had a constant stream of lovely messages from him and he has been quite convincing in trying me to come over. I mean he promised me a back massage! Thats some serious willpower kryptonite. But luckily for my dignity I have no trans. I'm trying to make him work for it.

Wish me luck, lovelies.

xxKK

SCREWING AROUND / HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN AGAIN?

WARNING: This contains some graphic, not so sexy, images. If you are squeemish you might want to skip this post. You've been warned.

So I promised you some sexytime stories and it may have taken me longer than I like to get down to it but, don't worry, I got in the field and I did some dirty work for y'all.

But unfortunately this isn't all sunshine and unicorn giggles.

Well... that wouldn't be my idea of a good time anyways. But thats besides the point. The point is that while I rejoice a sexual encounter I expect it to be a pleasant and pain-free experience. And sometimes my expectations are not met. But usually even when my experiences are total failures (see EMT guy, Ken, Jay.. and 85% of the other boys) I usually don't feel broken after. Except for that one time with Billy.

But I swore after Billy I'd never ever let a man break me like that again. I mean.. we are talking ice pack to the vag broken.

Not pretty.

Anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm out in town with some friends and I'm drinking and dancing and doing the usual social mingle. And I have decided that I'm going to have sex. Because honestly, this shit is getting ridiculous. I have been home for almost a month, seen basically everyone of my past sex buddies and not a single person has propositioned me yet. That's insanity! I always get laid when I'm home. This is upsetting. So I'm going to have sex.

Well the whole freaking night goes by and nothing.

Except that I ran into a kid I used to babysit at the bar. Nothing makes you feel older than some tiny skinny girl in a crop top and tiny shorts bouncing around as you reminisce over babysitting adventures.

Ugh.

So my crew decides they want to leave and I run into Grant, my neighbor.

Now Grant and I have a bit of a past. See when I was regularly sleeping with Main Squeeze we had our share of... problems.

Secrecy, infidelity, lying, confusion. Etc. Anyways once I realize that our secrecy was because of the infidelity and his lying about having other girlfriends I may have gotten a liiiitle mad and gone on a sex spree.

This was all before I had this blog so you can't be mad that I didn't tell you about it. Anyways in one week I slept with a geek, a d-bag and I blew my next door neighbor... Grant.

But see, in the middle of blowing Grant two things happened. I realized that, having been finished off first, I wasn't that invested in Grant having an orgasm and Main Squeeze texted me asking me to come over.

MS was my first crush after Charlie crushed my heart. He was my first bad boy. So sexy and despite the aforementioned issues as soon as he texted I mumbled some excuse to Grant, left him there with a hard on and drove my drunken ass to MS's to have some crazy hate/love sex.

The next time I saw him we split a cab home with another girl and somehow all three of us ended up drinking wine by his pool and with the two of them dating.

Third time he tried to feel me up in a cab and I drunkenly gave him a talking to because I am clearly not that kind of woman and how dare he disrespect me.

Except clearly I'm totally that kind of woman


So this time I was shocked when everything was going fairly normally. We  got to our neighborhood. We'd already been poured on so it wasn't so hard to jump in the pool. Naked of course.
We started to play and I definitely thought he was going to drown when he started to give me oral underwater. Literally.. it was such a weird sensation and I definitely was enjoying myself but I was also worried that at any minute he was going to run out of air and die. And do you realize how awkward that would be?

I mean. Clearly I'd have to call 911. And wake up his family. And explain how he'd managed to drown in the shallow end of their pool. And why he was naked. And why I was there. And why I was wet. OMG and then I'd be that girl who'd killed a girl with her vagina. I'd be in a pool, naked, with a corpse.

Oh wow. Where's that klonopin?

We're on the fast track to anxiety-ville.

Anyways he didn't die.

Huzzah!

We finish up in the pool and it's fucking freezing by this point so I'm looking forward to the warmth of a comfy bed and lots of body heat and sexiness.

Wrong again!

He tells me that his room is right between his darling sister and his parents so thats probably a bad idea. So we head to the sauna... the scene of our first encounter. More touching and playing and joking and I grab some condoms and then he's like... "Kitty... we're just having fun, right?"

WAY TO KILL THE MOOD DUDE.

Like come on. Look at me. I'm fucking naked in your sauna for the second time, drenched from a goddamn naked midnight swim in your porn-y friggin' pool. Do I look like I'm trying to marry you? NO. Shut up and get in me.

So we go at it for a bit. And then the wonders of drunkery get to him and we have some equipment malfunctions. He tries to make up for it and by this point I'm tired, uncomfortable (have you ever tried to fuck in a sauna? It's all wood and no cushions.) and I just want to be done already. But noooooo! He's a man and he has to prove himself.

So he's going for it and I'm enjoying it and whatever and then suddenly it's kind of painful and I brush it off because I often have this problem. Frictions a bitch, yo. So he's still going and right as I'm like stop, I'm done he stops and he's like "oh my god, I'm so sorry." So I look down and his arm is covered in blood.

Like... Looks like he was on the fucking set of Grey's Anatomy. And I realize he's apologizing because that blood is coming out of me.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Clearly we have to stop. Because I've managed to get blood all over him, me, the floor and the wooden seat of the sauna. Fuck. My. Life.

So he suggests we jump back in the pool. A brief swim and a mortifying experience of washing my blood off the floor later and we're heading to my house. Which is a few doors down from his so it wasn't a difficult commute. Just uncomfortable considering the wet clothes, the cold air and the blood on my legs.

I can't say I've ever been quite so mortified in my life.

Before I leave he makes a joke about how clearly this means we shouldn't try again since the world has it against us. So there goes that potential sex buddy.

Which I'm okay with since, you know, he broke my vagina and all. But still. It's sort of depressing to know that you might only get one one-night-stand during the whole 2 month vacation home.

Well I haven't had to put an ice pack on this time but this was definitely more upsetting than Billy. Hey Billy was gay, married and had a tiny penis. I didn't really care about not seeing him again but Grant is my neighbor! Who I've managed to be naked with quite a few times. Oh my god. I wonder if he's as scarred by that image as I am. Because seriously... it was like a horror movie.

I'm dying of embarrassment. And now that I have shared that embarrassment with all of the interwebs I think I shall retire to my bed and bury my head far far far under a pillow and a pile of blankets.

Please feel free to send me any comforting words or perhaps a mortifying story of your own to ease my wounded soul.

xxKK

ON HOW I'M A BAD BLOGGER... AND OTHER THINGS

So wow... apparently there's this blog that I'm supposed to be writing.

Oops.

But I promised an update and here it is.

The fact of the matter is that the last month has been a hellhole of stress, emotions and poor decisions. All the things needed to make a great blog, I know, but where's the time??

And with everything going on I never know how to proceed with the backlog. Whether it makes sense to just write one giant post and tell you everything or stagger it in a time-lapse sort of format.

Arg.

I supposed I have enough drama to spread out into multiple posts.

Lets go back in time a bit.

So after my run in with a radioactive mosquito and a pain in the ass Joey I returned to the city to nurse my wounds (literally) and drank away the memory of inconsiderate boys I found myself back into the city routine.

Work, drink, sleep, work.

Then things got a little shaken up. See my long lost hometown friend showed up in New York.

Lets call him Skipper. He's ex-navy so the name fits. Plus it seems appropriate for a boy I knew as a trickster when I was 16.

So Skip had told me he was coming to NY for the month of June so, despite the potential awkwardness that might result from a 3 year past drunken hookup, I decide we should definitely meet up.

A saturday afternoon, some soccer and 6 pints later we're making out.

Eh.

Should have expected this.

He's a good looking hometown hookup in New York. Why not?

So we drink and kiss and drink and kiss and wind up knackered at  my house far earlier than normal.

I'm thinking this is great! I'm about to head home fore 3 months and he's heading back after a month in NY. Temporary boy toy! Who wouldn't love that?

So from then onward I was seeing Skip fairly regularly. Hanging out with my friends, getting drunk, getting tattoos. The usual.

But here's the catch. We barely are hooking up. We're doing a lot of kissing and holding hands and going on adventures but not a lot of naked adventures. So I'm having fun but am a little confused about what we are.

So this gets more confusing one night when he and I get into a spat at a bar.

He's being obnoxious and I'm being a bitch because I'm hangry and tired. So after we quip at each other for a few hours he surprises me. Because he doesn't just pull some macho male BS and make this situation worse. He actually looks at me and realizes that I'm just hungry and bitchy and suggests we go get dinner. After he buys me a delicious meal and digs me up some asprin he takes me home, tucks me in and watches a movie with me, rubbing my back until I fall asleep.

Oh shit.

This ones a good one.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?..

I'm used to the boys I screw being in it for the screwing. Not for the rubbing of backs and cuddling and things.

This could be dangerous.

Anyways this renewal of blogging has really taken it out of me so I think it's time to retire to my oh so strenuous life of leisure*.


* Oh yah I don't have a job anymore. More on that later.

xxKK

PLAYTIME WITH PBA

Well.. We might need a new nickname for PBA.

At first the nickname discribed our intended relationship. And when that relationship idea failed it was left to brand him as the little slut of a tease that he was.

But now we've hooked up.

Thats right! Bring on the applause! After months, nay, YEARS of waiting for him to follow up on his promises of sexcapades I finally nailed the illusive PBA.

Okay but lets back up. 1) I want to set the scene for you guys... can't just jump to the main event! Like a fine wine this shit deserves some time and appreciation. 2) Right now I know you little deviants are imagining some sexy tryst with hand cuffs and duct tape and whipped cream... (or is that just me?)... but instead this was actually kind of romantic and wonderful.

So something I don't think I've really told you about PBA is that we've actually had a semi romantic relationship in the past. It wasn't always about getting laid. We used to say that if we were ever single and together that we could make it work. And in the years that have come since then we've seen each other less, talked less and become more of... sex friends.

Who never have sex.

Until I showed up at a party this weekend and, like a knight in a shining grey suit, he was standing there in a perfect halo of light.

Fucking flood lights are cool, man.

Anyways. I had known in advance that he'd probably be there (don't worry this wasn't Ninja at a bar part 2) but I wasn't expecting him to look so damn sexy. He was rolling classy in sexy pressed jeans, a button down and a sweet suit jacket. Mmm. Barney from HIMYM is right... a man in a suit (even just the jacket) is a sexy beast of a man.

So I give him a a hug and make sure to step into the light so he can appreciate how sexy I look (and damn... I looked sexxxxy)

And then, as to not be a clingy desperate stalker, I venture off to the party.

We'll about 5 minutes in I realize that I don't know anyone except PBA and my two friends, who were supposed to be my rides and are now getting waaaasted.

Well, shit.

Decide that maybe drinking is a bad idea since I might be attempting to drink a car for the first time in 2 years or walking home. Grab a water and take up a post watching these strangers get more wasted than freshmen at frat rush.

PBA comes and grabs some couch with me. And in one part of my mine I'm like OMG I'M GOING TO TO TOTALLY HAVE SEXY TIME WITH HIM AT LAST.
But in the other side I realize that it's actually really great catching up with him. We spend a few hours just talking about everything from work to... well actually just work because we're both so busy. And as we're talking we're getting closer and closer and I'm letting my "I don't need to show physical affection because I'm too cool for emotions" facade fall and I'm touching his arm (a clear sign of affection) and playing with my hair (flirting 101) and he, instead of rejecting this like I expect, puts his arm around me and suddenly we're snuggling.

IN PUBLIC.

I know this sounds weird, but do you guys understand how amazing that is?

To have a sober cuddle session in public?! (he was sober too)

It's something that I can't remember happening since... since Charlie. That's a long time. A long time indeed...

So we're cuddling and it's late and he tells me he has to go because he has to be up really early. So that's a downer. But he offers me a right home... which I guess is something. Better than car theft or walking.

So he's driving me home and I keep hoping that he runs out of gas or something so that I can spend more time with him.

Who the fuck am I???  What are all these emotions?


BAD EMOTIONS. GET BACK IN YO' CAVE.


Anyways he starts slowing down as he gets into my lane and I realize he doesn't want to drop me off.
It's like all of my 12 year old drams come true.

So he drives past my driveway. Goes to the little circle at the end of the lane to turn around but instead just turns off the car. And so we start talking some more. And then it happens. He lets go of my hand (oh yeah, he was holding my hand) and reaches over and kisses me.

And I wish that I could say I stayed calm and classy but I pretty much jumped onto him. I was just so excited that it was happening! And so we made out for quite some time. Then he tells me, with a sad face, that he didn't bring a condom.

SLUTSOMATIC TO THE RESCUE.

I just happened to have my extra thin sensitive Durex on me.

Safe Sex FTW.

We climb into the back seat (oh yeah, keep in mind that we're in a jeep right now... how sweet valley high, right?) And we get down to it. And I forgot how awkward it is to have sex in a car! We fumbled for a while before getting into a groove.

Into a glorious groove.

Where I may, or may not, have said "Oh my god, I'm having sex with PBA"

...I would be more embarrassed but apparently he truly enjoyed that little exclamation...

And then he sort of threw out his back. (yeah... it was that kind of sex)

So that sort of stopped the action for a while. But while we took a break and hung out naked in the back seat. He gave me a back rub (which is pretty much my favorite thing ever) and we talked about our lives and about our hopes, dreams and worries.

Yes. It was that kind of sappy lovey thing.

And it was beautiful.

We just hung out and were happy together. Haven't felt that way in a long time.

So after a few hours of hanging out (after he had said he had to be home so much earlier) we finally decide to clamber back into the front seat and get dressed. At this point I realized I'm on the edge of a second post-sex breakdown and I try to post pone him leaving for so long. After an extra hour I realize that it's officially ridiculous. It's almost 6am... the time he was supposed to be waking up. So I let him drop me off and I, semi tearfully say goodbye.

But unlike with Ken this time I was sad because I really might like this guy.

For once I felt happy with a guy and I didn't have to be drunk or secretive or anything. It was just naturally wonderful.

And the sex was amazing.

So I guess that's something to be thinking about.. Ugh speaking of late it's late now I need to sleep but there's one last bit to this story so keep your eyes on the horizon for the last bit of vacation gossip.

xxKK

WEEKEND GETAWAY / THE POST-SEX BREAKDOWN THAT WAS

I promise that I will tell you the rest of the Niko story soon but if I try to write this blog in a strictly chronological order then it may never get told. Lets face it. I have the attention span of a goldfish.

Anyways. I came home this weekend. Not for any particular reason, just because my father offered to pay for it and who am I to turn down free airfare? And I'm so used to coming home and raging my face off and seeing a million different people and sleeping with a little less than a million people and just having an awesome me-centered time.

Well, I didn't really tell anyone I was coming home and then I got back and expected to be like "surprise! love me!" but instead it was sort of lame. Like I still raged my face off. But it wasn't what I expected. I spent my first 7 hours at home lying on my bed and singing along to Josh Groban. Finally got to dinner with a friend... one drink turned into 5 and then the night really began. Hit a pre-drink where a rousing game of Never Have I Ever revealed to everyone that there is very little I've never done. 2 bottles of vodka later we roll into town and it's like... dead.

That doesn't stop us from grabbing some drinks and some shots and moving to another bar where it isn't so dead. And I'm wasted and smiley and everything is good when I see one of my guy friends who does know I'm home. I see he's with a little group of our friends so I run over and give him a huge hug and when I step back I see the 4th person in the group.

Ninja.

Who then asks me where his hug is.

So I give it to him but I feel like I've been hit with a sledgehammer. Like... he's never out. Ever. I didn't expect this. So a bit of my drunk slips away.

Can't let that happen.

More shots, more drinks, double fisting. All the way, baby.

So at this point I'm sort of toying with the line between fun drunk and emotional drunk. And Ninja, being the wonderful man he can be asks whats wrong and is being so nice and I find out that the earlier upset we had was pretty much all in my head. That he didn't realize how upset I was. That I'm basically a big baby. So that's good. And we're good. It's all good. And then his wife pops up.

Death.

5 mins later he's grinding up on her and I'm sucking back my drink and someone else's as well.

This inevitably leads to me telling crying in public and telling two people who don't even know me that well that I'm in love with Ninja. Mortifying. One can only hope they were as drunk as me and forget. So I cry. Drink. Cry more. Then start my journey home. Which is where I run into the guy I hugged before (and thus he shall be called Ken) And Ken wants to hang out. SO we are going to go back to his place but our ride is really wasted so we walked to a nearby house instead. As soon as the tenants of the house go to bed I fuck Ken on the living room floor.

By fuck I mean we tried but being as intoxicated as we were it was more of an awkward messy bump'n'grind.

Wake up fully dressed next to a naked Ken a few hours later. I'm fucking freezing, I can't believe I've slept with him and I'm about on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Ken wakes up and is sober enough to go grab his bike to drive us home. The whole way I'm blabbering like an idiot and I can't tell if its the breakdown or if I'm still drunk or if maybe I'm just a fucking crazy person.

He drops me at home and I am literally acting like a fucking nutbag. I'm all "I hope you still respect me, I hope I'm not pregnant, please don't tell anyone, are you ashamed of me??" and Ken's laughter is slowly turning from haha (you're funny) to haha (you might kill me in a minute)

Got home. Cried for an hour. Sent overly dramatic facebook messages to Lizz and Shiv. Finally get to sleep at 8am. Wake up at 10 am, FUCK NO. Wake up at 12 and finally shower off all the vodka and scrub off the smell of condoms.

Honestly.. those fucking things like permeate your skin. I swear I thought my dad was going to be able to smell the sex on me.

I calm down a little bit.

See... I wasn't really upset about having sex with Ken. Let's be honest, I've made worse decisions before. But I just never thought of him that way and I was so upset about Ninja, to then go fuck his friend. Ugh. He's never going to love me if I keep being such a giant whore.

Not that he'd love me regardless.

But still.

I don't think I was emotionally stable for sex with someone that I didn't have that sort of relationship with. On one hand I was like haha I don't need Ninja I can get anyone to have sex with me! And on the other hand it was like.... Omg... I'll have sex with anyone...

Arg oh well.

PBA helped me get over it the next night.

But lets save that tidbit of gossip for another time ;)...

xxKK

ONE NIGHT WITH NIKO

After the ordeal that is The Weekend That Was I took a little break from fun times. I re-evaluated my life and decided that perhaps the time for dragging drunk randos home has come to an end.

We'll see how long that lasts.

At first everything was going swimmingly - I was busy with work, happily crafting away in my spare time. I even read like.. 5 books.

And then that week was over.

It was a friday and Niko, another intern at my company, had been unusually chatty.

Let me tell you a little bit about Niko...

Niko showed up at work one day - no introduction, no explanation - and started working out in the main quad. To be perfectly honest it took me about 3 weeks to realize that he worked there and that he was the intern people kept talking about. I went by and introduced myself. At first he gave me an impossibly long Greek name and I smiled while thinking "there is no way in hell I can say that name." Then he laughed and told me to call him Niko.

In the following month I spoke to him maybe 3 more times. We were in the same meetings, working for the same people but I was pretty much glued to my desk and he was rolling in and out whenever he wanted.

Now sometimes he caught my eye - I mean he's decently pretty and looked enough like a man's man that I was mildly interested - but it was never anything more than a passing thought.

Until the day he got fired.

That day he came into my office and dat down all chatty and I got to know him. He's an artist and suddenly I'm learning all about him and his family and hey let's get a drink.

So we do.

Work ends and me and him go to get a drink. Which leads to us going to brooklyn to see an art show. Now there are few things that can drag me to brooklyn but a cute boy who wants to talk about art and might want to take my clothes off is one of those things. So cut to dirty  BK and I'm listening to an unwashed boy croon into a decade old mic and theres some sort of prayer circle going on and the art is part pop culture massacre and part wibblewobbles on canvas. Some giant scandanavian man named Cub tries to pick me up and Niko is surprised when I turn down his offer of a warm $5 can of heiniken light.

After about an hour of me not saying anything (which is very rare) Niko decides I've seen enough and he proposing coming back to my place for a drink and some painting. We wake up Lizz and her spouse and make them entertain us for a bit while Niko shows off his paintings of... well... paint. Different color paints all across the canvas in a sort of unabashed splatter.

Then he decides its time to paint. We retire to my bedroom and start painting (how erotic, I know) and I paint the eye of a bird.

He paints mud.

Then I start to make him up a bed on my couch (the one in my room) because thus far he's only shown interest in painting, spilling his guts and spouting bro vs. artist philosophy. He watches me and waits until I've finished making said bed before saying that "after painting together I'd feel wrong not sleeping in the same bed. I just want to be close to you."

Eh.

Why not.

So he gets into his skivvies. I get into my PJs. I get into bed and roll over to go to sleep.

Then Niko starts talking.

Now, for me, the bed is for 2 things. Sleeping. And sleeping with someone. No time for deep conversation and chit chat. I sleepy.

Well he's rambling on about shit and then he breaks it down for me. He wants to kiss me. I say.. okay. Then he say that he's going to kiss me, bite my neck, take off my shirt and have sex with me. If thats okay.

Eh. Sure.

So those events progress, I grab a condom and we start. Now I'm sober by this point. I've had several hours of Brooklyn, no alcohol and talking to sober me up. But not our boy Niko. No, no. He's wasted and soon out of breath and it seems like he's really getting worked up. I am really tired. So I propose we switch positions so he doesn't have to work so hard and I can put my face on the pillow without him noticing that I might possibly be taking a teeny tiny nap.

Well then he breaks it to me...

"Let me know when you're done... I'm doing this for you."

WHOA WHOA WHOA.

No.

Right now, I am doing you the favor buddy. I'm tired as hell. And frankly sort of over the sensitive artist thing. So I quite frankly tell him I'm tired and want to go to sleep and if he's not going to finish then he might as well stop.

Anyways thats done and I finally get to sleep.

Wake up to the sounds of jackhammers. Stare at the ceiling for several hours until he finally wakes up. He gets dressed, I walk him to the door and then I, in my cool, morning after way say "don't forget your paintings." Then he says "mind if I leave them here? I'll come get them later.."

And then he's gone. And I'm left with paint on my boob, a room to clean up and a pile of paintings that look like mud.

And that was my one night with Niko.


Oh wait... did I say I only had one night with him?... my mistake...

xxKK

THE WEEKEND THAT WAS (PART 3)

(I'm so sorry that it's taken me almost a month to post part 3 but I'm like... really busy...


and ashamed)


Okay... so where did we leave off?..

Oh that's right. EMT disappoints and then departs.
Everything I want in a man and more...

(I really hope you read the sarcasm in that)

Anyways. Come sunday and I am not sure if the ground has turned to marshmellow or if the world is spinning extra fast but walking is not my friend. In fact general co-ordination is defying me. It takes me about 10 minutes to figure out how to put on pants. Get stuck at the zipper and decide to opt for a dress.

You might be wondering what someone in my, obviously impaired, state is doing getting dressed at all. I mean obviously I should be in bed with a banana and a blindfold.

Oh hush you dirty birds... banana to help the hangover (potasium) and blindfold to keep out the light (headache)

But alas, such comforts aren't afforded to this little boozehound. No, instead I force myself into clothes and drag myself uptown to meet the rest of the crew for brunch.
Or as us manhattanites like to call it: a classy excuse for pre-noon drinking.

The only problem with brunching is that any place worth the price of admission usually has an hours long wait. And thus we began our champagne and orange juice gorging long before the eggs benedict came. So I was about half in the bag before breakfast.

Oh lets be honest... I'd fallen through 2 bags into the bottom of a bottle.

I was drunnnnk.

Did I mention that this was also the finals before the superbowl?
So naturally after 3 hours of booze and foodz we decided to go (where else?) to a bar.
A few beers, slurred words and shots later I find this dashing young gentleman who is a medical student. He too takes some shots, we shoot the breeze for a while and yell at jocks on the tv screen.

I do love a man who can yell.

So I decide I need to go to my house and sober up. Funny how the bar is a block from my house. Mick (my new doctor friend) decides he too could use a glass of water and a quieter place to watch the game.
Get to my place.
I go to the bathroom for 1 minute to check my face and push some makeup around on it. I come back and guess what I find...

NAKED MICK.

As in, he has stripped down and pulled the naked man and was sitting on my couch ass naked.

Well shit.

Not much I can do now... so I move his nakedness into my room and join him for rounds 1 and 2.

And they weren't great rounds. Short, fast, over.  And frankly any man who has the balls to pull the naked man should make sure he has the cock to match them. And Mick didn't have the dick.
Sad times.
Anyways.

I know what you're thinking... 3 days of drinking, two sex buddies. How more unclassy can this be?

OH... let me tell you.

I'm lying there naked and Mick is talking to me and letting his hands wander and like.. whatever. Because I'm over it but I'm also drunk and not about to turn down extra fun. And his hands move lower and it's sort of sexy and then he prods me. Yeah. There. And not in a sexy way. And then he's like... staring at my vag and I'm like... excuse me? Go away. And he's like (I fuck you not) "Babe, it's okay, I'm a doctor"

WHAT??

Are you trying to give me a subtle vag exam?? Are you my OBGYN? Did I just get tricked into a pap smear? NO FUCKING WAY.

I then have a minor freak out because, lets face it, the fastest way to kill the mood is to go from play time to playing doctor.

So by this point, as far as I'm concerned the night is over. I'm tired, I'm annoyed, I want him to leave and I want to finally sleep off my shame.
But my girls NP and shiv call and they're out so I drag my ass back into clothing to go meet them.

Goodbye Mick.

Nope.

Mick wants to come.

So he jumps in a cab with me and we go meet my friends. Such a weird situation. The random guy I just banged (and then had try to medically examine me) playing pool with me, Shiv and Shiv's high school boyfriend Vesty.

And like.. Mick isn't bad looking. In fact he's pretty cute. Could use some fashion tips and maybe a little bit of proactiv but he's cute. But he also just pulled a weird med student thing on me and I dunno. I'm  drunk and it's weird.

Finally we call it a night and Mick and I split a cab home. I got him number  (yeah... haven't called that hot mess) and I slept on a pile of towels to avoid the bed of sin that I'd created.

The next day at work I looked as bad as I felt and I'm pretty sure I was oozing vodka but after hiding my face all day and managing not to vomit I felt like I'd paid the price for having such a bender.

It wasn't my finest hour but it probably won't be my messiest either.

and now it's time for bed.

xxKK

THE WEEKEND THAT WAS (PART 2)

Rolled out of bed, pulled on the clothes I'd worn the night before, threw on some sunglasses and called Shiv to get food.

Find out the silly nut has left her debit card at the bar we were at last night so we change the plans oh so slightly.
We make one pit stop instead of two so that we can eat and retrieve her DC at the same time. This does call for a change of clothing since the bartenders had already seen my outfit from the night before.

Luckily I was still drunk from the night before so I dressed myself rather quickly and rather like a slutty 80s prom queen might.

Black Mesh.
White Lace.
Fuchia Leather Gloves.
Leggings.
Grey Blazer.
Bra.

Thats about it.

So you understand why I had to text Shiv asking her to hurry the hell up because standing on the corner waiting for her I looked like $5 bucks would buy you a back-to-the-future worth ride.

Obviously I looked awesome.

And I even patted myself on the back and thought, "good job, Kitty, on picking an outfit that can double as a traditional walk of shame worthy get-up for the next day"

Anywhoo. We go to the bar. Sure enough one of the bartenders from the night is on and between the fucking glorious burger I had (medium rare, swiss cheese, mushrooms, mayo and bacon) and the rounds of free shots they decided to give up (at 2pm, which was like our 10am) we learned that the karaoke that I had so fiercely been decking out the night before is actually recorded. And the bartenders watch it.

All the time.

And they have a highlights reel.

Yes. I'm on it.

They would not confirm or deny it but I'm pretty sure the night I fell off the stage and tore all my ligament is on that tape.

So.. after a few beers, shots and great food we went on our merry way... to Shiv's bar...

My god that fucking burger was delicious. I wish I hadn't talked about it... I'm so hungry now.

ONWARDS.

We get to Shivs bar. More beer. More shots. I think more snacks but I honestly couldn't attest to that fact. I start removing "unnecessary" articles of clothing until eventually I'm in a bra, mesh dress and heels.
Make new friends, harass old ones, drunkenly text people (it's sort of my thing) smoke a bowl in the basement and generally just act stupid.

After a few hours of this general behavior I realize that it's my friend Mina's half birthday party so I jump in a cab, haul my drunk ass downtown. See this girl who is almost as wasted as I am. Hit on everything that moves from gay men to coats draped over chairs. Have a drink more and then decide that it's time to put myself to bed. Say goodbye to all my new friends and get in a cab.


And go back to the bar.


I don't know when in that cab I made the decision not to go home but I found myself back at the bar with a beer in my hand before I could say "Hell's Kitchen please."

Sitting at the bar. Scoping the talent. Now I will say this about Shiv's bar... it is fun, the food is great and I love the staff.

But it's not great for picking up men.

However I saw this one guy who had a dangerous edge to him. Eminem with a heart of gold and khaki cargo pants.
I target him. See him, choose him, snipe him.

He takes the bait (which was pretty much a drunken smile and slight nod) and approaches me. Buys me a drink - I think I'm in love. He reveals that he is an EMT. Thus I shall name him EMT Guy because I cannot with any certainty say I learned his name. Or anything helpful to giving him a better nickname.

So me and EMT guy are talking and I'm so far wasted by this point that he could have probably been a lamp post and I would have taken him home. So when he pointed out that he didn't have a place to stay and was just waiting for his shift in a few hours I was like "funny story, I do have a place to stay. You could stay there too if by stay there you mean get naked and then leave when I'm done with you."

He said yes.
We got in a cab and headed home.

Wish I'd stuck with the lamp post...

We get home and he gets naked as promise and underneath the clothes lie a disappointing body. A beerbelly where muscles were promises, really horrible and tasteless tattoos and a very small... piece.

God EMT Guy! Why you no deliver on your promises!

Well by the time were both naked enough to see this it was too late to back out so we had some quick, not very good sex and then he started rambling about how he'd love to stay but he just HAD to go to work... unless I want him to call in sick?

No.

No I do not.

Put your clothes on and get out of my house so I can fall asleep and hope that the booze I've soaked my brain in erases all memory of you.

So EMT Guy leaves, I fall asleep. The memories don't disappear but I do wake up starving, thirsty and still drunk.

And thus begins part 3...

THE JOEY FORMULA

Okay so I've been thinking lately.

(uh-oh) 

And I've realized something... I've been sleeping with Joey for about a week now and I haven't gotten all wibbly and lame about him. I haven't gushed about him to my friends, I haven't over analyzed every text he sent me and, frankly, I can't say with any certainty that I actually know his last name...

If you know me you know that this isn't usually the case. Usually once I get laid I'm in love.

Okay not that ridiculous... but I do... I fall for guys who just want to fuck me because it's just so much fun to chase after my dirty sexy playmates.

Anyways... following that formula you would think that I'd be all over that.

But I'm just not... does this mean I'm growing up? Getting over falling in love with my vagina?

OR

Does it mean that I'm losing the ability to love...

OR

Does it mean that I just don't fall for good guys...

Because Joey is a good guy. Like he's funny, he's sweet, he's dirty in all the right ways without being rude. He's not mean. He's not cryptic.
He's very fun in bed.
All of these are good things right? Like.. what's the problem? Because the list doesn't stop there...
- he's cute
- he's employed
- he's playful
- we have similar humor
- we are very sexually compatible
- he makes me laugh
- he puts me first
- he always kisses me goodbye
- he likes it when I sleep over

I could keep going...
but the thing is... this isn't gushing. It's just a list of facts. No emotion attached.

This is a good guy... I should be falling for him.

And it's good that I'm not because I don't live here anymore and I am so not a long distance girl.

But I kind of wish that when I left at the end of the night I got a little sad... that I missed him just a little bit and that I wanted to be with him for more than sex.

Por ejemplo... Last night I was planning on some good bye sex (I was supposed to leave today) but he wasn't feeling good. I was bummed out and he said sorry like a bajillion times and then finally (a little bit out of sorriness and a little bit out of horniness) he relented and invited me over.

Of course I got straight down to business... I walked in, took off my pants and heels, stripped off my outer layers and right before I was about to pop out of my knickers he was like "Oh... you wanted to get right down to it?"

Um... yeah?

Aren't you sick and feeble? Don't you WANT me to bang your brains out and then leave without a kiss goodbye?? Isn't this what all men want?

We ended up cuddling and hanging out for a bit before we got down to business and then after we watched an hour of TV before he conked out and I excused myself.

But after all that... after two hours of enjoying hanging out with him, having him do me just the way I needed and a butt tonne of cuddles I still didn't look back when I left.

I always shoot one last longing glance back when leaving my lust buddies but Joey is different.

Is this what a real relationship is like?? Friends who have sex? Because I like the hanging out and I like the sex... I just don't long for him the way I long for.. other.. people. And like it's not such a bad deal... get a good friend, get a good lay and call it a day. But then what about the magic of dating?? Like... do we give up the butterflies and three hour prep time? Do we give up all the fun of dating to get a good down to earth guy?

I just don't know.

I'm sure that I'll be talking about this topic again soon (since the idea of settling crosses my mind 6000 times a day) but for now I need to go pack my bag so I can get the hell out of dodge and head back to my city.

xxKK

I FUCKING HATE BOYS

Okay.
If we have a purely sexual relationship and you ask me to stay the night and I tell you I'll only stay the night if I get more sex and you agree then you are agreeing to a sexful time when you are with me. You are signing the silent contract that says I'm using you, and you're using me but neither of us are ever going to say that...

This does not give you the right to ignore me when we're out.

Because guess what, loser, spending energy on ignoring me when you and all your friends know me (and your friends are talking to me and being so nice) shows more than if you'd stuck your tongue down my throat and dry humped me on the dance floor.

People. Stop fucking ignoring people you slept with to avoid telling people that you slept with them.
Firstly... as stated it's more likely to show off your sexcapade more that skywriting a dick.
Secondly... it's childish. So what, you saw me naked... who hasn't?
Lastly, it's fucking rude. Like... I am damn good in bed and you bust a nut after 10 minutes so if I can be happy with only 10 minutes of dick than you can be happy with a few fucking minutes of conversation.

Ugh. But this story gets worse.

After he goddamn ignores me all night he then throws a fit because he lost at beer pong (how old are we??) and THEN, THEN he asks me what I'm doing.

Well... I'm watching you throw a fit over beerpong you big baby.

Then he asks if he's taking me home. I say yes. Because despite the lack of talking to me and the frustrating attitude I still like sex and I have a high level of sluttiness and a low level of self confidence.

So I leave my drink and potential fun and stuff and get in his car. He spends 5 minutes bitching about the fucking pong game. Then decides to ask me how I'm getting from his house to mine... i.e. he can take me to his house but can't take me home after. (btw he lives literally 4 minutes from me... not exagerating. FOUR MINUTES.)

So after 3 minutes of arguing he takes me home.

To my home that is.

Like... don't drag me out of town with your sourpuss attitude if you aren't even going to give me a good time.

Useless!

And then his goodbye is "Well have a good new year if I don't see you."

So... you aren't planning on seeing me. Awesome.

As I told Shiv earlier... we might be aware that we're using each other but that doesn't mean we want to hear it.

Goddamit. I don't even like this guy. I don't even fucking know him. I'm an idiot. And I just called my ass a cab to go BACK to town. Maybe now I'll find someone worth my time.
Peace.

OOPS. NO WILLPOWER

OH MAN.

SO much to catch you up on.

But lets just talk about last night. And then we'll go back in time in another post.

Anyways. It's been a few months since you heard from me and I'm back home celebrating the holidays and I've realized something.

Boys are just so much easier back home!

Maybe it's me being a brief visitor, only being home 2 of every 52 weeks, or the fact that I probably have quite the easy reputation here but honestly, it's just so much fun.

Anyways. The day I got home this kid I've known for a while starts texting and it goes from "hey how was your flight?" to "ya lookin sexy, come over to my house???" real fast.

And at first i was like SCREEEECH... pump the brakes.

But after a few days of wooing and lots of texting I gave in because... let face it... I have no willpower.
At all.
Ever.

So I went over last night. And at first I was so confused. Because when he said to come over and "watch tv" with him.. I didn't think that he actually meant that. But sure enough we watched two episodes of californication before he even started flirting. But once that second episode was over BOOM.

Sexy time.

It took him two hours to make a move but only 4 minutes to get from couch to bed to naked.

And normally I would be craving a little more effort... a little more set up time... but there was no need. I went over knowing what I wanted to happen and what was probably going to happen so really it worked out for everyone.

Plus skipping to the good part means we missed out all the less than fun stuff in between. Like blowjobs. Sorry guys but if a girl tells you she likes giving head then shes lying.
Or crazy. In which case you should hold on to that gem for as long as you fuckin can.

And to be perfectly frank I got way more than I bargained for. I expected some fumbling, groping and a quickie on the couch but I got quite gloriously laid.

I even stayed the night.

Which is usually a big no-no for me. Unless I like you or I'm stranded I don't want to sleep with you after I... sleep with you...
But it was pretty early, I had my moped and he literally lives 5 minutes from me. But when he asked me to stay I just wanted to. I did tell him that if he expected to stay that he'd have to have another showing in the morning.

He may have taken that a little too seriously... ha I was still half asleep when he rolled me over.
But not too fast buddy! I wasn't quite asleep enough to forget to grab a condom from his night stand (oooh how I love a prepared man)
Anyways last night was fun.
This morning was fun too heehee.

But there is a little kink in my rendevous with... Joey.
You see... Joey knows Marie. My sister. Who also reads this blog (hi Marie!)
The combination of that friendship, his other friendships and how small this town is means that I'm pretty sure Marie (who is living in England right now) will probably know by tomorrow that I'm sleeping with Joey. Which means pretty much everyone else will know too.

Which is fine, whatever. Don't let the sleeping over thing fool you, this is just a winter hookup. I'd love it to be a repeat hook up because I had fun but I'm not looking for a long distance boyfriend anytime soon. And I do plan on leaving this tiny town after new years and going back to my big city life.

It's just... less than ideal for any other winter hookup I might wish to start... or continue haha.

Anyways. I'm off to be at least a little productive.

xxKK

AN ITCH LEFT UNSCRATCHED

So I finally pulled myself out of the pit of despair that was the last post. It took me about 24 hours.

So where have I been since then?
Well I've been off having misadventures.
Crazy too-fun-to-talk-about Misadventures.

...

Okay I lied.
Mostly I've been working.
Working everyday.. including my days off. Yay fun times.

This has resulted in me most often smelling like spilt vodka and sticky lime juice.

mmm.

yummy.

Is it any wonder I haven't been laid in ages?

Speaking of being laid...
So I came home after one of my million days of working and I was quite stressed and wound up so I decided to *ahem* go relieve some tension.
Well that didn't go so great...

I don't know how someone has bad sex with themselves but apparently it is very possible.

So not ideal.

Needless to say stress was not relieved and I was left even more unsatisfied with my life than before. It's bad enough when you cant find anyone else to have sex with you but when you can't even get it done... well that's just sad.

I have a load of stories from work but I'm tired and in a bad mood right now so I think I'll bid you adieu and save you from some unnecessary bitching.

xxKK

TIME TO DISH ABOUT TRYSTS WITH BILLY - aka THE BOY WHO BROKE MY VAGINA

As goes the way of my life and the way of my forgetful, lazy brain I had something to tell you several weeks ago and then I totally forgot/ ceased to be a decent blogger.

I forgot to tell you about Billy the Bartender. 

Now please note that this happened a few weeks before Samwise Gamgee (who, by the way, after refusing to leave my bed, making me give him my number and ringing my doorbell unannounced and insistently like a gentle stalker, has not called me) 

So Billy works with my good friend NP. She doesn't get nearly enough coverage on this blog because frankly she is way more responsible and level headed than the rest of us. She still gets hers but she does it with way less drama. Anywho. Went to visit NP at work and spot this bartender. 

Lets get one thing straight: I love bartenders. 

You can take a decent looking guy and I'll let him by me a drink but stick him behind the bar and I will do all sorts of shameless things to get his attention. I have had my breasts pushed up to my clavicle, spilt drinks in opportune areas, left my number on a napkin... all shameless shameless devices. Because I love bartenders. (Case Study: Main Squeeze. Total douche but I was all about him for quite some time) 

I also love tattoos. 

And men who have muscles. 

And who are cute.

Bonus points if they make me laugh. 

Well Billy has tattoos.

Billy has muscles.

And Billy is cute. Short but cute. 

(and who am I to judge short... I'm barely 5'2" and I need a full sized ladder to hang curtains) 

So clearly I saw him and I set my mark. 

Now usually I try to restrain myself with my friends coworker (sometimes it doesnt work so great but I do try) But with Billy I just went for it. It was the 4th of July so I pushed my boobies up in their american flag tank top and I batted my sparkle covered eyelashes at him and I ooh-ed and ahh-ed over his tattoos. To make a long... looooong wooing story short I ended up getting in a cab with him. 

We live in the same direction so we were going to "split the cab" 

And I was disappointed but hey, I had a vibrator waiting at home. No biggie.

But then he starts kissing me and kissing me good. And his beard is scratchy but not in that annoying Samwise Gamgee sort of way but in a sexy tattooed bartender sort of way. 

So he stops and asks me if I'm going home. 

I take that in and tell him NO. I am not. I am going to his house. 

Take that world! Kitty still has a few lady balls left. Sometimes I feel like all the bits of me that were badass and fun and ballsy fell out of me somewhere between the first class I failed and graduation. But there I was telling this smoking guy that No I was not going home I was going home with him. 

So we get in his house, we fool around. Theres a lot of touching and he's very... attentive. But then I'm like okay... ready for the main event! And he's like

"No." 

so I'm like... 

"No?..." 

"Yeah... my dick doesn't get hard when I'm drunk." 

Just like that. So cavalier. No shame. Just... my dick doesn't get hard. Like it's a totally okay fact. Most men would meet that fact with embarrassment or a sense of failure but this kid just dives back into his other means of satisfaction. Which was nice for a while. 

But then his beard started to really scratch my... more sensitive areas... so I make the executive decision that I'm drunk and have had enough so I'm leaving. 

But no... he wants to cuddle in bed and talk about our lives and where we are and what we want to do and his cats (did I mention the cats? They live under his bed and they smell like poo.) Honestly what is up with these men lately? I'm not prepared for men who have long conversations in bed and want to cuddle and sleep over. 

In the talks he very casually slips in that he's green card married, he wants to move to Aruba with his cats and he sometimes has sex with men. 

Now I'm not judging any of that information but it's a little heavy for a one night stand... And it's a little heavy for naked cuddling chit chat. And it's a little more information then I really wanted to know since... you know... it's.. well... awkward. 

Anyways, he did not feel the same way. He thought it was great that we were sharing our deep dark secrets and it gave him a second wind. 

A second very forceful wind. 

He was still unable to.. you know... but he went at it with other means and I was like okay.. but I'm sort of tired. But he still keeps going and then it gets like... a lot rougher. And I don't know if he's also partially deaf or if he thought my "OW"s were "Ohhhhh"s but I ended up having to fake a very loud orgasm (Sorry Billy's Roommates) to get him to stop. Then, pleased with himself, he asked me to sleep over. 

Okay... 

Or at least it was okay until I woke up the next morning: he seemed to have very little recollection of who I was and was covered in my glitter, I seemed to need to throw up and it was about 10 mins post wake up that I was redressed and excusing myself so I could throw up with grace and dignity in my own apartment. 

Get home, Vom, so much advil and more vomming. But then I realize that while the advil has made my hangover headache go away it has done nothing for the throbbing coming from my lady parts. Then I make the mistake of trying to pee.

So much pain. I didn't know that someone could manually break a vagina until Billy broke my vagina. I literally laid on my couch with an icepack strapped to my crotch for 2 days. I could barely walk and it was very uncomfortable. But hey... in hindsight it was funny. When I picture myself, begging MugWug to go buy me Jamba Juice with an icepack strapped to my vj with ace bandages I have to laugh. It was a pathetic and ridiculous sight. And it was a pathetic and ridiculous night. 

So thank you Billy, for giving me a great story and trying your very best to make me happy but I think what would make me happier is to find a tattooed bartender who wasn't green card married, wasn't moving away in a month, preferably didn't occasionally have sex with men (because I don't like the competition, not because I have an issue with bisexuality.. or any sexuality) and who wanted to wake up to me every morning.. not just the hungover ones. Who wanted to go on dates and get to know me and won't break my vagina. 

And who doesn't have cats. 

One Kat is all a relationship can handle. 

xxKK

INTO THE FIRES OF MORDOR

So as my life goes as soon as I start complaining on the interwebs about how I'm lacking in a particular area of life BOOM interweb jesus decides to fix it for me. Which then makes me look very hypocritical and flaky but whatever. So in my typically ironic life as soon as I'd finished typing about my boring sexless life I got laid.

Me and Shiv were out and it was a fairly quiet night but we were hanging with this Irish boy (very very adorable and cute but I'll let Shiv name him since... well... that comes later in the story)

Anyways we're hanging out with the boy at our favorite late night Karaoke spot, singing a little Britney, drinking a bit of Magners. The usual. And I pop off to the bathroom and come back to a very very cozy looking Shiv and boy.

So I detour to the bar where I am stopped by another Irish man. This one is shorter in both height and attractivity (yes I know that's not a real word) than Shiv's but he's Irish and I'm a sucker for an accent. He asks if he can buy me a drink. Clearly I'd just bought myself one so.. no. Then we talk about my two friends who are now sucking face on the dance floor.

Then I signed out my tab (since it was 4am and the bar was closing) and leave. Shiv and boy come with. As does other Irish man. Lets call him... Sam.

So I say goodnight to Shiv and boy and start to head home before Sam pulls me aside. We kiss a bit and he invites himself home. Now I hadn't had enough to drink to be slutty enough to go without some convincing but when he made it clear he wasn't leaving I was like, eh, what the hell. Might as well.

So I take him home. And the entire three block walk from the bar to my house he complains about how far it is and every third of a block he, quite roughly, pulls me aside and starts to kiss me.

See... usually a little force would be a turn on but like... it was a bit much. And a little annoying. And frankly a little more forceful that I would like. To the point that I started to regret the decision before I'd even gotten him home.

So just as a precaution in case he tried to murder me post sex I texted Siobhan he was a potential killer so she should maybe call the cops if she didn't hear from me in a few hours and told Sam that I had two roommates who would be home at any moment (total lie. only have MugWug and he was in Cali for the weekend) so he better be nice and quiet (and please not kill me)

Anyways I get him into my house and I was sort of expecting something great... like.. he was so freaking pushy on the street I expected him to be controlling and manly and sexy in bed but... no. He was decent but he was not well endowed and not much of anything. Like don't make me think you might be a killer if you cant even get me off.

Okay that sounds bad. Like I might have my priorities a little screwed up. But hey.. I'm just saying follow through!

Anyways the kissing was bad, the sex was meh but everything else was nice. He had the accent and he didn't care that my room looks like a laundry bomb went off in it and he was quite happy to make up for his sexual shortcomings with a little manual labor, which I appreciated. And he was adventurous. Like I haven't ever had sex in my own NY apartment before and with Sam I had sex all over my apartment. I definitely made up for two years of sexless habitats.

You might be wondering where the title of this post comes from. Mordor and sex? Since when are the Lord of the Rings a sexual thing? (Well... when Legolas or Aragon are speaking or on screen it was pretty sexual for me but I have a thing for glorious manlocks and men who fight with swords on horseback.)
Okay.. enough of the side track.
In the middle of my (mediocre) bang I couldn't help but equate my irish lover to a hobbit. He was sweet but short and skinny and irish and seemed a little clueless about what he wanted. But he wasn't as cute as Merry or as funny as Pippin. He definitely wasn't the main event like Frodo so I guess he was like... Sam. Samwise Gamgee.
Sweet but annoying. Not the hottest. Not the ugliest either. Just... Sam.

Anyways, in the morning (and yes he was still here in the morning) we did a little more making out and he gave me some glorious back rubs* but then he like... wouldn't leave. Like at all. He was glued to my side. And I was like.. wow. You really are Samwise Gamgee. What next? Am I going to run away from you in a boat but have to go back because you almost drown trying to swim after me when you can't swim?? Are you going to start stalking me and claim Gandolf told you to watch over me? Am I going to start wanting to hang out with Gollum instead of you?

Like give a girl a break.  I need a little space here, stranger!

No man should ever overstay his welcome and I would have been perfectly happy if he'd left the night before. But he lives in the Shire, I mean, Queens. So that would have been a long trek from Hell's Kitchen so I was fine for him to spend the night. But then get up and leave in the morning. Or get up, have sex again and then leave.

DONT stay in my bed until 2:30pm when I literally have told you I need to go somewhere for an HOUR. Have some dignity man. Pick up those little hairy hobbit balls, that have clearly fallen off, and get out of my bed!

Anyways. Sam was annoying. He made me give him my number before he left so I might have to dodge some phone calls but I doubt he'll make a repeat appearance. Especially since he gave me stubble burn. His stubble was so hard and rough and he kept rubbing his face on mine like a deranged cat so I literally have a rash on my face from him.**

Thanks for the memories, Sam, but I think I'll be jumping into the fires of Mordor before I let you talk me into taking you home again. Oh and thanks for not turning out to be a killer.

Yours,
Kitty.


*which gain him mad points because I can forgive a lot for a good back rub. Back rubs are orgasms for your skin.
** However, skin orgasms are quickly counteracted by skin rashes and stubble burn. So I retake those mad points and give them back to myself. Because I'm awesome and clearly deserve them. Meow.

SEEKING: CASUAL STRESS RELIEF SEX

So I slipped in that PBA was coming to town a few posts back.

Well he gets here today.

So PBA is the man who has a reputation for suggesting sex and then failing to follow through. And I had totally sworn him off for good but as always he's found a way to waltz back into my life...
...it usually occurs when I'm drunk and horny and have access to Skype... might be time to set a new drunk-proof password.

Anyways so we've been sometimes talking lately and the other day we were just talking about mundane things and he slips in that he's coming to NYC on business next week (which is now this week) and that we should meet up and have some casual stress relief sex.

Just that like that.

Slips it in between his flight plans and what he had for lunch.

Just  a little casual stress relief sex. No big deal.

So I'm like... okay. Sure. And I start to think about how it wouldn't be so bad to have a little quality human interaction this week. Even if he has been a D-bag in the past.

So after we agree that at some point we're going to meet up and have sex suddenly he starts pulling those promises back in again... The excuses start pouring out of his mouth.

"But I do have to go to Boston one of those days so it's not like I can be there every day..."
"I have to see my business partner too you know, I'm not just free all the time"
"This is a business trip not a social one"
"I'd like to actually see New York as well you know"

I'm like... slow the fuck down. I'm not some rapist who carries around sheets pre-moistened with chloroform to knock out her victims and take advantage of them. I'm not going to chain you down and refuse to let you leave. In fact I'm not even going to call you. Because past experience has shown me that you're the kind of man who wants what he can't have and as soon as I'm all "omg I want you!" you're gonna be like "meh no thanks"

Don't bring up sex and then immediately back pedal. I don't need your excuses, I don't need your dick (though it would be nice) and I don't need you to look out for my feelings. I get that you don't want to sleep over and make me breakfast and be my boyfriend.

Newsflash: I never wanted that from you either.

So while I still do hope that I'm getting laid this week I will be completely unfazed and unshocked if PBA decides to crawl into a hole and not bother calling me. He may think that it makes him sexy to be so unavailable but it's really just annoying. And he may think he has the power in this relationship but hey... if he's a disappointment then I'll just throw on my Fuck-Me dress and go to a bar and find  a real man to make me happy.

Sorry PBA, I'd love to play but you are not the be-all or end-all. There are plenty of people on sexcations looking for some sexcapades with a girl like me. So enjoy your business... Maybe I'll hear from you, maybe I won't. Either way I'm still going to have an awesome week.

xxKK

PUT DOWN THE PDA, ITS TIME FOR PBA.

Thats right ladies* I said put down PDAs.

*if you are a man 1) you are crazy 2) you stop reading this post, and possibly this blog unless you are a) gay or b) entertained rather than offended by the following vulgarity. 

Personal Digital Assistants
Parenteral Drug Association
Pharmacists Defense Association
Public Democrats of America
    AND
Public Display of Affection....

I have something better.

It's something I like to call P.B.A

What does that stand for?

Well its not the Patrolmens Benevolent Association
or the Professional Bowlers Association
or the Phillippine Basketball Association (in fact its not an association at all)
or even the Professional Benefit Administrators.

No, it is much better than that.

Read my lips.

Penis.  By.  Appointment.

That's right.

Penis by appointment.

Now now now, before you get all haughty taughty and pissy poshy and start spouting about "morals" and "spiritual wellbeing" first of all, shut up, you want to (in the words of the oh so classy Jersey-Shore-ers) "get it in" just as much as the rest of us, secondly, if you dont... this is the WRONG blog for you.  Lastly, I'm not talking "for hire" I'm talking "by appointment"

Big Difference.

For hire is like a prostitute... and a man who has no worldly attributes or qualifications to offer you except for a useful penis is not an attractive idea.

By appointment is like... one step up from a FB (which doesn't mean facebook on this website... it means FUCK BUDDY)
See FBs get complicated because someone gets attached and it gets messy because you're all "Heyyyy let's do it before I go out, but don't act like we did it, because I wanna see if I can get anyone else/better and I dont want you scaring them off or getting jealous because I really don't like you like that, I just like your penis/vagina like that."
And then they cry.
At least, that's been my experience.

But you see a PBA is much easier.  It's practically a business agreement.
You have a friend.  There's some sexual tension and you find them mildly-extremely attractive. They return the sentiment.  You really don't have time for a real relationship/you think they're pretty but you don't really want to like... get to know them.  So you agree to get together and have sex occasionally.  In my experience it's better to do this with someone you have a mild friendship with because that insures you against turning into FBs or a desperate bitch or (god forbid) a girlfriend.

This does cause some problems though... because its then less likely that you guys will hang out often and this decreases the likelihood of frequent sexual encounters.  But that's why god invented texting.

"hey u free. wanna s3x?"
"ya. cum by @ 4?"
"hows 5? I got 2 wurk til 4"
"kewl."
"fuck you then"
";)"

Oh yahhhh. Nothing turns me on like misspelled words of sexiness.

But honestly you have to set these things up via texted based communication devices.  Saying to a man that you only want to see him for sex may sound like their ultimate fantasy but it's just so awkward when through the silence he realizes that you have no interest in him as a person but only as a plaything.

Okay this is making it sound bad.

Honestly its not as dirty as it sounds.  But everyone has those friends who they never really hang out with one-on-one because you arent that close and you don't have the hidden agenda of wanting to date them but you wouldn't mind banging them.

Right?

I think I'm too tired to make sense anymore

that is... if I ever made sense at all.

xxKK.