BIGGER CITY BUT SMALLER CIRCLE?

Lets forget about that last wibbly post for a minute and get back to some debaucherous details. And let's talk about how either I've gone into a warp of coincidences or, despite moving to a bigger city, my sex social circle has some how shrunk...

See... I was out with Charlotte tonight (note: it's a thursday) and her "work event" turned into a full on night out and somewhere between the dancing on tables and enjoying the free bottle service I looked up and in the haze of flashing neon lights and fog I see Nathaniel.

I shit you not.

How is it that I went through 5 YEARS of manhattan whoring and only ran into my men a handful of times but here, in a much bigger city, I run into him a week later?

Lemme paint you a little picture so you understand just how ridiculous this is; in New York I went to, maybe, 3 bars on the regular. I had a pretty steady routine. Which meant that my odds of running into people that I picked up in bars was extremely high. But I never really did. I mean if it wasn't for my work hookups and the fact that Shiv's coworker kept dragging EMT guy around (I never did remember his name) I wouldn't have ever seen any of them!

Either I was spoiled and led to believe in unrealistic odds or this is a fluke.

Because I wasn't in the same bar, on the same night as before. No. I was half an hour across town in a club, not a bar, on a thursday for a work event! So yeah, I was a little surprised when Mr. Fancypants Nathaniel showed up in his perfectly pressed white button down and Armani jeans.

Damn that boy can dress.

Anyways. I see him, he doesn't see me. Which is good because I haven't managed to find a hair straightener here in the UK yet and my make up was subpar at best. So I'm pleased. But I'm still raging on the dance floor so it's not long before he has seen me.

Bad hair and makeup and all.

But I'm looking pretty decent in my LBD and nude pumps so at least I have that going for me. And then suddenly I'm back in middle school at the awkward dance and I'm jamming with my girl Charlotte and he's sort of half leaning on the DJ booth, half shuffling from side to side.

On opposite sides of the dance floor.

Like children.

Oh wait. He is a child. Well there's his excuse. And I will use vodka as mine. Because other than some, what I am told is, superb lip biting and sexy eyes-from-across-the-room moves I made no effort to actually go say hi or try to, I dunno, dance together.

What a concept.

So I guess the moral of the story is that as far as sex and vodka go, we're all still in middle school.

Oh.. and London is way to fucking small.

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

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

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

As you know I was just back home for the holidays. What you don't know is that I was supposed to come back to NYC on the 3rd but my flight got canceled due to bad weather. 

At first I was like "Fuck!" 

And then I was like "Fuck yeah!" 

Extra day at home FTW. So I decided to go out and re-celebrate my last night. Now apparently tuesday nights are like a big going out night at home (lets face it… when isn't it a good going out night?) And I ran into Joey. Which is fine, whatever. 

But then I ran into Jack. 

Now Jack is a boy I've known of for a while but didn't ever run in the same circles. Anyways a few nights into my holiday vacation I ran into him at a bar and we got to talking and it came up that he was American (and I'm not) and we started joking that he could be my Green Card Husband. At first it was playful. 

Told all of our friends that we were getting married (they were drunk enough to believe it) 

After some bar hopping we started dancing. 

Oh jesus. 

This boy has more energy than a redbull on crack. 

I was nearly knocked over by all of his hip thrusts and shimmy shimmy shakes. But he is really hot. Like… gorgeous… so I kept dancing and flirting. 

Soon energetic dancing became energetic making out and before I knew it all of my lipstick was gone and I'd christened every corner of the bar with him. (Kissing christening not the… other… kind) 

So we exchanged numbers and promised to meet up.

Cut to a week later where I haven't heard from him and have started regularly sleeping with Joey. 

So I run into him, make a quick joke about how he never returned my call… then he drops it on me… he's been trying to get ahold of me. He took down the wrong number (oops booze) and he wanted to get together. 

Err.. oops? Missed opportunity, aw shucks. And it sucks that it's my last night because I'm sure he'd be a jackrabbit in the sheets but I bet he'd be enthusiastic in all the right ways. 

So anyways I'm hanging out with Joey and Jack is hanging around and he starts flirting and trying to dance (and we know where that goes…) so I sort of… take him to another part of the bar. Separate the two J's right? 

So we're flirting and joking around but I'm keeping my distance (or so I thought) and trying not to seem like a massive whore who's got two guys with her. But I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought I was because people kept coming up and asking me about my boyfriend and I'm like "HA, no. Just a friend" 

But then I hear people coming up to him and talking about his "boo" and he… doesn't correct them.

Like… we made out once… I'm not your "boo"

So then it gets a little awkward because it's clear that he wants me to go home with him or at least have a repeat showing of the first time. 

And then there's Joey who's telling me how he's getting home later (hint hint) and I'm trying like hell to keep them away from each other so noone puts it together that 2+2 = Whore. 

Like I don't want people knowing what a tongue slut I was…

I mean usually I'd say no shame in that game but the thing is…  I just don't know the expectation in this situation. Like… I'm not dating Joey so I wouldn't care if he was playmate to someone else as well. Like we always use a condom so I'm not really worried about picking up some random girls VD from him. But I dunno if I'd want to see him making out with another girl in front of me… Like I don't mind if he screws her but I don't want to see it? 

Then again I thought I saw him on a date and the only thing I thought about was making sure his girl didn't figure out that he was fucking me because I didn't want to ruin a date… Like I wasn't jealous. (turned out to be his cousin in the end) 

But just because I don't care doesn't mean I should go around showing off the other guy I'm playing with. Or does it not matter? 

Ugh I just don't know how to handle it when the worlds collide. 

Any thoughts? 

Anyone? 

xxKK