Slutting About

So, guess what I just found?  And old pack of condoms and a flat of birth control pills.  Wow.  Where to begin with this.  I never promised it would be chronologically accurate.   Right, I remember I promised to hold the mirror up to my bad behavior without flinching.  Please, those of you who are still actually reading and following the story, understand that although I’m not flinching, I’m not actually bragging either.  

When I turned 20 I started going through what I like to refer to as my ‘slut phase’.  I was that girl that all the girls hated and all the guys wanted to be around (in case it was their turn).  I was easy, sleazy, and only looking for a good time.  It wasn’t part of what I thought of as ‘normal‘ behavior for me although repetition would suggest that it became that way.  A short history lesson may be in order so you understand.  

Prior to this, I was a church going, Sunday School Teaching, non-drinking, sensible girl.  You see, I got married 10 days after I turned 18 which was 2 months before I graduated high school (and I wasn’t even pregnant!).  So, what were you thinking, you ask?  All I can figure is that I had super low self esteem and when this guy said he loved me, I was terrified that no one else ever would.   Long story short, it lasted 1 year and 11 months.  I was done.  I moved out, and never looked back.    

That isn’t what this blog is about.  From the time I left my husband I was on a quest.  I felt like I was taking control of my sex life.  Not by abstaining, but the opposite.  If it was male and reasonably attractive, I fucked it.  And I kept track of the number for a while and could list them in order by name. (AlthoughI’ve long since forgotten that statistic)  If I found myself in a situation with a guy who was just a friend and we had no better way to pass the time....you see where this is going...sport fucking  It became my favorite pass time.  If it was good, we might have another go sometime, if it wasn’t - eh, not so much.  

I think the bulk of this phase lasted about 18 months.  I was nearing the end of it when I met Darling Husband.  I could have easily stopped my slutting about and settled down with him, but did I mention he was a male stripper?  Right.  He wasn’t about stopping his slutting around at that point.  It made for a bit of a rocky relationship.  He maintains that I was always his ‘main squeeze’ but I guess when you have that much pussy to choose from on a nightly basis, it’s like being a kid in a candy store.  You can’t turn it away.  

This put me in a position of spite fucking (which is completely different from sport fucking). Because I’ll be damned if I was going to be the monogamous girlfriend while he had me and all the other he wanted.  I was no longer fucking around with guys just for the fun of it (sport fucking).  I was doing it because I was hoping to hurt him as much as he was hurting me.  I know, it must sound like a terribly destructive relationship to those of you who are well-balanced and completely centered in healthy relationships.  In truth it was destructive and we should have walked away from each other when we realized that we weren’t on the same page with what we wanted from a relationship.  The caveat was that once we were together, we didn’t know how to NOT be together anymore.  So we continued hurting each other for a long time.  But there will be more of that later, for now, it’s enough that I was a slut and so was he.  So glad we came out on the other side of that.  I think I can toss these. *grin*

Bad to the Bone or How I Met Darling Husband and other tales

Yep, I figure break is over.  I feel another one coming on though so I need to strike while the iron is hot.  Before I get started, I need to put one very important thing on the record.  Darling Husband has done more for me and pushed me harder and farther as a person toward achieving my greatest potential and is still pushing today.  This is brought on by the leather chaps and jacket that I’m pulling out of the closet and dusting them off.  

The year was 1992, the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving.  I had been in a funk for a couple of weeks coming off of a bad break up.  Actually the break up wasn’t all that bad and the relationship wasn’t that long, but when you are 21 years old three months is a long time and in 1992 no one was throwing around terms like ‘emotionally unavailable’  so I had no idea.  Even though said ex-boyfriend was.  

I was living with Mother as a rent payer.  She also had two other boarders to help her cover the mortgage.  Anyway, she was concerned about me moping around whenever I wasn’t at work so she suggested that when I got off work that Wednesady evening that we would go to the male strip club that had just opened not far from the house.  I’d never been to a male strip club and being as I was of age, I thought, why not.  It will be a good distraction.  

After being carded, we entered the place.  It was dimly lit with neon and blacklights a plenty.  Mother and I and our other roommate took seats at the stage and waited for the show to begin.  We ordered drinks.  Mom and roommate ordered beer, I ordered a Zima because I was one of the douches who actually drank that silly shit.  

Darling Husband who wasn’t Darling anything at that time was 3rd on stage.  He was truly beautiful to behold.  He was slim but muscular with beautiful curly black hair and olive skin complexion.  All of which belied his Italian descent.  We have to be very clear that he was not to be confused with the Guidos currently enjoying spotlight on reality tv shows now.  He was just like a moving artwork.  He was wearing a thong, studded and airbrushed leather chaps and jacket and dancing to George Thorogood’s Bad to the Bone.  I think I quit breathing for a while.  

When I did start breathing again, I stood up to give him a tip and asked him what I thought was the wittiest thing ever “So....how bad are you really?”  He favored me with the most evil little grin and replied “I can be as bad as you want me to be”.  I sat down heavily and looked at Mother, thinking that I was joking, and told her ‘that is the man I’m going to marry’.  

We flirted the rest of the evening and when he tried to give me his number I refused it.  I told him that I didn’t want to be one of the many calling him that if he was interested he could call me.  Which he did.  The next day. 

 We set up a date for Friday which I almost cancelled.  I was terrified.  I couldn’t believe that I was actually going on a date with this well-spoken Adonis.  In fact, I tried to cancel.  He just said that was too bad and he would have to smoke the joint he just rolled by himself.  Hmmmm...now that was a dilemma.  Pot and handsome date or no pot and stay at home where it was safe.  I choose the less safe route and it has made all the difference. 

He took me to an adult bookstore which for most of us is losely translated to a porn shop!  I had never been in such an establishment in my life.  I walked the aisles with my hands clasped firmly in front of me, clearly uncomfortable.  He was obviously enjoying this, inviting me to stop and look at anything that I found interesting, but my eyes remained firmly fixed ahead.  I think I even heard him chuckle behind me at my innocence.    

Anyway, he’s outgrown those chaps.  All part of my evil plan to make him mine. *grin* I feed him entirely too well so that dancer body has changed but I still love it and him more than I even have words.  But they are a nice memory.  I think I’ll hang them back up and put them away.  

Hormones, already?

I have an awesome daughter.  She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful, she's got the world by the short and curlys...and she's in 5th grade.  So surely I can't chald up her weepiness for no apparent reason and her quick to snap someone's head off retorts to hormones yes.  Right?

She is in the ‘Talent Development’ program at her school.  It’s like what most people call ‘Academically Gifted’ and feeds into the nationally recognized International Baccalaureate program in Jr. High and High School.  She participates in extra-curricular activites and generally kicks ass all the way around. I had to put that plug in so you would all know how proud I really am of her.  

However, I find myself increasingly dismayed when I have conversations with her.  Yesterday, for example, I picked her up from her extra-curricular activity and was simply inquiring about what they did and talked about and she muttered something unintelligible so I asked instead how her day was.  And she turns to me, glaring and says “I SAID I don’t want to talk about it!  I have a ton of homework and my teacher gave us assigned seats today!  And I didn’t even DO anything wrong!”  After reminding her that I didn’t do it either and to mind her tone with me, she apologized and looked slightly weepy. Apparently the idea of corporate punishment and rewards is not something that she is okay with. 

She is usually quite responsible to get her homework done....with only slight prodding from me.  Every day after she completes her work she tells me so and I say, without fail, “It’s ALL done?” and she says “yes, mama”.  Okay, bril.  This morning I was going through her planner and folders making sure that I had signed everything I was supposed to send back to school and found unfinished assignments.  When I inquired, gently - because being around her is like walking on eggshells lately, why she told me she had completed it and how long ago it was due, she couldn’t remember.  *sigh*  Her father and I are pretty strict about homework and it getting completed, so I took a deep breath and punted the conversation over to her father.  

When he inquired as to what was up, her eyes welled up with huge tears and started spilling over and running down her face.  You would think we’d been browbeating her for hours.   And darling husband, precious, protective dad, wraps his arms around her and says “Hey, where is all this coming from?” and her answer....”This morning....h-h-h-aaasss just b-b-b-been so HARD!”  At this point he and I make eye contact and shrug.  This morning has been no different from any other getting ready for school and we’re now a mere 2 minutes from the bus arriving.  So doting daddy helped her dry her tears and told her to shake it off and have a good day.  I guess we’ll broach the homework subject again this afternoon.  

The question that I keep asking myself is can she really not help it, or has she at the ripe old age of 10 learned to manipulate us so easily?  I don’t recall everything being a crisis in my world when I was 10.  Has everything changed so dramatically since then? 

And for those of you wondering...yep...still on break.  Not vodka this time.  Just coffee.