Who's that sleeping in my bed?

I have a date tonight with the Silver Fox. This has been a very busy week for the girl here vis a vis whoring around. Some days, I feel more like Goldilocks than others...this one is too hard, this one is too soft......while I search for Mr. Just Right, I seem to be stuck with Mr. Just Right Now. I'm chatting with my buddy Latin Lover....talk about one depraved individual. Freakishly Tall Guy has told me to be at his house Monday at 8 PM, sharp. As I posit about what degrading and (possibly) herpes inducing plans he has for me, Latin Lover gets more and more aroused. I told him it is all fun and games until I wake up in Mexico starring in a donkey show. That "tickles his pickle" and has left our chat hanging while he goes into the bathroom at work and rubs one out. We agree that sometimes fantasy should just stay that way, the reality of the situation never living up to the images conjured up in our heads. Like the Friends episode where Ross has a 3some and ends up making a sandwich. Latin Lover notes, "there are just too many variables and it would just be disappointing." I can imagine a pile of awkward limbs at odd angles. Being the graceful gazelle that I am there is no other outcome possible. So, sigh, back to the fishing pond. Perhaps the Silver Fox and Goldilocks will be "just right." Latin Lover, "try not to suck any dicks on the way to your date!" Oh, I'll try.

My favorite color is bruise

Freakishly Tall Guy is adorable, charming, smart, funny, wine conneseur. Oh yeah, he is also a porn producer.

What goes down...well mostly stays there.

I had a date last night with Freakishly Tall Guy from the Dirty Filthy Web site. We met at Starbucks and spent an hour and a half getting to know one another. We are both sci-fi geeks, he can't have dairy (some weird blood allergy,) both not from here and seemingly equally attracted to one another. It was the best date I have been on in four years. I got in my car, and promptly started to cry. What massive train wreck is coming my way? He texted me to tell me he had a really good time and wanted to go out tonight. Consider it done.
Today at work I was sustained by a steady diet of the never-ending shit sandwich. I was talked down to, yelled at, cursed out and was basically just a punching bag for multiple people. I just had to take it as I was helpless to change the situations and the only thing I could do was let people vent. As I am trying to talk an irate (multimillion dollar) customer down, I get an IM from Freakishly Tall Guy.
FTG: listen, before getting together this evening, I wanted to let you know that I am not prepared at this time to go "exclusive"-I have a few others that I see and enjoy my experience with them and am not willing to cut it off. I am open and honest about everything but would like to maintain my current lifestyle....agreed?
What the fuck do you say to that? It wasn't like I was dancing around singing Beyonce's Single Ladies to him....I was taken aback. A few?? Ultimately, I decided that I am short one fuck buddy these days so what the hell....Most guys do it, at least he is being up front about it. I changed my FB status to:
Kat is going to put her hand in the flame despite knowing she is going to get it burned (again.)
Video Lman: Pour some lighter fluid on it. Mostly for maximum effect.
RonDiggety: The Lady GaGa-sour milk analogy is apt for quite a few things. You know it's going to be bad, but you want to smell it anyway.
Work Friend: What's the young suiter's name??
Kat: I mean that literally Work Friend. Cutting is for pussies.
So, I am about to have the last few bites of my shit sandwich and then sign my name on Freakishly Tall Guy's waiting list. I will let you know how it goes.

I was the bar star....not in a good way

Hello my people, the new year is starting with some promising notes for our girl Kat. New Years Eve, had a very last minute and surprise date. We went to Firefly and the conversation and company was simply delightful. I had yet another date on the 1st.....not quite so high brow, beer and not wine sort of date but frickin' fantastic. IT Guy and I started for lunch at Stanleys...which turned into cocktails. We decided to change venues and went to the Sweep. It was still daylight which is a very different experience at the Sweep. IT Guy is super hot, 6'4 and funnier than hell! We got along like a house on fire. He makes me laugh, hysterically belly type laughing. We feed each other's silly childish sense of humor and it was so much fun! At one point we go off to the smoking patio at the Sweep and start to kiss. He is super tall....I was pressed up against him as we talked and laughed and kissed and kissed. At one point, he mentioned..."you know we are in front of the window here"....having only been there at night I was like, "pfft...that window is blacked out, you can't see out here from in there!" He was so big it was irresistable...I had to climb his body. I threw myself at him wrapping my legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Cheers emenated from inside the bar. IT Guy says, "you know that is for us right?" Me, "pfft, no no no no...they are watching a football game, must have been a good play." We continue to flirt and kiss outside when an old lady pops her head out and asks, "would you two like a room? If not you are entertaining everyone in the bar." Oops. We walk back inside the bar, and are met with much clapping. A really old guy told me that he had to leave and go home to masturbate. He also thanked us for the show. I checked out the window and yup...sure as shit you can see through the window as plain as day. Fuck yes, I am a Bar Superfucking Star! To be perfectly honest, we weren't doing anything very sexual or gross, just kissing. I think the mad chemestry just kicked up the pheramones and made everyone in the bar a bit drunker. At the end of the day, I had a great couple of dates....will be a while until I go back to the Sweep however....I hope all the Filthy and Gorgeous Posse had a wonderful holiday. I am just hoping next year will be better for me. Happy New Years kids!

Tahiti

"I can put my passport and credit card in my teeth and swim to shore. No, I will not have clothes or shoes but I should be able to hitch hike easily in a bikini. There has to be a village somewhere close by....This is what it must have been like to be on Alcatraz, land so close but so far away...."

As I was standing on the deck of a yacht anchored in a desolate bay in Mooreo, I found myself thinking these thoughts. How the hell did I get myself in this mess? I had been talking to The Sailor for four months via email, instant messenger and infrequently by phone. It is amazing the tricks our mind plays on us when we have long periods of silence. We project our own desires into the abyss and file it as the truth in our heads. This is why I was standing on this yacht looking longingly at the beach just outside of my reach. I am a romantic fool.

I have been looking for meaning in this experience. It started out well enough, a beautiful lei being placed around my neck at the airport. Palpable desire emanating from both of us as our legs touched in the taxi on the way back to the dock in Papeete. Sailing in perfect weather; the wind cooperated, singing classic rock together, eating brie and baguette on the deck. What did I do? Where did I fuck up? I have tossed this over in my mind Monday morning quarterbacking it for over a week now and here is my conclusion; he is just an arrogant dick. It ain't me brother, it is YOU.

I could outline the nasty insults he dropped casually, designed to pick apart and cut to the core. Or, the physical violence. The very real fear of being pushed into the piss (sailor talk for ocean.) The unsatisfying sex. But what is more interesting to me is why did I take the failure to connect on as my own shortcoming?

A good friend suggested I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome (I am Norweigan, the chosen people, so the Scandanavian connection did give me reason to consider this); I was trapped on a boat and I was trying to please my captor. I actually think it goes deeper than that. I think it is a woman thing. We are the ones that are supposed to make the exchanges (interpersonally, visually, intellectually, sexually) pleasing. At heart, most of us are wired to be Japanese Comfort Girls, creating a pleasurable experience. When this failed to occur, it is so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I took it on as my failure as a woman. Not that this guy is a sociopath and is likely unable to get along with anyone, but MY problem.

Some of the nasty comments resonated with me and I find myself still wondering if he is right. After a 48 hour period where I did not say one word he said he would take me to dinner. I asked if the conversation would be like it had been for the previous two days and he replied, "I have never met someone who talked so much and said so little with their words in my life. So yes, it will be the same." At this point, I asked him to drop me at the dock, which he did, "Bonne chance!" he sarcastically yelled into the breeze as he blazed off in the dinghy not looking back. Fortunately, The Dingy Bar and cigarettes were waiting for me and I over-indulged in both. Also more sailors who occupied the time I had left until I flew home. I was starved for conversation and they seemed to enjoy mine. They invited me to crew for them anytime. They knew The Sailor. "How the hell did you end up with that asshole?" seemed to be the prevelent question by many many sailors at the bar that had travelled from Mexico to French Polynesia with him. He has a bad rep which one sailor chararacterized as an "I" problem, I am smarter than you. I know everything there is to know. I am superior. Ironic as he has a wandering eye...thought the pun was funny and laughed inside my head at the coincidence.

This week, I have found myself asking people if I am annoying when I talk. Do I engage you or am I just off on tangents? Do I have relevant things to talk about or are they immaterial? Am I articulate or babble? Why have I given him this power over me? I have decided today to intelectually throw his bullshit observations about me into the piss. Fuck him. As HottieEsq notes, the best way to get over a man is to get under another one. I am working on my pipeline and think I have found a better match. And he likes to talk to me!

Happy 4th.

Kat

Here we go again.....

Sigh. I have a date tonight and I just cannot get amped up about it. It seems like a lot of effort to go through to find out this guy is just another douche. Eharmony guy, seems cool over the phone yesterday. Made no innappropriate sexual comments or declared his love in an unnaturally quick way. He is 6'3. He plays the guitar. I am cautiously optimistic but still dreading all of the fluffing, hiking, plucking, drying, primping etc. that I am going to have to do. It would honestly be some sort of fucking miracle if I could find something clean to wear. I would bitch if I were hung with a new rope huh?

This one is juuuussst right...............

Sometimes I feel like Goldilocks when dating. This one is too passive, this one is too short, this one is.....never "just right". I was optimistic about meeting the EHarmony guy for dinner last night. We seem to have a lot in common. Even our last two cars were the same. He is smart, he is funny, he is successful, wants kids, loves dogs and travels to cool and exotic locations a lot. He is a genuinely nice man with a lot to offer any woman. We met for dinner last night, first face to face meeting. He is shorter than me, which in and of itself wouldn't be a problem but he is a lithe man.....I have a feeling I could snap him in two with my strong Viking woman thighs. He has very small hands. Worst of all, he was wearing a dolphin necklace with mother of pearl on it. Ee. So very New Age and gay.......he is older than I, which is why he is in a place to give me what I need financially......theoretically, I could not work and stay home. I could be a lady that lunches, knits, works out, shops all day. I could not help but compare him to San Fran and Skeptic.....guys my own age with rock hard muscular bodies. When I wrap my arms (and legs) around them, I know I am with a M-A-N. They are also quite good looking. New Age guy is good looking but in a more delicate older guy way. He also seemed confused about things such as the valet. What really took me aback was when he used words like "tummy" and talked about how he accesses his physical, mental and emotional well-being. I mean, it is one thing to be self-actualized but this is a little much for me. (Mr. MBA absolutely agrees with me, he dumped a chick for calling his penis a "wee wee") What is wrong with me? If I were to go out with the New Age guy, I would be with someone that would be kind, capable of offering me everything I want and would LOVE me with all his heart and soul....yet, I am still craving the male machismo of a Skeptic or San Fran. Is there ever a "just right?" Can we have our needs met by only one other person? Why do I not want someone who is very clearly a catch? I think I am destined to constantly be kicking tires looking for the "ONE" that will allow me to rest easy. Wondering who will be sleeping in my bed and eating my porrage next.

Limbo! How low can you go?

I am actually looking forward to this weekend. I have been working my ass off......my house is a disaster and is starting to smell something like a habitrail. I am going to bust out tonight when I get home and make myself a fabulous dinner and sit on the couch and zzzzz......Tomorrow I am going to Santa Monica to Qs with some of the Filthy and Gorgeous posse to watch the fight...man oh man, I could eat Oscar up for lunch! He is FIONE!!! So, Sunday night I have a date!! With another Eharmony guy. This one is not a Nigerian Irish internet scammer so he is already way ahead of the last one! He has a local phone number and a regular American accent. He speaks French! Nous parlions en frencais! Who would have ever thought that the bar would be so low for me? Speaks English and is in North America. Pretty sad state of affairs for myself. Every relationship you have impacts you in some way. Sissy asked me if he had been married, had kids etc. I honestly didn't ask him. She seemed shocked and asked me, "don't you want to know if he has baggage?" I told her I just assume he does, he is 48, single and on Eharmony, duh! Of course he does. Of course I do. It is just a matter of finding out what those issues are and if I can deal with them. Have to start mentally ticking off all of the "deal breaker" issues in past relationships that are on my list. Take antidepressants? (which is ok, as long as you actually TAKE them). Do you have a good relationship with your mother? (but not TOO close of a relationship). Are you employed? (but don't work ALL the time). So far, he seems ok but I am sure he will add something to this ever growing list.

Tonight's date with Skeptic

Just got dinner back from dinner with Skeptic.

Nuf said.

I am a glutton for peeps and punishment

spankie: glad to hear there was no Easter celebrating going on Mr. Atheist. More peeps for the rest of us.
spankie: are you around?
Skeptic: No, just left.
spankie: ha ha! you are a funny one.......i think i gained ten lbs of marshmallows peeps this weekend.
Skeptic: That's not good, 'cause you were a little hefty already
spankie: thanks sunshine.
Skeptic: I prefer to be called Darkness.

We have a date. Thursday night. Think he will show? Is so, he may get a "Peep" show, of the marshmallow variety. I keep them right here (patting my peep pooch.) Talk me down my peeple, I am already getting excited.

Gonna get me some of that!

I have a date tonight. Yay! I do not have a mean name for him yet, the pet names usually indicate the beginning of the end for a guy. Right now, he is just his name. Like a clean piece of paper, nothing but possibilities. I love this. Nails done yesterday. Blow out today to ensure I look like a Charlie's Angel. Trip to Frederick's to buy some whorey underpants. Grocery store for wine. I am all pumped up. Boy Gorgeous and I had lunch today. He thinks I am the dirtiest one of all of us. Not possible is it?? I like sex, so what? Doesn't everyone? Evidently I like it a touch more than most. He was amazed at how much effort I have put into this. I asked if he gets excited when he is going to have sex. He said, yes about five minutes before. I wish I were male..........be a lot less complicated. Wish me fuck...oops Freudian type, I meant luck. Muah! Kat