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As I lay on the paper-covered table with my panties off and my legs in the air, I was struck by the relationship that I have formed with the girl who waxes my bikini line. The relationship I have with my aesthetician has outlasted any relationship I’ve ever had with a man. Being between relationships, I quickly came to realize that this girl knows my vagina better than anyone. As she stood over me with her head in my crotch, covering me with hot wax and telling me to brace myself because she was “going in”, I was able to see that she and I have one of the closest relationships I’ve ever had. What a job.
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Ahhh, new sex…
Well, maybe it’s not always Ahhh, maybe it’s more like Uhhh… New sex is great – it’s different and exciting. However, that is also what can make it anxiety-inducing and stressful. Having had new sex recently (yes!), I can attest to this. After many makeouts, I was so ready to get it on. The new guy, as yet unnamed, is smart, funny and extremely sexy. I was ready. Well, as ready as I could be, less the new nookie nerves.
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Over the past few months, I have been unsure regarding what lies out there for me in the realm of romance. I have wondered if I will stay single, go on to meet Mr. Right, or go on to meet Mr. MaybeThisIsn’tRightButIt’sWhat’sOutThereForMe. Right.
Today, I was stirred and surprised to find that the local womens television network was showing Bridget Jones’s Diary. Again. This was great, because I’d only seen it 127 times previously and hadn’t memorized all the lines yet. Now, I have. This movie has always tugged at my heartstrings. By that, I mean that I am in floods of tears by the end of the film, desperately longing to find a lover like Mark Darcy. How fabulous would it be to be with a man who will buy you a new journal so that you can record new, happy events from the start of your relationship? Who would give up a pricey post in a new city to remain with you in yours?? Who would look at you lovingly while you whip up a disgusting dinner of blue string soup, orange parfait and congealed green gunge???
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Ahhh, the physical pain that acts as a rude reminder of how long it’s been since you got some…
After a particularly arousing makeout session with the current dreamy guy, I woke up the next day with aches and pains all over. Where were these aches and pains, you wonder? Well, my arms and shoulders were sore (from supporting myself from not falling into him, which might not have been so bad…), I had a crick in my neck from where we fell asleep with our heads together (awww…) and I had tremendous inner thigh pain (from squeezing his sexy bod between my legs). It was stimulating. It was exciting. It brought me out of my sexual coma. Yes!
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Ahh, the first kiss. Well, not that first kiss, I mean the first kiss after a breakup. Ahh, that first kiss!
In the past few months, I’ve had dates, dirty dances and furious flirtations with some pretty interesting guys. But it was only last week that I worked up to that first kiss. It was a hot, steamy night at a private party in Cosmopolitan City. Who showed up? A former colleague with whom I had sparked in the past. This was not our first makeout session (we had given coworkers quite an eyeful a few years ago). We had always flirted and there had always been an attraction. After spending some time catching up, we took the time to reminisce about that last makeout session. Before I knew it, we were at it again. It was hot. It was passionate. It came at just the right time.
Okay guys, seriously…
The catcall I received today has inspired me to educate men as to the success rate of this creepy callout. Oh, and it’s not just me who feels this way… This goes for all women – believe me.
Today, while innocently pumping gas after a blissful yoga class, I was accosted with a cloying catcall. A (pot-bellied, slovenly) middle-aged man in a (dirty) wifebeater got out of his thumping, heaving truck and started panting heavily. So heavily that it could be heard over the badgering beats. All of a sudden, I hear: “Look at you, working that pump, eh? I’d like to pump you.” Nice. That’s exactly the kind of pick up I go for.
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