So, my mini vacation came to an end today. Last Wednesday I flew to TO to visit some friends, my bro had a tournament, and I just felt like escaping.
A bunch of us went out for a formal dinner Friday night. Our waiter, Miguel, was effing hilaaarious. He brought us a second bottle of wine on the house. So we liked him. Hah.
Ugh; I'm tired and lazy and so I think point form is going to take over.
Jared, the guy I wrote about last time, was in TO. For the tourny. Went to a movie. Made out. No big deal. I don't think we're going to turn into anything exclusive. Right away, anyway.
QC's provincial team was also in TO. Naturally, since it was a national thing.
I went to watch several events.
I befriended many QCers.
There was an exceptional amount of hotel parties.
There was an exceptionally attractive boy on the QC team.
The exceptionally attractive garcon is named Vincent. (pronounced Vin-CENT, you know, all french-like).
Vincent also loves red wine.
One night Vincent & I had a lot of wine.
I got to practice my french.
As well as my french kissing.
..Among other things.
Ah.
J'aime les garcons du francais...
Labels: men, travelling
I had every intention of finishing up an update post last night. As you can see... didn't exactly happen as planned. Whatevs. After taking in some excellent Monday night television programming, I was thinking about having a nice little bubble bath to relax
{with some wine too, perhaps
}, when I got a little phone call on the cellular device. Who could it be?
Derrick the Dick.
An ex, whom I'm not overly fond of
{to put it
extremely lightly
} but he thinks he is amazing, God's gift to women etc. I actually listened to most of his pathetic attempt at a booty call just to hear how desperate he was. And then shut him down, of course.
He's one of those guys you'd love nothing more than to plaster posters all over his hot spots in the city that resemble this:
I've managed to restrain myself.. so far.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not really a vengeful person. Well, kind of. And he's a great looking guy. Just.. after the 3rd time through dating the guy and a looooot of wasted time {looking back on things you always realize that} I'm getting pretty sick of him ringing me up thinking everything is dandy, I love him {HAH}, and furthermore, I'd love nothing more than to hurry over to his apartment and blow him. How about not!
Speaking of, I got a nice little message in my inbox on Facey the other day from a good friend I went to high school with, and still see out every now and then. We've kept in touch. She was, and is, the kind of girl who had a super tough and cool exterior but really, inside, was pretty naive and knew fuck all about anything guy/sex related. Which is fine.
Anyway. Back to the message at hand.
Or should I say head? {I'm hilarious, I know.}
She's got this new bf, they've been dating kinda casually for a few months. Basically what it came down to is that she's never performed oral on a guy, ever. Ever! I don't know why, but at this age, it struck me as odd that one wouldn't have at least attempted. {And I know some people are holding out, whatever, don't attack me with a bunch of those type comments}
I gave her some pointers, but it felt kind of weird telling someone who I had always thought to be on close to an equal playing field as me how to get off her bf with her tongue. Oh well.
And for the record, I'm not a crazy penis-crazed skank who runs around blowing everything in sight. I'm not. I'm just experienced.
Why, in this crazy world, when a girl uses the term "experienced" in reference to her sexual prowess or skills or whatevs, does it carry with it the connotation of being a slut who may or may not be rocking some genital herpes? When, a guy who knows his way around down south is simply a good kisser. Ah, another gender double standard.
Not really surprised, I suppose. I'm curious to see what you lovelies think about that whole dealio.
Labels: men, sex
I have one of those headaches where it feels like your entire brain is self-destructing and your skull is about to explode. And like your eyes are removing themselves from their sockets in an extremely painful fashion.
Rad.
It's probably due to the fact that I haven't been to the optometrist in like 39048 years and I reaaallly really need a new prescription. I've picked out like 3 different pairs of frames I like, but to actually get in there and get the ole eyes checked out is super low on my to-do list. Well, until my current painful situation. Oh well. Loading up on Advil liqui-gels is going to have to do for now.
The only reason I'm excited for work tomorrow is because I get to see blonde man. No, I don't know his name. No, I don't plan on approaching him to find out. His beauty is something to be marvelled at from afar. Until I grow a set and talk to him. Maybe that'll be later this week. This madness can only go on so long...
In EXTREMELY radical and exciting news I get my hair AND nails done on Wednesday. So excited. Sooooooo excited. Did I mention the general feeling of excitement?
My dog has deposited five different toys at my feet. That's his call for attention.. better play with him before he decides to fart a cloud of mustard gas to catch my attention.
Labels: beauty, dog, headache, men, work
Tonight A and I were discussing men, (as per uzh), but in particular, the fascinating phenomenon of the ability for a guy to totally quash one's libido. I'm not referring to such qualities like bad teeth, having a lax attitude to deodorant, or not being able to get ole' Schooner up and sailing, non.
What I'm talking about, is confidence.
This is so often commonly mixed up with that other nasty personality trait; arrogance. Which is just SO fucking annoying to deal with. But anyway, back to the post at hand.
Walking the fine line between having the right amount of dominance and showing off that you do, in fact produce testosterone; and being a cocky asshole is hard, sure. But I am a firm believer that it is easier to tone down Mr. Jock-whose-shit-doesn't-stink-and-gets-all-the-bitches than inject manly man into Mr. I'm-shy-and-can't-assert-myself.
I just can not, can NOT deal with guys who don't display what they want! Granted, a pre-req for that is actually knowing what they do want, which is a totally different issue unto itself which I don't dare get into... but always having to make the decisions, never being surprised or always calling the shots.. not only is it tiring, but once you get the guy in the sack chances are it'll be like you're a on a movie set directing a young, new actor; who bless his little heart is so eager to please, but just gets so wrapped up in "am I doing okay?" "are you sure?" "was I good?" that it toootally cools the jets.
And let's be clear, by dominant I don't mean whips and chains, nor am I only referring to bedroom activities. No. I mean, guys, do the female race a favour and assert yourself. Whether it's asking the girl to dance, spontaneously taking her out, or pushing her up against a wall and holding her hands above her head, trust me. You won't regret it.
Labels: men, relationships
I'd like to draw your immediate attention to this gorgeous hunk of male: Alexandre Despatie, a Canadian [olympic] diver. Included in this post are some pictures for your viewing pleasure. Quite possibly the main reason I actually tuned in for the Beijing Olympics.
Labels: celebrities, men
I'm not totally sure if I'm over-reacting, or if D is actually being a total fuckpig on this one.
Here's the sitch.
Minding my own business, doing some casual facebooking and chatting. Out of nowhere, he strikes up a conversation on msn.
Uh, what? We haven't spoken in depth for months besides when we've been forced to in large social situations and suddenly it's time for small talk? Eat shit!
Anyway, I decided to indulge his efforts for reasons completely unbeknownst to me, and then somewhere in between "How's it going" and "What's new?" he slips in:
D: Uh, can I ask you a somewhat personal question?
Me: Yeah sure. (I mean after a certain point, nothing is too personal wiht a guy anymore, ya know?)
D: Was I your first?
...
EX. CUSE. ME.
I honestly didn't know what to say! The answer's no, and we'd been through these sorts of details before we actually had sex the first time together. Furthermore, who the hell asks that so far down the road? Honestly, I didn't know what to make of it.
Until.
Declared on facebook before my very own sparkling eyes, oh, D is now in a relationship! Splendid. With a total troll! Who SCREAMS innocentnaivegirlwhocantsaypeniswithoutgiggling.
Naturally, I couldn't let this go without more investigation and called the bastard a day or so later, asking what his motives were behind such a question.
The reason? Oh, simply that his new gf was a virgin and he was wondering if I could offer any perspective on what being deflowered (particularly by him) was like to aid her in this magical journey of their love. Fuck. Right. Off.
You want ME to help YOU with your new relationship? Ugh. The balls to ask that question for THAT reason just infuriated me.
Especially when I really felt like responding, "Well, it shouldn't be too bad for her since you have such a tiny unpleasing dick."
But I restrained myself. For now.
Labels: exes, men, relationships
