Okay. So at work there's this guy I've been spending some time staring at (that sounds so creepy haha) across the office. When I'm there I can't stop looking over at him, I'm just so curious about him. Sounds normal right? Well , what makes it weird is he is insaaanely not my type. First, he's blonde. Usually I don't like the fair-haired guys. Also, he seems kind of shy. And maybe a little awkward? I don't know. Anyway, not what I'd usually go for.

And I keep telling myself, ugh, don't waste your time if you don't really want this in the first place. But then there's this weird phenomenon that is forcing me to momentarily totally ignore my instincts and kind of pursue it anyway.. I don't get it!

Let me assure you I'm absolutely not the type of girl who gets desperate and will lower her standards just to have a guy on her arm at all times, so it's not about that. It's just like this constant battle in my head between side A going "don't go there he's not your type" and side B "you have nothing to lose go nuts, he's there, do something about it". Faaaaaack.

Honestly. I'm a basketcase. Haha.

Alright kids, story time.

Once upon a time, I was a wicked tennis player. Well, I still am, it just took the back burner when I got competitive with dance. And university tends to take up a bit of time also.. anyway.

So as I was saying, tennis. It was a real passion of mine. Started with a summer camp to see if I liked it, upon my mother's wishing as she was a prostar when she was young (prov. championships, etc.). I liked it. No, I loved it. So, classes on the weekends it was. Eventually that wasn't enough and I needed more. Solution? Private lessons.

Sweet deal, I thought, as I have always been competitive, and impatient, so group classes and sessions proved to be extremely irritating as I absolutely hated waiting for the weaker players to grasp new techniques or keep up.

Then, the first private lesson finally arrived. I walked into the club house as the owner/club pro spoke through his thick Russian accent, "you vill like coach, yes?". I said yes, I hope so, and I walked to the change rooms wondering who was going to be my new private instructor.

I started stretching and warming up on my favourite indoor court at the club, the one at the verrrry end, opposite the doors. Then the doors opened and in walked Kris. And god, was he ever fucking gorgeous. His muscles actually rippled under his shirt/pants/whatever he was wearing that day.

Anyway, turned out he was only like 3-4 years older than me, blue eyes, and just fucking dreamy in every sense of the word. Oh, and he was a pretty rad coach & wicked tennis player.

After two weeks or so the chemistry was undeniable, and eventually Kris mentioned that we should hit up a movie sometime. YEESSSS.

Frick I'm running late to meet my mother for sushi, I have to cut this story short!!

Long story short: we went out lots, my game improved exponentially, and all was good.. until things got heated. It was good because he was a little older, pretty experienced, and a great guy, but eventually, if we'd have a fight... practice was pretty fucking awkward.

Why did we break up? My conscience started to eat away at me when I realized we had reached a point where it was impossible to keep our private relationship out of the club and the highly judgemental environment that existed there. I wondered if we were out of line, a player dating her coach? And then there was the cliched 'we were at different points in our lives'.. and we were.

It truly was a mutual thing, we had some good times and some good nights, but it just had to come to an end. Probably the only relationship I'm not bitter or broken up about. I actually ran into him at a club a few weeks ago, and we had a great chat.. aand.. exchanged our new cell numbers. Super! Haha actually I can't wait to go out with him. Anyway. I gotta run. That's all fo now!

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.

Do you ever wonder, if your exes think about you like you think about them? I mean, I don't mean every waking moment, but if you ever cross their mind now and then? If they catch a whiff of your perfume does it remind him of your warm embraces you used to share? Do songs and movies trigger the weirdest emotions of when you were together?

Granted, each relationship is completely different and each has it's own rulebook, but even if the memories are good or bad, or whether you are still pining for them or want to run them over with a school bus; is it impossible to completely delete someone out of your thoughts? And, does it go both ways? As in, are men capable of becoming emotionally detached more readily?

Hmm. Just some things I've been pondering lately.

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.