The Dirty Bits of Yvonne Amsterdam

I'm a ridiculous person

2005-11-26T10:32:00.000-05:00

In brief ? Here are some truths.

> Parties at the estate of the divine Lady M. are guaranteed trouble. And fun. Which is just a really creative spelling of trouble.

> Men who respond to your question of "Do you HAVE a last name" with "Hey ... shut up" are the ones NOT to sleep with.

> Men who play with you for an hour while you two are in bed with your friends (who are sleeping, no more foursomes!), are the ones TO sleep with.

> "Sleep with" in this situation means, having sex through quietly muttered commands in your friend's bathroom.

Have we learned our lesson now?

My Dave, but not

2005-11-20T23:20:00.000-05:00

Spent another weekend at K.HAN's; really, it was the same Saturday-Sunday overnight, but nice nonetheless; I studied, he entertained and somewhere in there, I finally focused enough to learn some technique; he does this thing with two fingers and the clitoris where one finger pretty much nails the clit down and stays still while the other massages next to it. So - yah, try that one out at home. Also, he ends up going down on my in such a way that he is perpendicular to my body, instead of paralell - so all the crevices I'm so fond of get just the right amount of attention. Yum.

I knew we were having sex when he brought up his computer, put on Moon Safari and lit candles (even though it was about 5pm ... I mean, we're far north, but the sun was just setting. Whatever, I was wooed); the problem was the problem that we often have with older men - he was stimulated as hell, but couldn\'t get all the way up. And then that presented a condom problem - he likened it to losing his whiskers; he just couldn't figure out where anything was. And he kept taking smoke up breaks ... whether at this point in time, he just fucks better stoned or was trying to feel better about his shortcomings is anyone's guess. At some point, he called half time and we went to shower; after which, he got in my ass and encouraged me to do the same. "I'm not gay," he said, "but I'm kind of gay ... so ... if you wanted to stick your finger up my ass, that'd be cool." So I do (I'm old hand at this, right ? right.) and encounter ... what feels like rope. Rope ! ! Which is FECES. (Why does feces feel like rope !?) SO, after rolling around the bed wailing, "Rope! Rope!" like a madperson, we got up, showered again, and he went to see a magic show. I stayed at home (his, of course) and finished some work. And smoked. And called people, and hung out online. Then he came back, restoked the fire (did I mention that he has a fireplace? did I mention that making out by a fireplace is awesome?) and snuggled up next to me.

Which led to sex, round ii ::: much better. Much much better. Not Sean level sex but really fucking close; better than those fucking undergrads - jeez. But the crowning achievement was this morning, when I crawled on top of him, half asleep, and fucked both him and myself for about half an hour, cumming a record six times (or more; I remember the kanji character for six -- ro -- flashing before my eyes a few times. I haven't had visions like that since Thiago when, in the early days, he would inspire me to see European cities in a wash of light - like a blue Paris or an orange London). Then he dropped me home and blah blah blah.

The weird thing is, I kind of ... don't know what to do with this now. I really like him, but I all but promised him that we were just having fun -- I have a boyfriend, he's rebounding, blah. But yes, a steady is outstanding (even if its just a sex-fueled 36hrs every week for the past two weeks) and comfort is key. Like, yknow, when he peed on me on the shower - that was weird but because it was us, I felt comfortable. And I wasn't on the floor or anything, he kind of sprayed me with his hose. All of which, I can't help but feel, really affects my dating pool ::: the more alternative shit I'm exposed to, the higher my tolerance becomes. When J.HAN spanked me, I had to keep directing - harder, faster, etc. At sex's end, he admitted that he wasn't really into spanking but would indulge me - who knew that these men existed ?

Changes

2005-11-13T20:20:00.000-05:00

I’m back like a spine.

Today, I uploaded a bunch of posts; things have become complicated as others (I’m sure) imagined they would. So here’s the situation in short; J.NYC has won me, fair and square, but we’re always better together. So we have what is called an “Open Relationship”: if we’re in the same city (tri-state area), then we’re together; if not, we’re not.

Now, dear reader, I did think this was “the big one” – and I can still see myself being with J.NYC for a long time, after graduation. And I did try masturbating myself into blindness to keep the monogamy alive. But then, after a less than satisfactory visit from the man, I resigned myself to the polyamoury I’ve been teaching for the past few months. I mean, its November; how many “Never Have I Ever”s do I really have left this year?

Maybe I should start by saying, “My apartment does not have wireless.”

2005-11-13T17:24:00.000-05:00

My apartment does not have wireless. Now, while my beloved flatmate and myself have to do nothing more than walk onto the porch and get access to the school network, we rarely do this. So, when I finally left the apartment to do work in a nearby campus building, I was so excited that I had to let loose on an orgy of IM and email. And I happen to email K.HAN. Who happens to be recently singled. Well.

Although the idea was to “hang out” instead of “make out,” that didn’t quite happen. Despite the visitors at his place, the plans to come back to campus for a party and the vow of celibacy he’s taken, I found myself about four orgasms in at midnight. “Something about you,” he says, “just makes me want to … sink my dick into you, as far as it will go.” Which is terribly romantic but, of course, did not come to fruition; K. HAN’s celibacy rules are simple: oral sex, good; sex, bad. So, we did what we could. Most of which was exactly what I’ve been wanting; he restrained me, pulling my hair to get me into place; lingually teased me and whispered orders into my ear … and then casually propositioned me with sexual favors; he uses the same tone for “I’m going to eat your pussy for a little while” and “I think I’m going to get some coffee.”

That said, its hard to explain the elements of intimacy, but they were there. Something about sleeping over, showering together, having the cat meet us in bed. Or maybe its all just déjà vu all over again; K. Ont is proving to be this weird G. NYC/S. NYC hybrid. Except, not married. Upgrade ?

Untitled

2005-11-12T16:25:00.000-05:00

I’m considering reconciling with my ex-boyfriend. Ish.

The short story is, I had a boyfriend in high school and we ended up going to college together. The slightly elaborated story is, I had this boyfriend who took me to the towering heights of love and then threw me into the adjacent chasm of love; my body (heart, mind, soul, whatever) has only really mended recently. So what would make me want to go back into the garbage it took me three years to swim out of? To be honest, because he’s here, he gets me (somewhat; there are basic Yvonne precepts that he’s got nailed down, even now) and we had a great sexual relationship. I’m at a point where I could substitute doing the same act with lots of people for doing lots of acts with the same person. And … maybe it would nice, for a little while, to be in a relationship. Of course, I’m in one now, but its this separate lives thing we’re running right now --- a junior relationship, if you will --- that makes me think I’m ready to upgrade.

Or maybe I should just decapitate the next person who comes to me with marriage talk.

“Be discreet, and keep the home fires burning.”

2005-11-11T23:26:00.000-05:00

The rules for not passing out drunk are relatively simple:

Ø Don’t smoke weed.

Ø Keep up the uppers.

Ø Don’t lie down – play, even if it’s a drinking game.

Of course, I didn’t learn this until Sunday afternoon; this is Friday night we’re talking about here. Roughly, I drank myself into a stupor without realizing it --- something about the cold makes you think you’re sober –- and passed out in J.HAN’s bed while a party was going on downstairs. Around 5am I woke up moments before getting pounced on, Tigger style. (I think he actually said, “I’ve been waiting for this.” Good thing I was trying to sleep with him before I passed out…)

J. HAN adventures somewhat remind me of my Ex-Boyfriend (the capital E and B denote his importance in the destruction of my girlhood dreams of romance): we understand each other and are free with each other in a pretty special way. But that’s what comes of knowing someone for years before you actually end up fucking them. Or, having them figuratively fuck the shit out of you, as it were; is it a good sign if you can’t talk or focus your eyes after sex?

Post-coitally, the fun continued. We talked some music and then *bad Yvonne!* I asked him about his girlfriend, currently studying in Europe. He loves her, he says, and wants to marry her (or at least, get engaged to be engaged) when she graduates, a year behind us. “So then, why are you fucking me?” I asked. “The same reason I fuck all the girls I fuck,” he explained, “you’re gorgeous.”

Oh. Thank you.

“The thing is, you have to be discreet,” explains he, as he changes the music to some rollicking rock and roll. “Be discreet, and keep the home fires burning. Chuck Berry said that, and he’s been married to the same woman his entire life.”

It’s Cool, We Can Still Be Friends

2005-11-10T20:28:00.000-05:00

B. HAN has become a problem. Ish.

What do you say to someone who you just don’t want to/can’t bring yourself to sleep with? Why do we have to have sex, when everything else is so great? The hooking up is fun, we have great conversations, his apartment is amazing, blah blah blah. And being a real New Yorker, I would potentially sleep with someone for real estate reasons. So the fact that this deal is not being sealed is pretty telling.

With plans to watch Labyrinth (a film wholly responsible for everything that is wrong with me sexually; muppets + David Bowie’s football sized codpiece would mess any seven-year old), B. HAN and I met up at the local videomart; strangely, the DVD was out (I can only imagine the extras on such a thing) and the video had been stolen. So we went back to his apartment for cable and … right.

Somewhere between the cold medicine and the absinthe, I got cuddly. And then horny, and then sleepy. The three kind of oscillated together until roughly 430a when we got up, had a ciggy and he drove me home. The problem did not lay in our drunken/affected cavorting, but rather in the email I would receive about 20hours later, saying something about leaving him in need and toying with his affections. Like his having blue balls is my problem, right?

Parole, Parole

2005-11-09T20:28:00.000-05:00

Every so often in the course of waitressing, you have a night that you just erased from your memory. This was the case after work this evening, when I came home and dove into our bottle of … Vampire? When my flatmate finally returned home from her own hellish shift, we indulged in an orgy of electronica, masala and red wine on my bed before downing some Vodka Crans and scampering out into the world.

Flatmate/Soulmate grabbed a game at the house of a boy we love the most (the most hilariously self-hating Korean we know), so I sauntered off to B2. HAN’s room. Or rather, I TRIED to; the door was locked. Eventually, I weaseled myself in and planted myself on his sofa while the world more or less revolved around us in weedy clouds.

Gradually, everyone cleared out and we did our thing. Which was good the first time, pretty outstanding this second time; generally, I try and have sex relatively sober (or I DID), but there’s something to be said about that many chemicals flying around your system at the same time. The big finish was when we, being finished, collapsed on the bed together; tummies to the bed, eyes glued to the wall. “That was AWESOME,” he says. Please strike from the record anything bad I’ve ever said about sleeping with slightly younger men; their enthusiasm is infectious.

And I’m Gone

2005-11-03T20:29:00.000-05:00

There’s not much to say about this mess.

Well, there is; that’s the sad part. P.HAN started out with more potential than anyone else; the Mz. R called him the best she’d ever had and the foreplay was amazing. He’s everything I said could not exist for me; a large, Black man with kinky tendencies, to throw me around, spank me a little and even a little choke now and then. But no, oh no. And why, why oh why was it all for naught?

The short story is, R. HAN got a little too excited, a lot too early. “This never happens to me --- I’m serious,” he says. Cosí fan tutti, motherfucker; its been so long since I’ve actually TASTED semen that I had no idea what was going on for about 3seconds. Anyway, after this debacle, we were unable to reschedule, although I encouraged him enough … initially, I thought he was bashful or embarrassed or something. It turns out that he’s kind of dating some other girl, but its not official yet, blah blah blah. So … right, this one is out.

I was JUST looking for a cigarette, I swear

2005-11-02T21:25:00.000-05:00

Back in the house whose name I dare not speak, Flatmate and I are making the rounds when who do I see but that fellow I’m supposed to have sex with; how about that. Unfortunately, he disappeared on a cell phone upstairs so Flatmate and I continued with our rounds, only to double back later.

Now, I knew that he had a girlfriend, but I did not know where she was, so I thought it unwise to barge into his room again. Hence my tentative tappa-tappa-tappa on his door, innocently asking for a ciggy. Which I actually DID need; I forget what we were drinking that night, but I’m almost certain that drinking indeed was taking place.

What followed was the kind of movie sex that you can’t really remember afterwards; it just moves so damn fast; I was up against the door, we were in bed, he was on top, I was on top. Aarp. Eventually, it slowed down a little; a bathroom break later and we were back in bed, talking – about nothing in particular, it was just kind of the half time show. “Could you give him a little kiss?” J.HAN asked, gesturing south. “He’s a really good kisser; he doesn’t drool at all.” All of which led into round ii, which was pretty ill, I must say. The rumors ARE true.

Hey Brother

2005-10-31T20:31:00.000-05:00

Right about now, things sped up; in chronological order :

P.HAN

First Met: 2002

Graduating: 2006

Studying: Psychology

Residing: Frat House; traditional

I met P.HAN freshman year, thought he was cute and wanted to try something but, of course, he appeared to be sampling all the first years he could. Also, I had this pesky boyfriend problem, so there’s that. Fast-forward to this year, and one “let’s get out of here” conversation after another, all of which going nowhere, despite the fact that our coupling has more or less been mediated by my friend, the divine Mz. R., who formerly fucked P.HAN (and may be continuing to…?). Ran into him tonight in a basement, and I’ve got my period like I don’t know what; of COURSE this is the night he out and out propositions me, right? Paws all over me, low voice, no personal space between us (and the place ain’t that crowded…), he tells me that he’s liked me for some time and really wants to get together but we can’t make it happen, etc. Okay. To be continued.

J.HAN

First Met: 2002

Graduating: 2006

Studying: Geography

Residing: Frat House; scary

J.HAN also got met freshman year, but I couldn’t figure out if I was actually attracted to him or just wanted to upset my then-boyfriend, as the two became bitter enemies (at least, on my boyfriend’s side). Years later (read: now), he’s slept with at least two of my friends and they’ve had nothing but good to say. After losing a drinking game (badly. Losing badly.), I scamper upstairs to say hello and turn into the best wet dream ever; “I was just thinking of you,” he says, turning on the light. And what does one do when he is having an erotic dream, the object of which wanders into his bedroom at 2am? Well, if she has her period, not much, but I certainly saw enough to remark, “I guess the rumors were true.”

B2. HAN

First Met: 2004

Graduating: 2007

Studying: Engineering

Residing: Frat House; Asian

B2. HAN was a resident of the RA I called my fake-boyfriend for about 3months (we acted the part for about three times that long, but the name game we played should be reserved for another post altogether); a good kid all around, who always has smoke and always invites you into the circle. For whatever reason, we found ourselves upstairs watching Alexander as I cleaned under his fingernails and massaged his hands and he massaged my neck and back. In some ways, the whole thing can be attributed to Rosario Dawson and her huge breasts; she and Colin Farrell started going at it like they were making a baby (and, according to the plot, that’s indeed what they did), which just inspired B. HAN and I to follow suit. Hott. Except, of course, for my bleeding. Not so hot, there.

The Return of Martin Guerre

2005-10-23T20:43:00.000-04:00

Clearly, by ‘Martin Guerre,’ I mean, ‘J. NYC.’ And in short, the visit was not good; how could it be? I was having a pretty nasty comedown, was missing a big holiday weekend and, AND, ended up having pretty sub-par sex. So that part was all a bust.

Regarding the boyfriend shit, he was just so … needy ? anxious ? Out of his element. Not long ago, J. NYC explained to me that there were in fact two Alannas; an extrovert who drinks too much, smokes incessantly, fucks compulsively and gets by on four hours of sleep a night, and an introvert who prefers to stay in, nap, snuggle and watch movies. All of which is true, although, when my time is so eaten up by other things in my student life, I’m far more likely to be a combination of the two, ie. Snuggling and napping after I’ve had too much to drink, smoked a cigarette or two and gotten obsessively fucked. Hence the problem with this weekend – but not to worry; I don’t know a single relationship I’ve had that wasn’t helped by my promiscuity.

….

Okay, that’s a lie. But it always makes me feel better.

The Perfect Drug

2005-10-09T20:36:00.000-04:00

In the grand tradition of all great parties, this function a. started at 1am on Sunday morning and b. came equipped with its on drugs. The combination of the two undoubtedly landed me in the arms of K.HAN.

K.HAN

First Met: 2003/4 ?

Graduating: … he’s 36

Studying: Brain Sciences; how appropriate that I should meet him on ecstasy

Residing: some house with a funny name, next town over

Fun Fact: Used to be married – to a lesbian

K.HAN apparently met me years ago at the greek organization I pretend to be a member of; I never really understood his deal – I thought he was a Grad Student, which apparently he WAS, but is now on staff somewhere. Now, apparently I stopped dancing with the beautiful gay boy in blacklight sensitive body paint to make out with K.HAN, and we shortly found ourselves in this tenty deal in the next room (it was that kind of party, boys and girls). So we’re doing what we can given the relatively public place we’re in, and then this Eastern European kid comes up to us. “I understand you’re busy,” he says, “but I’d really like to fuck her.” Which could have ended a few ways but ended up with me between the two menfolk as they discussed fetishizing Black women; who knew we were so popular among the Slavs ? In the end, the Yugo (we think his name was Yuri) got too handsy and we went back to the two of us, but eventually parted ways (one of K.HAN’s party members had fallen asleep and it was better to get him home sooner than later.)

My issue here is, I’ve got all these intensely sexual and positive feelings about this individual, but I can’t be sure if they should rightly be attributed to him or the drug of choice that night. Hmm.

Loved Despite Great Faults

2005-10-07T17:54:00.000-04:00

You heard it here first; its never good to hook up with someone because you feel borderline bad for them.

B.HAN

First Met: 2003

Graduating: 2006

Studying: Government

Residing: Fucking sick apartment off campus

Fun Fact: Served in the Israeli army; knows 25 ways to kill you with only a napkin and a straw

B.HAN had a party and nobody came … roughly. Flatmate and I dutifully showed up expecting drugs and liquor; which weren’t in short supply, exactly, but some Boston roughhouses showed up. Of course, in these circles, a Boston roughhouse means a kid who’s come from too much money and wants to cause too much trouble. That’s when you hear things like, “Of course L. will pay to fly our drug dealer from New York up here.” B. HAN was moping around (he may or may not have been able to feel his teeth…) and I, hopped up on what turned out to be diet pills (they were a pretty shade of blue; don’t ask) gleefully offer myself as a mood enhancer. This will turn problematic in the near future, methinks.

CODA

2005-09-06T02:02:00.000-04:00

Is this the end of my naughty bits ? Maybe.

As even the most casual reader may have guessed, J.NYC has been climbing into a serious lead for months and eventually - after a talk where I demanded nonexclusivity and he easily agreed - I realized I didn't want to sleep with anyone else. Imagine that - having that sexual urge turned off except for with this one person. (Ironically, group sex still turns me on and I'm masturbating more than ever, but that's another post.) A change in character this drastic practically screams for another, equally drastic change. And so I committed and now I've got this wonderful boyfriend who has yet to spank or choke me, but is cultivating a taste for the anime I love the most. Currently, I'm ripping the lastest disc he burned me onto my computer; its got an assortment of music he's compiled from other peoples' computers and two hentai films he thinks I'll like - this is the lemur of my dreams.

The whole point to my blog, my dating, my men (and the couple of women) was that I was refusing to settle. And that's my message - don't settle. If you need to be licked out before intercourse, don't date someone who won't do that. If you've got a smoking fetish and your boyfriend wants to quit, dump him. If you want to be sodomized, spanked and spooged on a couple times a week, demand it aright. Because who knows - you could meet someone who amuses you both in and out of the bedroom, and isn't that something worth waiting for ?

A3.NYC - 3

2005-07-30T19:32:00.000-04:00

"You really don't trust yourself, do you?" he said, as I left.
Responded my friend:

[03:56] Simon Cowell: OH GOD NO HE DIDNT!!!!!
[03:56] Simon Cowell: NO!!!!!!!!!
[03:57] Simon Cowell: I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT!!!!!!
[03:57] Simon Cowell: not the old "you dont trust yourself"
[03:57] Simon Cowell: which is a close cousin to "you dont want to be happy do you"
[03:57] Simon Cowell: which is the stepchild of "are you afraid to love"

Indeed.
Let me back up.

At some point, during the week I was going crazy, A3.NYC wanted to make dinner for me. I declined; my mind was about to explode, I had just seen him earlier that week (and he'd called me an hour after we parted company to tell me to watch the moon ...), everything was just spinning out of control. So I cancelled, and he rescheduled for tonight. That'll show me.

So basically, I got to his place around 6pm; I watched him make dinner for me (a totally gourmet but not v. difficult meal), we drank some wine (which tasted great at the time and then ... no), we talked a lot (because talking was never our downfall). So things are going pretty well when The Seduction starts. He plays piano for me and holy shit, the boy is good. He starts hovering around me - standing by my seat while I'm still seated and looking meaningfully into my face even though we're discussing ... cartoons? So eventually, I excuse myself to the bathroom and when I come back, he's set up camp in the room. "Come listen to this," he says. Oy.

So we're in his room, on pillows, listening to music and finally (a relief ? a blessing ? a curse) he tries to kiss me. Because I really like this fellow, I'll spare any cutting remarks and begin thusly - I guess I've never refused anyone who so ardently wanted to kiss me. And this is what I learned from the experience; if you refuse someone who ardently wants to kiss you, you will inevitably have to listen to an explanation of both why and how much this someone wants to kiss you. Which sent me running out into the darkness - quite literally, as I left his apartment and got halfway down the pitchdark stairwell before he stopped me. Which is when he dropped that winning little nugget that we started this post with.

J.NYC - 20

2005-07-30T02:19:00.000-04:00

Looking at the mounting numbers and just remembering the track record of this very special little guy, I have to wonder if maybe I should just cut my losses, stop dicking around, and ... oh wait. Read the post immediately before this one again.

In any case, spent another night at J.NYC's. This was even more domestic than the last; I set up our toothbrushes and we brushed our teeth together - he'd even held off on brushing his teeth so that it could be the case. Then we settled into bed to watch a DVD but I was, yknow, half naked, so that didn't last long.

Oral, oral, sex, sex, sex. Sex. Sex. I officially love having sex with J.NYC - its just so mutable: one minute, I'm settled in his lap, straddling the hell out of him and fucking him for all either of us are worth and in the next, he's got me on my stomach, showing me who's running shit.

Oh, and, re: who's running shit? Just to clarify; its him.

N.NYC - Unfinished Business

2005-07-29T23:25:00.000-04:00

Every time I try to get out, they just suck me back in ...

Some more background >>> N.NYC and I went to high school together. At some point, I linked to him through one of those social network programs online, and I found him. Typically, I remembered him but he was kind of sketchy on me. We exchanged some pictures, talked on the phone and not that long after, found ourselves at the party of a mutual friend. Made out. Made plans. And then, bupkiss.

Then he reappears last night at another party of the same mutual friend and its like nothing has changed; his paws are all over me in an almost protective/possessive way and I have to wonder where the fuck he's been all this time (he had several excuses, which I immediately forgot). Anyway, he walks me out at the end of the night (well, my end of the night - I was headed up to sleep at J.NYC's; ha!) and kisses me goodbye. Immediately, more bullshit - we should go to the beach! Email me your number!

But only time will tell, I suppose. So, uh, remember the name.

J.MEM - (previously Un)Finished Business

2005-07-28T19:05:00.000-04:00

It should be noted; I was pretty stoned for this.

After weeks of anticipation and about 12hrs of suggestive text messages (in one of which, I asked for a 'hard yes'), I was finally to fuck J.MEM. Hip hip hooray for big, strong Black men strong enough to drag me around a bed. And there was the chance I would get spanked ! Oh happy day !

BUT
First we had to get food.
AND
We went to Friday's. TGIFriday's.

Thankfully, I was stoned - if you've never been in such a state, grease and hot sauce become your best friends. He had a Sam Adams or something while I got sleepy - so when he asked if I was done and I eagerly said, "Yes, let's get out of here," I'm sure he read that as my overactive libido. And maybe that's why the night ended the way it did.

So
How did the night end ?
I will fucking TELL you how the night ended :::

J.MEM could NOT perform.
And furthermore, he tried to hide this fact by cuddling with me. Which was nice - lying naked in his arms, his nails grazing my back, dozing off to sleep - UNTIL I REALIZED he was as flaccid as ... uh ... some piece of worthless cock.

Dear readers, if you aren't already aware (if this is the case, please consult the archives), I almost exclusively fuck men in their 30s. I've fucked a man or two who was damn near 40. And in my entire sexual life, this is the one and only inccidence of an unrecovered limp willie.

Now, let's never speak of this again.

J.NYC - 19

2005-07-23T03:31:00.000-04:00

Phew.

Met a gang of J.NYC's friends. Which was, uh, interesting. Largely they are, like his partner, are larger, sweatier, older, tech looking folks *let it be noted; J.NYC is a scrawny thing who looks about 22 and looks like a ... maybe lower level record company hire* who debated the new Harry Potter for about 20minutes. At some point, one such debator whipped out her copy of the book to argue a certain passage - some question of plural/singular. Oof. My discomfort was palpable and even my adoring fake-boyfriend admitted, "I was thinking, 'Is she still coming home with me after this?'" But hell, they had great pizza and I hope when I'm pushing 30, I'm still playing Dance Dance Revolution.

Apparently J.NYC and his partner are "the single ones"- everyone else is either married or engaged or cohabitating. Which probably explains the recent progression. J.NYC has developed a habit of referring to his place as home - "I'll see you at home," he says or, "I can't wait til we get home." I don't know how to say that I don't think of his apartment as my home, despite my having a side of the bed, a towel, a pet name, a toothbrush and a set of chores (I make ice. Hott.).

However.
The current familiarity has yet to breed contempt. I arrived at "home" about 50minutes after J.NYC and so he was still wide awake-ish when I got in (I left his friends for some time with my friends and some intoxicated complaining about this alleged *home* of mine). We brushed our teeth, talked over the evening and went to bed - sort of. Unexpectedly, we started fooling around (we're usually morning sex people) and - surprise! - we had oral.

I've written, at length, about the fabulousness of cunnilingus as interpreted as J.NYC but clearly its been a while and I've completely forgotten everything. So I'm there on my back in the heat of the evening, desperately fantasizing so I can just orgasm already - its killing me that its not coming yet. So I'm sitting, waiting, wishing, running through every scenario :: he's my French tutor and he's trying to teach me certain linguistic tricks to aid my pronunciation; I'm being held captive in a French or Vietnamese jail; I am, in fact, getting tongue fucked by someone else. Nothing works. And then, the minute I'm utterly bereft of fantasies and start to focus on the situation --- this man who is mad about me is deeply invested in me; not my orgasms, not blowing him, but ME --- and I came. Alot. So much that when I got up for water, I could feel so much material coming out of me, for a split second, I thought we'd managed to have unprotected sex. Hott.

Scenes from a Scene

2005-07-22T23:21:00.000-04:00

> Drank vodka with the gang
- J.NJ arrives; fell into fake-boyfriend mode (hand holding - ugh)
- A3.NYC calls (an hour after we've parted ways!) to tell me about the beautiful moon ...
- Got mildly ripped but not very

> Went to an underwear party downtown
- joined by J.NYC - yay ! two take boyfriends !
- saw a midget Michael Jackson impersonator but no 7ft tall rapping Jew (le sigh)
- got propositioned to wrestle in some ice water with a girl in a red sequined bra; declined

> Amble uptown to a party at an apartment
- watched J.NJ flirt with my intern as J.NJ watched me on J.NYC's lap
- Lord G. breaks a bunch of glasses and potentially gets a blowjob ... ? but not from me!
- J.NYC expresses dismay that I am not coming home with him - apparently my towel is clean

J.NJ drives me home, we do a run down of my sex life, he believes that if he had not been away these past few weeks, HE would be my fake-boyfriend instead of J.NYC. I, the coward, have no heart to correct him. We kiss goodnight, further complicating things.

A3.NYC - 2

2005-07-22T19:10:00.000-04:00

After a serious late-night talk, many emails and music exchanged, secrets divulged, etc. I decided to give A3 another shot at me. Damn the blatant non-attraction, this could be a guy worth settling (down) for.

But then, seeing him there in person just shut everything the fuck down. Suddenly, I couldn't help but pick him apart: his poor table manners; his height or lack thereof; his romantic history that sounds suspiciously like my official ex-boyfriend's side of the story. Self preservation mechanism ? Sure, maybe. But the fact of the matter is that the man can't eat with a knife and fork, is shorter than me and has the potential to attach himself to me in a barnacle kind of way. Not that any of this kept us from a lovely afternoon, strolling by the water.

I've been debating what to tell this character; I debated using J.NYC as a beard, begging off and claiming that things got suddenly serious between us. But I wouldn't want that - lying is bad karma and I'm done accumulating that. Maybe just the truth; the fastest way for me to lose a friend is to date him (its the truth!) and I value him too highly to chance that happening. Even though the restaurant he took me to *one of his favorites* wreaked massive havoc on my digestive tract.

S2. NYC

2005-07-21T19:53:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 33 (?)
race/ethnicity/nationality: White.
hails from: the Midwest (get the picture?)
used to: travel alot
currently: travels alot - "journalist" for the evil empire that is Fox News
housing: lives somewhere trendy, I forget where
roommates: brother + his girlfriend

THE MYTH
Got messaged, was interested, made a date that he later cancelled on. Kind of. Sent a text saying, "So, what's up?" and he responded, "Who's this?" Were supposed to do a nouveau French, postmod bistro on Bastille Day (how romantic!) but ended up meeting a week later. No sexual sparks but great conversation. Then again, I did show up drunk and then (again), I continued drinking to keep up with him. Nothing much to report except that, fuck, the guy clearly knows where all the best restaurants are. And foots the bell. We have a winner.

THE MATH
Ridiculously exotic cocktails that were, yes, delicious + incredibly savory food (smoked bluefish on toast points ! prosciutto, asparagas + shaved parmesano!) = Yvonne avoids even looking at the check. I'm sure it was costly but shit, how often in life will Fox News encourage your inner epicurean?

Lord G. from NYC. Kinda.

2005-07-21T18:38:00.000-04:00

This doesn't especially deserve the rundown that the others get upon introduction because despite public opinion, I won't be sleeping with this one. Really. But he does deserve a mention because he is a man that I did meet.

Lord G. is a friend of a friend that I met my sophomore year in high school. The official meeting was:

Me: Hi, I'm , I'm friends with
Him: Hi, I'm , I was a mistake.

Apparently, he was the product of some intermingling between a university professor and his female student. What can I say, shit happens.

We went for a quick drink because we've been IM friends for ... gosh, maybe 18months? and decided it was silly to be in the same place, at last, and not contact one another. Furthermore, one of our mutual friends (I suspect it was his ex-girlfriend, who was my buddy in Boston, with whom I stewed and desperately missed my city) commented that our sex lives were very similar. That should give you some idea as to this fellow's MO.

Anyway, he invited me to a swinger's party at some TBA date and then I dashed off for my real date of the evening.

J.NYC - 18

2005-07-20T19:31:00.000-04:00

18 >>> Our relationship can officially vote.

Saw J.NYC after a protracted absence - combination of his stupid comment and subsequent illness.
He came down (late) to have a quick bite with some friends of mine who are, by extension, now his acquaintances. Ms. A could not stop railing about the inadequacy of G.NYC - which was a might awkward but hopefully J.NYC understood her rant as a final, irrefutable proof that I am fucking other people. Or, he could delude himself into thinking that she was ranting about one of my exes. Either way.

Wandered across and then uptown together; I complained about work, he listened patiently. But I couldn't help but feel our relationship had taken a turn for the ... platonic? What the fuck is this ?

G.NYC - 17

2005-07-19T00:09:00.000-04:00

Went too far.
TOOO far.

In short, invited G.NYC to meet the most progressive of my friends, who has also dabbled with a married man or two in her time.

("Married men come in two types," the delightful Ms. A explained, "the American version and the European version. The American version says, 'My children are monsters, my wife is a bitch and my job is beneath me. But I am able to make it through the day because of these hours we spend here in bed together.' In which case, the mistress becomes the master's escape and he's likely to say something crazy like, 'Let's run away together!' The European version says, 'My children are angels, my wife is a goddess and I love my job. I love my life, but I do feel like fucking someone else and you happen to be here. So what do you say?'")

However, G.NYC made an ass of himself by a. not knowing enough about his professional field to impress Ms. A, an undergrad like myself and only casual student of economics; b. rubbing her leg in some kind of attempt at seduction; c. flirting shamelessly with one of my younger intern friends when he was drinking with us as my gentleman friend. At some point, Ms. A actually dragged me out with the excuse of having a cigarette and lectured me on how beneath me this particular relationship was; he wasn't smart enough, handsome enough, rich enough. And for the first time, I saw him for all those things and ... right.

The End.

G. NYC - 16

2005-07-18T20:06:00.000-04:00

G.NYC leaves for Italy, to see his family and reconcile for his wife, in not too long, so we took this as our last evening together, in that way.

Definitely the end of an era.

Thank Goodness.
No more sneaking around the building, taking the stairs to avoid getting recognized by neighbors. No more hotel rooms. No more guilt (not that I felt it...) about being in his conjugal bed. No more "sex" as we had it.

But of course, there will be things I miss.
Ta ta, darling.

K + C.NYC

2005-07-16T00:45:00.000-04:00

THE COUPLE
ages: 25 (her) + 34 (him)
race/ethnicity/nationality: Japanese (her) + Italian-American (him)
hails from: Japan (her) + Upper East (him)
used to: be in Japan (her) + be in Japan (him)
currently: getting her Masters + doing very little - meetings?
housing: "1bdrm" on the Upper West; actually an artfully separated studio
roommates: separate residences but I feel like they cohabitate when no one is looking

THE MYTH
Okay Okay, I'm a bad pretend-Jew. Got messaged by these two during the week separately and after all three of us failed to meet up, they apparently realized that (surprise!) they were trying to fuck the same girl. That girl being me. So I snuck out under shade of night and went to his place to meet them. Which was not smart, but I was feeling a little ... self-destructive? So I went. V. Posh apt building into which his apartment did not fit. Not surprisingly, the couple didn't appear to fit, either. They'd met years ago in Japan (he is on a soap in Japan and she has some relative on the Exec board of the show/network?) and moved to the same neighborhood here in New York. But most of this is of no interest; what is of interest is how I ended up with a mouthful of K's muff and C on top of me, ferociously whispering to me to stay still. (That part was comical; the man outweighs me by 60lbs - where the fuck am I going to go?) So imagine, gentle reader, your narrator with her face thrust into this preserved, petite and politely manicured pussy while getting fucked by a cock about the size of her forearm. THAT'S what it was.

However, I have to say that it wasn't all that it should have been. For one thing, I didn't orgasm; not once. (K. did - yay me. As for C. - who the fuck cares?) Maybe it was because K's adorable little tongue nipped and darted across me as though she were ... To be honest, it reminds me of how I used to do oral; licking and teasing that's meant to be sexy but instead barely covers a disdain for any and all contact with the organ at large. As for C, as I explained it to a dear friend over lunch, imagine a chisel; there are large chisels and small chisels. Sculptors use small chisels for intricate detail; the vinery of the Middle Ages and shit, yeah? Sculptors use large chisels to knock large chunks of marble away from the statue-to-be. But if sculptors just used large chisels all the time, they would knock and knock and knock everything away, leaving nothing but dust and awkwardly broken chunks of unusable marble. Which is ... sort of ... how I felt.

I also was turned off by the dynamic between the couple. Although this little lotus was all butter and sweet and soft and delicious all over (she tasted like water, which threw me off for a while until I realized she'd just come from taking a shower. Unless all Asian women taste like water, in which case, please let me know.), she let C. dominate her in a way that usually should have been incredibly hot but somehow was just not. It wasn't so much Secretary-style mind-games but Archie + Edith bunker bullshit ("Koko! Where's the clicker?!") . And the fact that she was much younger, hotter, smarter than he only made this worse. If I ever got into dominating men, he would be the first one.

THE MATH
They ordered sushi and I ate some; we watched TV and proved myself smarter/more media savvy/generally a more worthwhile human being than either of them. Oh, and C. took some pictures of my personal "dirty bits". That reminds me ... I'd better email him this week.

G. NYC - 15

2005-07-15T18:41:00.000-04:00

Went back to our usual bar - now we have a usual bar, instead of a usual hotel. Progress, yes?
The drinks change, but the hors d'oeurves and the waitress stays the same. Ditto the confusion of the clientele.

Nothing much to report, except the fairly literary turn of our relationship; I'm reading a book on his recommendation that features, as a side plot, a 16yr old girl's relationship with 30something male protagonist. There's a passage that I've said reminds me of us - kind of a point at which they each realize and acknowledge (in their own way) that the other person needs a specific something that the first party is unable to provide.

Beginning of the end ?
And not a moment too soon.

J. NYC - 17

2005-07-15T17:36:00.000-04:00

Here's some back story; my grandfather passed away and I have to go home to practically sit shiva. Not that I want to do this kind of thing - not at all. But I do - why ? Because I'm a good fucking kid. That's why.

But on my way to meet G. NYC for a last drink of freedom before my self-imposed/inflicted exile, I'm feeling a little vulnerable about it. I'm thinking that I'm a terrible person for not mourning my grandfather and an even worse person for not wanting to sit shiva with my grieving father.

So it is about this time that Mr. J. NYC calls to a) remind me that he's been luxuriously napping all day and b) invite me to see Willy Wonka this evening. No darling, I have to go home, remember ? We discussed this yesterday. Oh ... Right.

At which point I rant into a tirade, revealing how torn I am about having to go home and how vulnerable I am feeling about it -- which is rare for me and very new for this relationship. Suffice to say, J. NYC did not respond appropriately. At all. So much for fake-boyfriend staus.

J. NYC - 16

2005-07-14T19:23:00.000-04:00

After a long day, I trek uptown to find one J.NYC and crawl into bed. However. He is not there.
He is, in fact, downtown, where I started. Bastard. SO, I come allll the way back downtown to find him slurping down boba at his favorite boba place.

Find him eventually and have a bit of a ... mood. Which is quickly assuaged by his open adoration f me - not to toot my own horn, mind you; other people have seen this look he gives me. After a while, it becomes kind of unsettling - men (or women) who gaze upon you as though they cannot BELIEVE that YOU are with THEM beg the question; what are you doing with this person?

In any case, we walked down to the water, dozed on a bench and eventually went home together.
And if morning sex (during the course of which, I DID manage to orgasm) made me an hour and change late for work, well, shit happens.

G. NYC - 14

2005-07-11T18:21:00.000-04:00

Got together for wine and cheese before a snazzy work function this eve.
Made the mistake of downing a bottle of dry, sparkling wine and eating merely bread and cheese.
Delicious bread and cheese, but nonetheless, I left in no state at all. Oh, and I broke a glass.

But I found a new way to get G. NYC off.
One of my proudest moments; at the time, I was talking about the futility of handjobs and demonstrating one such futile handjob on him when
SPLURG.
In record time, too.

J. NYC - 15

2005-07-08T22:10:00.000-04:00

Oh goodness. 15. That seems unlucky somehow.

Further verified the existence of J.NYC by meeting his friendly neighbor in an orgy of social circles, a veritable sea, crashing against itself. But fun - this fellow is also clearly a grown-up with a real job and may even own his own apartment. So its a fact now; J.NYC is a grown-up. Not an actor/musician/cater/waiter on the Lower East. Not a music video producer from way out where. Not a pianist touring the world, playing house at various points. But several years from screwing around on his wife in a way that may or may not be sanctioned by said spouse with sweet young me.

Oh - and here's another fact; he referred to me as his girlfriend. Which is a much nicer title than, "That girl I like and fuck on occasion." But still. I spent the night at his place and couldn't orgasm the next morning, no matter what I tried.

J. NYC - 14

2005-07-07T19:50:00.000-04:00

I have yet to meet anyone who even knows J.NYC. In my book,that's tantamount to him not existing at all. So the plan was to bring my friend as backup, do early dinner with his business partner and try to pump said partner for J.NYC information.

Said dinner brought many revelations, beginning with
> J.NYC is OLD.
Followed by
> J. NYC is a COMPUTER TECH GUY.

You know that well-meaning, large boned, sweaty man who comes into your office, all grubby paws and good intentions, and puts all the printers back online? He's clearly happy to be up in the bright light of fluorescence, up from the dank depths of Tech Support --- is the tech guy the new, well-meaning goblin/troll/ogre of ancient faerie tale and legend ? He may just be. So basically, imagine Shrek - that's the business partner. Don't get me wrong, he's brilliant and nice and brought us to a most excellent after-hours joint that we never would have been to otherwise and paid for quite a bit of the tab. But the fact that the partner was such a grown-up made me take him seriously, which made me regard J.NYC seriously, which helped me see how he regards me --- in short, this was the first real SUGGESTION of his taking me seriously. Which he does. I think. Oy.

A3. NYC

2005-07-06T23:05:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 21 (that's MY age!)
race/ethnicity/nationality: Whiiiite.
hails from: Seattle, WA
used to: uh, play music?
currently: uh, plays music - piano
housing: 1bdrm in Brooklyn with a piano where the living room should be
roommates: said piano, and a Buddhist shrine/office

THE MYTH
Got a message from this funny little man who was both my age (plus!) and my height (minus.). He said I gave off good energy and other things of that nature, so we met up and went to a cute French bistro. Have you ever had one of those dates where almost every other statement is something along the lines of, "Me too!"? Its wild - we read the same things, listen to the same music, watch the same movies. He's great and smart and has led this amazing life and we have so much in common ... But no sparks.

THE MATH
The fact that we were lacking in sparkage didn't keep me from letting him throw down a C-note for the dinner. I didn't even see the bill this time - smooth.

A2. NYC - 8

2005-07-06T03:28:00.000-04:00

The badness continues.

So things are heating up with J. NYC and I've decided to cut some fat. The fat. A2. NYC.
On the way, I had G. NYC on the phone - we've become such good friends, its scary. He told me about the new woman >>> she's freaking a smidge about the whole marriage thing - Oh, twas so long ago that I was in her place. I told him that I replaced a glass I broke at his place (as though I hadn't done enough damage already) and reported that I was breaking up with A2. NYC and felt a lie coming on. But what lie, what lie ?

So I get back to the neighborhood I know so well, slink upstairs and plant myself on a chair in his bedroom.

Me: I have to talk to you.
Him: You cut your hair! Its cute.
Him: What's this about?

And before I knew what came out of my mouth >>>

Me: I thought I was pregnant.

Him: By me?
Him: (half to himself) Of course by me.
Me: (quiet chortle to myself)

Now first of all, this wasn't so much a lie, but an artful sculpting of the truth. I did think I was pregnant (kind of) just not by A2. NYC. I did cut my hair - but not in reference to learning I was not pregnant. I did lose weight - but not because I couldn't eat with worry, believing I was with child. And the potential of my being pregnant did fuck with me - but not such that I decided to take a break from sex.

Several sniffles later and even some tears (you'd think an actor would be able to recognize acting), he held my face in his hands and said, "Its okay, we can just be friends. If it makes you feel better, we never have to have sex again." Tearful, hopeful, baby faced Yvonne takes her head out of his hands and says, "Really? We can still be friends?" Of course of course we can.

And that's how I lost a plate and gained a friend.
Lesson ::: Play the pregnancy card.
I enjoy being a girl.

G. NYC - 13

2005-07-04T15:10:00.000-04:00

In case you thought things were out and out improving, that I was slowing down, that the bits were getting less naughty, you clearly neglected to realize that G. NYC has been out of town.

Now, he's back.
And he's sleeping with someone else.

Its amazing how excited I was that my married boyfriend was fucking some other woman. Incidentally, she's 29, works in politics and is utterly disinterested in meeting me - I'm too young for her (!!!). Having this invisible mistress in my midst (I guess we're co-mistresses?), I just want to try harder, do more, endear myself more to this funny little man who I adore. So I kicked it up a notch.

I went to his apartment.
Where he lives.
With his family.

And if nothing else, it taught me not to marry. Because this is how the shit ends, y'know - some other woman, wandering around your house, perusing your choice in books, peeking into your childrens' room and blowing your husband. Well, maybe she's not always blowing your husband, but she's certainly wandering around in your space. As G. NYC popped out for some wine, I puttered around the place - yup, all the books he'd said he read were there; two small beds for two small boys; all the trappings of a real life that I had no part in. Then, there were the pictures of Mrs. G. NYC. There's a picture of the wedding, cutting cake, her youthful face all fresh and innocent, a virgin blush upon her cheek. It sounds awful but watching her metamorphosis in the pictures, everything he's explained about his marriage, his wife, their relationship, absolutely makes sense. She's a woman, then a wife, then a mother - the children's artworks are on the walls, the wall displays niches reporting their height, a whole set of cutlery made for tiny paws. This isn't a woman interested in having her brains fucked out anymore. Enter the co-mistresses.

But I think I went too far. We took our wine glasses into the bedroom. THE bedroom. We got into the bed. THEIR bed. Where they go to sleep, and wake up, and y'know, have the infrequent sex they infrequently have. Which I should have remembered when I buried my head in his crotch, but of course, I didn't.

J. NYC - 13

2005-07-02T23:35:00.000-04:00

Spent the day most of my life's major players >>> family, friends, etc. out at my place. HUGE bbq. The prevailing opinion on J. NYC was that if he was ever seen again, they could begin to take him seriously.

Was unexpectedly displaced from my home for another night - boo and hoo. More bunking with J. NYC. Even more domestic than before - largely because I had low-med flow. But we snuggled the hell out of each other, woke up to NPR and chin attacks.

You see, I explained that I'm domestic and intimate, which is commonly mistaken for committed and monogamous. Which it is not. But this is more domestic than ever before. Uff - I'll give it another week before saying anything definite, making any changes, etc.

J. NYC - 12

2005-07-01T23:27:00.000-04:00

Friday night, I got displaced by my uncle so I had to bunk @ J. NYC's. Poor me.

Met up and did dinner with some friends at a big BBQ place before walking back to his place. Getting so domestic >>> brushed our teeth, read our books (J.K. Rowling for him, Haruki Murakami for her), went to bed. No sex.

Made up for it the next morning - award winning oral followed by quickie morning sex. Stress relief, y'see >>> he was meeting most of my clan at a bbq that day. I watched his pupils dilate, which I've never seen before. Then he came and I came and I tried to gingerly get off of him, but couldn't find the condom. Was it lost ? ... Holy fuck, we didn't use one.

But currently I'm spotting, at the least >>> cross your fingers for non-conception.

J. NYC - 11

2005-06-30T01:19:00.000-04:00

So come hell or high water, I'm seeing J. NYC twice a week. I like him that much. That's a.

b. I'm wondering if maybe I can't fuck like I used to. Jaesus, I'm dehydrated, my tummy hurts and I'm exhausted but strangely wired. Fucking endorphins.

Got some cash in pocket and wanted to do something big for J. NYC - like, pay for dinner for once. So I did - we ate an awful lot for not very much, paid for groceries, went back to his place. Spoke relatively benignly before I got as aggressive as he was accusing me of being; slipped off his clothes, sucked him silly and kept him from returning the favor. Don't ask me what I was thinking.

Several sweaty hours later, I'm rocking on top of him, trying to keep his gaze as we approach endgame. And I have to say, I love this man's orgasms; we're bopping along and his face looks like a kid on a regular Saturday morning and suddenly, he hits that slippery slope to orgasm and looks like the same kid just turned around and realized it was Christmas. What a cutie.

J. NYC - 10

2005-06-26T02:36:00.000-04:00

Jeez, ten in about five weeks.

So as you may have guessed, I spent the weekend at J. NYC's - I have a toothbrush (pink to his purple), a side of the bed (inside/left to his outside/right), an assigned bathroom order (second, so I can doze for longer) and a household chore (generally, ice maker and Brita bitch).

This particular morning, we slipped into sex (or rather, he into me) and because we'd had sex the day before (and he is unaccustomed to the marathons of, say, S. NYC), he lasted just short of an eternity. Which was fun for me - we played, we talked, we snuggled, we changed positions and started all over again. My favorite part may have been straddling him, knees pulled up to my chest, having a perfectly reasonable conversation about childhood television (maybe) until I realized that he, with absolute subtlety and stealth, had started easing me back and forth on top of him with very slow, probing moves that eventually kicked off that thing in the back of my brain - that warm feeling that I get from what have to be the endorphins that accompany orgasm.

Then, we got up and out of bed, showered, brushed teeth, made plans to leave the apartment, got waylayed by ice cream, and went back to sleep. All of which is what Sundays are made of, if you ask me. And yes, getting a little mushy over here, but there's little else to do if just about every time you have sex, your mate ends up on his back, eyes glazed to the ceiling, and murmurs, "This is perfect."

J. NYC - 9

2005-06-25T03:21:00.000-04:00

Rolled into J. NYC's after a really late party for my friend's father - around the time I reached his place, I realized that a. my phone was dead so I'd have to humble myself to the concierge and hope he woke up and b. that I was not currently a college student, nor on a college campus hence, rolling into your lover's place at 2am when you've been out without him is not acceptable. Come to think of it, couldnt have possibly been that acceptable on campus, either - merely more convenient. What a way to start a weekend together.

When we woke up not too many hours later, I felt pretty sticky and gross - summer heat got us again. We talked, laughed, snuggled, moved away from each other to avoid the velcro-effects of the heat, and then eventually relented to the pounding in our genitals. So off flew the panties (almost out the window. again.) , out came his eager grin and, that's right, more oral. I finally figured out what the deal was with the oral - its good because its not goal oriented. He's not trying to get some head for himself, he's not even trying to get me off - he just really likes pussy. Alot. So while I didn't have an orgasm, I was elevated to a zen like state I found difficult to shake for ... well, who knows; he doesn't have clocks anywhere. Does that count as tantra ?

So, some pretty slow, sweet sex later, we're all laid out and sweaty, naked and waiting for the call to determine whether he works to day away or not. The call eventually comes - around the time I'm having his penis do the hustle. Now THAT is intimacy.

[In truth, J. NYC prove himself too worthy later on that night, meeting up with two of my exes, an almost was, and getting dragged around town. But I made it up to him, of course.]

Making sense of it all

2005-06-22T23:39:00.000-04:00

More background:

When I was young(er), I used to see a certain M. The relationship began in friendship and eventually, we realized that we shared certain .... philosophical similarities on the subject of monogamy. In short, we --- being the types of serial-cheating, sneak-a-freaking, accomplished liars that sometimes end up in relationships with decent, loving, overly trusting and slightly damaged folk --- both sucked at real relationships because we didn't see a need for all the restrictions inherent therein. So we started sleeping together, then we were seeing each other, and then the infamous L word got into it. We liked each other, loved each other, but somehow (deftly even) avoided the actual trappings of relationshiphood --- despite the insistent pressing of our friends to define what we were doing.

Eventually some time passed and despite our not being on the same campus at the same time, our relationship persevered, passing the year mark and slightly beyond. And then ... I suppose it pretty much ended as quietly as it had began; not that I realized this before I got a call from a certain T. saying that she and M. had been in talks about having a relationship. Allo love.

So I gave my blessing and hung up the phone, got back to work and felt strangely uncomfortable. It occurred to me - she gets to be his Girlfriend. His LEGITIMATE Girlfriend. At parties, he can say, "Oh, this is my Girlfriend." If his parents come up, he can introduce her as, his Girlfriend. If they use those damnable internet networking sites, he can click the circle affirming to the internet world, Oh yes, I have a Girlfriend.

So on the one hand I want to protest: I didn't even know you wanted a girlfriend! I thought our whole relationship was predicated that you didn't want a girlfriend! The lower, borderline insecure hand reaches in: Why didn't I get to be his girlfriend? Why didn't he choose me ? Why didn't he ask me? Why didn't WE ever have relationship talk? Then my rational piece kicks in: I didn't want to be his girlfriend. Honestly, I didn't want to be anyone's girlfriend. I still don't want to be anyone's girlfriend. I mean, I loved the guy, was in love with the guy, but never felt that ... impetus. Incidental monogamy is all well and good, and we had that, but that's not what we're talking about here.

Every couple of months, I wonder if maybe I should quit being so fucking dirty (or naughty, if you prefer) and just commit. I love the ones I'm with, I'm with the ones I love, so why not trim the fat and make it all singular ? In short, its because there are too many faekin' people involved. I'm just not ready to get rid of anyone, not yet. J.NYC is creeping into the front and A2.NYC is lurking behind, but jumping on the lead pony and riding off into the sunset would mean the end of my life with G.NYC. Which in theory, wouldn't be a bad thing; he's older than I am, he's a father and a husband, and he's got to sneak around to see me. But Jaesus, he makes me happy.

Bottom line: If G.NYC and I are to end our dalliance over anything, its got to be more pressing than the three hinderances I've mentioned, and a hell of a lot more pressing than my quarterly commitment freakout. So, I'm back to kissing frogs, checking under rocks and taking my chances, until I find someone who makes me want to stay. Which incidentally, has been the plan since January, 2004.

J. NYC - 8

2005-06-21T23:34:00.000-04:00

The longest day of the year and I opted to spend it with J. NYC. Kinda.
Met up with another, more legitimate couple that tried to convince us that we were, in fact, as legitimate as they. I was fielding a phone call when I walked back to the group and heard my friend A. exclaim, "That's it ! You've been dating for six weeks!"

Now, I found this proclamation of "six weeks" fairly preposterous; thanks to this handy dandy blog, I can say with complete certainty that our involvement has spanned four weeks, eight meetings (including yesterday). But damned if I didn't blush a bit, protest un po', and enlace my fingers witih J. NYC's as we walked through the park, after dark.

On the way out, my friend A. -- a charming Brit -- got under my arm and whispered that I should just tell all the others to bugger off; this lad was the one to keep. Which, I guess, I have to consider. Maybe.

A2. NYC - 7

2005-06-21T20:22:00.000-04:00

Not so lucky for A2.NYC.
Walked in the door, got my bones jumped, watched Trainspotting.
Is this what real relationships are like?
Yeeech.

G. NYC - 14

2005-06-17T14:39:00.000-04:00

So I was trying not to see too much of any one man in any one week, but of course I failed and saw G.NYC twice. This time, we went out - totally exciting - for a really luxurious kind of lunch at a downtown restaurant allegedly featured in a steamy sex scene. The restaurant bore no resemblance to that in the film, but it did have some shrubbery out front that we sat behind, just in case anyone knowing either of us were to walk by. So we dined on sea food - ceviche, shrimp, mussels - and talked about the other men in my life as he slid his hands into my crotch under the table. Unfortunately maybe, I wasn't wearing a skirt. You could practically hear the gears turning in the heads of the people around us; what could this older man and younger woman be doing together - laughing, flirting, teasing, touching that way?

J. NYC - 7

2005-06-16T21:37:00.000-04:00

I felt I was being unfair to the other fellows by seeing this one so much, so we kept it brief this evening and grabbed some pizza. Every time I see this fellow, I realize how well he fits into the rubric of men I like - he's of mottled race, has floofy hair and, is a prick; he downed half a pizza pie, offered to NOT walk me out if I came over and won't kiss me properly in public - its all pecks. Then again, he's a good lay, finds great food, has a desperate desire to buy some property and, AND is a Leo (I'm an Aries, if you're into that kind of thing).

No wonder i like him so much.

A2. NYC - 6

2005-06-15T17:35:00.000-04:00

Dear, sweet A2.NYC is under the mistaken impression that I'm not having sex with anyone when i'm not having sex with him. Which is silly. We didn't make it to the bed, roof, or any kind of coitus this time, but (CAUTION: RELATIONSHIP ALERT CODE ORANGE) he was so anxious to see me, we spent 30minutes together in the thick of his busy day. Awww. But his warm and fuzzy leanings, interspersed with self-doubt ("I still can't believe that you're really here with ME"), punctuated with inappropriate, too-loud murmurings on the crowded rush hour R train ("Did you miss me? Are you happy to see me? ... What is it doing to you, to see me?")? Not so much aww. I'm all about lechery - consult my high school boyfriend --- go ahead, consult him - but its strangely unattractive in a man who is A2.NYC's age.

J. MEM

2005-06-14T22:25:00.000-04:00

Some background >>> About a year ago, I met a friend of a friend of a friend at a pretty raucous birthday party. There was karaoke, there was ice, there were rub downs and the next morning, I found myself in bed, naked, with this friend of a friend of a friend. Y'see, I remember it perfectly, I just can't believe it happened; at some point, I apparently opened the door wearing nothing but my long hair and we had sex all over his summer dorm room - on the kitchen counter, his bed, a wall, a desk? - while people traipsed in and out, looking for space to do the same. Well. The story goes, I wake up naked in bed with this guy - vale. Then I look over and Lady S. is half naked on his other side - vale. Then his roommate wakes up on his bed, about three feet over - ... vale. And then when the two people popped up from the floor I said, fuck this, and got the fuck out. Back on the sidewalk, the friend who linked Lady S. to J.MEM remarked how I hadn't really said goodbye to J.MEM, although we "looked like" we had had a fun night together. Blushing from (of all things) this final faux pas, I immediately got his number and rang him. We started talking and kept talking, and pretty much developed a benign, platonic relationship. In fact, we hooked up exactly once between then and now >>> on New Year's, I blew him a little but no sex. Until.

This summer brought J.MEM back to the city and gave him better housing, so when he invited me to come see him in his new abode, how could i resist? And considering the sex we had was pretty hot (hot, drunk, public, dirty-talking, exibitionist, hot sex), how could i not get excited ?
Unfortunately, since that first time we got together, J.MEM have little if any idea of how to hook up with one another. So he shows me around his posh place (v. posh, by the by), leads me to the bedroom and we eye each other warily for about half an hour before watching trash tv for another half hour. Eventually (the lead up almost killed me), we have some sex; not great, not bad, but loads of of potential.

Oh - and he asked me to blow him. In french no less. Which I don't understand, but I can get the gist of, just fine. Apparently, he used the verb meaning, "to gobble" instead of the more traditional, "to suck." Three cheers for translating French-Canadian transplants!

G. NYC - 13

2005-06-13T01:00:00.000-04:00

You'd think that things would take a turn for the unlucky at this point but no, just the opposite. I left the office early - "optometrist appointment" - and met G. NYC at our usual spot. It was boiling outside and the air conditioner was stuck, blowing out 87F degree air, so we took breaks to wet our bodies in the shower and then coming out to air dry. Then, out of nowhere, came the seemingly innocuous question: Did you bring your notebook today? And despite my protestations that yes, I'd done the reading and of course, I'd done the homework, I just forgot the stupid notebook, there was no swaying the professor. Which meant a far more severe punishment, as compared to our last go around.

And I have to admit, I've never heard Italian come out quite that ... violent, vile, depraved.
It was like the first time your warm and fuzzy, puppy dog eyed, ten minutes from a temper tantrum, high-school boyfriend fucks the shit out of you. Trust me --- I had that boyfriend, he did fuck the shit out of me, it was hot. But the afternoon with G. NYC was hotter.

J. NYC - 6

2005-06-11T17:28:00.000-04:00

J. NYC met up with longtime friend J. and I to get Spanish food in their neighborhood, after which we headed to his place to nap. On the way, a rainstorm blew up which was nice --- you can't beat warm rain. So we speedwalked/ran/jogged to his house under sprinkling skies and were just about across the street when the downpour actually started. Fortunately, he got a new Netflix movie (the one I recommended) so we sprawled on his bed and watched and snuggled and things.

Post-movie we fooled around, which had to be done intermittently given the heat. But the pheremones (no doubt fueled, and hence made impossible to ignore, by the temperature) won out and given the anticipation, I almost fainted when he slid into me. After several stops and starts ( the young ones come to early, the older ones may not come at all and the oldest ones are a combination of the two), we decided to go for endgame, which was like last time - really nice and sweet - except much hotter; the sweat helping us slide against each other, the immobile air around us, the way he grabbed my face and held me in place as we were both coming. Classy.

The next morning, we went out for breakfast and came back, sweaty and smelly and full. How this combination turned into a potent aphrodesiac is beyond me, but before I knew it, he was gleefully ripping off my panties. Really - with glee. Enthusiasm, even. And then it was round 2, which was dèja vú all over again, in the best possible way.

J. NJ

2005-06-10T04:34:00.000-04:00

Ok ok ok - I didn't post about this originally because its a little embarassing. The whole thing is embarassing. And i don't embarass easy. J. NJ is a friend of a friend who i got to be friends with, savvy? So at a party some time ago, his attraction to me took a turn for the ... active, shall we say? and we hooked up.

Now. I wouldn't have done it, except that i thought i'd be able to pull J. NJ and one Lord I. Who just about everyone has dabbled with except for me (not that its difficult or anything, it just hadn't ever happened). Then one Ms. J from my middle school days lured away Lord I. with the brilliant line, "Excuse me, you're going the wrong way," and proceeded to lead him into a bedroom.

At this point, its Miles Davis on the iPod, J. NJ and myself in states of undress, the very sexy and utterly nude J. TOK and divine Lady M. herself - our high priestess of kink - and we're all rolling around a futon in what should end with group sex ... Except, we can't get the boys to play together. So Lady M. and her fellow start having sex and it sounds like they're having a whale of a time - it sounds so hot that it actually encourages J. NJ and I to have sex (or rather, it encourages me to have sex with J. NJ) ... The result of our experiment, however, was the opposite of good.

Fast forward to the night in question >>> J. NJ and I, reunited for the first time since that disappointing night. For whatever reason we, urhg, make out a little. And again, he seems to think that a. my nipples are acorns and he is a squirrel, and b. cunnilingus is a non-option, despite my (somewhat enthusiastically) blowing him the last time we met.

...

Then again, if my math is correct,
Squirrel + Clitoris = SO not the best thing ever.
Alls well that ends well, I suppose.

J. NYC - 5

2005-06-09T16:59:00.000-04:00

What do you get when you mix the warm + fuzzies with some hot + heavy ?

Stopped by J. NYC's place, after work and before heading home, which turned into a stint in his bathtub. A bathtub filled with cold water and populated by yourself, a boy you like (I daresay, that you like the most) and his erect penis (about which you are rather enthusiastic) is the ideal place to spend a summer evening. That is, until the option of sprawling out naked on his huge bed to air dry presents itself.

Of course, you can only sprawl naked for so long. So.

Yes, we had sex. Finally. Really nice sex. The kind of really nice, sweet sex where I crawled into his lap and rocked on top of him and we even finished around the same time. As said by J. NYC himself, "This is perfect."

To You, the Reader

2005-06-04T06:05:00.000-04:00

Insomnia's either a bitch, or, a very efficient way of living.
So.
Some house cleaning:

>Item 1: Chronology
If you're interested, whatever's on top is most current. So if I pull two men in one day (as I often do - I like to be productive, you see), I saw the one on the bottom first.
>Item 2: Naming
Is as such: I went to high school with Lords and Ladies (HA - classy ones those); I go to college with abstract initials; everyone new is Initial.city - xth encounter we've had. Except the firth ones; those get a man/myth/math breakdown.
>Item 3: Comments
I write because its better than chewing glass. Far better. If you love it, let me know. If you loathe it, let me know. If you're apathetic, send me a noodle. If you want to show your friends and giggle over the adventures of my naughty bits, well, I encourage you to. And the more random comments coupled by invites to read other interesting blogs, the better.

Hell's Bells, no one at this hour is this interested in my ramblings.
Where's Prince Valium when you need him?

J. NYC - 4

2005-06-03T05:16:00.000-04:00

Is it ... I think it is!
Its time to add J. NYC to the rotation - and maybe even up him to head fake-boyfriend...

Why ?
Well dammit, I'll tell you why - and, in no particular order! :

> Reason 1: The Oral Sex
One R. asked me: "Will you be seeing if that accent is made in the tongue or the throat?" Ladies and gents, the French accent is made in the tongue. Which means I spent a nice portion of the evening being eaten like I've never EVER been eaten before. And I've dated Latinos, people. Not. Even. Close.

> Reason 2: Food
He's a little guy who apparently walks about two miles a day. Which is pretty average for most of us (I think) but considering he's a tech guy, well, shit. Which means that a. he's got rock solid, almost rectangular calf muscles and b. he eats like a horse. Which means I eat like a horse when we're together - nice. This is a man for whom every meal includes dessert. Doubly nice.

> Reason 3: Food + Shelter
Both visits to his apartment, we've made pasta sauce from scratch, and it keeps getting better. We lose less rotini to the sink, add more spices to the pasta and experiment with different textures for the ingredients. Its just really nice to stay inside with a nice boy and make pasta sauce and have that be The Date, yknow?

> Reason 4: Shelter + Location
He's the most northernmost fellow (good for me for getting home) and lives in the apartment that I find the most comfortable - probably because its a studio, which means that you pretty much walk into dorm room gone wonderfully right: huge comfy mattress, teeny kitchen with all the modern amenities, bathroom politely tucked away and, of course

> Reason 5: Material Things
The man's got great stuff. Today, I played with his Buddhist meditation bowl, perused his ITunes (he's got something like 60days worth of music) , and played with his Netflix. He's even got me on the fence about Macs - I mean jeez, I love my Dell, but you can't beat his graphics. Or his collection of random greatness (please see >>> http://www.foundmagazine.com/).

> Reason 6: (Non-Oral) Sex (Kind of)
Today, for the first time, we get all naked and fool around like high schoolers do and he unleashes that tongue of his on me. So after I return the favor and we giggle and talk, then I say, "So, do we stop at 3rd or go for the homerun?" And he says, "Y'know, I've been wondering that too, but I was just really hoping to go down on you this time around, so I'm pretty happy as is." So we did NOT have sex, but we did lay still in the near dark and let the damp wind blow in over our naked bodies, which is a close third.

> Reason 7: Uhh ... Oh boy; please forgive this self-deification
Of the four men in the rotation, two make a serious habit of telling me how attractive I am and how unworthy they feel. (In case you're wondering about the other two, one actually loves me and the other showers me with gems like, "The idea of eating pussy with you makes me so hot, I g/g jerk off. " Which is like, what, six of one, half dozen of the other?) But this one, J. NYC, pulls off these compliments without sounding like a self-deprecating, middle-aged man (ahem, no comment). Case in point: "You know, when you're a guy, you see these hot girls with these guys and you think, who is this asshat with this incredible looking girl? And walking around with you, its like, I am that asshat."

...

Okay look, maybe it doesn't take much more than the word "asshat" and the following conversation about the aforementioned word to charm me. Is that such a bad thing?

G. NYC - 12

2005-06-03T05:01:00.000-04:00

I managed to walk my way from faaar away to our meeting place and in the process found myself on the corner of 1st and 1st - the nexus of the universe! I'm beginning to regret this not having a camera phone thing ... but I digress, as usual.

Same face, new space (meaning the 2nd hotel we visited, not the usual spot). I realize that we must have come to this new place enough to be recognizable, because when G. NYC ran ten minutes late and I had to kill time by my lonesome in the lobby, one of the employees asked (with a knowing smile) whether I was waiting for someone (sheepish yes from yours truly) and then offered me some coffee - really fucking good coffee, by the way.

Eventually our man showed up and we found ourselves in a Jacuzzi-less room. Which was fine - we never use it anyway, and the room was on the first floor and hence far more intimate. Pretty standard, amorous, warm and fuzzy stuff until we hit round four or so when we went from actual conversation to ... Well, he was playfully spanking me, and then he was really spanking me, and then he was reciting a laundry list of bad things I'd done (standard fare: didn't do my homework, wearing revealing clothing to class, touching myself during lectures, bending over in front of the prof's desk) and I was moaning and yelling and yelping that I didn't done it and I didn't mean to and I did it and I'm sorry and I'll never do it again. And then, of course, he had to punish me ... and of course, he had to narrate it ... and of course, we broke the bed.

Which one of you smart asses didn't tell me that role playing was the shit?

A2. NYC - 5

2005-06-02T04:47:00.000-04:00

After a night at a lesbian bar (where I got my wallet stolen ... yeah that's right, your shit is never safe. unless you STICK IT IN A POCKET, AS I USUALLY DO. fucking wallets, fucking purses, fucking thieves, CAN'T I HAVE ANYTHING NICE?!), A2. NYC came to get me and carry me off to his place which was, fortunately, right around the corner. (I, however, did not realize this until some time earlier that day - although I've stumbled in and out of his apartment on three separate occasions prior to this, I still had no idea exactly WHERE this character lived. In any case, we fixed that up right fast.)

Unfortunately, this is the point in the relationship where I start to a. overinvest myself and b. lash out, in that order. (I mean, I think we were due for this; I've got my own toothbrush there, for cripes sake) Part a.: We creep into his apartment, trying not to wake the two Japanese girls he's got in his living room (together, they're paying almost a thousand dollars to crash on a futon mattress on the floor - and there are TWO OF THEM. Real estate here is insane, just so we're clear). We start to mess around, then he gets up to turn off lights, turn up music, etc. and loses his place. Here is where I get my unforseen moment of lucidity; I realize that maybe something else is at work here, so I climb into his lap and kiss his eyelids and ask about his day; it turns out my little cabbbage has had a no good, awful, very bad day. So I listen patiently and then, because I like him so much and because he's so good to me and because it generally does sound like a shitty day, I say, something along the lines of "Honey, I'd like to suck you senseless, if that's okay by you." And then ... well, you can see where this is going.

Part b.: I realize I've lost my wallet some time later in the day, and I'm despondent and all the rest and poor A2. NYC happens to call in the thick of my 7minute bitch pitch. That's what you get for caring at a time when I really need it, yknow? But I sent him a nice email (about as long as this post ...) so I hope we'll be okay by daybreak. Fingers crossed!

J. NYC - 3

2005-05-29T04:08:00.000-04:00

Not much to report here; really, I wanted to fool around or maybe even have some sex, but when he suggested walking around outside on the beautiful day, I felt kind of trampy suggesting that we crawl into bed. So we walked around the park, saw some ducks and broached sex and all things sexual as a general topic without actually touching each other in "that way." Then apparently, I killed the mood with a pedophilic comment - but hey, if we were sitting around in a park, basking in sunlight, and we saw these two boys rollerblade past without shirts and after they pass I were to say, "Y'know how hot that would be if i were a pedophile?", you would laugh, right?

Reefer Madness

2005-05-28T04:07:00.000-04:00

You know those pulp films and comics from the 1950's that declare marijuana use is linked to jazz music and promiscuity? Scoff it you must, but around 4am, when I found myself blowing my friend J. while Lady M. impressively rode the cock of his friend next to us on her leopardskin futon to the tune of Miles Davis (but whether it was Birth of the Cool or Bitch's Brew is anyone's guess), I had to reconsider.

J. NYC - 2

2005-05-27T04:00:00.000-04:00

Went for bubble tea and other Japanese delights. Walked around downtown looking for cherries for this french dessert he makes and, based on the reaction of the locals, realized what an interracial couple we are ... Even though I still had no idea what he was, besides French. Later, I learned that his father is French and his mother is Vietnamese, but he can't make pho bo - rats. Went alll the way uptown to where he lives, and bought ingredients for the dinner we figured we should make, given the *maybe* impending rain (it turned out to be some scattered showers). He gave me some comfy clothes of his to wear and we watched Kung Fu Hustle on ripped DVD (great movie - so much better than the new Star Wards, which we rippeed apart over lunch) and very slowly, very eventually, started messing around. Which was nice - i got that good old monthly visitor that morning so I kept shooing him away from the goodies, which meant we had to be creative. Stripped to waist and on my stomach with him kissing the back of my neck, I had one of those, "Oh, so this is intimacy" moments.

Can't say fairer than that.

G. NYC - 11

2005-05-27T03:55:00.000-04:00

Here's a first:

Met G. NYC for lunch al fresco, near my old high school. Traded the hotel room, bed and orgasms for a light lunch and explanations. Specifically, there was a woman about a year ago this summer who he was so mad about, he was willing to leave his family. Eventually, this woman put the breaks on their relationship for this reason, forcing him to come to grips with what he was doing and why. So he approached his wife, went into counseling, got more involved with his kids - they're out every weekend, at museums and the like, and he's coaching their soccer team. At some point, he tried to broach the intimacy issue with his wife, but she pretty much gave him free reign to do what he wanted ...he thinks. Meaning, she certainly said he could do what he pleased, but there's a definite question of whether she meant it or not; as their relationship is troubled and she refuses to go to counseling herself in order to clear up their communication problems, he has to take her at her word. Which left us outside in the open on a sunny afternoon, gazing lovingly at one another over crab cakes and white wine.

A sufficiently dirty bit

2005-05-26T13:20:00.000-04:00

This shit is bananas.
No really.

Its also very loud, so be careful where you play it
http://dickcream.com/h/05/0404/

I love economists

2005-05-26T13:19:00.000-04:00

Because they send me interesting links, such as the following.

If you, like me, have an incestuous group of friends, you're not alone !

Click Here

A2. NYC - 4

2005-05-26T03:42:00.000-04:00

Wow, these are really adding up, aren't they?

After an evening of drinking with kids my own age, I hightailed it down to his dodgy neighborhood and all but dragged him home. Incidentally, this alleged walk home is missing large chunks; I was very drunk, but I could've sworn he lived around the corner from this bar ... Actually, I do remember going to get food; we split a slice and an arangine (italian rice balls with cheese, risotto, meat, mmmm) and saw them shooting my favorite show a few blocks from his place. As we got closer, he got friskier, reached down the back of my skirt, found me, tasted me. At his place, I almost died ascending the heights of his walk up before he decided to go down on me on his roof. We made love as nature intended: on his tar beach, astride a japanese bamboo mat, under the purple, cloudy, starless sky. As we crawled into bed downstairs, he kissed my head and moments before I fell asleep, he said, "Good night, my love."

This could be trouble.

Then again, I do adore him. In every respect. He's kind and generous and reasonable and affectionate and tender and wise. He's got great books and cds and doesn't make me feel stupid when he introduces me to new music, and I don't feel stupid when I have to admit I have no idea who The Stranglers are (but if you like Louis XIV, you should look into them). And then the sex is great - he's a perfect fit and there are moments when I'm on top of him, and he grabs my hips or my face and drags me back and forth, and its just an "everything in its right place" kind of moment.

Oh, and he gave me a great pair of sunglasses, too.

J. NYC

2005-05-24T03:41:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 27 (although I thought he said he was 24 or 25...?)
race/ethnicity/nationality: French. That's all I got.
hails from: Various places, mostly Connecticut
used to: work for someone else
currently: works for himself - Computer consulting deal
housing: studio uptown in Harlem - not that he knew it was Harlem when he got there
roommates: a household god and various arty presents from his clients

THE MYTH
Got sick of non responses so I messaged him, largely because I liked his hair. We talked for about an hour and then made plans to meet up and go to this famous pizza place. When the day came, he was about two hours late (at a client's) so he bought dinner (whether he was not going to otherwise is anyone's guess) at his favorite Japanese restaurant. He ate eel, i ate beef medallions, and we talked ... uh, stuff. Then, I decided to spring him on my wacky friends (and vice versa) at yet another sushi restaurant, not too far away. Some squid, sake and dessert later, the whole gang moved to smoke hookah at my favorite place (which unfortunately has completely changed its staff but fortunately has not changed its prices).

THE MATH
He got dinner (I covered my eyes so as to not see the bill) and I got the hookah (because ... I had money, I guess that'd be the reason), but it was more of a communal thing.

G. NYC - 10

2005-05-24T02:29:00.000-04:00

Ten instances of this man in my life, countless emails, and innumerable hours spent pondering our relationship, and here we are.

Back at the old place, our old place, we caught up on the weekend and giggled our way through about an hour. Then slowly slowly slowly, I tried stimulating him - not too much, not too fast - but to no avail. Much pleasure, but no climax. So I tried touching him - gently gently - but when I asked, he said I was hurting him. Oy. So I says to Mabel I says ... Look, I want you to cum for me. Tell me what I need to do to make you cum for me. And then the truth spilled out: he felt badly about not being able to come again immediately, he felt strange about my focusing on him for so long, he felt funny about telling me what to do. So I kissed him gently and told him that he was being silly, that he should just tell me what he wanted and I would do it, because I wanted to make him happy. And so, he did; and then, I did; and finally, he did. And in the afterglow, he snuggled up to me and said that no one had ever focused herself on him, had never insisted so vehemently, and he felt very ... touched.

All of which is not as dirty as I'm sure was expected but hey, I have feelings too sometimes.

THAT's hot

2005-05-20T21:57:00.000-04:00

So before I ended the night with A2., I hooked up with the ex-boyfriend of a long time friend. It was very cool - in fact, as simple as Me: Oh, would you mind ? Her: No, of course not. The interesting part came later when he, drunk and blazed, declared that he probably couldn't fuck me. "You're too sexy," he concluded. And I had to agree - that if he got me, he wouldn't know what to do with me. Which is a strange thing to say, because I don't think that most people I am with know what to do with me. I mean, all the right buttons are pushed and so on, but as far as what to actually do with me ... bupkiss. Then again, even I don't know what to do with me, so I guess we're even.

A2. NYC - 3

2005-05-20T16:22:00.000-04:00

Usually I don't see the same one man, two days in a row (unless I spend the night, in which case its more of a single extended visit), but things just worked out beautifully and I spent another night with A2. NYC. I wish I remembered more, but I'm cheating and post-dating this entry ... More of the same tenderness as before, I guess, but I do remember he said something about our "making love" and maybe even dropped da infamous L bomb on me, mid-orgasm.

Nice things about sleeping with this particular playmate include (but are not limited to):
> An incredible collection of media - art, books, music - that alone could sell me on him
> The fact that he always wants to send me off with a parting gift
> How he makes coffee in the mornings that doesn't suck
> The way a kiss good morning turns into a good morning quickie
> His awesome (albeit strange/sometimes inconveniently located) neighborhood
> The incredibly long and loud orgasms he has - jeez Louise
> The sex itself, which gets exponentially better every round ... sometimes only by half exponents, but still

A2. NYC - 2

2005-05-19T18:34:00.000-04:00

Sooo ... Right.

A2. and I had plans to go to a way snazzy lounge, but then he pushed our meeting back and Lady S. beckoned me to come play in the city with her, so everything got confused. By the time Lady S. and I met up with A2., we were hilariously drunk and we were at another bar altogether. We settled on the rooftop and (just for kicks) decided to drink some more. Later on, we went downstairs and got all cozy, just as Lady S. passed the fuck out. So we hightailed it back to A2.'s place downtown, where we fooled around, tried to make a hookah work without the use of a coal (funny stuff), fooled around some more, and eventually had, as the French say, le sex. Which was really, really nice.

The thing I adore about older men (and this fellow could have sired me in his first or second year in high school) is how appreciative and patient they are; "I adore every square inch of you," he says; "I just want to devour you," he says; "you're really very beautiful," he says. And he's snuggly and likes to cuddle and he and I and Lady S. spent the morning platonically chattering. So yesh, add this one to the rotation.

G. NYC - 9

2005-05-17T18:17:00.000-04:00

Did I say "best meeting ever" ?
This was the best meeting ever.
This was intimate and warm and wonderful and just good fun. And I wasn't late ! (Largely because I called him to tell him I was 30minutes behind, but still.)

Back to the old place, the first place, and another room that we haven't been in before. It was hot enough to use the air conditioner but we just sweated it out. Literally. We recounted our weekends and laughed alot and finally worked our way around that pesky problem of his orgasms - turns out he just gets entirely too stimulated, so we went another route and were both very satisfied with the result. He's darling and charming and all the rest. So I'm going to shut up before I jinx us.

The Female Orgasm, reconsidered.

2005-05-17T17:54:00.000-04:00

An article in the New York Times today seeks to explain the logic behind the female orgasm. It does nothing to aid women in procreation - many women become pregnant and carry healthy babies to term without ever having had an orgasm. Poor, sorry bastards ... but none the less;

One hypothesis suggests that the purpose of female orgasm is to unite the two people engaged in sexual congress. Some varieties of female monkey are "conditioned by the pleasurable sensations of clitoral stimulation to keep copulating with multiple partners until they have an orgasm." (Sound like anybody you know?) This polyamorous (*usage?*) practice ensures a lower infant mortality rate among the offspring of the female monkey; by coupling with various males, she casts doubt on the identity of the father and while dominant male monkeys have been known to kill infant chimps, these animals would never kill one their own.

In the human world, it seems to try to work in reverse; I've heard men talk about fucking a woman so well that she'll never leave. Eddie Murphy made reference to it in Raw and even Chris Rock said that the one thing a man had to do was "knock it out - that's it!" In this model, its not so much a woman having an orgasm but a man making her cum, which would be why she is tied to him instead of him being tied to her. Unlike our simian counterparts, we (generally) don't partner hop, hoping that one of them will eventually finish the job that was started by the one (or two, or three, or four, or more) before; no, we drop helpful hints and make happy sounds, hoping that the he at hand will find the hot button and for heaven's sake, don't slam it like a buzzer.... Well okay, some girls like that. But not me.

So what does this all mean ?
It means, as usual, that the monkeys have us beat.

S. NYC - 4

2005-05-10T09:33:00.000-04:00

Actually, this SHOULD have been another S. NYC+ except someone fagged out. (Not my term, by the way, but it got thrown around an awful lot when she did.) Someone named Mf. So it turned into a meet and greet between Mf. and S., which was pretty necessary. She kept quoting Flaubert, saying something about anticipation and how great it was; purest form of feeling, most reliable form of pleasure, etc. Of course, Gustave never saw M. naked, meanwhile, I have.

Turned into S. and I stumbling back to his place and even though I was sure I had no orgasms left, well, I did. S. was made short work of, largely because he spent about two hours in a booth with Mf. and I, playing footsie, groping legs, working his way into crotches and the like. Maybe Flaubert was on to something.

E. NYC

2005-05-10T09:25:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 30
race/ethnicity/nationality: African-American. Really.
hails from: St. Louis, MO
used to: uhh, go to Harvard?
currently: writer/grad student
housing: Grad School housing in New York ... but that dream is about to end
roommates: no clue - not that it matters

THE MYTH
Got a message that referenced just about everything in my profile - he is a writer, y'know - so we met up downtown and walked around. You know that first twenty minutes of a blind date that are just way awkward ? The whole hour and change we logged together was like that. His sense of humor is snarky/sarcastic/ironic (he definitely said, "How's that working out for you?" about four times in the first ten minutes we spent together) and my snarky/sarcastic/ironic meter needs reading, so that wasn't so great. Oh, but he did advise me against the shrimp pizza, and I got it anyway and I got sick later so he's got that going for him. Which is not much.

THE MATH
He bought pizza and then we wandered around; relatively cheap date. I felt bad about not going dutch, him being a poor grad student and not working and all... Until I saw his super sharp, way thin Motorola cell phone. "So if you're not working, why do you have such a snazzy cell phone?" I says. "Because I'm bad with money," he says. Hello Moto.

G. NYC - 8

2005-05-10T08:57:00.000-04:00

Best.
meeting.
ever.

At the new hotel, lay around in bed for a langorous three hours, smiling, laughing, biting, talking and of course, fucking, sucking, sighing, moaning.

Talked about this pheromone article >>> http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/10/science/10smell.html?incamp=article_popular_1
Wondering whether I'm wired to be feeling what I'm feeling. Hm.

A2. NYC

2005-05-06T23:30:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 35 [how do I keep running into these guys]
race/ethnicity/nationality: White. Just White.
hails from: NYC and then Mass
used to: fake out college girls while a prep school student
currently: writer/actor/musician/caterer/bartender
housing: iono
roommates: ditto

THE MYTH
Got a wink off nerve, followed by another, followed by another - each about three weeks apart. So finally I says, all these winks; what's a girl to think? He says, drink? on me ? I say, of course. Two pints of Stella later (he's two Sierra Nevada in), I get a crazy yearning for curry, so we book and do that. I know I was drunk because I have no idea where I was or how I got to the train - apparently we were by Delancey and we walked together. Oy. Definite sparks, but of the friend variety - time will tell. But way fun to know in the meantime.

THE MATH
Happy Hour pints were $3 and we both downed two, then we split this strangely authentic Indian food (it was incredibly cheap AND featured very little meat; doesn't get more Indian than that!). So now I'm drunk and full and going to beddy bye.

G. NYC - 7

2005-05-05T12:40:00.000-04:00

Its Cinco de Mayo and I'm ten minutes late and I'm drunk but not sloppy.
He's on dinner break from a project at work - he told his partner he had to "go eat something."

(scene missing)

I'm on a windowsill in a skirt so short, it doesn't need to be hiked up.

(scene missing)

I've come so hard and so much he has to shower me off his chest.

(scene missing)

I'm so fatigued that I'm on 1st avenue before I realize I'm on the wrong train and I'm in Brooklyn before I have the energy to do anything about it.

(fin)

The thing to be noted about this particular character is that he's (more than) a smidge older than me and so when he comes, he, uh, don't come back. Not for lack of trying - he's just at that age. So while I come like I vote (read: early and often), he can only meet me halfway. Hence, either I am at the point where the sex is great because my relationship with the man is great, or maybe, just maybe, a phallus is not necessary for the kind of sex I need to have.
....
I better give that sexy motherfucker a call.

Mf. NYC

2005-05-02T15:08:00.000-04:00

I know the f is throwing you off; What, did I meet a sexy motherfucker? Yes. Yes I did.

THE WOMAN (!!!)
age: 23 [yay playing with kids my own age!]
race/ethnicity/nationality: Jewish
hails from: Michigan ... ?
used to: work at the Olive Garden
currently: massage girl, erotic writrix, intern extraordinaire
housing: crazy sexy cool apt in East Harlem
roommates: roommate and soulmate, who will remain nameless

THE MYTH
I messaged HER - HA ! - because she appeared lovely and amazing. Is lovely and amazing - a big deal because I don't really like the girlies so much, just this girlie. Made spectacles of ourselves at a bar downtown (the bartender apologized for interrupting our snog sesh) in between getting schooled in pool by some lesbians from Brussels and before getting all horizontal in the cab back to her place - fogged up windows, I'm not kidding. Unfortunately we got the wrong cab driver; being Islamic (we think...) he could not appreciate the girl on girl action, nor the resultant moans and groans from the backseat. Tried to fool around back at her place, which is so hip that I would like her based on her walls alone but alas, twas not meant to be - think whiskey dick, but for girls.

THE MATH
Yeah, I have no idea how this works with two girls: she works and I don't; I contacted her first; she invited me out. So ... I bought one round and my own drink, she bought two rounds and took me back to her place. Super +++ on experience tho - keep your fingers crossed for repeat business, kids.

A. NYC

2005-05-02T14:59:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 36
race/ethnicity/nationality: Jewish
hails from: Nyack, NY
used to: deal x, live all over the world as a result, be in jail (18mos)
currently: some kind of something for Bad Boy but mostly? he's a hustla, homey
housing: renting a studio on the Upper East Side for a low low price on his friend's 10yr lease
roommates: pictures, furniture

THE MYTH
When someone messages you out of the blue saying, "Wanna go to a swinger's club?" and nothing more, you ought to rethink meeting them. I did not. Traded emails + phone time before meeting at his place, where we fooled around and didn't so much have the sex as he got off ON me (ickers). Good conversation tho - its been a while since I've talked to someone so utterly bereft of morals. He tried to explain his ex to me ... but it wasn't really his ex; he was sleeping with a girl who was hustling an old man (her sugar daddy) that he was able to have business dealings with, largely because he was hustling the girl (his "girlfriend"). Big on swingers, and swinging, which does NOT involve the toys of our youth (although I know it would be more fun it if did). But a good guy to know for real estate ... I'm such a city girl.

THE MATH
Gahh - he bought about $40 of MidEastern food; I ate a good amount, drank up his wine, smoked his cigarettes and had him pay for my cab down to the second engagement of the evening. Yesh.

G. NYC - 6

2005-04-29T01:28:00.000-04:00

Ohmigosh - Six ! Six ! Six !

Not that the meeting was cursed or anything - unless of course you count the fact that I was running late and then encountered a teacher from my high school on the train, which left me in the position of having to explain myself; namely, why I was in that area of the city at that time of day. That was fun.

Main Entry: sen·su·al
Pronunciation: 'sen(t)-sh(&-)w&l, -sh&l
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Late Latin sensualis, from Latin sensus sense
1 : relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of appetite : FLESHLY
2 : SENSORY
3 a : devoted to or preoccupied with the senses or appetites
b : VOLUPTUOUS
c : deficient in moral, spiritual, or intellectual interests : WORLDLY; especially : IRRELIGIOUS
synonym see CARNAL, SENSUOUS- sen·su·al·i·ty /"sen(t)-sh&-'wa-l&-tE/ noun- sen·su·al·ly /'sen(t)-sh(&-)w&-lE, 'sen-sh&-lE/ adverb

G and I had a meeting pretty much like that. New hotel, hidden away underground downtown (I almost missed it, walking past) - jacuzzi in the room, not that we got to it. I was fucked and adored and objectified and even made love to ... ?

Who says you can't have it all

G2. NYC

2005-04-27T00:04:00.000-04:00

THE MAN
age: 29 [making him a comparative young'un]
race/ethnicity/nationality: Italiano - again! - and Puerto Rican
hails from: around Milano - another Northern Italian
used to: live in Italy
currently: medical resident, internal medicine
housing: apt on the Upper East Side
roommates: dunno as yet but allegedly none

THE MYTH
Got another nerve message - took my time responding to it. After a thwarted meeting that couldn't happen because a. I was late and b. the place didn't open for another 90min, we got it together for snacks and an ubërwalk around the Upper East Side and Central Park, where I talked about the things I hated and he made vaguely suggestive comments. By Cleopatra's Needle, I told him that he could just proposition me already, so he did and we made plans to meet up again this week, if time allowed. Which it didn't.

THE MATH
Man, am I old hand at this: we walked around alot, which I'm sure is a bit trying when you're just trying to hit, but at least we got to know each other. AND he bought me sushi + seltzer; monetary value not too important because I was craving sushi + seltzer in a really weird way.

2005 tally

2005-04-26T01:37:00.000-04:00

i may not have mentioned this just yet, but i've appropriated 2005 as my final year to be completely carefree, hedonistic and irresponsible. i think i'm running out of firsts... here's the score:

SEX
partners since january, 2005 >>> 7
manual sex >>> check (numerous)
oral sex >>> check (numerous)
orgasms >>> check (numerous)
multiple orgasms >>> check (btwn 3-7 instances)
intercourse >>> check (let's just say its happened)
anal sex >>> check (ditto)
anal sex culminating in orgasm >>> check (twice)
threesome >>> check (once)

DRUGS
alcohol >>> check (numerous)
- most shots in a sitting >>> 16
- longest bender >>> roughly 14 hours; happy birthday to me
weed >>> check (3-5times, italian style: half tobacco)
coke >>> check (once, one line - i didn't feel like God but it was nice)
ecstasy >>> check (once, half a tab of mdma - happy new year!)

ROCK & ROLL et al.
concerts attended >>> 3
- largest venue: Sleater-Kinney, Flaming Lips + Wilco @ MSG
- smallest venue: Phoenix @ Axis
- oddly appropriate venue: Interpol @ Radio City

FRIENDSHIP + DATING
have fallen/realized i was in love. maybe. >>> 2
relationships formed (lasting) >>> 3
relationships formed (frivolous) >>> 3
relationships repaired >>> 2
relationships rescusitated >>> 2
online dating sites employed >>> 2
oldest partner >>> 37
youngest partner >>> 20

S. NYC+

2005-04-25T01:16:00.000-04:00

After some drinks, Lady J. and I made our way back to S. NYC's for my very first threesome. Highlights including Lady J. sighing that my finger felt like a cock and shooting hot cum on my girl parts from above.

Women are incredible.

I don't really know what else to say about it, other than I was consistently impressed with S. NYC - how he managed to keep us both engaged, active, involved; how he how he managed to exhaust both of us before collapsing himself around 10am. I generally diversify my firsts, trying not to concentrate too many with the same person, but I'd try just about anything with him. Scratch that; I have tried just about everything with him.

As far as Lady J. goes, we agreed that while we find each other attractive and could (and did) successfully fuck one another, we're both really really straight. Sorry ladies.

G. NYC - 5

2005-04-24T00:41:00.000-04:00

Being a mistress is incredibly overrated.

He was late again and only able to stay an hour, which made me sad - both because I adore spending time with him and because I adore spending time with him so much.

S. NYC - 3

2005-04-22T23:51:00.000-04:00

it sounds silly, but i feel like i've seen s2. nyc more than merely thrice; we have a good rapport, keep in touch when apart, and he called me for my birthday - yay for going to bed with nice guys to be naughty with!

somehow we found ourselves getting smashed at an afternoon happy hour downtown; s2. nyc, lady j., her prince consort and myself. to the untrained eye, it looked like a group date. in fact, it was a lot of under the table groping followed by a pair of hasty sexits.

[sexit (noun): an exit with the expressly understood purpose of having sex]

after a hot dog (no, really; not a euphemism) and a condom run, we were back at his place. pretty much same old same old there; brick be damned, his neighbors must think he's some kind of serial killer. as you can see, i've dispensed with the math, but i will list the top five reasons why i love spending the night with s. nyc:

1. Generosity: His thinking is, I'm not paying for x (not the drug - take x as a variable); my boss is. So halfsies, dutch, his treat; all the same, whether we're talking food or drugs or money. Which just wants me want to treat him whenever I can; talk about paying it forward.

2. Nummy + Nums: Either the man is surrounded by good restaurants or just knows what to get, but the sumptious snackables just don't stop. This time, I had porkchops, beans & rice and avocado. He had some kind of spicy sandwich. Sex + Spanish food = Mmmm.

3. Kitties: He's got two, and they're warming to me - Olive (his calico) and I had a heart to heart in the early AM. Then again, it is as likely that my being less afraid of the cats has improved our relationship. In any case, its kind of nice to wake up in bed with cats that at least seem to like you.

4. Hair stuff: Between the long hair and frequent travels, he's got more hair products than he knows what to do with, but barely uses anything. I am the opposite, so I get to play in my hair with his products whenever we have a playdate that runs late. I jacked some of this; its awesome >>> http://www.aghaircosmetics.com/products_stucco.cfm

5. The man himself: A guy who will spank, choke and fuck the shit out of you, only to turn around and feed, cuddle and snuggle you into sleep is a winner. Then, you add that he will ALWAYS walk you to the door to kiss you goodbye in the morning. And man, this man can kiss.

Some more thoughts on my evolution of kink

2005-04-19T08:53:00.000-04:00

i feel like an imposter.

not that i don't like my dirty bits and the often troubling situations they find themselves in; its just that my dirty bits get dirtier as i feel i have less control over my life. tracking my ability to affect change for myself, i realized that since february or so, i've gone from having a fairly firm hand on my finances and living situation to being completely bereft of even a vote in the matters.

if i were another person, i'd just develop an eating disorder, or a self mutilation habit, or even a drinking problem (my only drinking problem is that i get more on my chin than in my gullet - stupid mouth). but no, for whatever reason, the less control i feel, the more i want my ass to be spanked, my hair pulled, my ears and inbox assaulted with the graphic thoughts that i (naively) believed could not be put into words.

i'm sure there are people who like what J. and i have lovingly deemed "spicy food" without the benefit of feeling that they are without agency in their lives. never fear, dear reader --- i think i may, in fact, have become one of those people, and i don't doubt that when i get past this state and actually can guide my life down the path of my choice, you'll still have dirty bits to read about.

G. NYC - 4

2005-04-10T21:55:00.000-04:00

i've been on my best behavior for a while, so i felt legitimate in meeting up with g early early this morning, before he went into work. some people have a coffee before going into the office - they clearly don't know what they are missing.

we went to our usual hotel - in by 830a, out by10a. it was good to see him, smell him, taste him. we've been exchanging suggestive/explicit/pornographic emails on an almost daily basis, so we had alot to go from.

there's a real intimacy between he and i - we talk, we laugh, we write, we feel, we think, alike.
and we both agree that i've been a very naughty girl.

my evolution of kink

2005-03-26T21:33:00.000-05:00

Query: fingers in ass what? i thought you didnt like anal. or was that just from a viewing perspective? how was that, as an overall experience? - L.

Response: uhh - anal, hmm. well what had happened was ...

first, u. bos made me reconsider the anal, but didn't actually get anywhere (poor wolfie!). then, the dr. took my anal virginity (the man asked, "have you had any anal bleeding?", proceeded to poke me and then said, "well, you might have some bleeding now.") finally, s. nyc went to the bahamas for 2wks to work, and his beach shack just got wireless (sounds like paradise, no?), so he was online when he wasn't frolicking in the surf, playing with fishies, smoking up, eating, napping, dozing, or getting attacked by jellies and having to pee on himself to stop the stinging. oh, and apparently he worked too. anyway, so we start having this awesome open discussion a la, "i like this ... i think i like this ... i'd like to try this ..." and it turns out that he LOVES anal play - both to HIM and to other people, too (i tell you, btwn his high cheekbones, flowing blonde hair, sizable appendage and predilection for anal play, he's a considerable loss to the gay community). and i like the guy, and he's great in bed and generally awesome and i'm thinking, yknow, i wouldn't mind him poking me, esp if a. he's done it before and b. i can poke him back. so i watched some porn to loosen up (bc you're right - anal sex in porn made me queasy until i thought i'd maybe be doing it; then i went on this crusade to find anal sex not gross which just meant watching some of my preferred movies to their bitter end, instead of fast forwarding to my favorite bits, as i usually do), he came back from the bahamas, we got together and made it happen. boom.

so how was it ? not bad, actually. i keep likening it to the sex i had before i started having orgasms; its all this pounding that doesnt have any particular goal, but there's a charm to the pounding. i think i picked up alot for how i would do it to someone else, too - its a pavlovian process. you see, its not independant poking for poking's sake: we're having sex or he's going down on me and i get simultaneously get poked. then, i associate the poking with positive things (namely sex that i am comfortable with & the resultant orgasms) to the point where, in round 12, we were having sex and i couldn't get off UNTIL he poked me in the ass. once you're at that stage, your ... tolerance? for pokes increases, so that the poking could potentially creep towards a pounding (incrementally of course - i'm still at manual pounding, myself).

[incidentally, this process is also helpful if one is trying to ease their partner into any kind of kink; my spanking experience, for example, followed this model exactly --- by the early morning, i was getting ... uh ... wet, off his spanking the shit out of me alone.]

the big thing was that i got to poke him, which is great because so many times, guys are very resilient to make noise or react. but its like *poke* here's the cause and *his face, mouth agape; his shoulders, shuddering; his hips, quaking* there's the effect - v. instant gratification. AND, the male g spot is easy to find, i think. but you're pressing against the prostate yourself, so unless you sprout claws and start hacking away, he's guaranteed a good time. ALSO, its a lot less gross than i thought it would be... the strangest thing, tho, is that i went from s. nyc to a hotel room with g. nyc and i kinda went for it (thinking his being cosí italiano e cosí maschile, he would stop me or put up some relience) and he says "puoi entrare dentro, se vuoi [you can enter me, if you want]." then i was talking to a friend from hs last night, and he said that a girl had started to do that with him and it felt great but he just felt so GAY doing it and asked her to stop. so, is EVERYONE quietly into anal, or just the people i know?

anyway, now i feel like a big ol perv for writing so much about kink.
thanks for reading !

G. NYC - 3

2005-03-25T00:08:00.000-05:00

Second verse, same as the first.

Back to the hotel ("Oh, hello!" says the staff of two), back to a room (new room, still classy as always), great conversation and snuggling. Oh, and sex. Again. Right.

G. NYC - 2

2005-03-23T00:46:00.000-05:00

So.

Standing outside a shady hotel downtown, waiting for a married man - who is running late - to meet me and take me upstairs, I had a moment of doubt. I called my evil twin J. who often finds herself in this place; we debated who is the evil twin betwixt us and, as she plunged into her situation (the exact mirror of mine), G. scampered across the street. And perhaps, for the first time, it occurred to me: he LOOKS like a father, he LOOKS like a professor, he LOOKS like he should not be in this situation with me. But he was, and I was, and we were, so we did.

The hotel was loads less shady than I thought it would be - the bathroom was inside the room, tiled, black and white. We took off our shoes and sat on the bed dominating the room (otherwise, there was a cheap armoire of sorts, air conditioning and discreet slatted windows, a mounted television which, I would later learn online, plays hardcore pornography). We started to talk, how strange it was, being there in that space in what we could affectionately begin calling "our situation." Me: sitting on the bed with my shoes off, leaning against the wall, explaining the plot of the Kundera novel I'm reading when he took my face in his hands.

And that, in effect, was that.

S. NYC - 2

2005-03-22T00:37:00.000-05:00

I fudged on the dates - the fact that its Thursday and I'm reporting on Monday's events should give you some idea of how the date went. Well. Very. Well. Truth be told, I'm still exhausted.

Met up after much anticipation - he was working in the Bahamas, busy during the day. Went for Thai food at the old place; I avoided burning my mouth off by ordering curry with coconut milk and begging mild spiciness. We walked out, got some tequila (Patron is delicious - who knew ?) and hiked to his place.

...

As much as I'd like to give a detailed breakdown of what everything cost and how many times I came, I'm just too tired. Think of any four things that you would consider to be kinky; I probably managed two of them and a variation on the third. It was that kind of evening/morning/early afternoon.

S2. NYC - 2

2005-03-19T04:23:00.000-05:00

After dissecting round 2 with S2. NYC with A., it seems superfluous to put his mistakes into prose. So let's skip the myth and the math; what had happened was ...

The plan was to dinner + a movie. We did take-out Chinese and rented Shaun of the Dead (on him, if you're curious). His place is v. conveniently located, around the corner from the train. And the apartment - a converted railroad, it seemed - was comfortable and well furnished with lots of art. But it was all downhill from there. Why, you may ask? Well for the following reasons:

> A. He didn't shave. NOT a good look (or feel), esp for white men. And he had plenty of time to prepare - he was home at least an hour before I showed up.

> B. He asked if I wanted him to buy any alcohol (of course its not sketchy; what at-home, dinner and a movie date is complete without liquor?) and I said some wine would be fine. Errors: 1. He chose a bad wine. So bad that I had a headache - bad red is REALLY bad. Given that he had 2 days' notice, wine store employees are generally helpful and great bottles are available for $7, there's no excuse. 2. We were deciding what to order and I says, "So red wine means ... beef, yes?" and he says, "Well, I just eat whatever with whatever." Huh. A comment I deem that unacceptable after 30 and just unwise when dealing with my uppity ass.

[Note: Perhaps this point is unfair, considering that earlier that day, I met up with G. NYC and heard explanations of tea so detailed that they began to sound as complex as wines - what with the blending of the leaves and all.... But NO. As an adult, appropriate wine-food pairs are things to know. At the very least, these are things you should know if your intention is to date me.]

> C. He was too timid. If I wanted to hook up with a frightened boy, I'd be with ... not him. I wanted a man; that's what we were doing together in the first place. So charm me, seduce me, teach me something. If I wanted someone to grope me nervously, I'd be in the back of a Camaro somewhere - I DO happen to live in suburbia, you know.

> D. How do you hook up with a girl on your bed, in your room, and not manage to grind your crotch into hers ? No really - how? I still scratch my head over this one.

> E. We're watching the movie, being cuddly, and he says (jokingly?!) 'We should watch the movie naked.' Okay. If one were to google "how to throw salt on your own game," you'd see this phrase. Here's the breakdown: 1. "We Should" is an aggressive construction, with no role in the casual date environment. 2. We were on our sides, and he didn't even take advantage of my ear, primed for naughty suggestions. He just blurted it into empty space, and it hung awkwardly in mid air before splintering on the floor. 3. He acknowledged that we were, in fact, doing something that was not hooking up ie. watching the movie (which was, incidentally, far more interesting). So no, we will not be watching the movie naked, you ignorant clod.

> F. HE.DID.NOT.WALK.ME.OUT. Dubious? I couldn't believe it myself. The train station is literally 2minutes away, and he can't walk me out?!

But I had one good classy date and one not great date, so who's complaining? Not me.
Plus, I got to see (the vast majority of) Shaun of the Dead. You can't lose with zombies.

G. NYC

2005-03-19T04:14:00.000-05:00

THE MAN
age: 37 [shocked? it only gets better]
race/ethnicity/nationality: Italiano
hails from: Murano, outside of Venice
used to: work in Chicago
currently: econ prof-ish. currently on leave, doing researchery somewhere else.
housing: apt (owns?) in Lower Manhattan [Didn't ask much because]
roommates: his, uh ... wife and two sons, aged 4 and 6 [no judgments ... just yet]

THE MYTH
I got a message on nerve, subject: boy seeking sparks. Blatant false advertising - the man is hardly a boy - but when he offered to teach me some Italian, I had to respond that I knew some already. Intrigued: he wanted to meet; I wanted to practice. We met up with the intention of friendship, chiacchierare (gossiping/chatting), and seeing where it went. After a thwarted meeting in Washington Square Park, we meet at a Japanese tea room off Astor Place [cultural note: Japanese tea rooms = instant aphrodisiac]. We talk life, school, politics, sex. "I love how you speak," he says. We agree and laugh much. I learn that he and his wife decided last summer that they no longer feel attraction for one another, but are committed to raising their children together. So while they are not separated in the legal or residential sense, they each seek uh, affection, elsewhere. But he is an Italian man and married and a father of two. So. He, cautiously, "Can I see you again?" Yes, yes of course. "Would you want to be ... close?" And I ask you, gentle reader, is there another such turn of phrase so intimate and cozy, so sexy and charming? More importantly, is there any way to refuse such an invitation? I said I was still considering, but leaning towards closer as opposed to farther away. Something just seems to be bothering me ... the wife and kids, perhaps?

THE MATH
I feel just awful breaking down the experience as such, but I was treated to tea fees, amounting to $30 + tip. How does one spend $30 on two varieties of tea and two assorted desert platters? Go down by Astor Place, apparently.

[endnote: Got a thank you letter almost immediately after we parted ways: "...I look forward to seeing you again next week. E amerei molto toccarti, accarezzarti, essere vicini." Translation being: "I would greatly love to touch you, to caress you, to be near you." Italians and their filthy, seductive language are dangerous.]

M. NYC

2005-03-17T23:14:00.000-05:00

THE MAN
age: 36
race/ethnicity/nationality: Italian + Spanish
hails from: Brooklyn, NYC
used to: study English + Art @ Vassar, grad program in English at NYU
currently: designing showrooms [...]
housing: deceased brother left him an apartment in Brooklyn Heights
roommates: three cats he refers to as "inheritences"

I'm going to skip the other sections and highlight what this fellow did wrong:
> Venue: It doesn't have to be hip or expensive, but when you get the option to choose where to go, take the home advantage. So a diner that you kinda know where everyone is rude is probably not the place for a meet and greet that will determine where the relationship is going. Flourescent lighting is not sexy outside of office scenario role playing, and even then its a stretch.
> Conversation: He's older than me, so I expected some domination [at the least, of the conversation] ... but oh, no. He didn't even hold up his end of what turned out to be my monologue. So he kept prompting me to talk, which meant that I kept talking about school and "our generation" which only made him seem older. Ick. Furthermore, he was previously living with an older woman who had a daughter my age. So, he COULD be my father. Ack.
> Attitude: Not flirty. Not sexy. And surprisingly, no accent - he is Italian and Spanish but speaks neither; make me understand that. The other guys weren't in that do or die sutuation I guess - those were actual dates. But still - they complimented me and made me laugh and, uh, touched me. They didn't suddenly pop out with, "Hey .... what are we doing?" Followed 30ish minutes later with, "So, are you coming home to meet my cats ? ... No pressure." No pressure is like anti-game spray - its a salt lick thrown in the middle of your game. I know its no pressure; I'm not pressured.

Anywho, its a good thing I got home - Y Tu Mamá También is on. Yumm.

correction

2005-03-13T23:07:00.000-05:00

re: my type, according to nerve
(read: the kind of men who contact me AND i manage to click with)

apparently, i am attractive to polyamorous, Caucasian, creative men, who have great jobs, fun profile pictures, live in Brooklyn and own cats.

s2. nyc even has two cats and - get this ! - shares custody of them with his exgirlfriend. they switch every 6-8weeks. its been going on like that for THREE YEARS.

now i'm as politically correct as the rest of you
[sometimes]
but
what the fuck is really good with straight men owning cats?

S2. NYC

2005-03-12T02:13:00.000-05:00

THE MAN
age: 33
race/ethnicity/nationality: Caucasian
hails from: New Jersey [eesh]
used to: do improv comedy while during undergrad @ Drew University
currently: computer programming, poeting, song writing, instrument playing
housing: 2bdrm in Park Slope; saving up to buy
roommates: some French girl, but it sounds like a revolving door over there

THE MYTH
Look Ma, I'm dating! Another nerve.com fella (check out the home page; there's a girl who looks like me ... only naked); did a traditional French cafe downtown - you can't lose with a bowl of coffee. Or a guy who actually gets turned on by coffee and dessert. I talk alot, we laugh alot and eat croissant and rolls with laudable fixings. Yum. On the off chance we hit it off (unlikely that we wouldn't), I made reservations further uptown so, we watched some comedy. Walking along the avenue, we ended up at a wine bar: "Have another sip," he says, "wine kisses are the best." A cigarette, a split (but miraculously, not spilt) wine glass and some noteworthy smooches later, he bit my ear in adieu while we wait for the fucking A.

THE MATH
Un petit mort ? Moi ? Not this time. Oh, and Google won't pay me for my website because of my adult content - thanks for reading my smut, folks! We were pretty PG tonight but as far as math goes, he should score points for sliding down my scarf to get to my neck. Yummy. Now that the juicy stuff's aside: he picked up the French stuff ($20), I picked up the comedy stuff ($16), he picked up the wine stuff ($21 + tip). But given the company, we both came out ahead. Aww.

Here's the thing ...

2005-03-11T14:02:00.000-05:00

... as they say in the inidustry. Nerve.com is awesome – it just is. Their personals are appropriately awesome. Generally, I back craigslist for dating because the posts are all free form: you write whatever you want, however much you want, etc. If you’re someone who really is seeking someone to asphyxiate you while ramming you in the ass to the tune of Vivaldi, for example, your post will say that in about as many words. If you are looking for a fuckbuddy (read: someone you can befriend as well as have sex with), you’re likely to create a more personal post: I am this, looking for this, are you this? Its just a different kind of listing. Personally, I think this weeds out sexual predators to some degree and should even serve as a form for society: when we stop being afraid of what others will think of what we want, we’ll stop deceiving and taking advantage of people to get it. But that’s just me on my soap box again. Here’s the REAL thing:

Nerve.com is awesome because while some of its questions seem banal (eg. What celebrity do you resemble most?), you have the option to opt out of them, or even glibly comment, and this gives me a better idea of who you are. Example: a fellow who messaged me wrote, and I quote, “if you have a problem with my not answering this question “truthfully,” then things would probably not work out between us.” Oh no wait, now I’m sidetracked: here’s the REAL thing:

I keep attracting the same kind of men. Or, the same kind of men keep messaging me. They’re thirty-something Caucasian men from Brooklyn with great jobs (that they don’t list in their profiles) and fun pictures (one guy has just one picture in which he is partially obscured by a black and white landscape; the other guy has a photog of himself at Burning Man). But in general, these are great guys who are fun to talk to and we're going two for two today (just coffee - the timing's so tight I have to behave myself) and I have loads in common with. So could I be wrong ? Could these guys be my type?

Maybe my type is just people who read nerve. Boom. But here's the real thing: I'm not jinxing myself saying "I'm not going to meet any more people", or "I'm not going to sleep with anymore new people", or any of those things. I used to claim that with an ex all the time, and no sooner had I said "No mas" were we in bed together again. So I'm keeping my options open. That's the thing.

Not that you didn't know that before.

into the bloggy swing of things

2005-03-07T14:03:00.000-05:00

Query: So how does it feel to fianlly, unabashedly be a full-fledged,no-matter-how-you-define-the-word, slut? Are you considering this as apermenent lifestyle thing? Do you want me to reccomend someliterature? - M.

Response: Slut, you say?

Slut is a slang term used to indicate a person who has frequent sexual relationships with different people, especially short-term affairs. Coming from the late Middle English slutte (meaning "mud") the term is usually applied to women (and can compared to the more negative slag), but is often used in the gay male and bisexual communities about people who are promiscuous in that they have, or are reputed to have, many sexual partners, or whose sexuality is voracious, indiscriminate, and shameful.
This term is often regarded as offensive, as in throwing mud, when used by others, but, in the gay and bisexual communities, may be used by the person concerned as an expression of pride in their status, or as an expression of enviousness in their "success rate" by others.
With polyamorous and non-monogamous people, in usage taken from the book The Ethical Slut, the term has been reclaimed as an expression of choice to openly have multiple partners, and revel in that choice: "A slut is a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you."
In historical usage of English, however, the term merely meant someone untidy, and could apply to both males and females. - Wikipedia

slut
1. slut
a woman with the morals of a man - urbandictionary.com

Talk about a way with words, M.
Feels pretty liberating - send on some literature.

Dirty Bits ? Maybe not

2005-03-05T13:56:00.000-05:00

Apparently Jewish girls are supposed to be great in bed - both Jews and non Jews have told me this. According to S. NYC, who consulted an ex-girlfriend who was Jewish and just too much fun in bed, there's a good reason for this: "We were just never brought up to be ashamed of what happened in bed," she said. Gosh, that explains alot.

Anyway, so maybe calling these bits dirty is a misnomer.
I'm more naughty than dirty in any case.

On the Road

2005-03-04T13:49:00.000-05:00

Running late to a job interview, I couldn't help but notice a bus coming across the bridge. I myself was in a Mexican jitney, but the bus I spied with my little eye was a charter bus from Saddle River. And filled with teenage boys. Fine teenage boys. Real Fine. What is it about Juniors in high school - maybe its the threshold; people who get attractive in high school generally get attractive right before (or even during) junior year. Anyway, thinking very bad things about these very young boys, these inheritors of that sexual legacy that is a 17 year old boy, I couldn't help but feel like a dirty old woman. The boys still in mind, when I passed a tractor trailer carrying cars and was able to see up their undersides, I couldn't help but feel a smidge naughty.

Then again, I was returning to the city I'd left 12hours prior after bedding a delightfully dirty old man.

benediction

2005-03-04T02:52:00.000-05:00

there are several rubrics, using which one can determine their porn star/stripper/fake name, or pseudonym. the name of your first pet + your mother's maiden name, that kind of thing. if you know me, then you know that your acceptance is neither desired or required. keep your judgements and prayers to yourself; a knowing wink will suffice.

yvonne amsterdam actually was born one night in rome at a bar, smoky with hand-rolled cigarettes & hashish. we were discussing the aforementioned rubrics when i mentioned my pseudonym and the gang set to work creating "ms. amsterdam." my hair piled under a knit cap, a brazilian ex-patriate took my face in his hands and said, "i will dream of yvonne amsterdam tonight."

these are the subsequent naughty bits.