I don't know what you talk to YOUR friends about...

Discussing life with a very pregnant ladyfriend:

Her: "We still have 10 days to go. The baby seems content to stay there forever, so who knows. Someday, I won't be pregnant. So they tell me. It's weird. Everywhere I go I'm like, 'I could go into labor RIGHT NOW and that would be acceptable. Like, the baby would be fine.' Pregnancy is a total mindfuck (brought about by an actual fuck, I suppose, haha)."

Me: "That really IS a mindfuck, now that I think about it. 'Cause eventually the kid just decides,, 'Aaand my work in this womb is done. Comin' at ya, Ma! Wheeeeee!' And then she swims down like Nemo, and that 'Y'all Ready for This?' song plays like it's a sports game."

Her: "OMG, I wish 'Y'all Ready for This' would play whenever anyone went into labor. Vaginas should come equipped with that pre-recorded. Also could be useful during sex?"

Me: "I'm not sure how it would work, science-ly, but I would Kickstart the shit out of technology that would enable my vagina to welcome its visiting team with a jaunty tune. Vaginal Jock Jams. Yes. Shut up and take my money."

P.M.S. P.S.

The P.S. on an email to friends about all my special feeeeelings:

"I'm also menstruating, so kindly accept this grain of salt. Just a grain, though -- I'll bite your goddamn hand off if you take my salt."

My kid would be such an asshole...

Emailing a pregnant friend:

"You have that Babies 'R' Us Frequent Breeder card or whatever it is, right? That card that gives you fetus points?"

(Again, why I'm not allowed to have kids.)

I guess Autocorrect got a thesaurus feature...

What I was trying to text to a friend: "I would have to punch you in the nuts."

How Autocorrect tried to help when I typed too fast: "I would have to punch you in the bird."

Then: "I would have to punch you in the bits."

I mean... both of those DO work, even if "bird" is one I've only ever heard my grandfather use. Way to have my back, Autocorrect.

Freudian slipstick

Email to a friend...

Me: "I am juvenile. But damn, there are a lot of jokes here. "

Friend: "I mean, how are you supposed to NOT make jokes at that? They may as well have named the shades 'John Holmes' and 'Ron Jeremy.' 'Yeah, rub it on your face, baby.'"

Me: "HA! Aaand THAT is why we're friends."

Followup thought: "Gargantuan Golden SHOWERS." Hey-o!

 

Premature infatuation

Me: "I think I've set a new record for getting interested in, then totally over, an OkCupid guy. This last one took, like, three days."

Friend: "Are you serious?"

Me: "I'm probably exaggerating, I guess it couldn't have been THREE days... *looking at email* Holy shit, it WAS -- we started OKC messaging Friday, emailing Saturday, phone call Sunday night, and I woke up yesterday thinking, 'Yeah, I think I'm done.'"

This is why my therapist loves me.

Whoring for whiskey and melted cheese

Emailing a friend who's been to this bar with me a bunch of times...

"This guy's OkCupid profile says he owns a 'craft beer and whiskey bar in Philadelphia.'

[screenshot pic of guy wearing bar-branded t-shirt]

"DUDE. Will fuck for whiskey and nachos!"

Waffling on Waffles Guy

So, Friday night I had a first date -- waffles! -- with an OkCupid guy. After waffles, we walked around New Hope, and he seems nice and likes standup comedy. I didn't feel a huge spark, but he's cute, and...like...he's fine. He's a dude. *shrug*

He walked me to my car and we agreed to a second date later this week. Then for the goodbye, I thought he was just aiming for a hug, so I leaned my face toward his shoulder, but then he kissed my cheek while I did that, so I thought, "Crap, did I just dodge a kiss on my mouth? I didn't mean to do that. I like kissing."

So because I'm a dipshit, I texted him at a light on my way home and said, "Don't know if I inadvertently dodged the kiss or if you're just a gentleman, but next time..."

And his response was, "First and foremost a gentleman."

You guys? You know how I know he's too nice for me? Because after he said that, my brain thought, "Aw, that's sweet," and then my ladyparts were all, "We would fuck him senseless right this minute." 

Even just from a hug, I keep smelling him faintly on me. GOD, I love that.

I don't think I've ever NOT kissed a guy on a first date. So before Friday, I'd officially gotten my ass spanked in a Ford Focus on a first date more times than I've not kissed someone. (That is to say, once. And also, shut up.)

But again, I texted my friends after the date and said, "I'll go out with him one more time, but from his texts and this first encounter... I don't know, I don't think he's One of Us." 

I know I don't want a relationship just yet, but it's not terribly promising if I don't think we even click well enough to be friends. But we'll try one more time. At a minimum, I must kiss.

Elbows Guy: The Final Chapter...I think...

Email to a female friend, subject: "Be proud."

Me: "When I wrote the email telling Elbows Guy I don't want a second date, I revised a few different ways, but each time made myself remove the words 'I'm sorry.'"

Friend: "I am VERY proud of you. Well done."

Me: "I didn't even lie and say I met someone. I just said I didn't want to."

I ran the email past a male friend first to get a man's perspective, to ensure it wasn't douchey but didn't leave room for debate. He said the email would be fine for a normal guy, but told me with this dude, I may get asked for an explanation.

Five minutes after I sent the email, I got a text from the Bitches Get Shit Done group: "You will survive being uncomfortable. You may even be better off for it." Kelly Sue DeConnick is the aunt I've always wanted.

P.S. I just saw that he looked at my LinkedIn profile yesterday, which is not at all disconcerting. I think it's locked down to just my network, though... Probably... 

P.P.S. I underestimated him. He replied politely and even thanked me for NOT doing The Fadeaway. I mean, he said it in a way that made it sound as if all women do that (and maybe they do, to him), but I'll still give him a point for it. Only one, though -- he'd lost 50 points for heckling my dry elbow skin while all the moisture he needed was IN MY VAGINA, so he's still netting out at -49.

STI-TMI

Sage advice from a friend on the STI front: "You're already going into this with your eyes open; now it's just if your legs are open, too."

I told the guy I couldn't meet him until I got tested, with a remarkable number of apologetic qualifiers for telling a man that sex with him may not be worth the risk of going the rest of my life with a disclaimer on my vagina. ("Not a big deal" depends who you ask. I will ask a doctor and go from there.)

I said if he didn't want to meet me, I'd understand, but he said HE understood and would meet me when I was ready. Later, he called me sexy, smart, and quick, so you can see why I'm trying so hard to ride this particular unicorn.

He's actually so good on paper that I'm worried it's a trap. Like, am I the only woman who didn't immediately say "no" to this? How is he saying everything I need to hear? Is that instinct honed from years of practice on various conquests he's humped and dumped? Is he, like, 70 years old? (He's not, I stalked his Facebook. Don't judge me, that's HIS fault. There's a reason MY personal account is locked down -- all you get is photos of sunsets and the profile pic they make you leave public.)

But in the meantime, another friend sent me this article/podcast, should you wish to read/hear more on the matter.

Slutty McSidepiece and the Stage 5 Clingers

Talking to a friend...

Me: "I'm thinking about hooking up with an 'open marriage' guy from OkCupid."
Friend: "You could try it. I mean...you're already IN therapy."

There's immense appeal in a guy who'll come with me to a movie, come with me in the bedroom, then get the hell out. When I try to date proper, I attract Clingers, get anxious, and make terrible choices. That shouldn't be an issue with one who's already housebroken.

But I also know myself, and I may be too insecure to come second...literally or otherwise. If Dude satisfies my needs too well, I may catch feels, and if I fall for him, I'm SOL. The wife's gonna stay the wife -- I'd just be Slutty McSidepiece. I do not do well as Slutty McSidepiece.

I wonder if I'd rather fend off Clingers and hold out for a person with whom feels are at least an option, even if we never get there.

Then again... I don't HAVE to date the guy long. Maybe I NEED a naked friend to fuck some clarity into me without all the relationship crap.

Also, if you consider where I am mentally, I might as well be in an open marriage, too. I have one guy I'd drop anything and anyone to help and/or be with, so as far as my heart and brain are concerned, I also have a "primary partner." Then I still have the second guy in the back of my head, just for bonus emotional fuckery, so I have even worse trust issues than before. I can't handle a real relationship, are you crazy?

Plus, if the guy turns out to be boring, I can just say I can't handle playing second fiddle. (And that may actually turn out to be true.)

I can spot a Clinger at 50 paces now, anyway -- "Oh, you're doing THAT? Yeah, I've done that. I INVENTED that. Don't even." So far I've encountered three on OkCupid, and I've dodged them all without ever meeting them.

I'm a Recovering Clinger, and I approved this message.

P.S. I actually ran this by the therapist and she says I'm in the clear as long as I'm safe. She told me it was good for me to explore options, to be aware of those emotional attachments I still have, to be conscious of what I need, and possibly work out a way to GET it without pressuring myself about being in a "proper" relationship. I think this is a good intermittent step, and she seems to agree.

P.P.S. Dude is ADORABLE and I want to make all the sex with him.

In which my squad won't give me goals.

Email to Friend: "The therapist asked me to write about my accomplishments this year, and goals for the upcoming year and beyond. I've been struggling with it because I genuinely can't think of much. (I assume 'Keep breathing' and 'Stay employed' are implied. Maybe 'Don't sleep with anyone dumber than me?')

"But I'm finishing Judy Greer's book, and coincidentally she's talking about how she has an always-evolving list of goals, what's important to her, etc., that she reads and revises as needed.

"And then Kelly Sue DeConnick sent this text yesterday to the Bitches Get Shit Done list, so it's pretty much law now, right? List ahoy, Little Shark!"  

Friend: "I can think of at least three things you should be proud of yourself for, but I'm not telling you because you have to look back and be proud of yourself. You have to look in the mirror and see the good."

Me: "THREE?! Shit. I'm pretty rad. (I think I had two. Will continue considering.)"

Life Lessons from Small Ponies.

You could probably tell I didn't have the best emotional time over the weekend (fuck the entire Venn diagram of the holidays and PMS, seriously). Male BFF was concerned and invited me over for alcohol and merriment with him and his lady, one of my Female BFFs.

I declined but texted my thanks, and man, I tell ya, the My Little Ponies are right -- friendship IS magic: 

  

Baby Got (Naked) Back

At work, texting with friends about the best body parts and most flattering angles for naked selfies to send to your significant other. As you do.

I usually just send a photo of tapioca pudding. It gets the point across and requires far less effort.

KIDDING.

My personal favorite is my naked back with a peek of panty lace on my hips, and my hair running down my back. I give good back.

Alternately, the curve of my waist, and my thighs, again with lovely draw's. (That's what you call them when you're as sexy as I am.)

Aaand now I'm thinking about doing it.

Aaand now I'm turned on.

This should be an interesting rest of the day at work.

Vodka made me do it.

One more on this, and then, sweet baby Jesus willing, I think I'm done.

Possibly (erm, make that probably) inebriated conversation with a male friend...

Friend: "Does That Guy know you're the one writing these posts when he likes them on Tumblr?"
Me: "Yep. I told him about it before I fucked everything up."
Friend: "Before HE fucked everything up. Don't get it twisted."
Me: "Mutual destruction."
Friend: "That's weird, though."
Me: "What, that he knows? Or that he'll like posts about my body but turned down my many offers to do any naughty little thing he wanted to it?"
Friend: "Both. I mean, he made his choice, right?"
Me: "Eh. It's fine. He doesn't read often. If I don't want him to like the posts, I'll just keep writing about feelings. He never did like my feelings."

Lights, camera, nonsense.

Talking to a friend: "Do you have time to pick up a GoPro before Thanksgiving? Because you could just show your therapist the footage of your family dinner and say, 'This. This is what I'm dealing with. Fix it.'

"The therapist might even give you a discount once she sees it, in which case the camera would basically pay for itself."

Forever 32

Me: "I'm almost 40, I think I have a handle on that."
Younger Friend: "I always forget you're almost 40. You're, like, forever 32 in my brain."
Me: "And this is why we'll always be friends."

(This is probably a sign of my immaturity, but shhh!)

Feminist as fuck.

Last night I went to Margaret Atwood's booksigning at the Philly Free Library. Look at me, all feminist and intellectual and shit. Classy as fuck, right?

Um, yeah, leading up to the event, I was having this hilar-balls group text with friends...

Friend 1: "What kind of classes should I teach at the sex boutique besides oral sex?"
Friend 2: "Something about body confidence in the bedroom? Toys, why to use them, different ways to incorporate them."

Me: "Confidence for sure. Maybe consent? Intro BDSM? Handjob Blandjob?"
Friend 1: "I'm the WORST at handjobs!"
Me: "That's because they're not a real thing."
Friend 1: "That's shit you do on your own. I'll never be as good."
Me: "Right? I hired you to use your mouth. I HAVE hands."
Friend 1: "I could probably teach a class about how to incorporate toys into coupled sex."
Me: "Yes. Because I have no idea. Well, wait... There was that one time. But nothing I did with that asshole counts. (To be clear, I did nothing to his asshole. He was just a shithead who brought a toy.)"
Friend 2: "I like giving handjobs...but only if they don't take forever."
Friend 1: "I'm terrible at them, hate doing them, always have, always will."
Me: "I like a happy man who's not looking to put things in my butt. If he needs a handjob, I'll DO it, but I just feel like I could be more useful."
Friend 2: "Agreed, but sometimes my knees are sore and I need to change it up. (Sorry, is this too much?)"
Me: "Yes, we clearly have a "too much" threshold. :) Also, my hands and wrists are FUCKED from phone/computer use, so handjobs hurt, AND I'm bad at them."
Friend 1: "Handjobs take forever. At least with a blowjob I can incorporate my hands to give my mouth a rest. I'm hardly ever on my knees. I just move around if I'm uncomfortable."
Friend 2: "Eh, sometimes they take forever, sometimes not. And I prefer BJs, and prefer my knees (good angle for all involved)."
Me: "Anyone else really want dick now? (Now, see, THAT's too much.)"
Friend 2: "I do. Husband should thank you both. (I see your 'too much' and raise you.)"
Me: "Ha! You're welcome, Husband."
Friend 1: "Boyfriend will also be benefiting from this conversation."
Me: "Meanwhile, I'm at a feminist booksigning. No dick in sight."
Friend 2: "Maybe there will be literary dick?"
Me: "Heh. Maybe. Or bar dick afterward."

"I may be dumb, but I'm not a dweeb..."

Quotable friend, re: all the bullshit thinking therapists make you do: "Therapy thoughts seem like they're probably pretty rough. But you're having them for a good reason. They're like the kale of thoughts."

Get this: I have to make a list of positive things about myself. Attributes, accomplishments, etc. I probably can't list my breasts, and here's the kicker -- I can't ask other people. What the shit? How am I supposed to get self-esteem from myself? That seems counterintuitive.

(Video contains language not at all safe for work.)

Dispatches from Pope-pocalypse

Email from Male BFF:

"I work in the Pope Zone and the office will be closed Friday. But they're sealing the mailbox in the building TODAY. If something happens to me, make sure the world knows I loved my family, the Eagles, and ass play."