The cost of distance.

I talked about reconnecting with someone from my past in my last post. Now I’m starting to wonder, how do you know if having an emotional connection with someone that lives far away is worth it? I live in New York, and he lives in Florida. We have a really strong connection and talk all day, but who really knows if or when I am going to see him.

It’s like long distance calls used to cost tons of money so people wouldn’t make them or would at least keep them to a minimum. So what is this long distance relationship costing me? How am I able to examine the opportunity cost of keeping this emotional connection with him? I might be able to have a physical attraction to other men, but emotional connection is a whole different ball game. So since it’s no guarantee if this is going to go anywhere at all, do you stick with it anyway?

If there are any readers out there willing to comment and give their opinion, I would be grateful. I think I am too stuck in my own mind to see it from a fresh perspective. It’s a lot for me to even admit that I have this issue considering I haven’t seen him in years. But what a joy it is to see his mind on a daily basis.

The wretch needs your help!

The Edgar Allan Poe drama.

I used to be really into poetry when I was younger. I used to read it all the time and I spent a lot of time writing my own. Back then, it was all poetry about things that would concern a normal teenage girl; obviously they were mostly about boys. It wasn’t until I really delved into some darker poetry that I saw the real beauty in it. Take for example, Edgar Allan Poe. Some might consider his work to be dark, dreary, and downright insane. In some ways, they might even be right. But what is truth, if not insanity? In fact, many of these poets only spoke the truth that people weren’t comfortable with admitting to themselves or others. So where does the line between truth and insanity fall? I suppose that’s all in the eye of the poet.

My favorite Edgar Allan Poe quote is probably one of his most well known and perhaps the most cliche. “Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.” Instead of my younger self writing perfectly rhymed phrases that were doodle heart worthy all over the rest of my notebook, Poe was much more relatable. In this example, someone could read this in a really positive way or an extremely negative way. It’s all in the eye of the reader. I am currently having mixed emotions because I’m having a day that leaves me unsure of what I should be feeling.

One of my biggest problems is that I am half a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is a free spirit. These two conflicting personalities really get the best of me sometimes. I want to be swept off my feet. I want to be able to be sexually involved with whoever I want. I want to be loved. I want to be spontaneous. There is a constant feud in my heart between settling down and feeling like there is something else out there for me. I will be the first to admit here that I have a problem settling. Right now I am starting to get involved with someone I met online, but I don’t really know if that’s it for me. There is another person that came into my life randomly and unexpectedly. That’s another mess entirely.

Recently I reconnected with an old friend online, his name is Brad. Brad and I had attended a basketball camp in the Summer before my junior year in high school. Since we were so young, there was obviously lots of lust being thrown around freely. While we spent the week at this camp, we connected. It fizzled out quickly afterwards though, because we were both extremely young, unexperienced, and confused. Not to mention he was interested in anything that had a vagina, and I was still too nervous to hardly talk to anyone of the opposite sex. Naturally, we didn’t talk for a long time after that. A couple years went by and we found each other on a social media site. At the time, he was in a committed relationship and was expecting the birth of a baby girl. He had apologized to me for the way he behaved when we attended the summer camp together and he seemed like he had done a lot of growing up in the time we hadn’t talked. So we chatted every now and then, enjoyed each other’s online companionship, and eventually we both moved on with our lives again. I watched as there were posts of his beautiful baby girl Lindsey and of his family. All I could be was happy for him, because he seemed genuinely happy himself.

There was a time in the very beginning of 2013 that I was going through some personal issues, so I decided to delete the Facebook I had and make a new one so I could only have my real friends on there. Alas, there were no more posts of Brad and his life on my newsfeed. Fast forward to a couple weeks ago. I was talking to an old flame from college. Luck would have it, my old flame Adam and I were both friends with Sandra. Sandra had also gone to the basketball camp that summer, and we saw each other sometimes because we went to the same college. I had nearly forgotten about her because I didn’t have that many people on my Facebook anymore, but there she was in my mutual friends. The wheels started to turn in my mind back to that summer at camp, and there he was. Brad came up freshly in my mind like he had never left. I have a hard time remembering names a lot, but his first and last was like remembering my own. I don’t know why the memory of him was so vivid after all the time I spent making new friends and relationships with other people. We only hung out for a week at camp, and that was it.

I couldn’t help but put it into my search bar. And one name and an enter button later, there he was. I should have just creeped on his page and kept it moving like I normally do when stalking my past life, but I didn’t do that this time. I added him, and not even two minutes later he had accepted me. We started catching up as usual, and a lot has changed. He obviously still has his baby girl, Lindsey. She is almost 4 now, so time has really flown. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out with him and Lindsey’s mother. He is now a single dad, works a full time job, and goes to night school. He also moved away to Georgia to be with his mom. Talking to him now is like talking to someone with such a kind and amazing soul. He is a very deep person, and we spend a lot of time talking every day. I just can’t help but feel like now he is going to make me fall for him from the very bottom of the country.

I have this strong emotional connection with him, and now that there is nothing in the way he is acknowledging that it’s the same for him. Now the only problem is all of the states between us. Oh, and the fact that I really like to have sex. I am supposed to hang out with this guy tomorrow and I’m not even looking forward to it anymore. I just think of how I would rather talk to Brad, even if it’s just talking. I thought about canceling on my friend Rick and making up some reason to no longer be interested. But I don’t trust myself to stick with that. Just like Edgar Allan Poe, I’m terrified of my heart. If I hook up with Rick, I might end up continuing that just to not be vulnerable. That’s one of my personalities. The other is falling so hard for Brad even though I haven’t seen him in years. So what is a girl to do? My heart has a constant hunger. It just wants what it wants. Unfortunately, if my heart gets everything that it wants, it might not end up with anything at all.

Confused and half lonely,

The tinder follow up.

If you would like to have any idea where this story started, go to my previous post “The Tinder Magic Hands” and learn all about “David” and his stupid, magic, orgasmic, man hands.

Anyway, these stupid, magic, orgasmic, man hands ended up back in my apartment. We are no longer matches on tinder anymore, so does that make it more real? It’s like at some point you pass the point of just being a casual tinder hook up if you decide to see someone again, but when exactly does that happen? Weeks went by and we occasionally talked even though he was a few hours away. And clearly he wanted to see me again because there he was, back in my apartment. David was looking just as delicious as ever, and hearing him talk about all the training he was going through was equally as delicious. Something about hard working men can just really get a girl off. Well, which he did before, four times. With his stupid magic hands.

This time thankfully we ended up in my bed. Partially because I just got a dog and he isn’t the best when meeting men. The couch belongs to my dog. And partially because I really just wanted him in my bed, duh. In the end, it works out because there he was. And thank the friggin baby jesus, he took my pants off this time instead of just soaking them from the inside out. It’s been so long since I have been with someone that is so commanding just with their mere presence. Something about him screams dominance and he doesn’t even have to do anything. He has such control over himself too, it’s insane. So here we are rolling around on my bed and he is alternating between rubbing my clit and putting his fingers inside of me. It’s mind bending. He starts kissing down my stomach and then is kissing my legs. Then he is kissing my inner thigh and I want to scream because he is moving his fingers in a slow, tantalizing motion over my clit while he is doing it. Finally he starts to lick my clit and I want to lose my mind. He curls his fingers when they are inside of me and drags them against my g spot. The pressure is intense but so delicious. I actually kept myself from reaching orgasm for a while because I didn’t even want it to end. I wanted to experience more.

I stopped him from what he was doing and I pulled him up, then pushed him back down so I was on top. I go to take his pants off, and this is what I mean by control. He isn’t even hard yet! I was sitting there moaning and writhing from his touch and he wasn’t even hard. Trust me, I know he was turned on so it isn’t like he wasn’t into it. He’s just a manly, sexy being with extreme self control. It took me a couple minutes rubbing his dick to get him hard, and of course he ends up having a magic penis as well. It was perfect. The perfect length. The perfect girth. Just. Fucking. Perfect. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? Everything else up to this point besides the fact that he lives a few hours away has been perfect. I teased him a little and just when he started to get a little irritated, I finally took him in my mouth. He’s definitely a dirty man. A couple minutes in he was telling me to slow down because he wanted to enjoy watching me suck his dick. Jesus that made me wet.

He turned me to the side so he could touch me and he put his fingers inside me and started to work that delicious magic of his again. Then he says to me “I want you to touch yourself. I want you to get yourself off while you’re sucking my dick.” I felt like I was going to get off on his words alone. I started to rub my clit, but he stopped me. He pulled my fingers to his mouth and sucked on them while I was sucking on his dick. I couldn’t help but moan on to it, and he said “Now do it. Touch yourself.” So I did. I was rubbing my clit and he was making his fingers hit my g spot while I was trying to get him off with my mouth. It was divine. He was so hard and I was trying to take all of him to the back of my throat. He started to move his fingers faster and he said “Rub yourself faster. I want to see you come for me.” I lost my mind. I couldn’t keep him in my mouth because I was moaning uncontrollably. I came unraveled on his fingers, and it felt like I was exploding from the inside out.

I still wanted more. But after all this, when sex came up he told me he didn’t know if it was a good idea if we had sex the first time we were really intimate with each other. What?! I’ll say it again, where the fuck did this guy come from? I didn’t want to leave him unsatisfied, so I went back down to his dick and gave him the best oral sex I had to offer. When he came, he almost punched a hole through the wall behind him. I almost wish he did because I would have made his sexy, carpenter ass come fix it. He gasped and came into my mouth, and I swallowed as much as I could. And that’s where the sexual encounter ended. This David guy is really messing with my mind, because I don’t know if I have ever wanted to have sex with someone so much. Because he lives so far away, I will be waiting until the next time he visits home to see him again. One thing is for sure, I can’t wait to see what next time brings, even if thinking about it is beyond frustrating.

David. The man with the magic hands. Also including a magic tongue and a magic penis. Batteries not included. They unfortunately forgot to add a warning label.

The tinder magic hands.

So tinder. How perplexing is tinder? It’s like one stop window shopping for the opposite sex. Or the same sex if that’s what you’re into. Since I moved to a new place at the end of last year I figured I would give it a try; I do love a good window shopping every now and then. I joined when I was extremely bored one night and at first I just thought it was very humorous way to pass the time. Me being as serious as I am, I couldn’t help but imitate the stupid faces that some people made in their pictures. Anyway, I ended up compiling a few matches over that night, but I really didn’t want to meet up with any of them because I had absolutely no idea who they were. But apparently it’s normal in our society to meet up with people just because we think they are attractive? I mean, hey, I can’t really complain. I do like sexy men and all.

Funny story time. Eventually I decided I would meet up with someone I was chatting away with on tinder. We will call him Juan today for confidentiality reasons, and he was from Brazil. Typical white girl here, but apparently after having sexual relations with one hispanic man… well, I guess I just acquired a new taste for them. Unfortunately, Juan could type in English much better than he could actually speak it. So we got together for a quick lunch before he had to go to work one day, and we had a long conversation with trouble understanding each other the entire time. Well, that’s awkward. For some reason he still wanted to see me after that too, but I just couldn’t bring myself to have another painstaking, tooth pulling, pointless conversation wherein I could only use very simple words and speak very slowly. If you knew me, you would know that I just can’t speak slowly, especially when I am really excited or happy. I am just a regular old jabber jaw.

So I deleted tinder. You think that would be the end of the story because I was really turned off by the fact that the hot hispanic man ended up being a total bust. Sorry Juan. It’s just a deal breaker for me when we can’t speak. I at least have to be mentally stimulated a little before we get to the physical stimulating. So I went on my merry way without tinder for a few months and had a secret sexual relationship with my cousin’s brother in law. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be allowed at all, but I sure enjoyed it. Not to mention he was a very attractive, hispanic cop. Oh and he owned a boat that we had sex on multiple times. Let me tell you, when he was drunk that was one dirty, rough man. But we will save that story for another day.

I recently downloaded tinder again because my last little fling is over with. So here I am again with my long list of window shopping delight. But I just can’t seem to get tinder right. I matched with this guy, we will call him David. David was actually just visiting his parents for a long weekend, and he lives a few hours away. For some reason, we still decided to get coffee one day because he needed an excuse to get away from his family for a little bit. We met at a little local coffee shop that I like. Unfortunately for me, we both really enjoyed ourselves. He was attractive, manly, and extremely nice. He was a carpenter and a fisherman at the very end of Long Island. It doesn’t get more manly than that really, does it? He had calloused, working man hands and he was delicious.

So lets continue the story of the date I should have never been on because I actually liked this guy. We went to get coffee around 4 and we stayed until around 6. We obviously couldn’t let the best date I have ever been on end that early though. So we got into his car and we went to his favorite local park in his old neighborhood. It was a beautiful park along the coast which awesome views of the sunset and walking trails throughout connecting little gazebos and sitting areas. We sat right on the edge of the coast for a little while, telling each other stories of our lives until it started to get just a little too cold to be there.

This is the point where we should end this stupidly perfect date. But do we? No of course we don’t. We get back in his car and we just can’t seem to head back to where I live. He should drop me off and we should continue with our separate lives. That would be too easy though. After we were driving around talking for a little while we decided we were hungry so we went to an awesome Mexican restaurant. We sat at the bar so we didn’t have to wait for a table and as if we couldn’t be any cuter we ordered 4 different appetizers so we could just share everything. While we were waiting for our food at one moment I just looked at him and smiled at something he said, and he leaned right over and kissed me. It was like the friggin movies. I could hardly even breathe; I was totally consumed by him kissing me. After we just spent a minute looking at each other, and David says to me “I’m sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I heard your voice.” We talked on the phone for a minute when he was looking for the coffee shop, which is what he was referring to.

Why did this have to be so perfect?!!!! I normally am not a huge sucker for this kind of stuff. But it was really killing me. Our Mexican food was delicious. He was delicious. He didn’t even live here. UGH. Again, this date should be over by now. It was 9:00 at night and it had been a 5 hour date. So what do we do? We go back to my apartment and we watch a movie. I love to torture myself clearly. He is kissing me more, and let me tell you he is a good kisser. I couldn’t help myself and he ends up on top of me, taking my shirt off, and we can all guess where this is going. Except for it didn’t go there. We didn’t have sex. He was just really enjoying feeling me up and driving me crazy. I was wearing jeans, and eventually his hand ended up between my legs and somehow he made me orgasm twice. With his hand, through my jeans. Jeans people. I am pretty sure his hands were magic.

Finally, that was the end of our date. What the hell? How am I supposed to even process that day in my head? D is for David. D is for delicious. D is for distance. Ugh. The next day he wanted to see me again. He came over to my apartment and we spent some time watching bad television and talking. Then obviously we couldn’t do that forever, so the same thing ends up happening. He is on top of me, things are really hot and steamy, and thank the heavens I decided to wear leggings instead of jeans. My leggings were obviously soaked by the end of this encounter, because his magic hands had me practically screaming and digging my own hands into my couch. I really appreciate leggings now though, because they are much thinner than jeans and those two (yes, again, two) orgasms practically tore me apart. What this man could do to me was unbelievable. What he says between the first and the second mind blowing orgasms? “You’re so sexy. I just want to make you feel good.”

Make me feel good? Check. Where the fuck did this guy come from? He is beyond overwhelming but in the sexiest way possible. Not to mention I got to take his shirt off and give him a massage for a little while. I couldn’t help but kiss up and down that gorgeous back of his. He has tattoos on both sides of his torso as well. I really just wanted to eat him alive. Alas, that was not in the stars for this two day affair that left me weak in the knees and soaked in the panties.

That was a few weeks ago. Luckily for me, I got to see him again two days ago because he was visiting again because he was in the area for some maritime training. He was telling me about it, and it is training to be out on the sea in bad conditions, comparable to a week of training for the coast guard. Again, sexy is the only way I can describe him right now. Things heated up a little in our next encounter, but I’m going to save that for another post. I’m going to go daydream about David knowing just how to rub my clit through my leggings. I’m just about drooling right now.

Until next time,

The thoughtless cheat meal.

I have just taken part in the sacred weekly ritual of the cheat meal. So why do we indulge in the “cheat” meal? Well I guess the first and easiest answer is because it’s delicious. Tonight specifically was a bacon cheeseburger with fries; let’s not forget the piece of chocolate cake that followed after either. I am not perfect with my eating habits my any means, but since the winter is over and it will be bathing suit weather shortly, I have to take off the couple spare pounds I gathered during my winter hibernation. Secondly, indulging in this meal makes us less likely to fall of the bandwagon of fitness the other days of the week. So why are we even on this bandwagon?

A thought occurred to me while I was munching away as fast as I could on this meal. Literally, I don’t even stop to breathe when it’s time to eat. Time and time again people will witness the fact that I do eat fairly unhealthy at times, and people always have something to say about it. A lot of women will tell me they hate me because I can eat whatever I want and still stay skinny. Time to nip that in the butt, because that is just not the case. I was actually previously overweight and I put a lot of effort into losing the weight that I did. I am 5’6″ and 140 pounds or so, and I used to be about 180. I don’t know if women are brainwashed into hating each other just to feel better about themselves, but sometimes I do believe that is the case. It’s like saying that I am naturally skinny and don’t do anything for it makes it more acceptable for them to be the way that they are. Why don’t we just forget the few miles I run almost daily and the workouts that I do. Those are obviously not relevant whatsoever, so let’s skip to the important things. You’re a skinny bitch (or a skinny wretch I prefer now).

Then there is the common reaction of men who see me indulge on more than a fraction of a piece of dehydrated iceberg lettuce, which is apparently what every woman eats on dates nowadays. I am not ashamed that I can out eat almost every man I know, but when I do this for some reason it is called “impressive”. Like because I know how to stuff my face it makes me better than other people. However, what do they say about overweight women that can eat a lot? I bet they won’t use the same word.

By no means am I trying to say that someone is a better person for being overweight, underweight, heavyweight, featherweight, or any sort of weight there is. As part of this quest to find the beauty of thinking outside of societal norms, I have made it a point to see everyone in the same way even if my brain is screaming at me that something is wrong with the picture. As a young woman, this happens often. We are supposed to look a certain way, act a certain way, and be a certain way. Sorry, social norms. That just isn’t cutting it anymore.

So what is normally a very thoughtless meal turned into a serious contemplation of how people, me being one of them, view others when they eat. It also lead to me wondering why exactly I ever felt the need to lose weight in the first place. As an egotistical human, I can now admit to myself that it was because it wasn’t desirable to other people. I wasn’t getting the attention that I wanted, so I did what I had to in order to fit into an “acceptable” standard that society has created. As I continue this journey of overcoming these social norms, I am doing my very best to view it as taking care of myself so I can live a long and healthy life. That should be one of the most important things to our society, but being healthy is more about looking good naked like those girls in the movies. Then with our stellar good looks and rockin’ bods, we can get that hunky man to fall in love with us and live happily ever after.

Even though we are more likely to get divorced and split up our family of 2.5 children. Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure to take him for all he’s worth and end up with the nicer house in the suburbs.

Three cheers for normalcy.

The human contradiction.

Hello world. I don’t know if anyone is ever going to read this, and that’s okay. I am deciding to use a blog as a diary of sorts while I am trying to figure out why society is so extremely messed up. I am a 24 year old woman living a little outside of New York City, and I am constantly doing the opposite of what people tell me to do. Maybe I have issues and a I really need therapy, but maybe I just want to have fun. Of course you will never be able to do this without being criticized to no end. And why is that?

I have started a journey in my own mind to rewrite how my brain works. Every single person is brainwashed by their own society to think that there are clear lines of right and wrong. It’s supposed to be black and white, or at least that’s what you are told to think. Don’t do drugs. Don’t have sex. Don’t drink too much. Don’t dress like that. Don’t do anything that can cast a negative light on you; the spotlight is hard to turn off once it’s pointing right into your eyes.

So why are we so blindly judgmental? Why are we all made to look at people differently for the choices they make, even when they have absolutely nothing to do with us? Literally zero effect on our lives, but we are still trying to tell people how they should or shouldn’t act. Whether we all realize or not, we all take part in things for our own selfish needs. Humans are extremely egotistical, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. We are made to survive, and there is no room for the weak in the game of life. So now instead of being the best hunter or farmer like our ancestors had to be, how do we determine survival of the fittest?

Physically attacking people is now illegal, which is probably one of the better decisions our society made. Unfortunately, now we attack each other mentally. This is the new-age way to survive. You’re too fat. You’re too easy. You’re too ugly. You’re too nice. You’re too serious. You’re too prude. You lack reason. You lack drive. You lack a pair of nice boobs. You lack a relationship with God. You lack. You’re too this. You’re too that. You’re a human. In my case, there are people that consider me a “slut.” Sadly, the people that I hear use this term the most are family members.

So here we are with the WOD – the word of the day!

Slut – noun
1. an immoral or dissolute woman; prostitute.
2. Obsolete. a dirty, slovenly woman.

Straight from the dictionary there! As part of my journey to retrain my brain to not be so judgmental of people (because honestly I have no right to judge anyone for what they want to do), I have thought heavily on this word. It’s so easy for a woman to be called a slut in society. I have been called a slut by a man that I wouldn’t sleep with, which I have learned is quite common. It is also hilariously ironic. So while the definition of the term might lead people to think I am a prostitute, I will ease your fear and tell you I do not have sex for money or services. Unless you count orgasms in return, then I will gladly be a prostitute any day.

The latest reason that I was called a slut is that I got involved with someone that my family doesn’t particularly like. So because I had consensual relations with one person (that lead to multiple orgasms, might I add), I was crowned with this term. I may actually start to enjoy the name soon if it means having great sex. I obviously continued to see this man, even though certain family members had an absolute fit about it when they found out about the first time. We found no reason to be in public together, so we would order in deliciously fattening food, engorge ourselves on that, and then lastly engorge ourselves on each other. Unfortunately, we were seen together at one point and someone told my cousin about it. Now many of my family members are no longer speaking to me. The funniest part is my cousin is in an incredibly unhappy marriage, and I am guessing she could really use more sex in her life. It’s like a cure-all for stress.

The craziest thing about this all, is that each and every one of us engages in acts for our own selfish gains. Yes, the things that we want and the ways we attain these things differ, but as I talked about earlier – we are inherently selfish to survive. So here I am, a young woman living near the city. I am no longer seeing the man that my family was unhappy with because our schedules have changed and it just wasn’t working anymore. So, I have been talking to a couple new men. And while that might come off as promiscuous, I don’t care. I haven’t slept with anyone else yet, but I probably will soon. Will I get criticzed for it? Absolutely.

It’s extremely ironic that we are part of a society that will shame you for how much sex you have or for the junk food that you eat. How dare you have multiple orgasms or eat delicious foods. You’re a monster. You will certainly not enjoy your miserable life filled with many pleasures.

Get real. I will absolutely enjoy it, and that is what makes me a wretch of society.