Friday, October 29, 2010


I think I have a little problem. 

I have no self control.

Last night I stop by the bar to hang out and watch the female bartenders.  I watch so I can get some tips on how to do my Coyote Ugly bartending thang.  They dress sooo sexy but I think I might be too old to be wearing booty shorts like they do.  I need a push up or water bra in the worst way though.  My boobs are looking more like Josephine Baker's every day and I am not digging that one bit.

When I go to these bars I usually go by myself, and after some time someone will end up talking to me.  Male or female.  Not like I stand there waiting for someone to talk to me, but they just do.

So I talked to one guy for a little while.  Then the bartender asks him if he wanted a drink and he said yes.  But did he ask me if I wanted one?  No!  So that convo that had been going on for about 15 minutes was over.  Totally lost interest in what he was saying and he could see that.  "Oh let me see where my friends are at." 

"Yeah you do that." 

Lame.  Next.

Then I move away from the bar and just stand near the dance floor to try to look at what kind of fellas are in there.  Lots of suits.  Lots of collared shirts!  Dudes look they have jobs - and nice jobs at that.  The crowd was grooving.  The music was humming.  One guy says something and then another.  I start talking to one of them.  We dance.  He catches sight of my sexy pantyhose.  He dances closer to me.  He presses himself against me.  I can feel it.  He walks me to the subway.  Then...

I think I have a problem.  Not sure how to bring it up to the therapist.  I don't even remember his name.

Now I am wondering if I should go to this masquerade party alone.  I called Mr. Porno and told him that I need some rebound sex to forget about the guy I was digging.  Of course he will oblige me he says.

Maybe I have a problem.  Maybe I don't.  Hell I'm single with no real man so what's wrong here?

I say nothing.

It's Halloween and I don't need a costume. 


Because I feel a monster growing inside of me.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Day #387: It's Over

I knew it would get messed up.

It's over before it even started.

He's too busy.  Everyday.  All day.  Seven days.  I can't compete with that.

We were reduced to a text relationship.  Like a fellow blogger said, I signed a Dick Contract and I wasn't diggin' the result.  Everything was on his terms. 

I was fallin for him.  And because of that I told him that I had to stay away from him.

I wanted to reduce him to a 'screw only' status but he was in my head too much for that.  It wouldn't have worked.  It was getting to the point that if that nucca even blew on me I would melt.  It was getting out of control.

So...that's that.  I said goodbye at 3:30am this morning.  Via text. 

Did I make a mistake?  I dunno. 

Did I not give him enough time to try to change up things?  I dunno.

All I know is that I saw that UNHAPPY TRAIN coming into my station and I didn't want to get on it again.

Funny thing is, I'm still unhappy though.  So what difference did it make?

Did I make a mistake?

Only Mr. Cornrows is on the table.  That hair would probably scratch up my coochie and thighs if I let him do that cunnilingus (sp?) thang.  Anyway I don't think I'm game for looking down and seeing cornrows between my legs right now. I don't think he can spell good either.  Plus he is someone from the bar I work at and my co-worker told me point blank, "Gurl, DO NOT F*CK ANYBODY THAT COMES IN THIS BAR."  I think she may be right. 

My birthday is coming.  (rolling eyes)  Misery.

Won some tickets to a Halloween party in NYC off the radio.  Yep, I know my old school tunes and was the first to guess!  80s themed party.  I think I'm going as Salt from Salt and Pepa.  Maybe Jody Watley?  I think I'm gonna go alone though.  I'll have more fun that way.  I'll probably just sell the extra ticket that I won when I get there. 

I miss him though. 

Did I make a mistake? 

I feel remorse.  I feel sad.  I feel dumb. 
I feel like saying, "It was nice while it lasted." 
I feel like saying, "You played ya self.  Never upgrade a fella beyond d*ck status until he has proven himself to you.  When will you ever learn?"

I don't know what else to do but stay away from him.

It's raining and dreary in NYC today.  How ironic.

Friday, October 22, 2010


Random thoughts.  I was sitting here thinking that I need to get a fresh wig this weekend.

Then I realized something...

I will show a dude the hair on my coochie before I show him the real hair on my damn head! 

He can get all close up and personal down there but when it comes to my head --- ain't no way he gonna see my real damn hair until I get to know him first. 

Dude:  "Why you always wearing that scarf? Let me see your real hair."

Me:  "Nuh uh.  You don't EVEN know me like that and we ain't even serious!  Who do YOU think you are asking me that?  You gettin' way too personal."

But we both laying on the bed naked.

LOL.  Ain't that a trip?

Even if my coochie hair needs a little trimming, I still won't hide it.  If he wanna look; I'll let him look.  Put yo' face right there, baby.

But let my scarf start to come off during sex and everything stops.  I start pulling, yanking, and adjusting like a crazy woman.  "Wait, wait!  Let me fix my scarf!"

WTF.  My belief is that we gotta build sumthin for MONTHS before I let you see the hair on my head --- but not for my coochie? 

I'm not bald or anything so what's my problem? My hair comes to below my ears when I press it out, but on a regular day I'm really an Undercover Celie with those little cornrows and/or braids all around.  And on top of that it's frizzy cuz I don't have a perm.  I call it an AF-RAID sometimes.  It becomes an afro and braid combo if I let it go too long without rebraiding it. 

Shyt, I don't even like looking at it my damn self sometimes.  I just sit that wig on it and I'm out.  LOL.

Jheri Curl in the movie Hollywood Shuffle

Yeah Jheri Curl, I know EXACTLY how you feel.  If my wig or scarf ever came off during sex this is EXACTLY the expression that I would have on my face.  And my hand would be scretched out like that too.  "I'm still the same girl baby!  You still like me right?  Don't leave me! Don't leave meeeeeee!"


(talkin' to myself)

"That's a hell of a complex you got there." 
Wooooow.  But dudes don't even care though most times.  They don't press you about seeing your real hair.  Fake hair is just accepted nowadays.


I gotta think on this some more and come back to it. 


AND SORRY MEADOW, WILLOW, SASSAFRASS OR WHATEVER YO' NAME IS...I DO NOT WHIP MY 'REAL' HAIR FOR DAMN NOBODY OUT OF THE GATE.  Cuz please believe if I do for a man, we betta be in some heavy rotation on the relationship front.  Word up.

I Almost Did It...

His d*ck was right there in my face.  But I didn't do it although I was tempted.  Real tempted.  My hand was on it.  I was stroking it.  Looking at it.  Imagining it.

But I told him to get off me.

Then he asked me, "Who you trying to be all nice girl for now?"


I'm being good for Mister.

But Mister is too f*ckin' busy.  I posted that I wasn't sure about his azz when he told me he worked a few jobs.  That was a red flag that I was hoping would not be a problem but it has been a REALLY BIG PROBLEM and now I'm getting annoyed.  So when this throwback d*ck showed up at my place I was contemplating getting some of it to break this spell Mister has over me.

Then I thought.  I could jinx myself.  I could jinx us.  If I f*ck him then I'll put that negative shyt in the universe and then maybe me and Mister will be doomed.

So I decided to pass on it.  I got me a new purse though cuz when he came over he brought me a gift.  So it wasn't a total loss.  LOL. 

There was also something else too.  The throwback d*ck didn't look that good to me for some reason.  I wasn't excited about it and it didn't look as thick and juicy as it used to look back in our kickin' it days.  Did it get smaller?  Does that happen to dudes as they get older?  I gotta check into that.  I thank the lawd though because if it was looking nice no tellin' what I would have done.

As for Mister though...he is walking on thin ice.  He's just too busy.  Weekends.  Weekdays.  He's gonna lose me if he doesn't show and prove.  I went on another date just to keep my options open.  He seemed nice but his hair was bothering me.  Who the f*ck still wears cornrows after age 35?  And his feet looked so tiny in those Tims he had on. Sigh.    He saw me bartending and I had these licorice-looking leggings on and he was getting all hot and bothered (according to his texts to me), so I think I got him where I want him.  If we go out again I'll try to touch it to see wassup.  I'll take him to the mall and wait until I pick something out and then do it.  Maybe I'll get some free shyt. 


Monday, October 4, 2010

Is Your D*ck *THAT* Big????

From my phone:

9:35pm.  Sitting on bus. Heading home from the city after just having the BEST KISSING session with my new sweetie.  Back against the wall.  Kissing under the umbrella in the rain as the rest of NYC passed us by.  Whew.  I had no panties on with a dress so I had to stand up on the subway to the bus station cuz...uh, the kitty was a bit moist.  :) I'm telling you, the shyt was that hot.

I'm fanning myself just thinking about it! 

Ahem.  Ok, um back to the bus ride.

So I get on bus and there is one last seat next to a brutha; a rare sight on my bus route back to Ecuador/my town. 

"Excuse me." 

First I had to ask him to move his damn bag so I could sit down.  That's a bad sign right there cuz the bus was crowded and no one asked him to move his stuff.  This was the last seat.


Now I have been sitting here all of about three minutes, and lawd I feel that I am about to lose it in about 30 seconds with this fool. 

Why?  Because I totally hate when guys sit with their legs wide open like their d@ck is so muthafuckin big that they can't close their legs! I hate that shyt for real.  Here I am sitting with his thigh touching mine, his foot touching mine, and his arm touching mine.  And he is just busy pounding away on his Iphone playing some damn game.  YOU'RE. TOUCHING. ME!!!!  Every second I'm hating you more with your big Charlie Brown headed self.  I wanna smack you. 


I swear...I'm like 15 seconds from telling him about his azz. He is just all up in my personal space and ruining my high from lip locking.

Damn you arrogant bastard!!!






10 seconds.

Good.  Someone just got up so I'm moving.  Consider yourself lucky muthafucca.  I hope u lose that f*ckin game you playin'.