Dating in this new tech savvy world has led to all new types of sexy communication. I am mostly a virgin to all these new ways to get your rocks off, but I recently popped my sexting cherry. It was a total mess of sexy, steamy, awkward, anxiety-ridden, soft core, amateur, plagiarized porn. Yes, all of those adjectives apply.
It started out simple enough, where we were dancing on the line of light flirting and fun erotic banter that quickly catapulted into a very raw, impassioned and best of all x-rated dialogue. A language I am not even close to being a master of. I rarely even dabble in dirty talk. I quickly realized I was out of my league. I’m more a girl of action than talk, but am quickly realizing both skills are a crucial necessity.
Sweating, I began to perspire profusely, glowing with beads of water dripping from me. Not from the sensual nature of the conversation, but rather, from the absolute panic of unchartered waters. It was soon followed by tears, and not the cute kind. I was just a face full of snot, panic and hyperventilation, if this convo had progressed to skype, I would have been done for. P.S. Skype is the WORST! I have to get just as dressed up as I would for a date, but without any of the benefits of leaving the house like drinks, food or sex.
The actual responses were carefully crafted by utilizing all resources available. If there had been an acceptance speech associated to executed sexting on my part it would have gone something like this:
I would like to thank the internet, specifically Google, and 50 shades of Grey for getting me through this. Oh…and the Lord our Savior for making communication so depersonalized and superficial we no longer rely on the crutches of body language or tone to communicate.
Now if women can just figure out how to orgasm via this form of communication instead of spending days with our girlfriends interpreting the final “I just came” text to find it’s hidden message, we may truly be able to achieve world peace. Amen.1 Comment »
The original title of this blog was going to be that the internet was my biggest cockblocker, but after some review, I realized the true culprit. Its me. Yep, lil ol me is what is putting the kibosh on what some experts claim cannot be stopped or changed due to biological wiring. The want and need to be in a relationship. Even movies paint all women to be these pathetic drones always looking to be validated and loved, without the ability to define themselves without a mate….and to that I say, eh, I’m OK alone.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a relationship person, confusing, I know, but I will explain. I am a natural maternal nurturer, which I guess the people I have been so lucky to spend time with in my life have unconsciously been attracted to…or so my therapist tells me. The normal chain of events goes like this, girl meets guy. Girl drinks too much and ends up hanging out with guy more than she would have sober. Guy wants to hang with girl again. Girl is open with guy about wanting to just have fun, be casual, her schedule is busy so she can’t be tied down. Guy does everything in his power to tie her down. Girl loves attention so she hangs out with guy and realizes too late she has been tied down. Girl cuts the ties and heads to bar to drink again, add vodka and repeat.Its a viscous cycle.
Something about saying the relationship status out loud is a catalyst to claustrophobia. Sweat starts to pour, breathing feels constricted, valium is needed….and that is just the beginning of the romance. A couple of months in and I am finding any escape path out of this new union. This is the part that I feel the worst about. I KNOW I AM NOT PERFECT…let’s just add in that disclaimer, but the mental warfare ensues against getting locked into having a “boyfriend.” (I even felt dirty typing that last word). Some of the weapons it uses are “knit-pickers,” you know, when your mind comes up with the dumbest things to be upset about. ie, “I don’t like his casual shoes” or “He doesn’t say excuse me after he belches.” Those are just examples, but if they were true picks, I’m almost positive they could just be communicated and resolved, but instead of doing that the mind just marinates on them and exaggerates their importance until whatever could have been is ruined.
Other weapons include, over-scheduled, family-itis, and so many more…So moral of the story…I’m crazy, and if you still want to date me, just don’t tell me about it! Yikes!1 Comment »