Bitchicisms

Year end post...after being on vacay mode for weeks (and still not blogging about the kid that turned me out), I finally get time for a post.

2007 was a very good year. Considering I barely went clubbing the first half of the year. Got 7 new numbers on my list with 2 repeats. Time has come to rank them.

This ranking has no official standing on the FINAL list which I hope will not come out for some time as it will only be FINAL when I stop fucking other guys)

9) Jr - guy I met at a club I go to in the Fort. It was first time at that club and he hooked me with a line that implied he didn't think I was Filipina. It seemed like a cool line but some guys dissed the line saying he just wanted to be different. Well it worked. He got my attention. And 30 minutes after we first hooked up we were on our way to a motel. He was ok. Big guy. Average size. Sorta blah.

8) Kv - the first bartender I ever slept with. The one I met in a beach last summer. He came back into circulation early this year. He had gained weight. And despite that he was still passionate and rough, forceful and dirty and he still loved it when I swallowed.


7) Bc - younger boy I hooked up with through networking site. He'd been bugging me for a while and I only gave in early this year. He was a gym rat, face ain't so pretty though. Mostly he went for force, like it was a race, like we were machines, which would be kind of cool except we weren't really... compatible machines...I think we needed a hardware driver. He was above average in size though, and the roughness was a major turn on at that time. Except it felt so...cold and synthesized and like I was doing a vibrator attached to a firm, smooth and muscled man-shaped object. He still gets #5 for being huge.

6) T - proof that friends can fuck and remain friends. A new experience for me, friends are normally off limits no matter how much I wonder how they are in bed. Still, quite a pleasant surprise. He still hasn't given me a proper, mind-blowing orgasm though. Asshole. Well quickies are restricting.

5) Xn - Ex-sex rocks. 'Nuff said. Though the chemistry we used to have has very obviously dissipated, he can still manage to rock my boat. Though he has gotten fat. He's still long.

4) A - My college lust. Ah Christ. Butter caramel colored skin that was smooth and silky all over. great toned lean body and a face as pretty as a girls. I loved the way he screamed "Oh God" when he came.

3) Ry - Baby boy I have not even begun to post about. There's something about younger boys that just gets me. I don't normally like them, as most young-ish looking males aged 19-21 remind me of my younger brother in some indiscernible way. However I bumped into Ry at just the time when I needed and wanted to break the celibacy cycle and fuck like crazy. And we did. Of course he was really drunk and had to be seduced to get the nerves to do it (we were at a friend's house), but he was very very good. I was sore for 3 days after being slammed, bitten, pressed, pushed and basically almost battered. He knows how to eat pussy and I went home smelling like his mouth, that was basically because he licked me from forehead to knee. And no, it's not as icky as it sounds.

2) H - of course. What year end countdown of mine would be complete without the memorable H. The guy I let fuck my body, mind and emotions. I'm not a victim don't worry, I wanted it to. Old man with huge penis and 17 years of experience. Plus a long tongue and a desire to make up for being a late bloomer.

1) V - he beats out H for 7 reasons: 7 orgasms in one 3 hour fucking marathon. There's no other explanation needed is there?

Got turned out by a young man. Sore all over. Will post more details when I've recovered. My body is sore and I'm marked.

One of the most beautiful vintage pictures I have seen. Nude or otherwise. The composition is brilliant. The light, the angle of her body, her face turned away from the camera, not in shyness but as if she insists her body is in her own possession. This is not a woman objectified, this is a real woman.

Grabbed from Eye Candy Blog.

I pledge to throw off all old sexual sins and mistakes. Remove and obliterate any traces of the naive stupid girl brought up in traditional and conventional Filipino values.

Not that my family is conventional. Hell no.

I'm pulling up all hang-ups and misconceptions by the roots to make way for real and honest sex. Change this whole cycle of misinformation and ignorance that young girls today have. That young Filipina girls have. Fuck the guilt trips and the notions of sex as sin. And the notion that sex has to mean something other than pure unadulterated pleasure.

Sure I'm guilty of that sometimes. God that was one of the greatest mistakes I made this year. Then I am human despite being a mutant.

Fuck tradition and the old guard. Despite the notion that there are a lot of liberated girls are in this country right now they still make the same old mistakes of thinking sex means something. It doesn't have to mean anything. It's free, pure, fluid.

God I feel high.

No more guilt trips and hiding emotions and mixing up and mistakes and shit. Let this be real. Let sex be good and fucking be primal.

Let's spread the love. And never the virus.

Music gets me off. As I've posted earlier. I enjoy it when people communicate through song. I feel like my whole life is a tripped up musical.

I'd rather not have a soundtrack to sex though. I'd much rather hear my own moans when someone's fucking me. That would get me off more than any studio beats could. However music helps get to the point of no fucking turning back.

One of the most annoying things that happened to me during sex actually had music involved with it. I was seeing (fucking) this guy who used to come over to my house a lot. He'd visit me when my parents were out and we'd send our maid on some random unnecessary task and he'd pull me to my room.

This guy was insanely hot. Tall, lanky and my age, which meant I considered him younger than I because I prefer older men. He was a drummer, one of those lost creatures who would never really get their music or band out, the kind I was a sucker for.

Anyway we were fucking and he was playing this hardcore shit like Meshuggah or Behemoth, some thing like that. And we were flying on doobie and he was pounding me really hard and fast and his hips were thrusting in time with the fucking drum beats and I was about to flow and gush. Then his feet got tangled in the electric cord of my player. And...

He. Fucking. Stopped.

Dude went over to the fucking player. Plugged it back in. Searched for the exact tract that was playing and went back on top of me for another go.

I will never forget him. Mostly because of that and the fact he also went whacko on my ass under different circumstances.

Sex Songs now. I've always been asked what song would be good to have sex to. And since my nipples are still hard from getting unceremoniously sucked and nibbled, I wanted to answer that now.

1. Animal by Nine Inch Nails
2. Glorybox by Portishead
3. Rev 22:20 by Puscifer
4. Unpredictable by Jamie Foxx
5. Dito Tayo sa Dilim by Pedicab
6. Turning my Safety Off by Sinosikat
7. Butterfly Carnival by Sandwich (the old one with Marc Abaya)
8. Woman by Maroon 5
9. Moneymaker by Rilo Kiley
10. Are You Gonna Go My Way by Lenny Kravitz

If I ever wanted to be fucked to the tune of any song, these would be it. But I think I might not even realize they're playing once I'm in the zone.

J.G. is dead. I killed her.

Well, not really. Just making a few changes.

The old way was boring. The new way is exciting.

To the few people who know who I really am...shhh....be vewy vewy quiet, I'm hunting rabbits.

Ok, needless to say I had my nipples sucked and bitten at the office restroom this morning. Let's just get that out of the way.

The culprit? Who else but the office flirtation O?

There's really nothing surprising about that. What surprised me was the online conversation after.

We were online and I ragged on him for ripping my top. It wasn't torn, some stitches were just ripped as he pulled my top down to get at my nipples. There weren't any visible holes, the neckline just got a whole lot wider and lower.

I got horny needless to say. Just having both my nipples sucked makes me horny. I know I know some women have more self control, well then don't call me a woman if that makes you more comfortable, all I know is I get horny quickly.

Anyhoo.... I teased him about fucking me, which brings us back to this post way way back in March. He quipped that him fucking me was against the rules. Because sex was out of the question, we were only supposed to tease each other. If we had sex it might ruin our insane, complex and mutually beneficial friendship. I just had a couple of concerns:

1. When did these rules get created? And why did I not become aware that there were actual rules? Sure he always said we wouldn't fuck cos I was (and/or sleeping with one of ) his friend(s). But I wasn't aware there were actual rules.
2. I've had sex with friends. Sure it's messed up some friendships, which is inevitable when one wants more than the other (oh yes listen to me spout that shit now, wisdom I could've used about 3 months ago), but out of the 3 actual friends (meaning people I did consider friends not guys I befriended just so I'd lull them into complacency and use them) that I had sex with it went ok with 2 out of 3. I mean come on, those are good odds right?
3. Uherm, if we're not supposed to have sex, that should include oral sex. He's already come twice in my mouth. And those 2 orgasms were very very good for him. Which is why he's still eager for a repeat blow job. This is very unfair.

Ok, I get the whole friendship thing, because there are just some friends you will never ever sleep with because you just don't ever want to (e.g.: boss Bv, blockmate Fz and org mate Jq), there are also guys you would never want to go there because the friendship is just too special (papa bear Bc [cos he will prolly scold me], sweetie Ml [because he'll prolly confess to Bc about it] and baby boy Cl).

Now the difference between the first and second batch of friends is that the first batch does not arouse me at all. There's something essential missing from them that makes them somehow repulsive to me. I'm not saying they're ugly, I actually have quite few unattractive friends, they just aren't my type.

The second list of names is a bit harder. I actually feel a certain attraction towards these people. These are actually my hot friends. I have actually considered fucking them. And several people actually do think that there's something going on between Ml and I. I wish. Ml's a cutie but no....Nothing like that.

In the movie When Harry Met Sally, Harry hypothesized that a man and a woman can't be friends, because the sex part always gets in the way. But really, there are worse things than having sex with a friend.

You Are a Flashy Red Bra!

Outgoing, friendly, and fascinating. You're a charmer, with your pick of the men. But you want a man who's as magnetic as you are. You need someone who can keep up with your all night gab fests!

Dear friend Mq recently read this blog and complained complained that it's all about H. Which is partly true. And definitely better than complaining that this is all about sex.

To those who remember, this blog was started way back in March of this year to hide the fact that I was fucking with a guy who worked in the same office as I did, the ever horny O. This blog was also created at the suggestion of friend R, who suggested that using an alternate/secret blog for my sexcapades would be better to maintain a certain anonymity when I was pointing fingers to all the fuckers I knew.

The first blog was me coming from a 7 month celibacy. And several things have shaped this blog, mostly the saga and drama of the triumvirate of sex: H, V and O. The first few posts were about O, then some were about V and then several long and winding posts about H that ended in this current state of rehashing and rethinking all my past exploits for the benefit of keeping up a sex blog and to feed my undying sexual desires.

Oh yeah, I am still horny. Hornier than ever, at times of great weakness I even contemplated seeking H for some fucking. Thank God I didn't cos he already had a replacement, er, well, girlfriend really, not a replacement, a return to his previous pre-J life.

When Mq told me that my blog was all about H, it took me a couple of beats before I could counter with "well, yeah you're talking all about D(her ex)". And of course, the ever omnipresent response, "we can't help what we feel".

True, true. Mq called me in a state of high agitation because the new guy she was seeing, a certain Mr, was acting like an asshole. I almost told her what Bv told me, "all men are assholes".

Mq wanted the satisfaction of hitting Mr and hurting him physically. Never really had that, all my revenge fantasies centered on me coming back into random ex-lovers lives and showing them how regretful they really are that they left me, or rather, that I left them. It's weird really, I suddenly realized that I was always the dumper, the one who walks away, the one who leaves, yet I always felt the victim.

I rationalize it by saying that I always left the moment I sensed something was different, or off. But fact of the matter is, I was always the one that walked away. Sure H started being different. X started feeling difficult. All the other guys were giving up and shit got too hard to deal with.

I've stopped feeling it was my fault, and I'd stopped feeling it was their fault as well. Being older, I know that some things will never work, and some things eventually will. That and that I can't help feeling how I feel, and I refuse to feel guilty that I feel horny or angry or loving or affectionate or frustrated or upset or annoyed.

I can be annoyed now and deal with it in my own way. I can be horny now and masturbate. I can remember H and remember how it feels and still feel giddy and happy. I need emotion in my life. Real, raw violent emotion and I am addicted to drama. I don't need sanity really, I want and crave some sort insane thing gripping me.

Feeling something, and having people tell you not to feel that thing doesn't help. It's like a round peg and a square hole. I've been constantly flogged by friends for feeling drawn to X or being awkward around H or hating people. I can't help that.

Give me the satisfaction of feeling how I feel and don't tell me not to feel it. I rarely feel real emotion towards people, please don't take that away from me. Most of the time i just feel bored and agitated and unsatisfied with life. I like drama and I often create it. I coast from moment to moment on a giant wave of emotion and I get drawn to all the wrong people, with all my insane friends and all my weird men and all the fucked up things I go through.

This is life as I like it, messy and entertaining and tiring and painful. I like working a lot. I like doing a lot of things all at the same time. Don't prosecute me for it.

Liking H was good. And continuing to reminisce that feeling without acting on it, while at the same time accepting that it's over is fine. I can't help how I feel. Deal with it.

Sure I'm guilty of the same thing, when people are overindulgent and wallow in misery and self-pity, I mostly tell them to get off their lazy asses and stop it. I do it too.

But I will work harder and stop feeling guilty. And I will be less hard on other people.

Is it abnormal to masturbate to completion 3 times a day? I mean, is that so wrong?

Some guys are amazed that I do this. It's not common for girls I think. Hell I still know girls who don't even know how to masturbate, which is very very sad. There's nothing wrong with masturbation, or self-love or rubbing one out. It's very stimulating and relaxing and relieves stress. If I don't do it at least once a day I get very very cranky and annoyed and upset. Whenever I have events that entitle me to share a room and bathroom with other people for a long time, the first thing I do when I get to my own room is fuck myself.

I don't do it with toys or implements. I have two hands after all. Though I may some day invest in a good vibrator just to see what it's like. I have experimented with a mini massager that is somehow like a small bullet vibe, but it's still quite different.

I started masturbating when I was about...well...I'm not quite sure...11 or 12 I guess. I stumbled across a book that was stashed somewhere in the house. The book was old, the pages were brown and the covers were torn off. My favorite position then was lying on top of a long pillow, my body nestled perfectly in that softness, as I read whatever books I could get my hands on.
This particular book was very naughty. It was an adult romance novel, where I originally thought the word "loins" was a typo for lions and could not imagine why people would feel a burning in the king of the jungle.

I read the book, becoming more and more interested the longer I read. Soon I felt a warmth spreading somewhere, that place that people apparently called loins. It seemed almost natural to rub my pussy against the pillow and rock my body gently. Back and forth and back and forth caressing my then hidden flower. It felt good so I kept doing it faster and faster, the book forgotten. Then the sparks came, the electricity shooting from the center of my body racing down my legs and coursing through my arms. That started it.

I started searching for those discarded tabloids in the house, the ones that had those similar passages in sleazier terms. In fact the sleaze had a harder effect on me. I guess because they were so taboo and base that I kept coming and coming and feeling those waterfalls of diamonds and waves of pleasure the adult novels kept referring to.

I got older and started experimenting with my hands. Using a mirror to stare at my pussy, shaving all my pubic hair off, tracing the folds of my labia, playing with my nipples, at one point licking my own nipples (I used to be able to reach them with my tongue, now I can't cos they got smaller when I lost weight, damn), finding all my sensitive spots, my wrists, of course my nipples, my thighs, certainly my clit.

Porn still doesn't do it for me. I bookmarked an erotica site so that I could access their stories 24/7. Sure they're written by amateurs and some of them suck but some are really good. I also have stored erotica by Anne Rice that can give me what I want. Some porn turns me on, not all of it though. I'd rather use my imagination sometimes.

O once asked me what I think of when I touch myself. Aside from erotica, I think about people I've fucked or people I would like to fuck. At this point I rarely fantasize about celebrities. I'd rather wonder, or remember, how it's like to fuck people. But I like rehashing escapades. H still visits me at night, so does V and X and O and K and sometimes I imagine F or A.

I love masturbating, it's one of the last things I do at night and often the first thing I do in the morning. It's exhilarating. At least when I do it myself I control it. I own it. That orgasm is mine. No one else to share it with. No one who has to come too. I don't have to worry about any other person just me. Selfish I know. But I really really love it.

And the masturbation doesn't stop when I'm in a regular sexual relationship. I think I masturbated more when I was seeing people regularly. When I was still sleeping with V, I'd enjoy reliving our experiences over and over and pushing them to new heights. Same with X and H and all the others.

Once, before I started sleeping with him, H told me he'd fantasize about me in the shower but he might objectify me, I told him to go ahead cos I was used to it. He thought I got offended. I didn't. I know full well men masturbate cos I do. I know they think about people who may not necessarily think of them the same way but I accept that, I do. If I pass by a hot guy and eye contact is established even briefly, he will make an appearance in my nighttime stroke session. I know guys do it too, so what's the fuss?

During a recent chat with O, he said that he wanted to fuck me but can't so he'd just masturbate thinking about me. I said that was fine. Because I have masturbated thinking about him. There's nothing wrong with that.

Masturbation is ultimately very very different from sex. Because it's all about fantasy, you being in yourself, loving yourself, even if you use someone else's face and body in your mind to fulfill it. God I love masturbation. And I pity all the girls who have never tried it.

As my friend E pointed out, this song played twice as we were leaving the Den early early Saturday morning.

Now, some people say that actions speak louder than words. I say actually looking for a song on an iPod playlist and playing it loudly through speakers says a whole lot more. This is the iPod generation's version of that scene in Say Anything wher John Cusack stands outside a girl's window with a boombox.


H is no stranger to using music to lull me. I am a beast after all. And it is his Den.

The first time we were going to have sex he played a song with lines that went, "All I wanna do is make love to you..." and whenever I remember that I just get a smile on my face remembering his scrawny ass lip synching and doing a pseudo interpretative dance. During the times when he was still trying to charm his way into my pussy he would always ask me what songs I liked to hear. He'd play Divinyls I Touch Myself, Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name and lots of random songs. He did say he got used to my insane facial expressions whenever I would hear a song I liked or one that reminded me of something.

My ex was the same. We got into weird duets after we broke up, the J.Lo and Ja Rule "Ain't it Funny", the Jay-Z and Beyonce "Bonnie and Clyde" and yes once when I asked him what he was doing, he pressed his phone against some speakers and I heard the line, "cos I'm dying inside...and nobody knows it but me". X was the same guy who insisted I listen to My Immortal by Evanescence and really really wanted me to like You're Beautiful by James Blundt because it was about unrequited love.

That being said, I like music. And it says more for me than words or actions ever can. Mostly because my words and actions really have conflict with the way I feel. And I really like inappropriate guys who like music too. Though admittedly X was way hotter than H but H was a whole lot smarter and older but X kinda treated me better and now my whole comparison is shit.

Anyway, I've been chatting with O and I teased him that i went back to Den cos I knew that by the time we weren't colleagues anymore in the same office and I wanted to see him all I had to do was say "Den" and he'd agree to meet me. It's true. I adore O. It's insane to think I do because sometimes he belittles me and he thinks I am a whore and he pimped me to all his friends and attempted to pimp me some more but I have to admit he is charming and funny and has good business sense.

I want to remain friends with him. However, the evil Bv's get-out-of-jail-free card statement "It's a sign of maturity to be friends with ex lovers"does not invoke in me a desire to be friends with H. Or to start hanging out at Den regularly.

I do not care for blanket definitions of maturity. And I do not want to be friends with H. Sure. I will miss him. He is a funny and amusing guy. But he cares nothing for me. Not including the whole care=I wanna fuck your brains out department. Fuck-my-brains-out he wanted. The whole curiosity of I-wonder-what's-going-on-with-this-girl-why-is-she-depressed care, that was what was missing.

I reserve the right to talk about my experiences with him, they are my experiences. I reserve the right to laugh and remember the funny feelings I felt when I was with him. But I know that nothing, even if he gained weight or stopped wearing guyliner or started acting age appropriate, not even because he's smart or witty or funny, none of that, will make me want to be his friend anytime soon.

O I adore. H? Nah. I will have to deal with him. But I don't have to like him. Not anymore or never again or as a friend.

I can't even deal with some of my current friends how do I deal with someone who never was one?

Still in Six Feet Under mode. Watching all the episodes I never got to watch cos I was always too busy to watch them when the series was actually still running.

Claire used the term Cracking Open My Eye. It was something her art teacher told her she needed to do. A new way of seeing things. What I need is a new way of living life, of feeling.

I was supposed to go to a Tattoo Expo somewhere with E but I got pissed off pretty early cos I fired my driver. Well, he was an idiot who was getting to comfortable by stealing money and never being available and overall generally irresponsible.

I ended up in a mall with E and buying some books and watching a movie and getting generally pissed off because it was hot and traffic was hell.

The movie was ok. Blah. It was Elizabeth: The Golden Age and the books were As Seen on TV and The Astrological Diary of God. Book sale books that I haven't even read yet.

What I learned is that I am a bit unhappy with how my life was going. It's not so much where it is now, where I am now is a long way from where I was a year ago. Even the fact that I actually ended up feeling for a guy, albeit the wrong guy, is a bit of a breakthrough. The unhappiness stems from the fact that I am very very vague and confused and scared where this life is going.

Then I had this realization, I need a new way to live, I need to crack open my soul. Figure out my way through life. Do what I really want to do, live how I want to live. Pursue my passions, my dreams my fantasies. Fuck who I want to fuck. Write what want to write.

I realized how stupid pining over H was. When we first met, he was still with his then-and-now-again girlfriend. And it is possible that he broke up with her in the 2 days between then and when he asked O for my number. The point is that, well, I didn't want him then. And O was right I knew H wasn't relationship material.

I think I've been using him as an excuse to feel. To grieve to bitch and moan. I don't want excuses anymore. I need to crack open my soul.

I realized I've been stupid for being pissed off that some of my friends are losers. That some of them are trying to fuck people who will never fuck them. It pisses me off that some of them have zero personality and are boring and that hey upset me with their petty mistakes and their close mindedness and their insecurities and their faults and beliefs and their pretensions and their nasty gritty real life errors.

They are human. And though I may be hard on myself I don't need to be hard on them. Granted that I already change friends and leave out ones that feel like they are too ugly or needy or broken or dirty or too much work. Ever searching for the elusive perfect and nice and wonderful friends who are attractive and ambitious and talented and creative. Well there's no one like that. Not that I know of anyway.

I should also get used to the fact that men will think whatever they want to think about me. No matter what I'm wearing no matter what I do or say or try or how I act. They will always think I am difficult and weird and insane or stereotypical or slutty or bitchy or bratty.

I can change and be nicer, a sanitized version of myself, a shadow of who I currently am. Maybe, then maybe I could be content. Make it easier on myself and everyone else around me by being satisfied.

Then I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't be hungry or needy or wanting things. I'd just be another typical girl working a job that I care nothing for but pays my bills and waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up at the end of work each day and then taking me home.

Blah blah blah blah blah. I'm such a whiner.

My soul needs to be cracked open. Open. Like a shell. I need to remove all these fears and face all these demons. I need to exorcise my old and defective beliefs.

Well yes. Bv is now evil.

Funny how you start to avoid certain places things and people and it acquires this monumental image in your life. That was the kind of insane twisted place that bar where I met H,V and O took in my mind.

For fun, let's just take a moment to actually give a name to the bar. I'm sick and tired of referring to it as the place where I hooked up with so many guys who I ended up fucking. Let's call it the Den. Like Den of Lions or Dominatrix Den or something like that.

So I have avoided the Den since I stopped seeing H. It was part self preservation part moping.

Last night started out like a typical Friday. I was supposed to go with E and Bv to a club where I could dance and get my groove on. Shit hit the fan when this upscale bar we wanted to hit was closed for renovation. Actually there was already an upgraded bar, which meant more expensive. We tried to go to another bar, but it was....not conducive for dancing. We ended up in line for another bar.

In line, there was this Arabic dude who kept giving me the eye. He looked at me from head to toe and I guess he was waiting for me to acknowledge him. I didn't. Bv and E were whining. I suddenly said, "I have a really evil thought, let's go to Den."

Now, O has recently brought up the chance of me going to Den and seeing H again. I've been worried about it, since I was about to resign and I wanted to remain friends with O. I adore O. Regardless of the whole crazy groping and sexual thing. I want to remain friends with him for a very long time.

However friendship with O meant I would eventually have to learn to be friendly, or at the very least, civil with H and possibly V. V is not a problem. He was the one who got weird after he got a girlfriend. V. well now. That's totally different.

I'd gone back to Den after I stopped seeing H. But that was on a night when I was sure he wouldn't be there.

So last night, I asked C where he was. And he said he was at another club but that he was gonna hit Den after. So Bv, E and I decided to go to the club where C was. We left and got into the car. As our car was passing by the front of the club we had just decided to leave, I saw the Arabian guy. And he growled at me. Think Simba gone horribly wrong. It was really gross.

On the way to the club where C was, Bv started telling me to face my demons for Christmas and try to see H and face him and suck it up and deal with it.

So we went. And H was there. His new girlfriend was there. V was there. V's girlfriend was there. And eventually C was there with a girl who might eventually but is currently not his girlfriend.

H was trying to be nice. It's funny. I have no actual desire to be friends with H. I know someday I would have to deal with him if I want to be friends with O.

I felt really queasy about going. I didn't want to look at him. Sure we spoke. I thought I was fine. But Bv has just pointed out that I was trying to be standoffish and cool. He said I was trying too hard.

A part of me wanted to go to Den. Partly because I knew I looked hot last night. it was a pretty good hair day.

Good thing Bv's friends came. 3 guys and a girl. The girl was really hot. She admitted being bi and I just felt this insane energy and I wanted her.

The guys were cute too. Somehow they all looked like someone I'd slept with.

I thanked Bv for bringing me. It was cathartic and final and just insanely finished.

Bye bye H. Bye bye meaningless sexual conquests of Den. Bye bye V and the rest and everyone who knew I'd had sex with a lot of people from there. Den is just another bar. I don't see what the big deal was.

Wednesday Sexy Time.

Sometimes, when you decide to take a break from the scene and just relax for a while, you get off on something that seems innocent but really isn't. There's a scene in Queer as Folk US where Brian Kinney and a hot intern pass by each other in the hallway and they make intense, smoldering eye contact. Brian tells Mikey afterward that he had sex with that intern in that one look. That's what flirting is. Not the sex part really. But a brain flexing its muscles and checking what another brain can do. It's mental...like sex for brains.

You feel caresses not given and read the other person's mind. There's some touching, some groping, some grabbing, but it's all done with the eyes. Not the words, not the hands, just the eyes.

I've seen how other people flirt with each other. There's a similarity in the way girls look at a guy they're flirting with. That kind of open eyed teasing thing most girls do. And some girls do it with slanted half closed lids, their heads bent down, staring at another guy sideways, then there lips curve slowly in a half smile.

Men respond to it. Especially if the girl is hot. But mostly they respond to it because the thought that a woman is currently imagining doing dirty things to them turns them on. Men like to think women can and will have sex with them whenever they wish. In their minds they are all in search of the elusive perfect fuck buddy. The girl who is hot, never wants relationships, doesn't talk too much, always ready and never gets her period at the wrong time. They also imagine a woman who wants to have sex with them all the time.

Flirting is best done simply and playfully, never too agessive. Agressive fliro eting makes me think that a guy thinks this is a hunt, and I am some deer the lion wants to eat alive. The eating is not my problem. The eating would be heavenly. But the whole testosterone fueled anger and rage behind it is not.

Playful light and cerebral is how flirting should be done. There are several different styles employed by most players I know. They all mostly have 1 thing in common, they make girls comfortable with the player, they make girls feel safe and at home. H and C have this down to a science. And yes, older dudes do play better than younger ones. They already have a fixed style, one that suites them.

The whole funny self deprecating humor of H serves him well in making women feel at home, though the dropping of pants highly depends on a girls tolerance for skin and bones. C's happy-go-lucky late night show host focus makes women want to hug him like he's her best friend yet also makes them want to see what it's like to wrap her legs around those dancing hips.

There are also guys who are funny and know how to talk to girls yet do not inspire much pant dropping. And also men who cannot for the life of them flirt yet end up getting laid almost everyday. B is nice and yes he knows how to treat girls yet he is too nice to be thought of as a fuck buddy. Women who play think of him as a guy who is too nice to play with, but I guess that depends on your liking for kimchi. O is funny and quite often rude and insensitive, yet his charm is an acquired taste that not everyone will welcome. V rarely talks, but when he talks, it is always intense and teaing and he is hot enough to get away with saying things like "I want to fuck you" on a regular basis. F is too nice, yet when he bends his head and smiles at me from underneath his long bangs with his eyes peeking playfully, it makes me wonder what it is like to fuck him, makes me want to try to fuck his brains out. Dear M who is beefy and has exquisite features, gets away with his funny and sweet nature as well as looking pretty while women fall all over him. A says so many things yet it is his eyes that made me want to wrap press my body against his.

Do I have a flirting style? One that works? Admittedly, I still do not dare approach a guy or girl out of the blue and try to generate a conversation or a connection out of thin air. In clubs I dance, if someone talks to me and I like how they appear to be, I respond. If not I try to smile as politely as I can and shoo them away.

I had some fun groping with O Wednesday. Despite everything it was still clean harmless fun. I do not take these little things seriously. Like I keep explaining to concerned friends, flirting with O is a natural consequence of being 2 horny people who are friends.

Sometimes I think I like the flirting more than the post sex talk. Flirting is better than foreplay. The verbal sparring pales in comparison to the body language. The way a man holds his body against a woman he wants to bed. The way women tilt their heads and cross their legs. Hands straying. Eyes maintaining contact.

See when I flirt with someone, in my mind, I've already fucked them. And it is the chemistry I see with my mind's eye that makes me decide whether to go ahead or stand down.

Having guys check out my ass makes me wet too. Yes, this self imposed hiatus is working out just fine. Gotta fine tune the engines for now.

Yes I still haven't gotten laid. Which is kind of sad, yet kind of...blah.

Anyway, just because I haven't been knocking boots with anyone doesn't mean I'm deprived of sex. Human warmth yes, but sex no. Let me sing "I have two hands, the left and the right..."

Anyway, one of the greatest things I miss about having sex with another person is the interaction, two creatures feeding off each other's energy like any creative partnership. Of course having someone on top of you and pounding the living hell out of you is one of the greatest experiences, it's just so primal, so real and so honest. Of course, being humans, it all ends up being more than that, but hey, that's missing the point.

Sex Talk is brilliant. I've heard men say the best and worst things during sex. Men aren't that smart, granted, add a naked woman, a bed, and a warm tight glove enveloping their penises and brains fly right out the window.

Eloquent men get me though. Men who fuck me with words. Daaaamn. But everyone can slip. Even though I have that rule where I don't believe things men say to me in bed, they still pretty much stick and serve to heighten, or bring down, the experience.

Here are some of the best and some of the worst things men have said during sex:

WORST:

5) Did you come already? (times 5 or more)

I appreciate the fact that they care enough to ask. Men can be pretty clueless about these things. When it's so obvious that they already want to spew and they're impatiently waiting for me to come so they can get their turn. It's like a kid whining in the backseat, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" ad infinitum.

4) Do you want to be on top/on your hands and knees/change position?

Being polite is nice when we are outside in the real world, but when we are in a hot steamy room fucking each other's brains out in an old, beautiful and primal dance which was the way of our ancestors, politeness is not only unnecessary but a let down. I want to be taken, TAKEN, so take me. I once had a man tell me to climb on top of him, while that didn't make the list below, it's still way more desirable than, do you wanna?


3) You like that?

Like most things in the list, there could be a way and a type of guy to say this and sound sexy. But often it only comes out insecure where they're not sure what they're doing is right.It's nice to be considerate, I appreciate the effort, but it's just sooo...unsure. Women give cues that what men do are good, especially me with my loud moaning, so please, try to figure it out and get tips.

2) Thank you.

Am I a whore that just finished a service for you? Was that a fuck or a favor? Might as well give me some cash rather than make me feel like what happened was an obligation with a "thank you".

1) Want me to fuck your mom?

It might work in porn, but no. Not for me.


BEST

5) Oh you are a bad girl. (said in smug voice)

Perfect as he massages my ass while doggy fucking.

4) Does J love to fuck?

Questions about sex where he refers to me in the third person. Priceless. Especially when I'm wildly bouncing on his cock.

3) Oh God you're gonna make me come so fast.

It makes me feel like I am the hottest thing out there. Of course if a guy says this, he has to make sure I'm gonna come fast too. But hearing the effect you have on someone may be one of the fastest ways to make girls come.

2) I want to watch you come while you're on top of me.

Straight. Blunt. Direct to the point. And yet hot and expectant with a promise of an orgasm.

1) Tell me what you want.

Sure I like to be taken. But a man who can pull off saying this in a husky and commanding voice that just whispers in my ear as he teases me with his cock barely touching my pussy is goddamn amazing.

I have been sleep deprived for some time now. Several days which stretch out to weeks which turns into months. Its working 2 jobs. And writing/ blogging/ watching my DVDs and reading.

But amazingly, I was able to hit some serious REM stage shuteye last night. I ended up dreaming about recently reunited best friend E. In the dream E had one of her infamous breakdowns and jumped off a bridge into a river to emerge naked. Yes it made no sense. But some words of Dream E stayed with me. "Since you know how I am you wouldn't be surprised if I did this'" she said before she jumped.

And yes Dream E was right. I was used to her crap. I used to worry about her. Now I don't. I guess I've stopped caring.

Girls have this weird insane thing called friendship. A friendship between women is intense and emotional and sexual and painful all at the same time. I've honestly had sex dreams about all my really good girl friends. And the sex dreams were very realistic.

I've also ragged on almost all my friends at one point in time. About how they treated me, how they really weren't as pretty as they thought they were. About what they were doing wrong with their lives.

Girls have this whole weird plethora of hate and envy and anger and jealousy that never really comes out. Boys have this too. But they resolve it pretty quickly with a fistfight. Girls either ignore it or get over it.

I'm sure I'm not the only one like this. My friends have all at one point or another made snide remarks about my weight, my looks and my life. And yes I envy people who can live in complete and total harmony.

However. My girls are fierce, messed up and slightly psychotic creatures who have some self esteem issues and a lot of self love. Some friction is understandable.

Given I am watching the entire 5 seasons of Six Feet Under once again, and am in the middle of season 1, I am suddenly confronted with the very real evidence of my taste in insane men: Billy Chenowith.

For those who are familiar with the quirky series, Billy Chenowith is the manic-depressive brother of Brenda, Nate's girlfriend at the beginning of the TV series.

Billy Chenowith is insane. Clinically diagnosed as insane. Well, to be politically correct, he is a clinically diagnosed manic depressive. And also bipolar.

I wanted him so bad when I first saw him throw a temper tantrum on Six Feet Under. I had sex dreams for days.

God I loved seeing Billy on that show. There are so many reasons for me to like him. All my weird little things on the checklist.

Older. Check!

Insane. Check!

Really messy hair. Check!

Scruffy looking. Check!

And I'm seeing him again now that my hormones are all shooting up and I can't keep up with all this horniness. I once said that the ideal man will be a mix of H and V. And I just realized if that fusion could really happen, that mixture would turn out like Billy Chenowith: deranged, perpetually high, talented, intelligent and very very sexy.

I miss being a hub of sex. I miss walking into a bar and knowing that I've had sex with at least 2 people in the place.

I have no idea why. Well, I guess I do. The notoriety, the rep that makes me wanna wring my hands. I miss the drama I guess. Or the perceived drama.

Yes I am a drama queen. I think one of the reasons I've been bored is because I'm no longer fucking anyone, I'm no longer wondering if I really really like someone, I'm no longer tortured because someone I liked doesn't like me enough, I'm no longer wondering if I should sleep with a friend, or if I should sleep with a friend in again.

I've stayed away from regular hotspots. But even when I went anywhere, I'd just crawl in my shell. I can't be like other people, like cool dude C, free, carefree and careless.

I don't know if I just want to get laid or if I want to get out or I want to flirt or I want to date. I don't know.

I kinda miss being with someone. Talking. Laughing. I guess I've been missing those things since I started sleeping with H, which signaled the end of the "wooing" period.

Yes yes, in the end H did treat me like a two-bit whore, but hey, we had a nice ride. It wasn't that bad. I was mostly taking care of things for us, but it was what I wanted to do. When a guy I want to have sex with can't spring for a room, I'll pay for the freakin room. And yes, I have done that for H.

I guess the boring thing is that everything gets old after a while. Like I keep telling our youngest mah jong playing friend (my baby boy), you get into this whole cycle of wanting sex and getting a whole lot of sex, so much that it consumes you, it seems to define you, you indulge in it, revel in it and love it. That sex is great. it's mind blowing, earth shattering, orgasm inducing delicious yummy tingles. With a variety of partners of course. Then the shift comes and you just stop wanting it.

Then you stop going out and stay home and just relaaaaax. Start being celibate. Wear clothes that are a bit more conservative. Get bored when you're out.Then you start wanting it again.

And it goes on and on and on. It never really stops. We always want what we can't have. And life always catches up with us.

I guess I just really really miss non-self induced orgasms. I miss the feel of a man's skin (which feels really different from women's skin).

Or I really am just bored.

Or maybe I am insane.

Blah Blah Blah.

I am acting like a ditz.

The thing about lookism that separates it from all the other isms is that its something people practice everyday. From the hair stylist we choose at the salon to how much we tip our waiters, to how we react to our colleagues and superiors, to the way we smile at service crew, all this is influenced.

In a Discovery Channel special hosted by Elizabeth Hurley, scientists theorized that people are now judged by looks because we are no longer in an interactive and engaged community. We are surrounded by strangers who we judge primarily by looks.

Being a type-A lookist, I am obsessed with how people look and how I look. On a good day I think I'm interesting looking, on a bad day I think I look basically like a fat slob.

Well yes, it's a good thing I'm as hard on everyone else as I am on myself. If the standards we apply to everyone else we apply to ourselves, then we would all be hot, gorgeous, tight tasty people.

And yes, I need to work out more. I also know that I need to get out of this self indulgent funk brought about by depressed episodes, heartbreak, birthday celebration and miscellaneous other confusing conundrums. And I admit I kinda look like shit.

It's funny though. How looks matter. I get a thrill when i get checked out. Tuesday night I went to a restaurant/bar K with T and B, and I was wearing this all pink ensemble: pink polo shirt, pink skirt with a ribbon near my crotch. A guy there kept looking at my ribbon.

I get a thrill whenever I'm checked out. By strangers, by friends, by lovers. I know it's a hormone thing mostly, any woman gets checked out by guys. Any passably attractive woman can get laid if she wants to.

The thrill in being checked out is feeling guys turned on, just seeing the wheels turning in their heads as they do that quick assessment. Women do it to. In less than 3 minutes, you can imagine someone naked, imagine how they'd feel in your arms, in your mouth, in your hand, try to taste them, smell them , hear them in your mind and gauge how far things could go if you actually tried making a pass at them.

I always do that evaluation. Most of the time the evaluation holds true. Sometimes no so. Guys just make me tingly. Hold some mystery. Make me so damn hot. Weirdly enough they seem to affect me more the less I see them. Relative strangers, guys that I'm just starting to get to know. It's the whole wondering what it would be like that makes me wet at night.

And yes looks are a big factor. Sorry nice guys, you guys are fun to talk to, nice friends but basically sex won't be an issue. At least it won't ruin the friendship.

There are certain things you do without thinking. If you're like me, then there are a lot of things you do without thinking, hoping against hope that initial instinct will prove right in the end...or not, and ride out the consequences.

There are very few regrets in my life. I've always enjoyed everything I've done. Including all the embarrassing ones. Such as the ones I'll list down here. These things aren't just embarrassing, they are things that literally shock me into disbelief whenever I remember that I was able to do all these goddamn things.

I was recently talking with an officemate R, a guy I never really got to be close close with. (Heck, possibly the only officemate I consider myself close to at this point is O. I'm not big on friendship. Hehehe.)

(Had to narrow the list to 10. This may be a 5 part post. All with 10 items each in the "I Can't Believe..." list.)

10)Had sex in public at White Beach, Galera with another couple about 3-4 feet away. Yes, has cliché written all over it. (Add to that the fact that the guy was a bartender I met there. It definitely was.)

9)Macked on friends. Rather, I let friends mack on me. At the same time. In the same bar. I mean, it just kinda felt evil...made me feel dirty...and very very very horny I must admit.

8)Let someone utter the words, "Want me to fuck your mom?" during sex. Ok. This seems like kind of a big deal. But since I have a personal policy to disregard everything that is said during, 15 minutes before and 15 minutes after the sex act (making the previously uttered "tang ina ang sarap mo" and "tang ina ang libog mo" and "did you miss me?" statements null and void too), makes some sense. In fairness to the guy, we did interact for quite a while and he was quite decent and never really did pursue my mom. But still. I could've just said, "Get the fuck off me" or "You seem to have a small penis".

7) Engaged in sex while my brother was sleeping in the same room. I refuse to use the excuse that I was drunk, because I wasn't. I was sleepy...and it was a threesome. I think I caused irreparable damage to my baby brother.

6) Made out with a manorexic guyliner-wearing dude in several public places. Ok. I really really liked him. But then I realized I made out with him at Starbucks, Brothers Burger, several cabs and 2 bars. The bars and the cab understandable. But a fast food restaurant?! And a coffee shop?! I must've really liked the fucker.

5) Let an FB take pictures of me in my underwear. Given he's apparently working on a cruise ship now. I guess sailor's have me to thank for their sweet wet dreams.

4) Puked during a first date. I know my alcohol tolerance is low. I know my pot tolerance is low. Damn. I still did it.

3) Fondled and let myself be fondled in a tiny office. No clothes were taken off, all touching was through denim or cotton. But still. We could've gotten caught. Fuck.

2) Gave someone a blowjob underneath the covers when 2 other people were sleeping in the next bed. Oh God.

1) Got a hand job while I was in training with at least 30 other people. Oh yeah, and with only a jacket to cover us. And people suspected. And the trainer actually told us to "behave". Yeah right.

Impulsive, brash J. Yep. Don't regret any of this. But when I remember these things, I get to thinking, wtf, do I even know myself anymore? Damn.

On the TV series The L Word, most of the plot points refer to the legendary Chart.



The chart is composed of the complicated, intricate and beautiful entanglements between people who have sex with each other. According to character Alice Pieszecki, everyone is sleeping with everyone else. And these constant connection and dissolution of bonds.



In real life, I've realized that this is probably true. Though a real life chart would be virtually impossible, given that people would most probably be ashamed and the person doing the adding would become pretty obvious.

What would a chart look like if it connected me to all the boys I've slept with? All, oh, all 24 of them? There would be multiple arrows near my name. I'd be like Shane from The L Word.

I bet it would be funny to know that my old entanglements connect me to the daughter or a Filipino music icon, a very very rich yet supposedly psycho bitch, a cutter (about 3x), several patrons of a certain bar, a nice girl member of a youth activist group, a seemingly nice girl ex-classmate, apparently a member of the Sex Bomb Dancers (or so he said), Bicolana strangers, some patrons of a club at The Fort and several other unknown women and/or men (especially if I include all people I've been somehow sexually connected with, not just the people I've been banging).

Being really curious may have something to do with it, but I guess I'm definitely curious who I'm connected with. It's like Friendster and Multiply only more fun, because there are very tangible and real connections involved.

On the chart, people aren't connected by ambiguous yet pretty words like "friend", "co-worker", "colleague", or "parent". In the chart people are connected by being lovers or having sex or fucking or making love or being fuck buddies (and yes there are minute and infinitesimal differences between all those terms).

Come to think of it, the chart can connect me on a first degree basis to at least 72 people who I don't even know. 72 is a very conservative estimate based on the assumption that each of the 24 people I've slept with and fucked have been with only 3 people (which I seriously doubt, I bet based on these people as I know them, I'm probably connected with 720 people).

And while I bet this should somehow bother me, it really doesn't. I know people who've had mutual exes and I've had mutual FBs with other people. It's not anything evil or insane or weird. These entanglements are what make life interesting. Interconnections, damn, you never know how small the world is till you meet someone who fucked someone you fucked about 10 years ago.

And yes, I am an L Word addict.

...I realized that:

H was really just looking for someone to fuck

People who don't want to be your friend will not really be your friend.

Some relationships are really just fleeting and meant to pass by.

We all have to move on.

Like all relationships, friendships have to be worked on.

Two people must be friends to establish a friendship.

Men who do not want relationships will come up with the most rational and logical reasons.

All emotions will eventually pass.

Daydreams will not change reality.

But ideas can change reality.

Thinking about something is only half the battle.

Sex will always remain sexy in my mind.

Everyone is prone to thinking that they could and realizing they couldn't.

I am not weak for liking someone.

I am not weak for feeling.

Life goes on.

What are the signs you're life is stagnated, boring and other wise dull? Well, other people literally won't see it. They would think the ennui of working middle class people is not typically seen as a great concern. It is seen as a direct and often predictable result of being a rat in a rat race, a member of a capitalist-consumerist society.

Still, how do you decipher that this boredom is real and means that you should move on, move away, move up or just goddamn move.

1) You are always late. Because things bore you you no longer bother to show up on time for them. This applies to dates, work, gimiks etc... The frustration of another person no longer matters. Who cares if that person has been waiting for ages just to have drinks with you? Would you really give a flying fuck if the company is losing money by you not being prompt? Who gives a fuck?

2) You notice all people's flaws. The petty crap. The annoying extreme campy gayness (yes though I adore gay people grating screams of temper tantrums are just not my thing). The cheezyness, the rudeness, the lack of etiquette and proper decorum. Even if I am normally not normal, life still would be better if I were not privy to all this opportunistic lack of essence and substance.

3) Always tired/bored/sleepy/hungry. Yes boredom can lead heavily into emotional eating and the like. This basically means there is nothing to look forward to, nothing excites you. Yet often your body stays wired, ready and taut. But nothing ever happens. This insane overflow of static energy will cause you at times to leap out of your skin.

4) Escapism. Alcohol. Again food. Sex. Blow Jobs. Hunting. Clubbing. Drugs. All these mean something. It means your life is so boring for you that you have to manufacture drama to keep it entertaining.

5) Well. Just plain boredom. Bored out of your skull. Your status message on YM says you're bored. You constantly check Friendster and Multiply and you have www.addictinggames.com bookmarked. You have 4 or more blogs that are constantly updated. You are up to date on all weird and entertainment news

So what does this all mean. It's time to go away. Leave. Change. Move on.

O,
I am sorry I never got to do it with you. It seemed like something worth trying at least just once. I am still curious. But our friendship and the progress we've made with that friendship is something I treasure more than what would have been a fleeting and temporary instant of sexual gratification.

You are insane and sometimes offensive yet you bring out the best and worst in me. I thank you for bringing me into your world. Your bar. I know it was begrudgingly and sometimes you regret doing so, yet meeting H, and yes, even V, and seeing C again were opportunities of a lifetime. I have become more myself and definite in life because of you. You have taught me many things and I know your business acumen is very very precious. I treasure you even though you never really treasured me.

Your life is something I am happy to be privy to.

V,
Yes. Thank you for letting me experience 6 orgasms in one night. Thank you for nurturing the masochist in me. For letting me feel pain. And letting me know what a rim job and anal sex feel like. I can sometimes still feel you. I miss you fucking me. Even though you have a girl now. I sometimes still want you. Even when I was seeing H I still wanted to have sex with you. You were the ultimate uncomplicated sex partner.

H,
I still regret that we had something less than what we could've had. Yet I know it's the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I needed you to let me feel pain. I needed to want you and not get you and feel messed up and take time for myself. I needed to feel. And I felt pain after you. I felt all tingly and tight and horny and then I felt warm and like shit and so dirty.

You made me feel.

And that is something I will never forget. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't been gracious and nice and intelligent and everything.

I know now we could never ever be anything other than just fuck buddies. We would've started killing each other once we were tied up and we would've been dead in two weeks time. And I know now I could not take the lifestyle you have and it is best that you are back with M and I know you are happy as you deserve to be.

I occasionally miss you and sometimes I still want you yet the main feeling is relief that I realized, faster than I knew before, that it was time to leave.

I will stop blaming myself for being too distant or closed off, because I knew you wanted things that way. Because you were also closed off and often distant.

B (DiVirginizer),
You. Made me. Bleed. Very very badly. Because I wanted it. I liked it. You were the first. I liked you so much. Despite the fact that you were not that hot and not that good (something I realized years later). I liked you because you liked me. And you were sincere.

I pushed you away. Though I think you were confused at that time too. I didn't exactly encourage you. I'd always been detached and lost and I felt that I did not want to nor need to be with anyone. And I saw you again after several years and pretended not to know you even when you were my first fuck, first love, first heartbreak.

I think you taught me the fine points of dealing with someone you loved yet could not love. Unrequited love. What a beauty.

You told me off later. Said I pushed you away that you wanted to be with me yet I felt the need to blow all that up and run away while still being near enough to make out.

N (X),
Thank you. Just plain thank you. For everything.

Emotions flooded me whenever I was with you. I became overwhelmed with a barrage of feeling that I haven't really felt since. I always felt different when I was with you. Like I was a little bit weird. Like I was in love. And I was. I loved you. And I loved loving you. I even loved being in pain after you. I haven't given myself freedom to feel since then. I've never been that into someone else. Despite the others being more handsome, better, bigger, smarter, richer, more suited to me than you. I just have never allowed myself to abandon all control the way I did when I was with you.

P (2 or 3 year FB),
My longest relationship. I guess because you loved nothing more than cunnilingus. I also guess it was because we were uncomplicated and just simple. We had sex. Just sex. No strings attached. Just that. Fucking. No pretensions of anything else.

It was time to leave when I did walk away from our little thing. I mean, you were getting old. You were having difficulty keeping up. And while that would've been ok with someone I actually liked, FBs who had difficulty keeping up weren't really desirable.

A (college lust),
I'd always wondered what it would be like to fuck you. And fate gave me that chance to figure it out and finally experience it. Finally I could have it and let you fuck me and hear you shout "Oh God" as you came. I finally got to touch your smooth soft butter caramel colored skin. And see your face. Near and near and near and very very pretty. I got to see you look at me as you asked me to hold you.

F (nice boy),
Maybe. Just maybe. In time. I might be ready for nice boys like you.

So ok. I am.

Haven't gotten any action in 5 weeks. Yes H was the last.

I'm still tempted to make nice with him just so I can scratch this itch I've been feeling. Yet I am resisting.

Mostly because I know it's a bad trap to fall into again. He is like a bottomless pit. You keep expecting the pain yet it never comes, until you have to hit yourself to stop your own self from falling.

Oh and he's like stepping in shit. You don't know you're in until you had that "accident".

It's nice that some common friends are trying to get me to make nice. I mean, after all, it was my fault. I did overreact. I've done worse than flirt with someone else, I've made out with someone else within a 1 meter radius of him.

But. Maybe if he'd asked me. If he really had no idea what that drama was all about. Maybe we'd be ok.

I guess. He doesn't want my drama. And. I guess I'm not worth being concerned over.

After all. We were less than friends, less than lovers. What do you call someone who says he likes you yet cannot do anything to comfort you? A fuck buddy. My problem was not recognizing that fast enough.

Whenever men tell you that they want you to be friends, or that they want you to be more than Fuck Buddies, it means total steaming crap.

Yes. I still am not ready to see H again.

I've always been fixated on how I appeared to people, how weird it was to be me and in a way, what kind of persona I had.

Mixed messages do happen. Much as I would like to declare that I am seen for the multi-faceted brat/bitch/baby that I am, most of the time those things get mixed up.

A lot of people see me right now as a princess. I have no doubt that some people in the office think I'm just some little spoiled brat that gets to do whatever she wants thanks to her mom's money. Some bimbo who goes shopping whenever she's upset (though retail therapy does work).

I guess they don't see the bookworm. Or the kid who was so awkward. Or I guess they don't know I still don't feel comfortable sidling up to strangers in bars. I get this ballsy or bitchy or bratty image.

I guess it's because of my masks. I never really confide everything. I get the whole surface emotions out, but the deep ones, nah...

I've been perceived for some time now as this girl who's game. Someone who's always on and ready for anything. The double digit number probably contributes to that.

I've always loved sex (now isn't that an understatement). It's always been something essential to me. When I'm bored, tired, sleepy, horny and the like I automatically masturbate. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

Orgasms rock! Ripping apart my senses like some tidal wave of heat and tingling warmth. But casual sex I need to get away from for now. I need time for myself. By myself. Just me. No friends for a while. No commiserating with dudes who are heartbroken muna.

I guess I neglected myself. My room is a mess, I am overweight. And I haven't been taking care of me. I spent too much time over analyzing that dude when the simple fact of the matter was that NOTHING was gonna happen.

It wasn't my fault. It wasn't his. H is a nice guy. Maybe someday I can tell him that. Right now I need to finish Seasons 1 - 4 of The L Word.

As I was attending to my long neglected "manicured lawn", I had this thought: After what I did, how I walked out and turned my back on my lover (rather, ex-lover), who the hell was gonna see my pussy now? Who is going to appreciate its clean shave and the mound smooth as a baby's butt? Who would notice the meticulous trimming of hair in hard to reach places. (As I'm writing this I'm watching Heroes and have just witnessed the appearance of Stan Lee)

All I know is that right now I just want to be in this vacuum where I can be alone and retreat and heal and just disappear, fly below radar. I met my karma and I know I need to be more careful. I need time to regenerate and heal and figure things out.

Now that I know that like (yes I still refuse to call it love) can also affect me, I need to be more careful about this whole sleeping around thing.

Despite the defenses and intricate mechanisms for hiding against any entanglements that might hurt me, I still get affected. I still get what's coming to me. Karma. Bloody karma.

I kissed A in font of H. H saw it. No nasty comments. Except for a colored one referring to me playing games with anyone else, he totally accepted that. Because we weren't exclusive. We were just friends who were dating.

Then I see him flirting (mildly) with another girl, and I storm out. I send him angry SMS messages and tell him good bye.

I walk out of his life. I tell him goodbye. Despite all the good times and the chemistry and the feeling good around him. Despite the funny, charming and adorable ways of H, I decided to walk out of it.

Because I know it was a dead end. Because I know I want more than that. Because I know. That the sex he gave me would never be enough. Because what I wanted was the times before we had sex, the conversations, the joking.

O says H was never boyfriend material and I knew that. But H was like a Trojan horse. He sneaks into your defenses and refuses to budge. He's like a virus that gets underneath your skin and stays there and refuses to budge.

But, it's been a week since I walked out on him and he has made no attempts to contact me, no moves to patch things up or explain.

I'm betting he knows he can't help no matter what he says. Because he will never be relationship material. He will never be house broken or potty trained. He will always just be that dude who flirts with all the girls and is charming and sweet. And on top of that he will always be the guy who is always late, late for dates, late for work. He is not focused, not that responsible and not that safe or stable.

I need something else. Sex can wait.

For you I was a flame

Love is a losing game

Five story fire as you came

Love is a losing game


Why do I wish I never played

Oh what a mess we made

And now the final frame

Love is a losing game


Played out by the band

Love is a losing hand

More than I could stand

Love is a losing hand


Self professed... profound

Till the chips were down

...know you’re a gambling man

Love is a losing hand


Though I’m rather blind

Love is a fate resigned

Memories mar my mind

Love is a fate resigned


Over futile odds

And laughed at by the gods

And now the final frame

Love is a losing game

(In my mind I change the lyrics to Like is a Losing Game)

Okay remember this post? H is my karma.

The sex. As usual. Was hot.

Sex with H always is.

Foreplay included making faces, a brief physical exam, and a thorough appreciation of the invention of the fabric satin.

Seeing as how my knee still had that stupid wound, we couldn't do my favorite doggie, but we did basically much of everything else.

Most exquisite was when I was on top of him and he asked me to keep just the head of his dick inside me. He told me not to take him all in yet. We savored the feeling of my pussy clenching the head of his cock.

I just realized he had a long exquisite neck. Partly because he's so tall and partly because he's so skinny, that neck is swan like and elegant. And very nice to nibble on.

And so is his cock come to think of it. That pulsing meat. I've had to experiment with the length and size to be able to even take a quarter of it in my mouth. (I'm sorry I have a small mouth and a small jaw. Oh please don't take that against me you asshole men. Besides he's really huge.)

But I love sucking on it now. Maybe because it's so substantial. Unlike the rest of his manorexic frame. His cock makes up for the lack of meat anywhere else in his body. His cock is just a bit too big for me. So much that when the suction breaks you hear that cute "pop" sound.

And of course when we fuck, it's not all fucking. We sleep together a lot. Literally. I realized this when I ended up having a dream beside him. We were spooning and I figured out in that one night that I drooled and that he talks in his sleep. There was also a second instance of the one-word command. This time it was: Cuddle. And yes, I obeyed.

After sex we ended up hungry (as usual) and I asked him to go to a nearby JB.

We go. And people proceed to stare at us for a couple of reasons: 1) H just looks weird. 2) I definitely look like a pretty princess out on an evening party. and it's compounded into one final reason: 3) we don't look as if we should be together.

So anyway we end up eating there, where he proceeds to hand me a "Spicy" flaglet from his chicken cos I was spicy apparently. Then we go home.

Since I got this whole car privileges plus driver combo thing going on, I've been trying to ditch both the car and driver.

Both are obviously aligned with the family, meaning my mother and daddy. So I have to hide my things (sex, drugs and alcohol) from him. At first I wasn't sure where his loyalties lay, whether I could corrupt him. But so far Arr (driver/spy) has proven an alliance with the parental units.

Then a brilliant idea came to me. Why not maximize my mom's trust in my friends who have cars? Brilliant!

Actually, it was an honest deal. I was going out with T who had a car and I asked my mom if I had to bring our car since T already had one. Momma (thank God!) said no.

So I set a thing with T. And as she wanted to meet H (curiosity. it's gotta be the H stories that I've been telling her), I told her we'd chill somewhere then end up with H.

So I set things up. Told Bv and DM I wasn't available as I already had a thing. Told H I'd meet him and that I was free to fuck as I got to escape Arr for the night.

Then the turning point arrived. T was unavailable due to unforeseen circumstances. And I still wanted to go out. So I lied to my mom told her T was just gonna be late. I coerced Bv and DM to go out with me. And we ended up at the bar H,V and O hang out in.

Now, I gotta explain how I looked that night, how I was decked out, to give an idea of how and why certain circumstances arose.

I'd recently purchased this cute conservative looking satin shirt dress that was only a little above the knee with puffy sleeves up to my elbow. I also had a gray shawl with me that I used as a scarf, thin silver hair band, my 3-inch high boots and my purple glasses.

I looked deceptively conservative. Except when I sat down, because the slit of the dress apparently went as high as mid thigh.

So I was chilling with DM and Bv. And I noticed V looking at me. Oh wait, he wasn't looking. He was staring. And I caught him doing it several times. And worse, I caught his girlfriend doing it too.

I have no idea if she knows about my thing with V. But now I fear the worst.

H finally arrived. He took a seat beside me and complimented me. Then DM and Bv had to go home. (now the crazy part) Then O arrived with L (officemate). Then C arrived.

It was funny, O was seated between L and I. And O was teasing me about my outfit. He was caressing my shoulder, feeling the texture of my dress when H suddenly said, "Stop touching her." A surprised O immediately withdrew his hand. And H continued, "cos I'm next." In my mind of course I was going, "Dude, you have no idea..."

There was also one time when I was talking to C, who I do normally flirt with (think of it as normal practice for 2 players who happen to be friends), actually, we were just talking. C being kinda drunk and me being not. Of course he almost spilled beer on my crotch again. But funny I saw H from the corner of my eye, he was about to come over, and when he saw me talking to C he made an "oops" gesture and went away.

So finally things mellowed and H was seated beside me and on my other side was L. H and I started making out heavily. Annoying and kinda embarrassing L. H and I finally did decide to leave.

We left, went to a motel room somewhere and had nice naughty kinky sex.....

Was worried that after the A incident H would be pissed/aloof/upset. See, I am still human enough and still like him enough to worry about how he feels.

I do not regret sleeping with A. That was something a couple of freakin years in the making and I wasn't about to let a non-existent relationship with H stop me. And it didn't. I just felt bad H had to see it. Irrevocable fact that yes, if H can fuck around, so can J. (definitely so can J)

My worries were mollified when H and I fell to messaging over sexual props. A friend's birthday was coming up and she requested for some kinky bondage crap. H suggested a place. I suggested we meet up later that night.

We did. I met up with my friend MC, we updated each other and went bought the gift. Then we hooked up with H at a club he worked in.

He arrived late. MC was already asking me if there was anything wrong and I had to explain to her that yes, H always is late.

I was wearing my new glasses. Making me almost unrecognizable when he arrived. I watched him talk to some girl. And he didn't even know I was there. Finally he saw me and came over. We talked a little. (more like shouted to hear ourselves above the music) He kissed me on the cheek, we made (nasty) comments about someone and then he excused himself to work. But before he left he issued a one-word command: Kiss.

And I did. And we did. And I apologized to MC after for the bold public display of affection. After the sets finished, our ears ringing, MC and I decided to stay outside, away from the noise. I told her I'd just text H to let him know where we were was I couldn't find him.

On our way out we chanced on H (fortuitously) talking to someone who looked (old) important.

We tried to creep by and avoid any undue attention. But just as I passed him (seems his eyesight is bad already), I heard H tell the person he was conversing with, Excuse me," then say the words, "J. Are you leaving?"

I turned slowly, fixed a smile on my face and said, "No, we're just going outside for some air."

"Ok, don't leave just yet."

"Ok"

So Mc and I went outside, lay our tipsy asses on the daybed and started conversing. We peeked glances at some hot rocker dude while waiting for H. And we waited a long long time.

Then H came out. We made out several times. It was hot and heavy stuff. In front of Mc. Who seemed to not care. But, well, admitted to a little envy. I guess she told bf D. Hehehe.

H left again. Mc teased me by saying it was ok if she had to take a cab home by herself. H had asked what my plans for the night were. I insisted I was going home as I had driver/spy Arr with me.

So H and I made out a couple more times. We were on hiatus for so long I could feel his dick twitching just from the French kissing. And as I left he squeezed my ass.

Mc raved about H all the way to the car. How good we looked together. Etc. etc. etc.

Still. It was all about fucking. And of course that one-word command: Kiss. (it kinda felt nice during. the whole Neanderthal aspect of being told to do something. Something you sorta wanted to do in the first place. But scary as well in the sense of. Oh fuck, now I obey his commands?)

No mention or reference to A at all.

Way back in college, there was this one guy, A, who everyone wanted.

There aren't a lot of straight men around, so anyone who even looked like a real man got noticed by all the girls.

But A was different. He got noticed by everyone, girls, guys, even the homosexual professors. He was a force of testosterone in a college full of artsy men with predominantly limp wrists. At the height of his existence, everyone just wanted to fuck him. I guess it was his light brown milk chocolate color, his thick wavy hair, boyish good looks and his mystery. He was of average height, and his body was not super muscular or cut, but he had strength. And his trim, fit frame looked as sleek as a panther's.

He was silent. Smoking quietly while reading a huge-ass Ayn Rand novel. And he was in a band. And he was smart.

I'd tried flirting with him a couple of times in college. But me being the awkward fat kid (sometimes I still am. I remember all the jokes and half-veiled insults thrown my way by all the people I knew, especially those of the people who ended up being my friends [more on that in other posts]) who until 2 or 3 years ago had no regular interaction with boys, it came to nothing.

Until now.

I went with a couple of friends to this bar that the entire triumvirate (H, V, O) frequent. We were already kinda drunk. And I was dressed kinda conservatively. I also was not in the mood for any H.

Most interaction with H was when he greeted us at the door and I gave him a hug. Then when I sat down, my skirt rode up and he pulled it down (trying to make me modest?).

Then A walks in.

My heart stops.

We say our hellos and our how-are-yous. He goes to the bar and I remain seated at the couch with my friends. I spent the next 3 hours looking at A's back wondering if I should go over and talk to him.

Then he comes over.

I was otherwise occupied when suddenly he was there and I automatically scooted over so he could sit beside me. He brought his beer and he apologized for not coming over earlier. He spies a pop-psych quiz book with me and he asks me to quiz him.

We talk and joke, and his hands start touching me, testing the boundaries. A says, "You know, I really wanted to get to know you in college, but you had walls." And we proceeded to dismantle those walls then and there.

At this point DM was already asleep and her friend B offered to take her home so I wouldn't have to leave (considerate B is a prince, who noticed that I was going to score).

DM's stuff were in my car (yes I have car privileges now, and a driver, more on that later) so I told them we'd just get that and they can take a cab. A got his bill. I told him not to cos I was coming back we were just getting DM's stuff from my car. He insisted on going out with us, said he wanted some "air" (I've heard that before). Before we left I assured V I was coming back as we hadn't paid the bill yet. He just acknowledged that with a nod (V still hasn't really spoken to me since he got a gf).

So we all went outside. I went to the front seat. DM and B got her stuff from the backseat, and A stood nearby to wait patiently.

Then all of a sudden H was there.

H asked, "Are you leaving? Are you leaving?" Then not content with waiting for an answer, he turned to A and asked him, "Is she leaving?"

"I'm not leaving, I'm coming back inside," I say. Perplexed that we were playing this scene. I wondered whether he was scared that I was gonna leave without paying. Or whether he had anything important to say. But then, V knew I was coming back so...perplexed.

So H goes back inside and DM and B leave. Then I was alone with A. We were talking about something. I guess he said something like, "I really wanted company tonight, and I didn't expect it was gonna be you. But I'm happy it is." Then we kissed. It was sweet and brief. Soft lips and a little tongue. Lower stomachs tentatively seeking each other. After he breathed in my ear, "Take me home."

(Here comes the embarrassing part.) I told him I couldn't. Cos I had the car and the driver was a potential witness. So we went back inside.

My drink was waiting for me and we got to talking again. I asked him why he wanted to get to know me. "Something about the shape of your lips," A replied. Then we kissed.

Fortuitously my mother send me an SMS saying she needed the car and driver early the next day. So I sent the car home. A and I left shortly after that.

A and I were talking, and we were joking. Rehashing old times, discussing his angst, and both our walls. Then he entered a motel. And we got into our room. And I was pretending to calmly watch TV as he took off his shoes. Then he leaned over and kissed me again.

Do you know what fantasies taste like when they're fulfilled after 4 or 5 years? They taste like champagne. Sweet and bubbly and it tickles your tongue.

The sex was good, and he was sweet. At one point he just looked at my face, and watched me, his fingers caressing my cheeks.

And I've never heard someone scream "Oh God" so loud before.

His skin is chocolate. Not an ugly mark on it. His body still trim and fit. His face is pretty enough to be a girl's.

After, as we were waiting for the bill, I caught A looking at me with this smile on his face. And I asked him why. He said, "Is there anything wrong with smiling?"

Before we parted ways A said something to the effect of, "I wonder when I'm gonna see you again? I'm already looking forward to it."

I just smiled in reply.

This is a short list of things I've said, which left me wondering what the hell I was thinking when I said them:

1) Stop calling me, I already got what I wanted from you (yes. I did say that. To a guy named K. It was a while back. And it was kind of appropriate [I had just broken up with my bf and hence, was unfeeling]).

2) Men are so easy. Yes. It's true! When it comes to sex anyway.

3) All you want to do is live voyeuristically through my life. I said this recently (or something like it) to a friend. It was getting annoying how fixated she was on my life. How she kept pressing for details of my sexual activities. Downright freaky.

4) Please please gain 5 kilos. Said it to H. Because he is alarmingly skinny (think Nicole Richie). Hey, I had this inner rule I wouldn't sleep with him til he gained, but he-hey I break my own rules.

5) Sorry, but, you're not exactly gorgeous. I believe I've said this several times. Mostly to women. Who think they are all that. And diss guys. Oh well.

6) Did I break you? Again, H. I thought I did break him.

7) Kangaroo tayo. I think I said it to V. :))
(Kangaroo n./v. - from the root word kang, as in: kang kang, kantot....meaning sex)

8) Would you like to rape me? Sadomasochistic me. Got no takers though. It was a bad time. I was depressed. One of them was shocked and concerned. The other disappointed that he was depressed too and wasting the opportunity.

9) Please shut up. Vainly told to H as he kept on yapping. Please please just shut the fuck up forever.

10) Pa-virgin ka. Said it to V. And he was!

Ok well, he's not.

Despite all the sordid and evil things that happened to me yesterday (beginning with tripping over own feet while jogging/running/walking and ending with finding new born puppies crawling blindly underneath our vehicle) H is still...dead.

Ok, so I can't jog for 3 days (due in part to twisted/swollen ankle and partly due to dental surgery). I can't smoke, can't eat fish, can't eat anything hot and can't drink using a straw, for 3 days.

So I was randomly messaging people. And of course some people replied. Either to taunt me for my misfortune, offer words of encouragement, or wonder out loud how a full grown adult manages to trip over her own feet while jogging, twist her ankle, scrape and bloody her knee, get glasses and get dental surgery all the same day. It was just my luck I guess.

But one person remained silent. One person who would've mattered. One fucking person that I'm supposedly dating/seeing/sleeping with (hey asshole, if we're sleeping together, why aren't we sleeping together?).

H. Yes that's right. H has disappeared. Literally. Though I said I'd give up on him. I hadn't expected such deafening silence to meet my "friendly" messages. Now I know the wonders not having sex will do. It makes a man sweeter, more affectionate, and generally less of an asshole.

Once a man gets it, it all changes. Yes H has sort of been revealed to be a dickhead. Despite all my other posts that he is a nice, honest, open, though not commitment ready, man.

I officially declare that I am hurt, offended and pissed off. Especially since I know he has load as he missent a message to a girlfriend of mine. And yes, he's going out again, it was in the goddamn message.

I guess he doesn't give a shit mostly. Or didn't feel particularly alarmed. Or maybe he was just busy/had no load/lost his phone...etc...etc...etc...

Fuck it. I'll go for...he's an asshole.

...that I can't keep on liking someone I don't and can't trust, cos I'll only end up paranoid and weird in the end.

...that my tolerance for intolerance is low.

...that H has got to go.

...that I have to grow up sometime.