oh snap!

as the calendar flips through december’s short days i feel the weight of christmases past settle in. 

heavy. 

dark. 

cold. 

it starts as a thin veil of fog in my head.  tricks me into believing a simple, light hearted admission is really a threat to my relationship.  sends me back for one last drink again and again and again.  keeps me under the covers until the very last second. 

before i realize what’s happening, the fog is transformed into a boulder that sits just below my epiglottis.  as i’m sure you can imagine, it’s tough to do anything when a worn rock with a diameter exceeding 256 millimeters is stuck in your throat. 

what’s worse is that my eyes seem to be afflicted with some sort of niagaral disease. all the worse to see you with, my dear. 

this is no fun.

and i’m shameful for all the times i’ve said to myself about someone else, “why can’t s/he just snap out of it already?”  

a warning for the next time:  do not snap the melancholia.  it snaps back.

who is driving the bus?

i’ve been a real jerk lately.  an immature, jerky-faced jerk off.  and i’m starting to believe that this is how i behave normally and i’m concerned.

perhaps i like the drama?  the thrill of the argument?

on sunday, while waiting for a table at our newest breakfast obsession, mr. d and i had a realization – we had never really had a conversation about how many sexual partners we’d each had in the past.  once, in the beginning stages of our lovely affair, we had a conversation of  a similar persuasion, but it finished abruptly with assurances by both that each had been recently tested for various sex bugs and a joke from mr. d about how it would be impossible to count the hordes of women he’d boinked over his lifetime.  

little did i know…he wasn’t joking.

so, back to sunday.  we start having the “what’s your number” conversation and i’m getting a little upset because he’s totally telling me he’s fucked more women than he has fingers on both hands.  he’s fucked friends he still hangs out with.  friends i’ve hung out with.  just friendly fucks but me never the wiser that my boyfriend’s rod has parted their sea of reeds.  “she’s just some friend” he’s told me on countless occasions about countless women.  yeah, some friend indeed.  and by this point my “little upset” is turning into a full blown hissy fit.  

and i just don’t get it.

and i’m the victim.

and how could he.

and i MUST KNOW who ALL these bitches are who’ve fucked and sucked and defiled my boyfriend and i MUST KNOW every detail of every encounter.

and if i don’t, well shit, i’m going to die.  yes, you heard me.  i’m going to up and goddamn die.  because some how, some way i’ve turned into my thirteen-year-old self and i’m about to loose control and i think i like it.

but we go about our morning.  and i’m marinating.  no, i’m stewing.  and i’m thinking about my reaction and why i’m so goddamn hurt.  it’s so complicated because some of the reasons are totally rational – why the hell are you having this conversation with him a full year after your first date?  idiot! – but some of the reasons border on pathological – what if all those women were BETTER than me!?!

it could be worse.

i’m not willing to let mr. d off the hook totally, though.  there are big issues here.  sex.  trust.  fidelity.  openness of communication.  and on and on.  i’m obviously feeling some kind of unmet need if i’m willing to have such a disproportionate reaction.  this i realize.

and i suspect i know what that unmet need is.  but how do i express myself to mr. d before all hell breaks lose and i turn into teenage mutant ninja jerk?  i mean, who is driving the bus?  me or thirteen-year-old me?  further exploration within myself is required.  suggestions are always appreciated.

TMI Tuesdays #4

Q 1. are you and early shopper or a late shopper?
A 1. always late

Q 2. what is your favorite cartoon (current or passed)?
A 2. dangermouse. without question.

Q 3. on a scale of 1-10, how competent are you on home repair projects?
A 3. minus five, for sure. but mr. d. is a super hot version of bob vila so i have no need for competency.

Q 4. what is your favorite holiday tradition?
A 4. when my mom was alive my family would always have a huge christmas brunch with waffles made on my grandmother’s older-than-dirt waffle iron. those waffles are my favorite tradition. hopefully, when mr. d and i have a few ruffians of our own, i can revive it.

Q 5. describe your best kiss? did you give it or receive it?
A 5. my most favoritest kiss would have to be my first with mr. d (awwww). it was after our first date and for some reason i invited him into my apartment. he was all, “so i think i’m going to take off now” and i was like, “hells no!” and i basically jumped on him and started nom, nom, noming all over his face. it was THE most passionate kiss evah – he has the tongue of two men, i kid you not!

no bonus this week.

i like my body when it is with your…

i’ve recently rediscovered the poetry of e.e. cummings. 

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

that is all.

TMI Tuesday #3

Q 1. if your partner buys you a sexy little “something” is it a present for you or for your partner?
A 1. it would be for both of us, silly.

Q 2. what are 3 characteristics of “your type”?
A 2. self aware and sensitive with a masculine physique

Q 3. on a scale of 1-10, how good a cook are you?
A 3. if 1 is someone who can’t cook at all and 10 is someone who cooks for a living, i would say i’m about a 6 or 7. i have a passion for cooking and for food that surpasses most interests in my life. if i could make money doing it, i would.

Q 4. tattoos: love them or hate them. on you? on a partner?
A 4. love love love. i just got my first and want more!

Q 5. stubble: good or bad? how often do you shave?
A 5. i hate shaving my legs. mostly because it takes so much time and there is little reward since i wear pants almost exclusively. and i recently decided to never ever ever shave my lady bits again. a brazillian wax may hurt while the hair is bring ripped out of your body but it’s a whole lot better than up to 5 days of razor/stubble burn between your legs.

bonus Q. what are a few of your favorite things (dirty and not-so-dirty)?
bonus A. delicious brunches, late nights with mr. d, gifts for no reason, love notes, teeth marks on my back, emma kisses…

delicious

quinoa salad

1/2 cup quinoa, rinsed and drained

1 cup water

1 cup leftover salad (or not leftover salad)

Some acid – half a lemon or 1 1/2 tablespoons of vinegar

Some olive oil – about 1/8 to 1/4 cup

Salt and pepper

Put quinoa and water into a pot over high heat.  Once at a boil, cover the pot and reduce heat to a simmer.  Cook for 15-18 minutes until all the liquid is absorbed and the seeds (quinoa is a seed, you know) are chewy.  Dump the quinoa into a bowl and allow it to cool until no longer hot and steamy.

In the meantime, chop up your salad.  You want it to be pretty finely chopped but not so fine that you can’t distinguish the different veggies.  Add the salad to the slightly cooled quinoa.  Add the acid and the olive oil.  Add some salt and pepper and taste.  Adjust acid/oil/s&p balance as needed.  While you’re adding stuff to the quinoa make sure you’re stirring really well.  Quinoa has a tendency to clump.  Once well mixed, refrigerate until cold or if you can’t stand it, eat!

TMI Tuesdays #2

questions and answers for this week:

Q 1. are you a member of the mile high club?
A 1. full on intercourse in an airplane bathroom?  no.  other stuff in and around an airplane bathroom?  yes.

Q 2. What is the most public place you have ever had sex?
A 2. oh boy. i’ve done it in lots of places that could be considered public.  but the most public? i guess that would be at a party. in front of people. for all I know it could be on YouTube right now although the act took place long before YouTube was around. i’m not very proud of my behavior during that particular time of my life. but i do think having sex in a place where you could conceivably be caught is really exciting. i prefer single stall bathrooms ;-)

Q 3. what is your most embarrassing family moment?
A 3. i dropped a pie on the carpet one thanksgiving. i was little and cried my eyes out until my grandmother and great-aunt decided to cheer me up by eating it off the floor.  like the great flood, it is a story that will be retold (in my family at least) for millennia.

Q 4. what kind of birth control do you use?
A 4. in the past i’ve used the pill and the nuva ring and condoms but right now, nada. well that’s not true. i am very aware of my cycle, which is very regular, so cycle beads and the withdrawal method (which only has a 4% failure rate, btw) work perfectly for mr. d and i. hormone based methods fuck me up physically and emotionally and i’m allergic to condoms. plus, i just really like the feel of hard peen in my fuck box.

Q 5. have you ever had sex in the snow? rain?
A 5. ya know, i don’t think i have. good thing i’m still young!

bonus Q. describe your flirting technique: innuendo, telling a dirty joke, talking about sex life, or physical contact?
bonus A. in the past i’ve used a mix of innuendo, in-your-face sex talk and sexually suggestive physical moves.  now my flirting technique goes a little something like this, “hey, mr. d?  can we go upstairs already?”

chri$tma$

in honor of my friend, my recent visit to his new home and our subsequent conversation about christmas, i offer my list. these are things i simply and unabashedly want but don’t need and know i’ll likely never get as gifts.

THE LIST:

glass

subscription to The Nation

“romantic” dinner at Zak’s

this bag

this book

these boots

and dear baby jesus sittin’ in your crib watchin’ baby einstein videos, make me into a hipster