“Take these lips, I’ll never use them…” F.Sinatra

I almost titled this post “Will someone just come over and eat my pussy now?” but I dont really want that. Yes, I want someone to touch me. All hands, lips, tongue and hair, I want to be naked and sweating and enjoying orgasm after orgasm while pressed against the body of a man but a PARTICULAR man and therein is the catch.

My life is a b-rated rom-com. Tragic becuase like Shakespeare in Love, the comedy is there all along but the tragic ending is unpredictable and leaves you sitting there like “What the hell just happened? He DIED???”

I was celebrating not being dead below the waist these last…4? 6 weeks? I think of him often but resist reaching out. Because I had a distraction. The first person I have been attracted to since ‘him’. But I dont like to poop where I eat so I just fantasized about this quiet, reserved man at work and wondered if he was a freak under the ties and proper button ups. When he powered through my spicy adobo pork at a work-place potluck a couple weeks ago, sweating without protest like Ben Stiller’s character in “Along Came Polly” (romcom sans tragedy), he endeared himself to me and I began to to brainstorm ways how I might ask him out, or at least elicit the infomration from a third party if he would be interested in going out with me. By now, he was working elsewhere, no longer in the same building and I thought “Fair game!” Finally, tonight was the night, I decided. I had plans to meet up with coworkers after work at the American Legion and decided I would ask a female acquaintance of mine, one who used to work with him, if she thought I had a chance and if so, would she pass him my number.
Turns out, she and I were the only ones who showed up. Perfect! Uninhibited girl talk ensued and for an hour, I listened enthusiastically while she told me all about her amazing new boyfriend who she had been with for three months and counting. He wasnt her ‘type’ because he was reserved but oh-so-affectionate and crazy about her. He even started taking salsa lessons because he knew dancing was important to her. I immediately chirped “Wow! He’s a keeper! I wish I could find that!”
Then I slid into the question I wanted to ask…about this guy. Ive always been interested but didnt want to date a coworker but now that we arent coworkers anymore…do you think he would consider having a drink with me?
She turned 30 shades of red and replied “That’s who Ive been dating for the last three months.”

A friend once advised me that a closed mouth never gets fed. You have to take a chance. Ask. What is the worst that could happen? He’s not interested? No. The worst that could happen is he recently started dating someone else, the person you just asked to set you up. With her boyfriend. And turns out, from everything she just told you, he’s every bit as amazing as you imagined he would be in your fantasy world.
Oh but wait! It gets better! I played it off and after the initial awkward moment passed, she was oblivious to the depth of my disappointment and continued for another HOUR to tell me more about how wonderful he was: how it all started, the romance, how he is surprisingly a freak in the sheets. (the quiet ones always are, right?)
She talked. I smiled. I screamed inwardly “Please G-d make it stop, just get me OUT of here!”

A storm rolls in and we call it a night. It’s an early night. I had a kitchen pass in the form of a pet-sitter but nowhere to go. I sat in my car and cried at my luck.That’s my luck! I didnt want to go home but I had nowhere to go. Plenty of friends but no single friends. I could go somewhere else, anywhere else alone to grab a bite and have another drink but my face was a wreck now.

So I drove home. Crying the whole way.

Get home and the dog and his crate was covered in shit and piss.
My elderly incontinent cat was also covered in shit and piss.

I clwaned the dog and his crate.
Then I bathed the cat.
All the while thinking “This is my life. Friday night. Alone. Lonely. Cleaning up shit and piss.” And what will I do tomorrow? Oh, I’ have plans and I’ll stay busy but I will clean up shit and piss again and go to bed alone again.
And the next day. And the next night.
And the next week. And the next month.

I couldnt decide if I wanted wine or liquor. So I’m drinking both. Cheap wine with whatever was left, about two shots worth, of whipped vodka in a 7-11 sippee cup with a lid.
And typing this.
I havent taken a Xanax in probably two months but the wind has been knocked out of me and I dont think I have the energy to do anything at all right now. Even if I had options.

I’m attending the Army ball next month with a few coworkers and invited my dance partner along (who’s super-cool girlfriend isnt the insecure, jealous type) to be… not my date but my wingman. We will be amazing on the dancefloor and he advised me to wear a ‘fuck me right now!” dress that would have every man in the place forgetting about their own dates when they see me.

Thankfully, my shattered crush wont be attending as my coworkers date but she admitted they woudl have a quickie before she leaves for the ball and then fuck the rest of the night when it’s over. He’ll probably just hike her sequined gown up and tear her panties off. That’s what he was doing to me in my mind these last two months.

But I will look amazing and still go home alone.

Did I mention he’s taking salsa lessons for her?

Fuck. You. Life.

Now who do I masturbate to?

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“The beautiful people, the beautiful people…”

Or as Manson said it last weekend, “The beeeeuuuhhhfffuuuuhhhh…” before he fell off the stage. Whether he’s on his game or out of his mind with coke, he’s always entertaining. Last Summer, I saw him in a much more intimate venue and all he could do was Bitch about the heat. Then take off the fur coat, Huggy Bear. Last weekend in Charlotte, he went on after dark with makeup that looked like he had been attacked by a toddler with a blue sharpie. His first two missteps were mild and the band hiccupped to catch up but shortly into the set, Manson decided it was already time for an intermission, a refreshment break, as he snorted a bag of powdered sugar. No kiddies, don’t put the sugar up your nose.
He was done after that. Incoherent mumbling about aliens and his mummified cat, knocking over equipment while security followed behind, unsure what to do. So they turned the lights off and killed the sound so that all you could hear was my friend and I cackling. Awesome!

It was a 2 day dirt rawk fest in NC. Two days in a dusty field with 40000 rednecks. I didn’t particularly enjoy it but then a decade+ in radio spoiled me. I kept thinking about the last time I saw these bands…from the wings of the stage, usually after I just brought them on or interviewed them.

And I probably shouldn’t admit this but two days later, I skipped a Flogging Molly show so that I could crack open a bottle of wine, wax my legs and catch up on Game of Thrones. Yes, I’ve seen them (and met and interviewed them) and they are always fantastic live but I was tired gdmmit and at my age, require a minimum amount of sleep in order to function at work the following day. Because I don’t know what you do for a living but I’m a superhero trying to save the world daily and it’s exhausting.
And makes me miss radio.
But being a superhero (yes, little “s” intended) pays slightly better.
When I think about setting up my studio at home or even going back to work commercially part time just for the fun of it, I remember that I value my down time more than airtime now.
——

And dating is a chore. I haven’t bothered to go out with anyone in a few weeks. Better things to do. Yes, wiseass,  like wax my legs and watch Game of Thrones.
I’m amazed though at how many 20-somethings hit me up though. I tell them that I’m of an age to be their much older sister and joke that I am not prepared to play Demi to their Ashton. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before the novelty wears off and an age-appropriate Mila comes along.

Sheeeeee-it, Mila is hot! I’d go Black Swan for her.