1. Studio Apartments are made for one person-not two, no matter how hard you try.
It’s been a total of one week of co-habitation and already I’m starting to feel like the whole thing is overrated. I don’t even know where to start or how to end it. Rest assured, things with Mirs and I are fine. They’re not amazing and they’re not horrible, they’re fine. What’s not fine is the lack of space which I’ve learned this weekend makes my girlfriend kind of neurotic. I’ve also discovered that she’s kind of possessive and territorial and that she has a hard time letting go of things.
I think the last one can be expected. I am the same way, but I do it with more finesse. She’s been referring to it as “her” apartment a lot and doing a lot of “my” “mine” instead of “our” Technically it is her apartment as I have not signed a lease but she invited me to live with her, I accepted and that makes it just as much mine as it is hers.
We had a few rough mornings which tumbled into rough days and ended in rough nights. I’ve been working for the past 7 days straight and have another 3 days ahead of me before I get a day off. Because of my crappy schedule I’ve been getting home sort of late and expecting Mirs to be waiting there for me in the darkness. I mean, who wouldn’t want to wait in a teeny tiny apartment in the dark on the first wonderful weekend of the season? Mirs doesn’t-frankly I wouldn’t either.
She’s been out with friends for the last three nights and I’ve been stuck home alone with Leroy the Cat. The third night hit me hard and I took out my frustrations in my amazingly passive aggressive fashion. That night, instead of talking to her, I rolled over in bed an pretended to be asleep. The following morning I whined like a baby, pouted, and stomped my foot. She looked at me bewildered and I told her that I was upset. By upset I mean really over working so much-of course I didn’t say that. I told her that I was upset that she was going out so much and leaving me home alone. Granted, I was getting home at 11 and 12 o’clock at night anyway but, you know. We hugged it out and I’m really looking forward to my day off on Wednesday so that I can get some sleep and become a normal person again.
A few things happened out of our control this weekend that added to the stress levels in “our” apartment, like the killer leak in the hallway that resulted in the ceiling caving in. It’s fixed now but if you remember the tale of the gas leak, the job was most likely a shoddy one. She was in a panic, as most would be, watching the corner of the ceiling in the kitchen (the one that connects to the faulty ceiling/leak) start to get moist. She immediately started craigslisting for apartments and made appointments to move immediately.
2-Masturbation is my friend. Lube is not.
So as I said I’ve been arriving home late at night after Mirs and her friends were already tearing up the city. I’d come home, check my Facebook, My Twitter, and debate writing here. When I’d decided that I didn’t have mental capacity to write I’d do some love making to myself. I mean, if your girlfriend’s not around, you gotta work with what you’ve got, right?
Vibrators and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. I actually remember the first time I walked into an adult bookstore to buy my first one. I had to be at least 16 because I drove myself there but masturbation and I were friends way long before the bliss of a battery powered orgasm.
Back before my vibrator obsession/addiction I enjoyed manual love. I could fuck myself silly and really enjoyed the feeling of making myself come over and over again with my own hand. Then, came my first real vibrator. The orgasm was so effortless and it came out of no where. It was strong, extremely powerful and it knocked my socks off. I remember it feeling like what your first orgasm must feel like. I have no idea what that feels like any more because it was a long time ago. Trying to remember my first orgasm is like trying to remember what I looked like before I got my huge boobs or pubic hair-I don’t remember when I got ’em, they’ve always just been there. My orgasms are like that, I’ve always had ’em, I don’t remember the first.
I do, however, remember my first vibrator orgasm and I haven’t looked back. Why take all the time to finger yourself, etc. when you can just flip a switch and get there sooner? Don’t get me wrong I always try to get myself off by using my hand and my hand alone. I usually get frustrated after 5 minutes or so and pull out my vibrator, plug it into the wall and get off in 1 minute flat. Now that Lola is dead I’m back on the batteries and that takes about 3 minutes to work-on a good day. I mean, I don’t really want to spend all afternoon fucking myself, I just want to come. Is that so wrong? Yes, kind of but I’m a multi-orgasm kinda gal, I can’t really stop when I have one. I mean, I physically can stop I just don’t like to. So I keep on-a goin’. It’s just easier to keep it coming when you’ve got the power of the batteries.
So I’ve been making love to myself a lot this weekend-you know, to help me sleep and just because. I was having a love myself session before my late afternoon nap today and peered over and saw our goodie bag. Hmmm…well, if Mirs isn’t here to strap on and fuck me, is it wrong to take out her cock and fuck myself, I thought, No, no it is not. So I did just that, but I added lube to help things along a bit. An orgasm like that takes some time, this kind I do not mind. It was well worth the wait, I came long and hard and eased into a pretty amazing nap.
I woke up, about 45 minutes ago, refreshed and hungry. I ate some left over pancakes from the morning before and started to blog. I happened to reach down to check out my lady parts and found myself incredibly wet. I was a little confused, I mean, I don’t feel turned on-well not that much. That is when I remembered the lube. I didn’t use that much, a half pump and it’s still all over me.
This isn’t my favorite feeling. I really am not that into this wet sticky feeling when I’m stone sober-aka not turned on-especially if it’s being produced by a product and not by my body. Our lube is this great stuff I bought when I bought my own strap on (yes, I promise those stories will come) it’s unscented, it’s organic, it’s great for long nights of hot sex. I think after today I will make sure to only use it for its purpose-long nights of hot sex with my girlfriend. Not a quickie at 5:30 in the afternoon by myself.
3. Gay Boys and Gay Girls-Similarities and Differences
One of my blogger buddies and personal friend, James, was telling me about how he and his boyfriend, Alex, were in Prospect Park the other afternoon. They saw a really hot girl with side swept hair riding a long board. James said she was “my type” and that both he and his boyfriend were “into her” meaning, they found her attractive and both were like, “Are we lesbians?”
Clearly, they’re not lesbians they are gay men. That said, isn’t it funny or interesting how one can be attracted to the other. I mean, most of the men that I find attractive are gay men. Don’t misread, I don’t want to have sex with them, I just appreciate their beauty. It could be that they’re non-threatening to look at. I can appreciate the beauty of a gay man from afar and if he notices me notice him he’s most likely not going to give me that gross look, he’ll just smile back and go back to being his great, gay self. And who am I kidding, gay girls are so hot. I love, love, love to check out gay girls or girls who look gay. It’s such an interesting mix of types of girls and I appreciate them all.
James and I got on another discussion that I won’t go into detail for him but that brought up interesting thoughts for my next blog-Am I a top or a bottom? I think I’m a little bit of both. We’ll discuss later, I promise…filled with strap on sex talk, too