Wednesday 28 April 2010

A New Face?

I've wanted to post this for you for two months now, but I've been trying to work through it in my head.

After ten years of liking professional, well-groomed, well-dressed men, who were well-read and intelligent, with solid career plans and "normal", vanilla lives...I've gone and fallen in like with a 20-year-old, red-haired musician who always looks like he's wearing mascara and eyeliner, doesn't read books, is studying music at uni, has a questionable tattoo on his arm that he won't tell anyone about, and has probably never worn a suit in his life, let alone a hand-tailored one. Oh, and he has a girlfriend, and he's been in my dreams at least a couple times a week.

Oopsy Daisy is putting it a bit lightly. *sighs*

Funnily enough, even though he's the antithesis of my normal "type" (as far as I have one, anyway), the thing that bothers me most about him is the fact that he doesn't read. This isn't a measure of his intelligence by any means; he's probably as smart as I am, maybe smarter. But seriously, how could I fall for a guy who doesn't like books?

Well, "fall for" isn't really accurate. I don't love him or anything. I'm not even interested in him romantically or sexually, at least not so far. I just really want to know him. He interests me in a way nobody has for a long long time. Oh sure, I've met guys - both IRL and on here - who I find fascinating, and who I think about quite a bit, but it's been years since I met one who haunts my dreams and my waking thoughts the way this one does.

What it feels most like, is a schoolgirl crush. Except I'm not a schoolgirl, and haven't been for a long time.

Oh, but I adore him, even if I don't love him. He's smart and he's sweet and he's kind of shy, and he has the softest eyes, and when you talk to him, you really feel like all of his attention's on you, and for the duration of that conversation you're the most important person in the world. And when I talk to him alone, which I've only done a few times, I feel like I can talk about anything, like I've known him for years.

I'll give any of my regular readers three guesses as to what his name is, but you may not need all three.

It's Chris, of course.

But this isn't a case of me falling for a guy because of his name. I had a huge interest in him from the start, and I didn't find out his name until the end of the second lesson.

I think this is the one. Not, like, *The One*. Not my Twin Flame, or the Love of My Life, or anything like that. But the one I've been dreaming about for so long.

The problem is, if he IS the one I've been dreaming about, my dreams of him started when I was 12. Which means HE was 6. He wasn't 6 in my dreams - I think we were both in our late teens - but still, there seems something slightly creepy about that.

Meh.

I think I need to stop thinking about 20-year-old unattainable boys, and get laid. Like, NOW. Perhaps it's time for me to find another FWB on here. I spend far too much time lying naked on my bed, reading or daydreaming, and not enough time dating and getting fucked.


So yes. Time for me to start writing to guys more. There are a couple who've caught my eye recently, but I'm so bad at responding to emails...I'm putting that on my list of things to do tomorrow. :)

Right now, it's 2.44 am and I'm tired, so I'm going to get some sleep. Good night to you, dear reader, and I hope to see you again soon!

Tuesday 20 April 2010

A Brief Note

I haven't been posting much recently, either on here or on FB. I'm so very tired a lot of the time, and I don't seem to have the energy to write anything that isn't strictly necessary, whether it be journal entries or stories or anything else. I'm barely even keeping up with uni atm. *sighs*

I'm sure I'll feel better soon. Until then, all I can offer you is a pic of my boobs.


Sunday 18 April 2010

Apologies

Any of you who know me - which, I'd hope, is most of you - know that I'm not very good with I'm Sorry-s. Certainly when I argue with people, my general idea of an apology is, "Want to play a nice game of tic-tac-toe?" alongside a slightly ironic smile. Which isn't really an apology at all, more an acknowledgement that we're both being equally stupid, and need to stop.

(And anyone who's sufficiently attuned to my brain to get the reference, I'll...I don't know, do a striptease for you on New Year's Day 2013. If, y'know, I feel like it.)

HOWever, I promised to write y'all more notes, both of the life-updates and the general-thoughts type, and I haven't done that. There are various reasons why I haven't, but what it really comes down to is that I made the choice to spend my time doing other, less productive, things. So for that, I apologize, and will try to do better in the near future. :)

Monday 12 April 2010

Seriously, Will You Grow The Fuck Up?

OK, I need to make one thing quite clear: If I view your profile, it does NOT necessarily mean that I want to fuck you. I generally don't like to speak for other people, but in this case I will: if ANYONE views your profile, it doesn't automatically assume they're lusting after you. Maybe it does mean that, maybe it doesn't, but making that assumption makes you...well, a bit of an ass. And writing someone a note to flame them for checking you out makes you more than a bit of one.

It's happened a couple times that people - usually women, but a couple of guys - have sent me bitchy emails, complaining about me viewing their profile. Various comments have been made, ranging from, "Are you some sort of an idiot? Can you not read?" to "RU some freaky dyke or sumthing?" to "your not my type, so stop checking me out" to my personal favourite, "girlz fucking other girlz is fucking sik man, get urself some dik and leave normal ppl alone".

I have a couple comments to make in response to these:

1) Yes, I can read. I taught myself to read when I was two and a half, and have been doing it avidly ever since. However, even with my love of words, I can't read what your profile actually says until I click on it. Therefore I will not know what you want from this site until I check you out.

2) I'm not any type of dyke, freaky or not. I do occasionally find women attractive, but I don't consider myself gay or bi. Not that it would be any of your business if I did.

3) Fine, I'm not your type. Most likely I realised this, which is why I didn't email you or flirt with you. But thanks for making it clear.

4) You're entitled to your beliefs, but seriously, stay far away from me. (Personally, *I* believe that lumping yourself in with the "normal" people is a bit of a stretch; I don't think of illiteracy and homophobia as being prerequisites to consider yourself average, but that's just my personal subjective opinion.)

If someone's checked you out repeatedly in a short time, then maybe you have cause to be annoyed. Or maybe not - there are some people, like me, who have brains like sieves and have to come back to people's profiles over and over if there's any chance of what we read sticking. If they're sending flirts or messages, when it should be clear to them that they're not what you're looking for, then perhaps you have a justification for yelling at them. (Although I personally just ignore the messages, unless they're repeated or offensive.) But we're talking about a profile view, for Pete's sake. Do you really get so few views, or have so much spare time on your hands, that you feel it necessary to get offended over every person who views your profile who isn't what you're looking for?

Seriously, grow up. And get a hobby.

Thank you. That is all.

Saturday 10 April 2010

Randomness

WARNING: This post contains sexual references.

Ah shite, it's 3.55am and I have to be up at 9.30. I blame this wakefulness on Jay, who decided to make it his mission to get me aroused *ahem* and then tell me, "Oh, I've been drinking, I can't drive". Now, of course, he's buggered off somewhere, probably to bed, and I'm stuck here wondering if the Ann Summers leaflets are true, and every girl actually should have a Rabbit.

*sigh*

In case you can't tell, Jay is the man of the month. Not my boyfriend, definitely not. But a guy I met on a dating site I belong to, and occasionally hang out with. "Hang out" being a euphemism for "talk to in the middle of the night and now and then open the door to at 4.30 in the morning wearing a corset and panties".

Perhaps, in light of the fact that my father and stepfather have both joined the Facebook world, I shouldn't be posting this. But hell, if they're silly enough to read these notes, they deserve everything they get. All of you readers know to take what you read here with a pinch of salt, right? RIGHT?

Eheheheh, I hope so.

To be fair, if a note of mine contains any sexual details, I do try and place a warning at the top. Occasionally I forget, but not often.

I'm a little crabby at the moment, because the corset that I ordered off eBay, and paid frickin' £18.99 for, is NOT the size it says on the label. I could send it back, but I wouldn't get the P&P back, either the money I paid her to send it to me, or the postage it costs me to send it back. It's not the seller's fault that it was mislabelled, but instead of a 36DD (my size), it's a 32DD by my measurements. Possibly a small 34, but certainly no bigger than that. I can get it on, but it's not comfortable. Even when I'm slim, my ribcage is bigger than a 32. So I guess I'm gonna have to put it in the ever-growing pile of things that I have to sell. I have sooooo many things that I'm trying to get rid of, and once I've taken photos, I expect I'll post a list of things here before I try listing them on eBay. (By that, I mean post a list of things here for you to buy, not that you can have for free - I'm desperately trying to raise money at the moment, and can't really afford to give stuff away.) There are a couple of fairly nice designer things, plus a whole load of cheaper things, and a lot of shoes. Unfortunately I've been giving things away that I could have sold for a pretty penny - I gave Lauren the red Jigsaw evening dress from Trish, and Ellie the turquoise Karen Millen pants, and Selena the silver Louboutin pumps that I got on sale in TK Maxx and then couldn't wear 'cause they were too high. At the time, it didn't seem worth selling them, because I didn't have many things that I wanted to get rid of. But it's seeming less and less likely that I'm going to move into my own flat, at least in this country, and with Mom and Lori and Chris and Ryan and me in a 3-bedroom house, there just isn't enough room for me to keep clothes and shoes that I don't wear, for "one day".

The things that I should sell, but probably don't have the heart to, are my evening dresses. I love evening dresses - ballgowns, cocktail dresses, fancy meringues and simple sheaths alike - and have at least half a dozen that are just a little bit too small in the bust. Several of them come from Monsoon, and a couple from Jigsaw, and I know that I could get quite a lot of money for them. Possibly even enough to take that vacation that I'm craving. But I love those dresses, and have been holding onto them for that day in the future that I finally afford a breast reduction, and I'll only sell them if I don't have any other choice.

Or if Curt or some other lovely male invites me to spend a month island-hopping in the Caribbean. :P

4.17 now, and I'm starting to get sleepy. I'll read a couple pages of my book - if I can find a book to read, I just remembered that I finished the one I was reading earlier - and then sleep a couple hours. With any luck I won't be too tired tomorrow, Mom and Tony and Debbie and I are supposed to be going to the garden centre, and I'm looking forward to that - for one thing I actually have a bit of money in my pocket, for once. :)

Hope y'all are getting on well! xx

Getting Older :D

You know you're getting older when you can no longer keep up to date on street slang. Even though I look like your typical suburban princess, I always sort of automatically knew what things meant. More and more these days, though, I find myself thinking WTF when I hear a new word.

Which brings me to today's funny story.

One word that's been circulating at work for a couple months (maybe more, but I noticed it only recently) is "peng". Apparently this means attractive. The first time one of my boys said this to me, I thought he said "ping", and I said, unthinkingly, "Oh, like the duck".

Of course, my boys are in their teens, and none of them ever read the Ping the Duck books when they were kids. So THEY thought that *I* was saying that "duck" was also a word for physically attractive. :D

And just a couple days ago, I heard a guy at the center say, "That girl is duck, brah."

*cracks up laughing*

Well, I always wanted to leave a legacy.

Wednesday 7 April 2010

Need

WARNING: This post contains sexual references.

Strange week I'm having.

Firstly, I seem to be attracted to females a lot atm. I'm seriously thinking of changing my profile to reflect this, and actually looking for a girl to play with. Problem is, I don't much like English girls. Mostly I'm attracted to American girls, and a couple of Canadians, and I'm not really interested in internet play - if I'm gonna experiment with a girl, it's gonna be in person.

I also appear to be attracted to Cadbury's Creme Eggs. I have this recurring dream, and I can't exactly explain what happens, because NOTHING truly happens. It's all very confused. All I know is that I'm dreaming about women who appear to have Creme Eggs where their girlie bits ( LOL ) should be. And I'm licking and sucking the fondant out of the middle, mostly with my tongue but occasionally dipping my fingers in, and I can't get enough of it. Sometimes I race through my dreams landscapes, gathering as many candies / girls as I can, running my hands over their bodies and through their hair, kissing one moment and biting the next, sucking up everything that is sweet and good in life.

Every time I have this dream I wake in the throes of orgasm, having somehow made myself come with no (waking) physical stimuli whatsoever. Interestingly, when I wake up it's not either chocolate or pussy that I'm craving, it's man - a hard, hot, ready male, pushing inside me.

I blame this on lack of sleep, but there's definitely something in the air right now. I'd say it was spring, but spring rarely affects me this way.

Actually, I can't remember anything that's affected me quite this way. For the last couple days I've been too aroused to get anything done. I've given up on socialising, and am generally giving off vibes that say "If you're not here to fuck me, come back in a couple days."

Aside from fucking, all I want to do is eat and sleep. I think it's hormonal. Since I got my implant, I don't get periods often or properly, so it's hard to judge when they'll come, but I taste different right now, so with the combination of that and the need for sleep and food I'd guess that I'm PMSing. So I'm letting myself sleep.

I lay outside in a bikini today, which was chilly, but I'm living in hope that the sun will make a good showing soon. Last year the warmest days were in April.

That's really all I have to share today. If you're in the London / Herts area and would like to be in the bed of a chubby, sunny brunette in the next few days, drop me a line.

Friday 2 April 2010

Mmm...Suits...

I've been dreaming about men in suits a lot lately, probably due to the fact that I spent the better part of an hour in Moss Bros last week, pricing up suits for Ryan's prom. Mom and I agreed to go halves with Lori and Chris on a suit for him, although I'm not sure if he's going to rent or buy. Depends what he wants, really. If he wants a traditional dinner suit we're better off renting, because a decent one costs a lot, but if he wants something more casual it's probably better to buy - they have some fairly nice ones for £150, which is only twice the price of the same ones on rental. And he needs something to wear to job interviews.

I'm of the opinion that with his colouring he'd be better in a light gray - or even a charcoal - than in black, but I'm not sure Lauren agrees. One thing I DO know, though, is that he really shouldn't be borrowing one from Chris; Ry is about a foot taller than Chris and considerably slimmer. A suit should fit well, whether you buy it on sale or have it hand-tailored. It's been many years since I last went suit-shopping - probably Julian was the last person who asked my opinion on it - but it's not something you forget easily.

(Even when you forget everything else, LOL.)

In my dreams, I get to dress up a dozen of the males in my life, although the ones who are there appear to be a fairly random assortment. Some of them are people I barely talk to (and as ever, I use "in my life" very loosely) and am unlikely to EVER have a chance to pick out clothes for, but in my dreams they're like life-size Ken dolls. I put Curt in a classic dinner jacket, black silk-blend, shawl collar, and European-cut since he has that tall slim build that's a dream to dress. Matching pants and a muted red tie to make him look classic and timeless. James is there in a charcoal-gray three-button single-breasted, with a medium-blue waistcoat that reflects the colour of his eyes, white cravat and pocket square, and a white orchid buttonhole. Cameron I dress in a beautiful biscuit-coloured three-piece suit, made of some sort of linen-blend, with a looser, more American jacket worn open, and low-rider Italian-cut pants that show off his washboard abs, and a lovely brown hand-made leather belt. Tommy's wearing American-style cream, single-button, which surprises me since I don't usually approve of cream suits, but he's dark enough and handsome enough to carry it off. I think it's seersucker, and with the cream-and-navy diagnonal-striped tie he's wearing, he looks like he's walked out of New Orleans high society in the thirties. Chris from my Japanese class is wearing a double-breasted light wool in navy blue, with a turquoise shirt that brings out his red hair beautifully.

I can't remember who else was there; these are the ones I noticed right off. I love dressing men, especially ones I find attractive. I especially love good suits, love finding the right cut for a guy's body type, love determining a flattering colour scheme for them, love knowing a good fabric from a bad fabric and seeing how the seams lie. I don't care one whit for what's fashionable at the time: if a suit's cut well, sewn well, if the fit is right and the fabric is good quality, you can wear it for half a lifetime and look beautiful and stylish every time.

I did have something else to write, about a dream I had last night, and Apollo in a gray silk T-shirt, and me stroking and kissing his chest, but that'll have to wait until next time.

Thursday 1 April 2010

The Marriage Dilemma

[This post has been deleted due to me talking shit about things that are none of my damn business. I should know better.]