To Give or Not to Give

Sex. Blow Jobs. Which one is more intimate?

I personally think that having sex with someone is more intimate. I do and I have done everything else long before sleeping with someone. If I ever sleep with them at all. Giving them head just isn't really a big deal to me.

However, Janelle and Belinda think differently. They'd rather bypass the blow job and go all the way. Their logic is that putting it in your mouth is a bigger deal than... Letting him into you. Janelle and I even discussed this with a couple of our guy friends, who agreed that sex is usually a bigger deal. There is an exception for a bad blow job which is apparently (and understandably) a deal breaker.

I think it also depends if feelings are involved or not. If I actually like-like someone (rare), I ideally would try not to sleep to sleep with them right away. But it's hard for me to hold back and I often end up just blowing the guy. Maybe a little too soon. I'm really not sure this is any better or worse than having sex with him, but at least I don't have to tack on another one to my number.

A month or so ago I told a guy that I was in no way having sex with him. Yet. And he said he could respect that. Except we messed around in all sorts of ways and gave and received multiple times on a couple different occasions. I actually like(d) him and knew actually having sex with him would only make him disappear and me possibly like him more. Just as a side note, he recently invited me over. Wonder what he was after.

Is there really much of a difference though? Stick it in or don't? Maybe we think sex is a big deal because someone at some point in our lives told us not to have it, or simply because we know how it can change a relationship. I suppose this is a matter of personal preference. And for now, I'll keep doin' what I'm doin'.

The Model

At Janelle's 23rd birthday party, things got a bit out of control. To say the least. Open bar always leads to bad decisions and great stories.

But one of the most intersting occurances was definitely when a girl handed me a glass of champagne. I'm not even really sure how I ended up near her. But we chatted for a few, and she said she had just moved to New York from Washington state and worked for some random modeling agency. I then wandered back to my friends, double-fisting with my possibly roofied champagne. I finished my glass and decided to return to my new female friend to thank her for the drink.

She then offered to get me another, which I attempted to refuse. Of course, my protests were ignored and I soon had another glass to down. This girl, whose name escapes me, then told me that I was by far the prettiest girl at the bar. I found this both incredibly surprising and surely untrue. So I told her that was not possible, that I was average to somewhat above average at best, and that I was clearly missing the boat. She insisted with me that my "whole look" was just great and that I was incredibly pretty. And that I totally had the wrong attitude about everything and that it was holding me back. She introduced me to the guys she was with, and I chatted with them for a few more minutes. I then wandered away again, completely lost and confused about what had just occurred. I didn't chat with her for the rest of the night and we did not say a proper good-bye.

I am quite confused about what this girl was doing. Trying to make new friends I guess. But I mean, prettiest girl at the bar? Is that a pick-up line? Or did she think complementing me would make me want to be her friend? Perhaps she wanted me to model with her? Maybe if I lost 20 pounds and grew about 8 inches. I mean, if she was really trying to pick me up, why didn't she ask for my number? Did I flee too soon? Or seem ungrateful for the complements? Very confusing. And really, really bizarre.

Yet still strangely flattering.

The Slobber-er

While away in Europe, I made out with a fellow American. We messed around a bit until he claimed his knees hurt to much to keep going. Oh, yeah. We were hooking up outdoors in a village completely made of stone. There were chickens in a coop to my left and I was laying on my back on a raised piece of concrete while this fellow American was semi-standing. So we stopped when he realized how scraped up he was getting.

He was hot. I mean, his body was mediocre but he was DEFINITELY good-looking. I had been eyeing him for a majority of the day/night and thinking that he was very attractive. He carried himself in a slightly overconfident manner, which led me to believe he was experienced with girls.

Maybe he is, but I must say, his kissing skills were sub-par. Perhaps he thinks his handsome face makes up for it. But I do not. Especially considering that he is in his late twenties. But he was...slobbery. Like, way too much tongue. Kind of like kissing a Golden Retreiver. There was slobber on my face and it was generally unpleasant. Luckily my level of intoxication was high enough that I tolerated this. As always, I tried to coach with my tongue and encourage him to use less. But I failed and was left with both burn from his five o'clock shadow and saliva covering my chin.

Why is it that some guys think tongue makes a kiss sexier? More intimate? I have NO idea. Too much slobber is just... Gross. It's actually quite a turnoff when a guy is a bad kisser. The last thing I want is slobber all over me. And lord knows what other skills are terrible if he can't even figure out how to kiss.

Always Chatting

My friend Janelle and I were chatting today. About boys. As always.

But Janelle brought up an interesting point - We're just always talking about boys. Maybe it's part of being single- after all, if we had boyfriends we'd probably a) spend time with them and therefore less time talking to eachother, and b) wouldn't have a new boy to chat about every couple of days. And I suppose there's a lot more to analyze when things go terribly wrong, which is normally the case for me.

Even at work- I talk about guys with the almost-30 coworker I've known for approximately 1 week. I'm not sure either of us could offer much insight into the other's love life- but maybe being straight is a good area of common ground. It doesn't help that the ten or so other staff members are all male. So once we talk about them it just tends to segway into a crush or something.

It's just funny because I wonder if I'd worry about guys if we didn't talk about them all the time. We hang on every word and overanalyze every text. Even something so subtle as a sideways glance can mean he's totally into (or not) into you. Is he being friendly or flirty? So many questions and so few answers- and we're always left to ponder it with our fellow single friends. As much as the girls who are attached can offer insight, it just isn't the same when they do not have a similar dilemma. It's just so silly- we should have much more important issues to discuss right? Our jobs, dieting, the economy? Death of Senator Kennedy?

Not really our style. I like boys. And I'm just gonna keep talking about them until I find one who doesn't intrigue me so much.

Too Shallow?

I have said it before and I'll say it again.

I consider myself quite a catch.

I'm smart, attractive, energetic, and fun as hell. And I expect a guy to be the same.

But attractive doesn't mean (at least to most) that he has to have a body like Paul Walker. I understand this. But I tend to pick out guys who are really good looking. Above average. Like myself? I don't know. But maybe eliminating someone from my radar based on their bad shoes might just be well, too shallow. But then again, am I shallow for doing so if I just don't find them attractive? I might not go after the guy with the stupid Ed Hardy t-shirt, but if he approached me, I probably wouldn't write him off right away. I guess it's because I'd like to hold a potential partner to the same standards at which I hold myself. And those standards are high.

The girls and I went out this weekend and as usual, the caliber of men was sub-par. But some talked to us and we didn't ignore them. Even the ones who weren't cute had less personality than my left toe! It's practically torture to try to talk to someone ugly and boring.

Maybe thinking that I deserve the best is holding me back. They say you'll know whether or not you like someone within like 3 minutes or some nonsense. Is this true? I'm no psychologist, so I don't know. If I meet a mediocre guy at the bar, get bored, and walk away, am I really ruining it for myself? Am I so shallow I'm keeping myself from something potentially great?

Just A Friend

My friend Korey has recently realized that she has few guys in her life she can call just friends. One guy whose company she enjoyed and hung out with regularly (but had no real attraction to) recently confessed his love to her. They no longer speak.

Another of her friends, from home, was flirty and fun. She also enjoyed hanging out with him and they talked regularly. But she didn't feel the spark. Then they had sex and he disappeared.

A college friend often bought her gifts (including a PhotoHunt machine) but she had a boyfriend for three out of our four years. When she and the ex broke up, this guy continued to pursue her. Unfortunately she just wasn't feeling it. And he also refuses to speak to her now.

What has Korey done wrong? Is it her fault that guys who she wants to be JUST FRIENDS with fall for her? I mean, she can't help having an incredibly endearing personality. Or that she's really good looking. She doesn't try to give them flirtatious signals. They just want her! But poor Korey is stuck without a backup guy for work events or baseball games. Should she change her behavior so they don't all fall for her? Absolutely not. I mean, is it really so bad?

The Juror

I recently had the unfortunate experience of being chosen to sit on the jury for what ended up being a twelve-day civil trial. The jury was a fun mix of young and old, and the deliberations were not half as dreadful as one would expect. But during this deliberation time, I began to take notice of one of my fellow jurors.

During the trial, one of my twenty-something fellow jurors came in at the last possible minute and mostly kept to himself. When he did speak, he usually made a comment about the goofy lawyer or the obnoxious amount of time spent at court. Nothing to make him really stand out.

When listening to testimony was over, the 9 of us returned to the jury room to have a round-table discussion and reach our unanimous verdict. The table was not actually round. Instead it was two rectangular tables placed to form a T. I sat to the side of one of the tables making the T. To my right (and around the corner of the table) was a middle-aged social worker, and to her right, the mysterious juror. On Friday when we started deliberating, he happened to be wearing a rather tight sweater. And since his bicep was in my direct line of vision.... well, let's just say he definitely started to stand out. I discovered later that afternoon that he is a personal trainer. This would explain the biceps.

As deliberations went on, mysterious man, social worker and I became the peanut gallery of the bunch. We often disregarded the other six and chatted amongst ourselves (Fret not justice system, we were reprimanded accordingly by the foreman). During one of our breaks, the Juror showed the social worker and me his "website", which was actually pictures of him. Without a shirt. And let me just say... DAMN! This kid was riiiiiiped. Had I not been in such an official setting (and had I had a few cocktails in me), I would have definitely tried to go and rip off that frivolous sweater. And perhaps his pants as well.

The Juror and I often found ourselves standing up and moving next to each other. And we found out he used to live down the street from me! He loves the neighborhood and still comes pretty often to visit friends. He has the same original iPod nano that I do, but his still works. I told him how mine did not and he told me he could probably fix it. We talked about my upcoming trip to Europe and his experiences there. All sorts of things. Eventually this led to him giving me his card and asking me to hit him up on Facebook. So I friended him and subsequently told him I liked his picture. It was him, once again, shirtless and looking HOT. He said, "Oh, you like that?" and I told him once again that I did. Obviously flirtatious? I don't know. But at this point I really just wanted his muscular body to dominate me. Maybe in the courtroom?

Anyway, we gave our verdict and the nine of us parted ways. The Juror and I did not depart especially different from anyone else. But at least I knew I now had his Facebook friendship, and a reason to contact him. And later that very night, guess who I got a message from!

THE JUROR!

He sent me an article about the case, which I was less than thrilled about. But I told him I, too, had looked it up and felt I wouldn't forget it anytime soon. So I tried as long as I could to wait (45 minutes) and replied with what I thought a witty response. I had been watching Entourage (which we also bonded over) and a character said something often mentioned during the trial. Then I asked him (to keep conversation flowing) if we'd ever be able to get away. That was late last night. But judging by his 97 friends, he's not much of a Facebooker. So we'll see if I hear from him. He still has to fix my iPod after all. I wonder if they'd let us back into the courtroom for some naughty activity. Hm...

The Dad

As I have mentioned, my cousin Frieda has a much-older man friend, and we have lately been hanging out with him and his fellow men-friends. I call them such since they are both ten-plus years older than Frieda and me.

One of them is an established bachelor. The other is a divorced father of three.

Obviously, The Dad is the one who decided to get my number from Frieda. And who asked me out via text. Multiple times. While The Dad is a nice guy, successful in his career, and well...pretty hot, I just can't get past the whole idea of him being a dad. Am I horrible? I mean, one date with him does not mean I'll be expected to play Step Mom. But the whole idea just freaks me out. One harmless date could turn into a lot, and I wouldn't want to lead the Dad on. Especially since I'll be seeing him regularly with Frieda and her other man-friend.

Baggage is obviously something everyone has. A crazy ex, a broken heart, whatever. But kids? I think I'm a little too young to have to even think about dating someone who has them!

The Freak Out

I had a really rough week last week. I won't reveal details, but I was uncharacteristically stressed out and it showed.

Before my week from hell, things were going great. I finally had a grip on my life in general and thought things with a certain guy were moving in the right direction (even if it had barely been a week since we started talking). He called and said the right things and even seemed to be okay with me not sleeping with him right away.

Except I had a freak out and I told him about one (of more than one) issue I was having and why I was stressed. He seemed fine and normal but never called back that night. Concerned, I texted him the next day and apologized for my wacky behavior. He said he was worried about me and that was it. Never to be heard from again.

A guy friend of mine from school informed me never to freak out. That would obviously raise a red flag that I'm totally psycho. My girlfriends reassured me that I was justified in my freakout, but I still can't help to think that's why he disappeared. It's unfortunate that he experienced me flip, since it was probably the only time I'll do so all year. Or at least to this extent. But I guess I expected too much to think my freak out was justified. Am I just another crazy girl?

The Rebounder

Lord knows I'm not one for relationships. But a few weeks ago I started talking to a guy who recently got out of a very serious relationship. Let's just say a lot of plans had to be canceled when they broke up and I'm sure their families lost a deposit or two. I can't even wrap my head around being in such a committed relationship.

I know minor details about their breakup, but from what I understand from secondary sources, he is still having a pretty tough time with the whole situation. While out at the bar on Sunday, he told me he got pretty upset while talking to one of our mutual friends and wanted to tell me before she did. I asked if it was the ex and he told me yes, and I basically told him I didn't want to know. He then looked at me sincerely upset, and alluded to how many years they went out. I frankly would rather be spared any further information.

But he has tapered off on calling, and I'm sure it could be for a number of reasons. Though I probably somehow screwed up (like always) I think the guy on the rebound is like a whole new species. After being tied down for so long, he probably wants to explore every option (and every p****) that's willing. Do I want to be one of many? Not so much. But I can't say I blame him. I just have to remember that although we may have some very real chemistry, he probably still wants to call up the Ex. He was apparently CRYING over the Ex. Therefore he's obviously not ready to move on, even to someone so fabulous and emotionally distant as myself. But the Rebounder has emotions I have yet to witness from my usual one-night stands. There are genuine feelings he has to get over. Someone he was with most everyday is now out of his life, except maybe (I assume) for the occasional phone call or e-mail. And even if he is trying his best to move on and get all the ass he can, I can't help but remember the framed photo of him and the Ex STILL on a shelf above his bed. I think I'm gonna have to give him some space to recover.