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btw – you guys are awesome.  Thanks for reading!

A couple weeks ago I saw  the man of my dreams.  I was at the local grocery store (Kroger) that is frequented by many of the homosexuals.  I was stocking up on my products (which inevitably only be cereal, milk, fruit and lean cuisines) all while seeing if there was anybody worth talking to….

There inevitably is.

This guy was in his mid-30s, 6″3ish, full head of thick dark brown hair (insert innuendo here) and he had good shoes (I notice the important things).   I’m 90% sure they were Ferragamo’s, but there so there are so many imitators.  I love good shoes.

Shoes.

As you might know, I’m awful at the approach.  I’m much better at the smile and the wink.  I’m awful at the conversation starter, but I’m a great conversationalist.  I’m wierd.  I know.

Well, I flashed a couple smiles as we passed each other, but nothing ever happened.  Then, we happened to be leaving at the same time.  We both noticed it.   Finally – he smiled.   I flashed my pearly whites and continued to my car and then I noticed his car.

Your car definetly plays a role in your “hot” score and this guy scored through the roof.  He was driving a sleak, clean, new black Mercedes S Class.  Otherwise known as the top of the line shiz-nit.   I instantly began kicking myself for not talking to him.  How could I let this guy get away?

Now, I’m pissed at myself and that spiraled into a slight depression within seconds.

I pulled out of the parking lot and went on my way.   I then noticed that he was behind me at the stop light.  By the next light, he was next to me.  It was now or never.  In preparation, I had rolled down my window just in case he wanted to chat.

He pulled up next to me. I knew he was interested since he pulled up perfectly next to me – not to far forward or far back so as to prevent eye-contact (I know I’m not the only person that does that).  He was right on.

I turned, smiled.

He turned, smiled…

and he was on the fucking phone.

I laughed in a playful manner (mostly just not to cry).

I took a detour at the next light, called my friend and told her what had just happened.

We both laughed at ourselves and planned to go drink.

I have priorities.

I haven’t seen that car at Kroger since.

Not that I haven’t been going everyday just in case…

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“Myspace is the new booty-call.”

First of all, if you haven’t seen the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You,” stop reading on go see it now.  (Seriously.)

…

OK, well, you can keep reading if you want, but you need to go see it at some point.  It’s a must read for my readers.  Consider it the Not So Precious Moments Movie Club.  (We’re so gonna be the next Oprah.)

There is a great quote in the movie, “Myspace is the new booty-call.”

It’s so true.

But, Myspace is so trashy!  I got sick in 2004 of all the personalization needed to make your page look cool.  Who wants to have to write (ok – copy and paste) html coding to make your page? It’s so stupid!  Plus, there is so much spam!  Every time I login, I get tons of ladies writing me….news flash – I don’t like va-j-j!

I haven’t updated my Myspace in over a year and rarely login to accept new friends (that 9 times out of 10 aren’t really friends at all).  I’m over it Myspace!

Facebook is my preferred social networking site.  It’s has a clean design, with enough stalker technology to cyber-stalk anyone (not that I’ve ever done it).

I’m changing the quote to read “Facebook is the new booty-call” and I have a story to share (shock).

I received a friend request from a guy I’ve met on a couple occasions at various functions.  I’ve always thought of him as rather attractive, but never thought to pursue anything.

Well, I accepted his friend request and promptly received a poke (I’m sorry if you don’t know what a “poke” is – google it or something, cause I don’t care to explain it right now).  First of all, WTF is a poke supposed to be?  It’s so stupid, but I guess it’s used as a flirtation device.

So, I waited a day and poked back.  It couldn’t do any harm, right?

Well, I then received a very flirtatious email and over a few days, we exchanged a series of emails.  I so knew this was going nowhere quickly since he never once mentioned a date or anything.

Well, we agreed to meetup at a local bar one evening since both of our sets of friends were going out.  So, we did.

And we made out in front of everyone.   (he initiated it – and my decision making skills were hindered).

After having many more drinks, we retired back to his place to consummate the relationship.  As a side note, I’ve never had good drunk sex.  This was no exception.

2 weeks later – not a word.

It was so a booty-friend request.

Like I minded.

OMFG I’ve been so excited to write this post.  It’s been over a week since this happened, but I’ve been super busy and haven’t had to share this with my adoring public.  I’ve been seeing (not in a relationship way – in a sleeping around way) this guy for several months.  Before I go on about the evening, I need to talk about this guy…

He’s a doctor – professor doctor, not medical doctor.  He’s actually a professor and suprisingly has a decent personality.  He’s a little shorter than I, but nothing he doesn’t make up for in pecs.

We first started talking online, but I took him out to dinner (how forward of me) one time and we’ve talked regularly since.  He’s totally my type of guy, but he’s taken… (we’ll talk about open relationships in another post).  I didn’t know he had someone until after dinner (that sucked – but realized it could still be sex – I’m always thinking).  PS – it’s not cool to text “btw – i have a bf” after a nice dinner.

Moving on…We have met up several times by this point and have really good sex each time.  Last Monday, we planned for me to come spend the night (the boyfriend was away – I look forward to your hate mail).  I arrived shortly after 10pm to find him on the phone.  In addition to teaching, he works as a consultant and had a major client on the phone who needed help.  I immediately could tell it was an intense conversation, so I just decided to play around with his puppy (there’s no innuendo there – he has a year old dog).

I heard him hang up the phone and he soon came into the room, apologized, and said he needed to go into office for a little bit.  He asked if I wanted to stay (and watch the dog) or join him at the office…

…I immediate thought this could be fun, so I grinned, happily said I would go to the office with him.

So, he took me up to his deserted office (it was now about 11pm) in an upscale tower with a view of downtown.  It was a nice office (I was impressed).  He started working away at his computer and pretended to read a business journal, update my facebook and sceme on how to get in his pants.  I noticed he started logging off his computer, so I stood up and massaged his shoulders (how original?).  He was appreciative.  After some chest massaging, I swung his chair around..

…I can’t continue from here as it would then become X rated very quickly.

Skipping several moments, I found myself being picked up and laid down across his desk.

It was honestly the hottest thing I have ever done in my life!  I moved papers from under me, some feel off the desk and then I knocked off his name plate too.  IT WAS SO LIKE A MOVIE!

We passionately kissed while I thought about the moment and tried to remember all the details.

(I so knew this was gonna go on the blog.)

We were in the heat of the moment.  We were both sweating and having a great time.

Then we heard a vaccuum turn on.

…

The cleaning crew had arrived.

Thankfully, his office was at the end of the hallway, farthest from the entrance.  He stood up, pulled up his windpants (i know – he wore them out in public and not just to the gym.  If his ass didn’t look so good in them, I would’ve said something) and sat down pretending to do stuff in the chair.  Ms. Grace here, with her jeans around her ankles, slid off the desk and laid under the desk as I tried to pull up my pants as my belt buckle made it’s unmistakable clanky sounds.

I wanted to die!  This was possibly the funniest thing that had ever happened to me.  He cleaned up the desk as I straightened out my clothes situation.

As soon as my shirt was on, we headed for the door.  I’m pretty sure the cleaning lady was as startled as we were when she saw us.  We smiled, both said “buenos noches” and walked out the door.

We got to the car, left for home and both agreed it was the hottest thing we both had experienced.  Then, wanting to one-up myself proceeded to bury my face in his lap as he drove down the highway. :)

That was a good night and I got to cross Office Sex off the list of my fantasies.

I can’t wait til we get to finish the job on his desk.

I’ll be sure to let you know when that happens.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a complete whore (except I don’t get paid).  I’m not sure if it’s part of being male or homosexual, but the combination is damning.  Almost every Sunday morning, I head to my local Starbucks.  Well, I have about 5 “local” ones, but I choose this particular one for its fantastic people watching and abundant seating.  And now, for more dubious reasons…

I go there as part of my admittedly nerdy routine to have a go at the Sunday Crossword.  Of the almost year of doing this, I’ve only managed to finish it once.  But it’s helped me get lucky a few times, so I stick with it.

It’s always such a worry on what to wear each Sunday.  LOL – Who am I kidding?  I worry about that everyday.

Well, I only see these people once a week (you know – all the regulars), so it’s important to keep up appearances.  But I have to be careful to not cross that “trying to hard” look each Sunday.

It’s difficult being so pretty.

I typically walk to Starbucks (i have 2 equa-distant from my apartment).  (Did I just make up that word, “equa-distant?” I’m not sure – don’t care to fact check – so I’m sticking with it.)  But if it’s too cold, windy or I’m wearing uncomfortable shoes, then I drive (yes, I know that’s not very carbon-neutral, so get off my back).

I try to arrive around 9:30 which is particularly difficult after an eventful night out, but I have to make sacrifices in life.  I will sacrifice sleep and food over vodka and sex.

I grab a copy of the newspaper, order my grande vanilla non-fat latte, and pick my seating strategically to ensure maximum visibility.

One Sunday,  I was about halfway through the crossword when an old fling walked his cute ass in tight Diesel jeans in and took a seat on a chair directly across the room. The New York Times in his hand made him even sexier. Now, this fling was always just a fling, but we lost touch along the way and I hadn’t thought of him in a while.

It was inevitable, we caught each other’s eye.  I flashed a smile and soon received the infamous text, “What are you up to?”  We all know what that means – “I wanna fuck later, you game?”

I smiled, remembering that it was good, and responded with “nothing planned…u?” which translates to “when? where?”

“Your place.  in 15″

You can fill in the details.

This story has repeated itself several times now.  So, Starbucks – I go for coffee, crossword and cock.

Life is too good sometimes…

My Horizontal Life

Many of you have asked why I would do this blog. Mostly its for fun, but eventually, it’d be neat to have a book deal (hello Simon & Schuster). This idea started when I was in Vegas on vacation. I sat by the pool all day drinking and reading a book by comedienne Chelsea Handler called “My Horizontal Life.” It’s fucking hilarious!

It’s a collection of stories about her sexual exploits and other funny events. I laughed out loud many times and for those that know me, you know I have a loud laugh. I was getting many stares, but I didn’t care (that’s mostly due to the pina coladas).

Check out Chelea’s Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/chelseahandler
Buy her book at your local bookstore or at Amazon.

I almost reached over the table and bitch-slapped him.

My bff and I were having coffee at a very hopping Starbucks (lots of eye-candy and people watching) last Sunday morning.  Oh – don’t let me forget to tell you a story about this location later….

I digress..

I almost reached over the table and bitch-slapped him – my bff that is – during the middle of our conversation when he dropped a bombshell on me.

As I was sipping on my pipping hot grande vanilla non-fat latte, he proceeds to tell me that he might have given out my number to guy that came up to him at work.

My bff works retail for a national luxury department store.  I love him – he’s a hot mess (we go together well).

There he was working in designer women’s shoes (ps – where are my luibutton’s?) on a relatively slow day when he heard someone say his name behind him.  He turned to see a face he didn’t remember. (don’t worry – he hadn’t slept with him).  This gentleman introduced himself and confirmed my bff’s name and asked him if he was my friend.

(on a side note – this story is very difficult to write without mentioning names.  This is gonna have to be edited well to make sure the parties remain anonymous.  However, they can assure their anonymity with a pair of size 11 black luibutton’s fyi).

I digress…  (again)

umm…so my bff is feeling a little weird, but seeing as he was at work, he felt obligated to continue the conversation.  They exchanged formalities and the gentleman soon revealed how he knew me through another friend that they had apparently met once at a bar.  (confused yet?)  (yeah – so am i)  So, my bff is awful with names and promptly forgot about their conversation from five seconds ago.

So, as the (awkward) conversation continued, this gentleman asked if I was dating anyone.  My bff’s response was priceless…

“He’s dating lots of people – but not one seriously.”

LMAO!  This is why I love him.  Go ahead and make me sound like a complete slag to this cute stranger.  Oh – it’s important to note that my inner circle use the term “dating” when we really mean “fucking.”

The guy, taken aback a little, seemed a little distraught, but did something very ballsy.  He proceeded to ask my bff if it would be kosher if he got my number…

…”He better not end up on the 10 o’clock news.”  …oh well, you seem cute enough…”

So, my bff pulls up his personal work database (heaven forbid he look at his cell phone) that has all of my info in it (for when those luibutton’s come in) and he gave him the first number on the system…

….He then stops the story mid sentence and said, “Oh fuck!  Your phone number doesn’t start with 214 does it?”

I said, “No, I’ve had this number for 6 years and known you the entire time, fucker! What number did you give him?”

Embarrassed, my bff explains…

“Well, see what had happened was… the default on the main screen of the database has your home number as your default number that appears on your main screen.  And I was all nervous and didn’t think about it.”

“I don’t have a fucking home number!”

(nor have I ever)

So, some guy is walking around with my home number (that doesn’t exist).  Here I was all excited about this cute guy actively seeking me out and my bff gives out the wrong fucking number.

What a C! (yes, that C)

So, it’s Monday and I’ll let you know if anything comes of this story or if I every figure out who this guy was.  In the meantime, we’re going to practice our name-remembering skills and I’ll find somebody else to “date” tonight.

A friend sent this to me…it’s effin hilarious!

If you didn’t see this on the Tonight show, I hope you’re sitting down when you read it.

This is probably the funniest date story ever, first date or not!!!

We have all had bad dates but this takes the cake.

Jay Leno went into the audience to find the most embarrassing first date that a woman ever had. The winner described her worst first date experience. There was absolutely no question as to why her tale took the prize!

She said it was midwinter…Snowing and quite cold…and the guy had taken her skiing in the mountains outside Salt Lake City , Utah. It was a day trip (no overnight). They were strangers, after all, and had never met before. The outing was fun but relatively uneventful until they were headed home late that afternoon.

They were driving back down the mountain, when she gradually began to realize that she should not have had that extra latte.  They were about an hour away from anywhere with a restroom and in the middle of nowhere!

Her companion suggested she try to hold it, which she did for a while.

Unfortunately, because of the heavy snow and slow going, there came a point where she told him that he had better stop and let her go beside the road, or it would be the front seat of his car. They stopped and she quickly crawled out beside the car, yanked her pants down and started.

In the deep snow she didn’t have good footing, so she let her butt rest against the rear fender to steady herself. Her companion stood on the side of the car watching for traffic and indeed was a real gentleman and refrained from peeking. All she could think about was the relief she felt despite the rather embarrassing nature of the situation.

Upon finishing however, she soon became aware of another sensation. As she bent to pull up her pants, the young lady discovered her buttocks were firmly glued against the car’s fender.

Thoughts of tongues frozen to poles immediately came to mind as she attempted to disengage her flesh from the icy metal. It was quickly apparent that she had a brand new problem, due to the extreme cold. Horrified by her plight and yet aware of the humor of the moment, she answered her date’s concerns about ‘what is taking so long’ with a reply that indeed, she was ‘freezing her butt off’ and in need of some assistance!

He came around the car as she tried to cover herself with her sweater and then, as she looked imploringly into his eyes, he burst out laughing.  She too, got the giggles and when they finally managed to compose themselves, they assessed her dilemma.

Obviously, as hysterical as the situation was, they also were faced with a real problem.

Both agreed it would take something hot to free her chilly cheeks from the grip of the icy metal! Thinking about what had gotten her into the predicament in the first place, both quickly realized that there was only one way to get her free. So, as she looked the other way, her first time date proceeded to unzip his pants and pee her butt off the fender.

As the audience screamed in laughter, she took the Tonight Show prize hands down.

Or perhaps that should be ‘pants down. ‘And you thought your first date was embarrassing.

Jay Leno’s comment…’This gives a whole new meaning to being pissed off.’

Oh and how did the first date turn out? He became her husband and was sitting next to her on the Leno show.

Yes, even I have been stood up.

Bastard.

Sorry – I try not to curse so much at the begining of the post (I save that for later).

Don’t worry – I’m not bitter and since this is an anonymous blog, I’m not going to reveal his name (but if I were bitter, I would tell you that his name rhymes with Datrick and starts with a “P”). So, here’s the story…

Several friends and myself were invited to a birthday party at a relatively new gay bar in town. We went and were pleasantly suprised by the place. All of the bartenders were good-looking, shirtless and knew what a vodka tonic was. I was happy.

The bar had a great location along a busy street with pretty decent parking available. However, the location was cursed. I mean that most everything that goes there ends up closing. I’m not sure what it was about the location, but I’m sure some voodoo was going on.

This bar seemed to have it together (and apparently still does – cause it’s still open). It was packed (mostly for the birthday party) – which was less of a birthday party and more of just a packed bar with a bunch of hotties around.

My friends and I were on the 2nd floor when a very good looking gentleman bastard caught my eye. He was in his mid-30s and tall with a beautiful bone structure. There’s something about a defined jaw line that turns me on.

My friend, who works in retail was immediately impressed with this stud of a man, and commented on the designer sweater he was wearing. I had already noted his ass in the designer jeans. My more muscle bound friend commented on his biceps. We all agreed on his beauty.

We soon moved on to more important conversation that undoubtedly focused on the best path for Britney’s recovery. We had also progressed out to the balcony where our guy bastard soon followed with a couple of his friends.

To explain our positioning, me and my two friends were together. I was facing the gentleman bastard and they had their backs turned.  Our “person of interest” was about 4 feet behind my friends and directly in front of me, but at a 45 degree angle to me.  Thus, I would notice when he turned to check me out, giving me the perfect opportunity to flash my flawless smile.

Well, we became more and more obvious about our interest, which I’m sure was hilarious for anyone watching.  This included a constant barrage of ogling.   I can’t believe how juvenile the whole courting process is and this is just the work it takes to get someone to talk to you.

So, we went in for another drink (liquid courage).  He followed us in.  Realizing this was the moment to start a conversation, I took a swig of my drink, turned, smiled and complimented his sweater and asked if he had got that at Barney’s.

I’m so fucking smooth sometimes.

We had a generally pleasant conversation.  We talked about our relatively conected careers.  By this point, my friends took the cue and fled the scene.  We carried on a pretty good conversation and shared phone numbers.  I really wanted to mug down with him right there, but since I was in public (and with friends), I thought I would try to restrain myself and be an up-standing citizen.

So, we shared several phone conversations and text messages over the next several days and agreed on a date one Thursday.  I was excited.  I really kinda liked this guy.  He was interesting, funny, cared about fashion, knew politics and was good looking.

Thursday morning, I confirmed via text message the date and was expecting him to pick me up at 7.  I was excited and went through about 7 costume changes before I settled on the first one.  I went into overdrive as soon as I arrived home to get ready.  I was ready by 7 (to my shock).  So, I turned on the tv and waited.

At about 7:15, I sent a text to make sure he had directions.

At 7:30, I sent an obligatory “?” text message

At 7:45, I called my best friend, bitched and moaned about men, vowed to never date again.  He offered and we went for drinks.  That’s what friends are for.

So, skip a few months…

I was at a high-class event.  I looked amazing in my tux.  I spent basically the entire day grooming for the event and I was put together (so was everyone else).  The event was an amazing night (stories coming later).    The Who’s Who was there.

As the event ended and people were filing out, I found some friends and was actually talking to a “big-wig” and his entourage, including with a celebrity flown in to speak at the event.

We were having a great discussion planning where we were heading to next when guess which son of a bitch walked by.

I swear it happened in slow motion.  I had my arm wrapped around said celebrity (side hug), laughing, and caught the bastard’s eye as he walked by our group.

He caught mine.  I flashed a smile, turned my head and immediately joined the group’s conversation.  For those three seconds, I was in complete ecstasy.  There’s no other way to really describe my feelings.  It wasn’t revenge.  It was more self-confidence.

The rest of the night was pure bliss and I knew Patrick missed out on a great thing.

This date happened many years ago, so some of the details are sketchy, but I’ll fill in to “creatively enhance” the story If needed.

It was a romantic evening of drinking and dancing at a great club. Since I was relatively new to town and my friends didn’t care to go out with me, I was actually out by myself, but quickly met people including a very hot guy on the dance floor.

We may or may not have made-out for half of the night on the dance floor. At this point, I didn’t know he was a doctor. I did know that he was tall, his pecs were firm and his biceps were amazing (not that I had been feeling him up). That would just be inappropriate on the dance floor.

So, we talked and I found out he was an anesthesiologist/resident at a prominent med school in town. Bonus Points! We had a great night and agreed to a date. (Notice how I skipped over the rest of the evening and how I brought him home for a great night of amazing sex?) …

So, we agreed to a date. I really didn’t care about the date – I just wanted him in bed again (or in the kitchen or wherever he wanted).

We agreed to a date and he came and picked me up. He knocked on the door and I invited him in for a drink. After pouring a drink, I noticed that he had tracked mud into my apartment! Mud! How did he get mud on his feet in my apartment complex? WTF?!

Strike 1

I remember saying to myself, “Self – he’s a doctor and good in bed.” Sadly, that would become the theme of the evening. I played off the faux pas, said it was OK and threw a damp towel over it and decided to clean it up later. He didn’t even apologize. In an effort to change the subject, I asked where we were headed to dinner.

His response was shocking to me – “I’m not sure – I haven’t really thought about it. Where do you want to go?”

Strike 2

Now, I need to explain (what I perceive as) the ground rule for gay dating because it’s different from breeders. I believe that if you ask the guy out on the date, you should be responsible for planning the event. Period.

Now, I have to clean up mud and pick a place to eat. I don’t care how many people you brought back from death today, you can figure out a place to eat. This town is full of restaurants. I really wanted to tell him I wanted to go to bed and spend the evening there, but I named a local tex-mex restaurant instead.

His conversation skills were disappointing mostly because his bedroom skills were so amazing, Why does it work like that?

Strike 3

So, after dinner (I ate light), we had amazing sex, but I knew it was over. Being a doctor wasn’t gonna cut it if you don’t have social skills – but I wasn’t gonna let him go without one more time in bed.

So, it was over and the lesson was learned. Always, ALWAYS have a backup date planned.

…and get a welcome mat.