by The Bare Essentials Today on January 25, 2010
The whole online dating thing is starting to pick up again. Well, one guy so far. And my subscription ends in February, but hey, who am I to complain?
I actually heard from Prince Albert last week, wanting to grab a drink Friday night. I had said yes at first, but then I rethought. I hadn’t really “gone out” with him in about a year. Why should I run and go out with him at his beck and call just because he felt like it. We had been in contact, but nothing insinuated that he wanted to go out with me again. So in the end, I bailed. It was the right thing to do.
So on Saturday, I got *winked* at from a new guy on match. He looked reasonably attractive, even though is picture was kind of far way and he had sunglasses on. But that was alright. We exchanged a few quick emails and he gave me his number. We were texting back and forth last night. And he sent me a better picture. Definitely cute!
I don’t want to jinx myself. We are only chatting at this point, but he did get bonus points for texting me this morning to say have a great day. That kept me from wondering if I would hear from him again! We’ll see where it goes.
I had a weird experience over the weekend. One that left me feeling kind of invaded and like I was being watched. I had to go to a colleagues baby shower on Saturday. The gal that was hosting it, I’ve met a few times before and she actually lives pretty close to me. We were standing in the front of the room chatting when I got there and she proceeds to tell me how she and her hubby were bike riding and they passed my house and saw me outside (mind you, she didn’t stop to say hello or anything!) She said that she texted my work colleague that I had some boys outside my house (when she relayed the story to me, she made it sound all dirty and stuffs,) and what was going on. Work colleague told her that I sold my couches to someone I worked with and that’s who they were.
For the love. Why the hell is she stalking me around my neighborhood then texting work colleague with all my bidness? I found that really strange, weird and icky. I would never in a million years text work colleague with the details of what her friend was doing on a Saturday afternoon if I happened to see her. Very bizarre.
by The Bare Essentials Today on August 28, 2009
And I don’t mean “a” Prince Albert, I mean the Prince Albert. As in the mother of all piercings. Freaky.
I dated a guy (three dates, counts as dating, right?) who had one of these. We were all snuggling and kissing on his couch one night and he started doing this whole spitty thing while we were kissing. And I was all ewww, it was starting to make me gag, so I asked him to stop. He apologized and said he had his tongue pierced, but he didn’t have it and that could be the reason. So me, all battying my eyelashes and trying tobe flirty, looked over and said you don’t have any other piercings I should know about do you? *all cute and sexy like* and he’s all well, yeah I do. I have a Prince Albert.
Shutthefuckup.
Now at this point, I thought I knew what it was, but didn’t want to say anything and sound stupid or worse say something to make him like drop his pants and show me. So I just dismissed the statement and went on kissing. But, when I got home, I googled, just to be sure.
Who was this guy Prince Albert and why the fuck did he put a ring through his penis? that shit has to hurt…bad, yo. I know, people are into all sorts of things and that’s their prerogative (thanks Bobby Brown) but c’mon now!
Why pierce a perfectly good appendage? Especially one that provides so much pleasure on its own, without said ring. And, the icing on the cake, Wiki says that if you take it out, you could potentially piss in all sorts of different directions! WTF?!?! I wouldn’t want to clean up that mess. There are just too many unknowns for my taste. Couldn’t it pierce a condom? Why would you take a chance ruining a potentially kick-ass blow job only to find out the person going down on you has chipped a tooth on, guess what, that ring hanging off of your dick? What kind of pleasure does it actually give the bearer of the ring and should I be like calling you Frodo while we are having sex? Because I can tell you right now that ring ain’t getting anywhere near the depths of my Mordor, so you can start hoofing it back to the shire buddy.
Call me inexperienced, or closed-minded. I’m all for pleasure, don’t get me wrong. But there are plenty of other ways to pleasure me then potentially chipping my tooth or, worse yet, ripping open my labia or any other part of my girly bits. Yikes! I like my junk just the way it is thankyouverymuch.
Besides, how do I explain that to my gyno?
