Saturday, April 29, 2006

secret sex

More men have paid for sex than I would have thought.

The stories are similar. "I didn't go out seeking it, it was chance encounter and it was hard to say no." Hard being the operative word. I was traveling through Europe, through Asia, through Canal Street. And bam! There she was. I was asking for directions to St. Petersburg, Bangkok (sorry, couldn't resist), to a foot massage spa. Note- they are not spas in Chinatown, NY, they are ...well, I don't know what they are but they are not spas. It's always described so innocuous. She didn't speak much English. It really started gentle and soft. Note- it always starts gentle and soft and very little language is needed. Men turn on like goosebumps, the slightest blow and everything sticks straight up.

Women don't operate this way. Even if it's a one-off we seek, it's other thrills that excite us. It's not the actual intercourse, it's the attention, the touch, the taboo. A girl has decided early on if she's going to go home with the guy. Some of it has to do with the guy but most of it has been decided before she even met the guy. I just need the weight of a man on me tonight. I need to be felt up. Felt down. And then some.

So, both enjoy a sexual chance encounter however, one has shaved their legs in preparation and the other would rather jump in the sack with an anonymous stranger than ask for directions.

And for the men who haven't solicited sex, they just haven't gotten lost while 'traveling'.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


I thought he would have called that night, for sure. Then when he didn't, I thought he would have called the next day, for sure. Then I thought yesterday, for sure. And now the weekend is over and I can't figure out what's upsetting me more, the issue or not hearing from him.

Sometimes I wish he would undermine my words, actions, insecurities. Make light of it by reaching out, chaffing me, while trying to wrap around his arms around my squirmish body. Sure, initially, I'd ask how he dared laugh at my feelings but then his soft smile would strike me deeper and I'd laugh back, shaking my head. Because after all is said and done, fights usually make the issue larger than it was.

Women screw things up by the way they manage their anger not why they are angry. The walk out is a no-no, I know this but in those moments it appears to be the only option. Yes, it's a scene maker but I guarantee sticking around would have been a bigger episode. It's easy to call the girl who got up in the middle of dinner and left irrational, erratic or, the ever so popular, dramatic. That may be so but what pushed her to that point is usually justified, understandable and even expected. Unfortunately, in spite of all those supportive defenses, it results as being unacceptable because the last impression was her misbehavior. I wish I knew how to release my frustrations maturely so that I can make a point without having to apologize first. When a point has to first be prefaced with an apology both are weakened. "I'm sorry but I...". The 'but' conjunction is a cross cancellation to both sentiments. The apology isn't that heartfelt and the point lost some of its importance.

Scene: bar. I don't care to be a part of a couple that is stuck by the sides with their legs crossed the same direction, fingers locked for extra reinforcement. However, I do not care to be a part of a couple that socializes with everyone but each other either. I like you, why wouldn't I talk to you? I feel like there are red lazers weaved between us. Steer clear of one another and navigate around the beams to get to others so that you please the crowd. I want to naturally chat, not run for office. I suppose it would be a waste of time hobnobing with your running mate, their vote is already locked down. Other than hopeful election candidates, it's acceptable for married people. When they get together with friends they seldom mix with each other, 'we live together, we see each other all the time.' All valid. But I'm not married. I'm in a relationship. A good one too. One that I want wouldn't mind displaying in between drinks.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

saturday night

Carpal tunnel from the remote. No new Netflix. Only a spoonful of Haagen Dazs left. Gathered all my coats, scarves and mits for dry-cleaning before storing. Painted my toes blue. Put my hair in 17 braids. Experimenting if it will turn out curly for tomorrow if I sleep on it. It'll probably just look kinked though. Nails are buffed. Leg hairs are plucked. I don't shave anything anymore. As I got older my tweezer replaced my razor. I have avocado smeared on my face so I can't chat on the phone. Not supposed to move the cheeks. Can't seem to get more than a chapter past any book. Already flipped through all my magazines. So I look like a green-faced rastafarian doing thumb rotations, clinging onto the remote.