Get Off My Mind, Boston Businessman!

Ever since I engaged in some late-night back alley way groping with Boston Businessman, I've started to question some of my motives--and feelings. I believe I stated in my post about that night that I was "so drunk I just went along with it" when he started making out with me. The next day, as I was driving, I started to think about that. There are many, many people who I would never make out with regardless of how drunk I was. I could be half conscious with tequila dripping down my face and I still would fend off unwanted lovers. 

So then I started to panic. What does this mean? Do I just make out with BB because he's my friend and I don't want to hurt his feelings? Or because really, I actually kind of like him? I know that BB is a good guy, he is the kind of guy I want to like, the kind I want to want to date. Unfortunately, I have a thing for bad boys. I like guys who are cocky and assholes and stick their penis's in lots of women. I don't want to like these guys, I just can't help it! This has left me single and angry. So then, is it possible that someone who is right for me is right in front of me? I mean, he is one of my only male friends I haven't slept with, and who continues to be my friend despite the fact that I have rejected him numerous times. He does know a lot of my baggage and doesn't seem to mind. He stayed my friend even after he told me he wanted to date me but I was obsessed with one of his friends, and wasn't shy about talking about him (I was such a jerk!). But as much as he is a great guy, and I have a good time with him I wonder, maybe I'm just into the fact that he's into me.

Because really, that spark is missing. I think.  

Leave Me Alone, Creepers

Last night I forgot to remove the I Like Creepers sign on my back before heading out for the evening. 

I thought I'd test out the power of the little-black-dress. The power is still there, unfortunately, who it attracts has just morphed from classy to trashy. 

Let's take a moment to identify each creeper I encountered last night so as to not confuse them once we delve into the creepy drunken mess that was my night. First of all we have Polish Giant, then there was Paris (apparently his real name which I find so interesting I'm not even going to bother to change it), then there was Phlegm and last but not least Detroit Chocolate. 

The night started off uneventful and boring like most of the nights out with my friends. As we sat in a booth in a local bar, squished between a few of my girlfriends and one of our guy friends who consistently licks the side of my face when he drinks, I realized I needed to get out of there. 

"Let's go somewhere else, I can't work my game from inside this booth." And so we did. We took our little tipsy bums over to creeper-land. I, unlike many of my friends, enjoy talking to new people while out. I figure, if I'm going to go out to drink, the point is to talk to people I don't know, otherwise wouldn't I just drink at home? So I found a group of recently graduated lawyers (mmm taste the potential) and planted myself in the middle of their conversation. Unfortunately, the guy I was actually into talking to walked away and left me with Polish Giant who had seriously wide set eyes that slightly resembled fetal alcohol syndrome and a weird crooked smile which was not attractive. After he told me his life story which included each place in Europe that he has lived (trust me the list was not short), he decided to burden me with his big life decision about moving to Germany to practice Law or staying in town to work with companies that clean water (how the fuck are those two even slightly related?). I decided I had had enough of Polish Giant and was worried he might ask for my number or something. 

As I walked away, a cute blond boy stopped and gaped at me and said, "wow you're cute." Nice line buddy. So this boy happened to be a lawyer as well, apparently they were in an abundance last night and he started to tell me how much he loved my polo style dress. I'm not sure this an acceptable comment for a straight guy, then again, neither is wearing a V-neck T-shirt and seersucker shorts. A few minutes into the conversation, I realized I didn't know his name and since I actually was slightly intrigued I decided to ask. When he responded Paris, I nearly choked on the ice in my vodka tonic. "That's great, like Paris Hilton" I told him.

"No, like the city." Wow, what a genius. 

"So are you practicing law right now?"

"Nope" Paris started to get a bit handsy and was attempting to hold my hand and grope me at the same time. 

"So what do yo do?" I shook his hand out of mine. Excuse me, but you are not my boyfriend and we do not need to hold hands. 

"I sell coke." This was a new one. I'm not really sure how to respond in this situation. I didn't really want him to send out his supplier to kill me if I answered wrong.

"Um..cool?" Paris laughed.

"I'm just kidding, I used to be a pot dealer though. Before I was a lawyer that is." Right. I feel super comforted in who is defending the public. 

All of a sudden, I was ambushed. As Paris leaned in close to my face he murmured, "Can I kiss you?" 

"No you may not, I don't even know you." Despite everything, I am not the girl who makes out with some random in the middle of a bar. 

Right in the nick of time, Paris's friend came up and told him they were leaving for an after bar party. (I wasn't aware that those still occurred after college). "Do you want to come, 135 1st St." Sorry Paris, going to pass on this one. 

I walked out of the bar to try and find the group of friends I had come with and as I walked past a group of 3 men, one, a very tall, very dark haired, very handsome one stopped and stared at me. "She's cute!" He exclaimed. I giggled and gave him my best, I'm thinking about you naked, smile. 

"Hi there" Then he looked down at my chest, looked back at his friends and proceeded to say,

"Look! Another Jew!" Wow. 

"Um, do you know your speaking out loud?" I asked him. He just smiled. Not sure he was the brightest crayon in the box. As cute as he was, turns out Phlegm had a name that rhymed with his nick-name and he didn't even live in town. Not interested. Strangely, he invited me to the same A-bar that Paris did. 

Finally I managed to make my way to my friends and we proceeded to walk back to our respective homes. Somehow I ended up walking with one of my guy friends who I was unaware was even at the bars. This was good. I could make it home safely and without anymore unnecessary creeping. Wrong. 

A tall drink of chocolate milk approached me while I was on my cell-phone with my friend.

"Oh shit, she's talking to her boyfriend!" Annoyed, I shooed him away with my hand and said, 

"It's not my boyfriend." This was obviously a mistake. 

"Oooh, it's not her boyfriend! Hey girl, I just really want to get to know you, where you going?" God, will this never end?

"To my apartment..." He looked panicked.

"Well, can I buy you a drink? or some food? Can I buy you a steak?" A steak? Are you fucking serious? Who eats steaks at 3:00 AM? 

"Um, I don't think they sell steaks at this time of night." I answered. All the while my guy friend stood by, useless as most guys are. 

"Sure they do, right here." Detroit Chocolate pointed to the store behind him, which indeed had an awning which said RED STEAKS. Great. It was like a scene from a bad movie. 

"No I don't think so." As we walked away, I hit my guy friend on the arm. "You jackass, why didn't you pretend to be my boyfriend?" 

"You didn't give me the signal!!" He defended himself. Guys are so useless. Women shouldn't have to give any sort of signal when someone is creeping on them and offering to buy them large slabs of meat at 3:00 AM. 

I am glad that apparently I was looking good last night, but all in all, Polish Giant, Paris, Phlegm and Detroit chocolate did nothing for me in the long run. This makes me nervous. I worry I am never going to find a normal guy. Quite possibly, searching for my life partner at the bars is not the best idea. Something to consider.

 

20 Something Virgins and Late Night Groping

Last night was a disaster. 

Okay, so disaster might be a bit extreme but I woke up this morning slightly nauseous, with a serious hangover and a why-the-hell-did-I-do-that headache. Plus, my car was not at my apartment and the waves of nausea that washed over me increased as I arose from my passed out state and realized it was in a parking ramp that doesn't allow over night parking. On the plus side, at least I was safe and didn't drive home drunk? (help me here, I'm trying to make myself feel better). 

Anyways, last night started out fairly normal. I went to a local place to have a drink by the water with a friend who is in town for the week. Let's call him Boston Businessman. So BB and I have been friends for a few years, but we had a tumultuous friendship which consisted mainly of him being angry at me for dating other guys(not him) and a few drunken attacks at my face from his mouth. I had thought we were over this though--he's not been in the same city as me for about a year now. So, the night went well at first. We had some beer...and then some more beer.

Then his friend joined us. And he was hot. Really hot. Then he started talking about he was actually interesting and fun to be out with. I was looking good and started to think, hmm this could have potential. Then, about halfway through the night after I had consumed numerous mixed drinks and a few tequila shots(this was a mistake) and proceeded to word vomit the story of my life, including a lot of my sexual history which out of context makes me sound fairly slutty, this guy goes and says the worst thing ever: He's a virgin. Um? It got worse. He's actually waiting for marriage. People still do that? Like, really? I mean, I have a friend who tells people he's waiting for marriage because he is so religious but really he's just waiting for marriage with his current girlfriend, he's actually had sex quite a bit. So Virgin continues to talk about how so many girls have tried to sleep with him and he rejects them and maybe thats why he can't keep a girlfriend. You think? Virgin turns to me and says, "Yeah, most girls are really surprised to learn I am a virgin." I respond with,

"Maybe because your hot? And in your mid 20's?" That totally plummeted his stock. I can deal with guys who are slightly awkward or who may not have been totally sexually experienced but a guy who is unwilling to have sex before marriage. Not for me. I cursed fate for sending me a hottie who won't give it up.  At bar time, we went to leave and Virgin went to walk the other way so I left to walk to my car with Boston Businessman. 

About two blocks into the walk, I realized two things: I really couldn't drive home and I really wanted a sandwich. BB and I drunkenly stumbled into the sandwich shop (or at least I stumbled) and then continued on our way. Suddenly, BB pulls me into a dark alleyway. 

"Um, are you going to like assault me or something?" I asked. He turned to me and said, 

"Come on now, let's get real" as he leaned in towards my face. Oh great. Not again. I pride myself that BB is one of my only male friends I haven't slept with (which is why he is still my friend). So as BB aggressively made out with me, I stood there thinking, I am a 20 something standing in a dark alleyway making out with my friend at 3 AM on a Wednesday night. This is not good.  After I pushed him off of me, I asked him to give me a ride home. Back in his car, he attacked me again. This time, he was getting all handsy and groping me. Suddenly, he takes my hand and places it on his boner. Oh jesus. Things just kept getting worse. And the whole time I am like, Why on earth am I doing this? This just made me feel horrible because I know he is into me and for whatever reason, despite the fact that he is a really nice, good guy, I've never been able to look at him that way. Then he whispered in my ear, 

"Let's go back to your place." At this, I really had to push him away. 

"BB, I am not going to sleep with you. You are my friend. I am not going to fuck that up."

"But we won't fuck it up." Guys are such idiots. Obviously, you will say anything if you want to get laid.

"Yes, I always fuck it up. I want to still be your friend." BB decided to get all intense then.

"You will still be my friend, how long have you known me?" I thought about this. 

"I guess about 2 years or so?"

"And how long did you know all those other guys you've slept with?"

"Not that long..."

"Exactly." What? Drunk guys do not argue their points well when they are thinking with their penis. Needless to say, I said no, pushed him off of me and told him I'd see him tomorrow. Then I went upstairs and passed out.

When I woke up this morning, I had that familiar feeling of regret that I usually get after sleeping with someone I shouldn't. Strangely, the only time I feel this way when there is no sex involved is with BB. 

Is it really too much to ask to want to just have a good male friend who doesn't grope you in the alleyway at bar time?

You might be wondering, if I wasn't into it, why did I continue to make out with him for so long. Well, let me answer that for you:

Tequila. There is a reason I should never drink tequila. Especially on a Wednesday. 

What's Your Number?

"What's your number?"

"555..."

"No, you know, your number." 

Ah, the ever intriguing question regarding how many sexual partners we've racked up. I remember when someone asking for my number was simple, not convoluted. Now, there are many circumstances in which I have to pause for a minute and decide which number the inquiring party wants. This can turn into quite an awkward situation if you give the wrong answer (mainly, if someone really does want your phone number and you decide to tell them you've slept with 25 guys--this year). 

I remember when I first started sleeping around (keep reading because after AJ deflowered me things start to go downhill as far as my sexual promiscuity...), I always told my friends I was going to keep my 'number' on both hands for my life. As in, I thought I was going to be able to count my number of sexual partners with just 10 fingers. For my life. For eternity. 

Really?

According to a study done by MSNBC, the average number of lifetime partners for a man is 7, while it is only 4 for a woman. This makes me seriously confused. Where are these women who must be fucking with the curve by only sleeping with 1 man. And why the hell are they doing this? Haven't they heard you need to test drive the car before you buy it? Plus, this makes others (like myself) look quite bad. I had 4 sexual partners by the time I was 19 and that is obviously not my lifetime. Okay, well obvious to me at least. 

Juvenile delusions aside, I am usually quite frank with people when they ask for my number. I don't really care if they know how many people I've slept with because really, does it matter that much? However, recent events have led me to contemplate what situations this is appropriate in. Should you tell your true number? Should you lie? If your going to lie, would it be better to just plead the 5th? 

All of my close girlfriends know how many people I've slept with, and I think this is fine. But what happens when a guy asks you? What happens when you start dating a new man and he wants to know how many people you've been with? I casually made a comment around my last boyfriend about sleeping with these brothers (not at the same time, stop judging me). Needless to say, he wasn't thrilled (nor is he any longer my boyfriend). Even though this wasn't the, hey guess how many guys I've slept with conversation, I felt like maybe it was too much for him. So I ask, what is the appropriate etiquette regarding this situation? 

One thing we know for sure: guys always lie about their number. They round up if it will make them look good, they round down if the girl (a.k.a. new girlfriend) will be upset. 

Bottom line--that 7 partners average for guys, lets just go ahead and round it down to 5. 

Expiration Dating

I remember the day I found out AJ was leaving.

I had known he had moved here from a different country, but he was with his family, not another family. I always assumed he had moved here. One day about 2 months into our relationship, I was talking to Vicki and she casually asked,

"What's going to happen when AJ goes home?" Confused, I turned to her.

"What do you mean 'home'?" Her face quickly changed, the realization that I didn't know something important masking what had previously been a smile. 

"Um...Well, you know he is leaving in June? To go back home? Like, to the country he is from?" Vicki looked uncomfortable. I felt short of breath. 

"What?" I gasped. She got up to walk away. 

"I think you should talk to AJ about this." 

I did. I called him right away. As soon as he picked up, I didn't even give him a chance to say hello. "YOUR MOVING?!" I blurted out. Silence. I could hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. 

"I thought you knew..." He finally responded, his voice trailing off. Tears were started to well up in my eyes. 

"No. You told me you moved here."

"Well we did. For a year. My dad is taking a year off of work to write a book." Now the tears were flowing down my cheeks. 

"But...Where does that leave us?" He paused again, looking for the right words. 

"Well, we don't have to figure that out until June."

June. Now I was dating on a timeline. And there is nothing worse than having an expiration date on your relationship. 

I Am Not A Porn Star

I am not a porn star.

I just wanted to take a bit of time to clear something up. I am not in any porno's (none that are mainstream at least...), I am not a stripper, a prostitute, an adult 'friend, an escort or any other such variations on what one might call a whore. 

I have gathered quite a following of adult friends and adult dating sites on my twitter page which is fantastic, I'm glad they are interested in my life, but lets clear up the confusion. My pseudonym is LadyLindsay and since my goal is to write about love (and inevitably sex comes along with that) I chose LadyLindsayLove as my twitter name and my email address. After doing so, I realized this sounds quite a bit like a porn star name. Apparently others agree. 

I do write about sex. A lot. But this is just who I am, and a big part of the whole dating journey that a lot of people leave out. Now, I realize that not everyone has orgies when they are 15 or is quite as sexually intrigued as I am but still, sex often gets omitted because its messy. It is so much more neat and clean to talk about love with flowers and chocolates and romance and forget all those mistakes we made (or did) along the way. I like to be honest in my writing and because of that, I will write about those things. And I will write about being slightly kinky, and sometimes sex obsessed. I am however, just a lady who is looking for love like so many others out there. 

In the end, I'm still not a porn star (although a recent Facebook quiz told me I was a 'kinky bastard'), but hey, I do have a good porn star name if I ever decide to enter the industry...

I Love You, AJ

I can't remember the first time AJ and I kissed, or how we actually started dating. I can't remember the romantic stuff, and this makes me sad. However, one memory I do have, and will always have (especially now that I am putting it into print!) is the first time he told me he loved me, which not surprisingly came along with losing my virginity. 

Things had heated up between AJ and myself and although he told me he "didn't want to pressure me into anything" (are they taught that they are required to say that line?), I really wanted to have sex with AJ and I knew he wanted to as well because he wasn't a virgin. Even at 16, I was a smart girl and wanted to be prepared. For this reason, I thought up an elaborate plan to get my hands on some birth control without my mother knowing I was *cringe* 'sexually active.' Being the clever girl I was, I told my mother I needed to schedule an appointment with my doctor because I had been having horrible headaches. At the doctor's office, I sat nervously in the waiting room, surrounded by a few screaming babies (nothing like sitting in the pediatricians office while trying to get a prescription for birth control). When the nurse called my name, my mother went to stand up and I quickly shot her a glance that said, if you even think about coming into the exam room with me, I will kill you. My glances are pretty effective. She sat back down. After I had been fully examined by the nurse and the doctor, I sat back in the chair next to my doctor's small desk and waited for her to ask the question she had been asking me since puberty. Of course, this time, there was no, "Is there anything you'd like to talk about while your mom is not in here?" Maybe she could tell by the fact I was wringing my hands incessantly that I had something I wanted to ask her and she found it comical to toy with me, but in over 20 visits since I was 12 or 13, she didn't give me this opening. As she stood up to leave, I nervously said, "Um, actually I wanted to talk to you about something." My voice cracked as I said this, despite the fact that I was not a 15 year old male. 

"Oh?" she asked, interested, as she sat back down.

"Uh, I kind of wanted to get a prescription for....birth control..."I stared at the ground while speaking. She didn't miss a beat.

"Okay, did you want this to regulate your periods or because you are 'sexually active.'" First off, let's address this phrase. It is an awful phrase. Period. Besides the fact that I am fairly certain it was invented to torture teenagers because hearing anybody (especially your parents) use the phrase 'sexually active' in reference to you is horrify, it's also embarrassing. As an adult, if you are asked by a doctor if you are 'sexually active,' isn't it awful to have to answer, "well I have sex, or sometimes I do...but I don't currently have a partner....does that count?" Horrifying. Why not just say, please tell me all the intimate details of your sex life or lack thereof. I would rather tell my OB/GYN I was banging 6 guys at once then have to admit I hadn't had sex in 6 months. Anyways. After I told my doctor it was because I wanted to have sex, she told me I had to see a gynecologist to get the prescription. This caused an obstacle. Thankfully, I think quickly on my feet. 

I walked out of the exam room and smoothly told my mother that the doctor had decided my hormones were causing my headaches and I had to get put on birth control to control my headaches and logically, the OB/GYN was the one who had to prescribe them to me. She bought it. Or at least she pretended to so that I was still able to look her in the eye. Either way, I am still grateful to this day. 

As I was saying, AJ and I were prepared and one night after a very intense dry humping session, I told him that I wanted to have sex next time we were together.

"Are you sure? I don't want to pressure you into anything..." (oh, shut up AJ). 

"Yes! Make sure you buy some condoms." And so he did. 

On that fateful day, in the middle of winter, I arrived at his house and about 5 minutes later I was almost naked. Laying in bed and fondling his package, I decided to draw on it and give it a little name (so I was a slightly strange teenager, stop judging me). I drew a heart on his penis and joked that it loved me. He looked me right in the eyes and, with his Sharpie decorated penis still hanging out, said, "It does, and I do. I love you." 

It's difficult for me to even describe how I felt when he said that, despite the vivid memory of that day. I was so incredibly happy, I thought my cheeks might break from how much I was smiling. The warmth I felt spreading through my body was unlike any emotion I had ever experienced before. I wondered if this was what true happiness feels like.

"I love you to, AJ." And then we had sex and it wasn't awful or extremely short or super painful or any of those other horrible first-time experiences you hear. Granted, it was slightly awkward and I didn't want him to see my naked and I was so embarrassed when I had to put the condom on him but that's to be expected when you are young and inexperienced. I drove home loving the fact that he had been inside of me. And that he loved me. Talk about a good night. 

Needless to say, after that night, we pretty much fucked like bunnies as is typical of horny teenagers. And it was absolutely perfect. 

Can I Play With Your Gun, Officer HotPants?

Everyone has moments in their life in which certain events cause an epiphany along the lines of, I really need a lover of some sort. I had one of these experiences yesterday. As I was driving home from work yesterday, I was spacing out (as I usually do while driving) until I saw some pretty lights flashing behind me. That thought quickly passed as I realized they were the blue and red flash of a cop car. Fuck. As I'm pulling over to the side of the road, devastatingly embarrassed as I've never gotten a speeding ticket before, I realize--I wasn't speeding. Hmm...interesting. Officer HotPants got out of his car and strolled up to mine, running his hand along the dirty exterior of my white car as he approached. He introduced himself to me while I tried not to gape at his beautiful face and perfect body all dressed up in his little cop outfit. I thought hot cops were myths, a good costume for halloween and strippers (especially those male ones, yum!). Apparently, a few of them do exist. Anyways, Officer HotPants told me that my registration was expired since January(oops!). I had no idea that my registration had expired, let alone that this was something that really warranted pulling me over during rush hour traffic. I gave Officer HotPants my best I'm really sorry smile and handed him my drivers license. He went back to his squad car and sat there for a while pushing buttons and stuff. As he sat in his car I contemplated what Officer HotPants would be like, without his pants on. I wondered to myself, Would it be inappropriate for me to ask for his number? I was actually considering it until he returned to my car.

Officer HotPants handed me a 90 dollar ticket for my expired registration. Really? I was pretty unhappy and pissed that he felt like he had to ticket me and briefly considered taking off an article of clothing to try and reduce the price. I drove away unhappy and slightly horny because I really like men in uniform. 

When I got home, I looked at my citation and right there on the bottom of the ticket was Officer HotPants name. Then I proceeded to search him on Facebook. As soon as I hit the 'search' button I had an epiphany. 

I really need to get laid so I stop fantasizing about cops who cost me hundreds of dollars because they have no real crime to fight. And every other inappropriate person I fantasize about. 

Bottom Line: Officer HotPants may have looked like he was straight out of a really good porno but that doesn't mean he wasn't still a jerk. And a cop. Hey Officer HotPants, It's called a WARNING. 

Thrust To The Beat, AJ

Homecoming was seriously awkward, but in that 'I'm 16 so I love it' kind of way.  I was dressed in a one shoulder black dress with pink pipping that fell in uneven ruffles near my calves. My sister had done my hair and makeup and I looked pretty damn good. I anxiously awaited AJ and Robs arrival to Bree's house. When they walked in, Rob came over to Vicki, kissed her and told her how nice she looked. AJ slowly walked up towards me. "You look beautiful" He said quietly. The flush of red from my blushing spread quickly down my face, through my chest. Even when AJ uncomfortably slid my corsage onto my wrist, I was elated. We all went to a chinese restaurant to eat before the dance (since smelling like an Asian restaurant is really attractive).  As we sat in the restaurant, my heart started beating quickly and I felt nervous. Everyone else I was with was dating and they were all comfortable with each other. AJ and I sat in silence. 

"So...what are you going to eat?" I asked. I still wasn't quite sure if he spoke English or not. I mean, he had told me I was beautiful but maybe he rehearsed that from a phrase book or something? He looked at me and smiled. Um, maybe he can't speak English, I thought to myself unhappily.  When the waitress came around, he simply pointed at the beef and broccoli dish on the menu. Oh shit. I spent the majority of the dinner trying to jump in on conversations with my friends because I couldn't bring myself to turn to the boy next to me and just talk to him. His presence next to me was making my stomach flutter constantly. 

At the dance, all my friends paired off and went to the dance floor. I don't know about other high schools, but at ours, 'dancing' even at formals was really code for dry humping in a vertical position. 'Grinding' as my friends called it. I was so nervous because I had never been to a dance before and I was so self-conscious I was worried I wouldn't do it right. Not that anyone watches in a mass of 400 teenagers. I stood uneasily on the edge of the pack of hormones that was the dance floor and glanced sideways at AJ. He looked at me and I felt my heart bounce up into my throat. 

"Do you want to dance?" He asked, in quiet, but clear English. Apparently he does speak. I was a little worried he wouldn't know how to properly dance in American fashion given that he was foreign and all but apparently dry humping is fairly universal.

After an extended period of him thrusting his pelvis into my back, I yelled over the noise of R.

Kelly's 'Ignition' that I needed a drink. AJ came with me and as we walked towards the drinking fountain, he took my hand. Amazing, I thought, reflecting on the incredible feeling that had taken residence in my body. We held hands the rest of the night. Even as we thrust our genitals towards each other on the dance floor. It was quite romantic.

Gimme Some Eye Sex

I like eye sex. I've enjoyed it ever since I was a teenager and figured out that fucking with your eyes is quite tittilating. Sometimes though, eye sex can get messy. And not in the literal sense like actual sex. But sometimes it is hard to know if your sexual advances are being met or if maybe the other person is just intrigued as to why you are staring at them strangely. One of the best things about eye sex? You don't have to listen to them talk. And you don't have to be charming, or nice or get naked and have awkward after sex conversation. Just the opposite, actually. In fact, I've had eye sex with lots of guys who I would never go up to and talk to, but it is entertaining all the same. 

I am one of those people who don't like when people stare at you. I get extremely uncomfortable when anyone looks at me for too long, or too intently. Like those people who  look you directly in the eyes and won't break eye contact while speaking to you? Creepy. So the other night, I was out drinking with a girlfriend, and while she was at the bar, I was sitting by myself sipping on my vodka. I looked up and was a little shocked to see some hot Latino guy at the bar staring quite obviously at me. Um...these are the types of situations in which I can't figure out if I should look away or not. Instead, I decided to give him a little optical sexual action. To my surprise, he responded quite pleasurably. We engaged in a bout of eye sex for the next half hour or so, making the friend I was sitting with quite uncomfortable. And then, he got up and left. It was perfect. I hate it when they have to take it too far and try and talk to you after you eye fuck them. I mean really, no one is trying to start a relationship here. Let's just be serious and take it for what it is: some good fun without having to discover he's actually just a douchebag. This is why it's better if he doesn't speak. It's always better if they don't speak. 

I Think He Asked Me To Homecoming

In normal teenage fashion, I had Vicki tell Rob who discreetly hinted at AJ that I liked him. This came at a perfect time. Homecoming was just around the corner. Now, the homecoming dance is a big deal in high school. Even more so if you'd never been asked to a dance before. I watched dance after dance as my friends shopped for fancy dresses and did their makeup and accepted their corsages from their dates. It was painful. This year though, Vicki was convinced that she would get AJ to ask me to the homecoming dance (because obviously, I couldn't just ask him). 

After a few weeks of stolen glances at each other from our respective spots in the entrance way to our school and lots of eye sex (at least on my part), that fateful day arrived. I stood with Vicki, Lisa and Bree after classes were over. I had my back to Rob and his group of friends, including AJ, but even so his presence was like eyes burning into my back. I could feel him watching me. Vicki got closer to me and started to nudge me backwards. 

"Vicki, what the hell are you doing?" I asked. Lisa and Bree seemed to be in on this and continued to push me closer to AJ. I turned my head around, while trying to stay upright as my friends shoved me in AJ's direction. He was looking at Rob and I heard Rob say, 

"Come on man, just do it." Suddenly, I felt my back against another's. His. I felt the breath go out of me. I turned around (more so by force since Vicki pushed me) and was face to face with him. Rob pushed him forwards and gave him a look. You know that look guys give each other like, go in for the kill man. As quickly as they had pushed us together, all of our friends dispersed, leaving AJ and myself standing alone, in the hallway, never having spoken to each other before. He started mumbling something. 

"Um what?" I asked, confused. More mumbling. Great, this was going to be difficult if I couldn't even understand him. 

"Homecoming?" was about all I could make out of his garbled English. I decided I would just assume he asked me and confirm later with Rob. 

"Of course" I replied, smiling. 

"Okay..." He said and walked away, leaving me standing there beaming, having just confirmed my first real date. 

You're Mine, AJ

First loves are exciting, terrifying and ultimately painful. My first love was amazing. After my string of sexual adventures, some of which I will spare you the details of, I entered Junior year of high school ready to find myself a boyfriend who didn't kiss like a blow fish (Oh Jim...). It didn't take me long to figure out who was my next victim.

They say it only takes you four minutes to form an opinion of someone. It took me about four minutes to find him in the crowd of my sweaty, familiar peers. It only took me about four seconds to know I loved him. 

The day I met him was routine, much like all the other football games I had attended in my high school career. It was the last football game of the fall before school resumed and my girlfriends and I showed up in the most risque outfits we could leave home in without our mothers calling us whores (yes, my mother actually resorted to telling me I looked like a whore on occasion). We came armed in our signature Propel water bottles filled with cheap vodka. This day, I carried a Black Cherry Propel bottle that concealed the mixture of Everclear and Sprite. I wore jeans and a low cut tank top despite the cool autumn breeze which encroached upon the field as the sun rested beneath the horizon. 

We found a comfortable spot amongst the mass of teenagers, standing on the fiberglass bleachers. There was 5 of us. As we stood surrounded by the roar of drunken high schoolers, I glanced down the row at my best friends. All of them looked satisfied; in their element. They laughed and turned around to share something with the girls behind us. They leaned forwards, resting their hands on attractive boys shoulders, flashing their best innocent smiles and enticing them with their eyes. I had always felt uncomfortable and out of place. I didn't like crowds. I was shy and didn't have many friends outside of my group. I also hated football. I sighed and took a deep swig of my alcohol. My eyes scanned over the crowd, skipping over blonder than natural swimmers mop heads, hats hiding peoples faces and heads of hair meant to make a statement (but really just looking ridiculous). I stopped, focusing in on an unfamiliar face haphazardly placed amongst all the ones I knew. 

I grabbed Vicki's shoulder, jolting her out of her own little world where she was dancing seductively. 

"Vicki," I nudged her. "Who is that guy standing with your boyfriend?" Remember Vicki's boyfriend, the soccer player? The Orgy? Okay, good. 

"What?" she yelled back at me over a sudden increase in noise within the crowd. Maybe our team had scored, but this was unimportant because no one came to football games to actually watch. "Oh Him. That's AJ, he's on the soccer team. He moved him from like Poland or Germany or Mexico or something." She turned her attention back to one of our other friends. Hmm...a foreigner. Definitely hot. 

I stared at him, standing about 10 rows ahead of me. He was tall and lanky. His hair was short and gelled into a spiky pattern. Looking at him, I could see that he wasn't American. He was laughing as he spoke to Vicki's boyfriend, Rob. His smile made my stomach flutter like a thousand butterflies. I grabbed Vicki's shoulder. 

"Vicki!" I yelled, her big brown eyes, uncharacteristic with her light blond hair, flashed at me expectantly. "Get Rob to introduce me to him. I want him." I had never been confident or sure of anything when it came to relationships (only when stripping unsuspecting males). This felt new and strange, but it felt right. 

Vicki just smiled, grabbed my Propel bottle and chugged the rest of my vodka. And that is how AJ swiftly made his way into my life. 

Dry Humping and Twins

After my little orgy fiesta, I decided to indulge in a new pleasure: twins. My friend Nina had introduced me to these two fabulous twins. Since they hold little importance in my love life, we can call them TwinOne and TwinTwo. They were identical: tall, great hair and big eyes and lips. In general, they were gorgeous and about a year and half older than me which at 15 was very sexy. Although they were identical, they had extremely different personalities. TwinOne was outgoing, loud and way into drinking and drugs. TwinTwo was more soft spoken, personal and into music. Naturally, being the teenager that I was, it was easy to pick which of the identical twins I liked better. I decided I liked them both. This was beneficial for many reasons. Not only did I increase my chances of success two-fold but I could just switch back and forth between them at my leisure. Ultimately, TwinOne became my twin of choice (mainly because he was drunk most of the time so it was easier to take advantage of him). Since TwinOne and TwinTwo had been home-schooled most of their lives, they were slightly awkward as no social interaction will do to you. I decided to take it upon myself to help TwinOne work out his awkward feelings around girls. 

One night, I invited TwinOne over to Lisa's house (remember Lisa? she helped me out with the kissing situation with Jim). I'd like to say this story doesn't lead to another adolescent orgy fiasco but I don't want to lie. This actually may be the closest I came to ever sexually assaulting a man. Anyways, TwinOne had just had his wisdom teeth removed and was on some serious oxycodone. Despite this, I encouraged him to drink heavily. 

"Come on, TwinOne" I said, "just a few shots." I smiled at him seductively. 

"Well, maybe just a little bit, " he said, as he chugged a good 4 or 5 shots of Admiral Nelson's rum. An hour or so later of this type of behavior, I found myself on top of TwinOne on one of the couches in Lisa's parents basement. She was on the other couch with some irrelevant guy who was almost naked. As I dry humped TwinOne, I could tell he was fairly gone by the glazed over look in his eyes and the way they no longer focused. This didn't really bother me. 

"Let's get naked." I proclaimed. Lisa and her man friend were all in on the situation and she ripped off her shirt and bra as I slipped off his boxers. TwinOne didn't look so sure. 

"Come on, I know you want to..." I taunted as I waved my breasts in his face. His package was sure telling me he wanted it. It was nice and hard inside his pants. 

"Um..." He mumbled. I took that for a yes. 

"Fabulous!" I exclaimed and began to undress him. First I took off his shirt. His chest was oddly hairy for a 17 year olds. I ignored it and moved on to his pants. As I went to unzip his zipper he stopped me,

"Um, maybe we shouldn't do this." I decided that the oxycodone/alcohol mixture was impairing his ability to think clearly. 

"Don't worry, TwinOne, it's fine." I began to kiss him to make sure he would stop talking because I was sick of hearing 'no'. I finally got him naked, and me down to my G-String and low and behold I unleashed the most perfect penis. It was long but not too thin and fantastically straight. There were no odd lumps or bumps and he was circumcised (which is always a plus). It didn't curve to the left a little bit or bend near the base. There was no odd discharge coming from the tip and it didn't smell at all. In general, it was the most perfect self-proclaimed 9 inch penis I've ever seen. Well this is just fantastic, I thought to myself. 

TwinOne and I did some serious dry humping. If there had not been the thin cloth of my panties in the way, there definitely would have been some penetration. This would have been awkward given that Lisa was in the room as well. Some time about an hour into my make-out and dry humping session with TwinOne, I think I blacked out for a little bit. Suddenly, it was 4 AM and I was laying limply on top of TwinOne.(He, on the other hand, was anything but limp)  Why do I always find myself in these awkward situations? I looked over and saw Lisa going down on the irrelevant boy. Well then, I thought, I better get moving. I started to go down on TwinOne but he protested (who does that? Definitely no guy over the age of 20. They know better. You have to take it when it's offered). Since he wouldn't shut up about feeling weird about the situation, I busied my mouth by making out with him and just decided to fondle his junk. Unfortunately, my little sex party was interrupted once again, but this time, by Lisa who proceeded to throw up after her guy came in her mouth. Rookie mistake. TwinOne decided to walk home at that point and I was beginning to feel the wrath of the 1/2 liter of rum I'd drank so I didn't stop him.

The next morning I woke up thoroughly annoyed. What was with all the touching and oral action I was giving and getting nothing in return? I'm not even sure TwinOne touched my boobs, let alone got anywhere near my goodies. Annoyed, I waited until about noon and then picked up my phone. 

"Hello?" Answered a male voice

"Hey TwinTwo, do you want to hang out tonight?" 

That's right. I had my priorities straight. And they did not include a drunk home-schooler who was uncomfortable getting naked with me.  

Jell-O Shots And Orgies

In the current era that promotes sex among youth and ridiculous things like Rainbow Parties, I can't help but think, Damn I would have had fun at those in high school if they had been around!  In case your unfamiliar with these, they are parties kids have where each girl wears a different shade of lipstick and the guy with the best assortment of colors on his package at the end of the night wins. I'm not sure what it is he wins, possibly chlamydia? Okay, so that sounds bad. Like I mentioned before, my future children will be locked in the basement if they ever do anything remotely like I did as a teenager. Regardless of this, I did have a bit of a wild streak once I hit sophomore year of high school. I pride myself on knowing the name of every man I've slept with. I can't say so much for things that don't include sex. This chapter of LadyLindsay's love life includes the guy whose name I didn't know, couldn't remember afterwards, and still don't know. This makes giving him a nickname even better because in reality, I wouldn't know what to call him. 

We will call him Abs, for reasons which will become apparent. Sophomore year, my friend Vicki was dating this hot soccer player. One night, in typical teenage fashion, he had a party while his parents were out of town. Vicki and I sat on the stairs to her boyfriends basement, flirting with every guy as they walked upstairs. We were strategic in our placement, since the alcohol was upstairs so they were required to pass us on their way up. Somehow, Vicki and I found ourselves a nice pan of strawberry Jello-Shots. After we had eaten the entire thing, complete with licking the pan clean, we found ourselves making out for what I can only assume was an audience of horny adolescent boys (see, I told you I made out with girls). Eventually, my flirting and strategic placement payed off and Abs walked up to me and started kissing my neck. I assumed he was on Vicki's boyfriends soccer team but had never seen him before. Soon after, Vicki summoned us upstairs to a bedroom. I then found myself in bed with Abs, Vicki, her boyfriend and my other friend Bree (I have no idea where she came from, but thats what a cup of straight vodka will do to you). 

All of a sudden, clothes were flying everywhere and everyone was making out with each other. As Abs ripped his clothes off like they were on fire, Bree and I gaped in awe at his seriously toned stomach (hence the name). Then, Bree proceeded to stroke Abs stomach with her foot. Unfortunately as I made out with Abs who was next to me, took off Bree's bra who was on top of me, and tried to ignore Vicki's hand placement on her boyfriend, we were interrupted. This can also be included in my first experience getting walked in on. A very angry sister had come home to find small orgies of 15 year olds all over her house. Oops. After that, I went home, leaving a little bit of my dignity at Vicki's boyfriends house. 

The next day I woke up with a serious hangover and a dreaded feeling along the lines of, do I really have to show my face in school on Monday?  This is called regret, something I've become very familiar with. Despite the fact that I had never seen Abs before, I could not stop seeing him after our little orgy. I saw him when I left 3rd period, I saw him in the common area after school was over, I saw him walking down the sidewalk outside of our school. I never once spoke to him. Instead, I did the mature thing and covered my face and walked the opposite way whenever he was coming. Thank god he graduated that year; I don't know if I could have kept that up for 2 more years of high school. 

I tried to forget about this but since it is a fairly entertaining story, it tends to come up among my friends from high school. One time, Bree and I were talking and she said, 

"Remember that time when we both made out with Abs?" I looked at her.

"Sadly, yes I do remember. What I don't remember is his name." Bree shrugged and responded, 

"I think I do but does it really matter? All I know is he had a nice body and was a great kisser." 

Agreed. At least we all know what is truly important in this situation. 

Stop Sucking On My Face, Jim

Jim and I continued to fool around on a weekly basis for about the next year and a half or so, right up until the summer before Junior year of high school. I think we had one of those relationships where both people are never in the same place at the same time. Either I really was into Jim, and he only wanted me for some sporadic oral action, or Jim was all over me and I felt slightly nauseated by his presence. Regardless, we still could find time to rub up on one another. 

There was a problem though. A very significant one. I had managed to overlook this while we were dating, partly because I really liked him and mostly because I was 14 and had never done anything with anyone else (oh to be so innocent and naive again...). Jim was a horrible kisser. Even having never kissed anybody before, I could still recognize this. I don't just mean he wasn't great, or it wasn't my style. It was awful. Sometimes, I considered slapping him in the face and screaming, "What are you doing?" Jim was one of those attack-with-their mouth-wide-open-and-gag-you-with-their-tongue kind of kissers. As Jim would shove his entire tongue into my mouth and slobber all over my face, I would ponder different ways to get him to refine his kissing technique. Sometimes I wanted smaller more intimate kisses. Jim did not understand this concept. Apparently keeping his mouth open and assaulting me with his tongue was his idea of a romantic kiss. He never even closed his mouth to change positions or take a breather. Is that even considered kissing? 

One time after I decided my jaw hurt from keeping it open as wide as I could for 15 minutes with Jim licked every corner of my mouth, I put a plan into action. Jim came at me, his mouth all wide and ready for action, but this time I kept mine closed. Firmly. After he attached to my face like one of those sucker fish, he pulled back in confusion. I was delighted. Finally, I thought, he will ask me what's wrong and I can show him a normal, appropriate kiss. Wrong. Instead, Jim jammed his face into mine and forcefully pushed his tongue against my teeth like he was trying to break down a wall. I don't think so, Jim. After this incident, I had had enough of Jim and his peep-show penis and bad kissing. 

Are you sick of Jim yet? Good, because I sure as hell was. Unfortunately, this won't be the last time Jim shows up in LadyLindsay's love life, but we will leave him be for a while. 

What comes next is the period in my life which I like to call, "reasons my future children will be GPS monitored at all times." 

Please Take Your Hand Off My Thigh, Butch

Tonight I got hit on by a very drunk, very butch lesbian. Now, some ladies might have enjoyed this if they are into company of the female persuasion. I, on the other hand, did not. In fact I found it quite uncomfortable and slightly disturbing. She definitely made a few pelvic thrusting motions I don't wish to ever see done again. 

I was at a bar with a few of my girlfriends, listening to some horrendous live music I wouldn't inflict on anybody I didn't want to see suffer and all of a sudden up waltzes this girl. As she stumbled upon our small gathering she made her presence very known. 

"Heeeeyy Ladiesss" slurred Butch. We all glanced at each other as if to say, Does anybody know this crazy chick? We did not. This didn't appear to bother her. She motioned behind her to a spot on the dance floor where a guy was furiously gyrating into a very large beastly girl. I'm pretty sure they were attempting to have sex without the inconvenience of leaving the bar, or getting horizontal.

 As she motioned at them, Butch said, "I would never let any guy thrust into me that way, I mean, none of you ladies ever have to worry about that. Don't ever let a guy do that I mean we have what you need right here." And then Butch proceeded to cross the line. Before this, I may have just written her off as some crazy drunk girl. But no, she had to keep going. She started to make what I can only describe as "diddling" motions with her fingers in her crotch area as she thrust her pelvic forwards. This image is burned into my retinas. She then mumbled a whole bunch of stuff which was barely intelligible but I did manage to catch the word "clit" and possibly "lick" thrown in there often. 

Suddenly, she grabbed my face and ran her hand up my thigh. Now Butch had gone too far. I have nothing against lesbians. In fact, I've made out with quite a few girls in my day but I got all my straight girl lesbian action out of the way by the time I was 19. As Butch inched closer to my face, her warm alcohol laden breath creeping down my neck, I wondered if it was inappropriate for me to push her away and run to the bathroom. Instead, I just sat frozen while Butch whispered sweet nothings into my ear. 

"You don't ever have to worry about anything. You know why? Because your beautiful. Gorgeous. Bonita." I contemplated how to answer this. I can't even remember the last time someone called me beautiful. Not even my last boyfriend. It's kind of sad that it had to be coming from an unattractive female. 

"Um, Thanks?" I responded. 

"Beauuutiful...." She slurred in what appeared to be a (failed) attempt at seductiveness. Then she walked away in what I can only describe as one of the most grateful moments in my recent past. Why was I the target of this girls affection? I could be narcissistic and say its obviously because I'm beautiful like she said. But let's get real. I need to stop drinking Coronas and start drinking raspberry vodkas like the rest of my girlfriends. 

Put That Away, Jim

Remember Jim? After we broke up, we decided to stay friends. In case you are unfamiliar with this term, "friends" means 'Let's not date but still hook-up.' This remains true well into my adult life as well. Anyways, at 14, Jim and I fell into a nice routine of hanging out every Friday and fondling each other underneath the afghan blanket my great grandmother knit (sorry Nana...). My two best girlfriends were generally sitting on the other couch, pretending to be unaware of our blatant display of passion. Hooking up while other people are in the same room is something that should be reserved for college students or orgies. I guess we were ahead of our years. 

 One day, Jim and I were alone in my basement. He brought over this horribly gruesome movie about teenagers who beat up and kill one of their friends. The movie began and all I saw was penis. And boobs. The girl proceeded to preform oral sex on this guy. I wondered if Jim had planned this. Well, this is uncomfortable, I thought. I glanced over at Jim. And the small mountain that seemed to have formed underneath his shorts. I turned back to the television, but the awareness of his growing erection was distracting. Suddenly Jim turned towards me. 

"Want to give me a blow job?" Jim asked. Um...What? Is that really a question you just come right out and ask? I looked at him, then back at the movie I had no desire to watch anymore. I shrugged.

"Um, Okay." Within seconds of my response, Jim had whipped his penis out, conveniently popping through the fly of his shorts. "Oh." I said. I'd never seen a penis before. I inspected it a little. Kind of pink. A little veiny. Slightly pulsating. What the hell do I do with this? 

I got down on my knees and proceeded to put his junk in my mouth. As I was doing this, I kept thinking, am I doing this right? How do I know when to stop? Worst of all, is he going to like, come in my mouth? He kept shoving my head down in that annoying teenage boy fashion, as if me gagging is remotely sexy. Thankfully, most males have learned by the time they are 20 something that this is inappropriate and generally results in no happy ending for them. 

After an extended period of sexual activity in my mouth, I decided it was about time to stop. My neck was really starting to hurt. Jim put his penis away, my other friend came over, and we went about our day in normal fashion. This wasn't the last time my mouth made contact with his genitalia either. Looking back on it, I realize that he never did return the favor. Then again, they rarely ever do.

 (Note to males: Sex isn't included in 'returning the favor'). 

Walking Sex

Recently I've been noticing that everyone I come in contact with, I size up as a potential mate and/or sex partner. It's actually quite distracting. I've always had a very healthy sex drive, but nowadays it's slightly out of control. Dr. Louann Brizendine writes that "Men think about sex every 52 seconds, while women tend to think of it just once a day." This, I believe, is quite false. At least in my life. I am constantly thinking about sex. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not going through a dry spell right now. Actually, things have been going fairly well in that department recently (well is a relative term, considering the qualifications for that term in my life). Regardless, I find myself seeing giant walking penises everywhere I go. Today, I ran into two of them. 

The first was while I was riding the elevator up to my apartment. This is a simple enough action, fairly non-sexual. I got into the elevator with a semi-attractive blonde man, we can call him Mr. DownTheHall (just in case he shows up in the future). He looked at me and asked what floor I lived on. Despite the fact he was wearing some sort of dated cargo shorts and maybe an oversize baseball hat, I still began to fantasize about what he would look like naked. More importantly, I could not stop thinking, Why on earth do I not know this hunk of meat lives down the hall from me? As I non-discretely watched him enter his apartment while attempting to subtly unlock my own, I realized there was an issue. He appeared to have entered the apartment that had been vacant for the last 6 months. It has a floral print door mat outside the entrance. Shit. Let's hope Mr. DownTheHall lives with a woman. Or his mother decorated. Possibly, either of those options might not be desirable. 

Let's move on to the second. When I came into my new place of employment, which shall remain unnamed, one of my co-workers, I'll call him Buzz (in regards to his haircut) approached me. I don't really find Buzz all that attractive but then again, sometimes their faces just don't matter. Buzz came up to me and said, "Are you available on the 17th or are you working all day?" I glanced at the calender. A Wednesday. I shrugged and didn't think much of this. 

"No Buzz, I don't think I am, maybe just for a little in the afternoon. Did you need someone to work for you?" This, was the most logical explanation. Since I am the new girl, most of my coworkers have assumed that any and all needs for someone to cover for them at work will be done by me. I suppose I shouldn't really complain because I don't have another job at the moment and could really use the extra money. 

"No, that's not it." Buzz replied. Oh. What? Now I was confused. Was Buzz looking for some quality one on one time with me? Could I really blame him though? I was possibly the only woman to have walked into our place of employment in the last few years that he could have sex with without getting arrested. I'm not sure which is worse, the fact that I work with a bunch of minors or the fact that I'm only being considered a potential lay because I'm not jailbait. Or maybe I was just fantasizing about this because when I looked at any male, I saw walking sex. Buzz then proceeded to walk away, with no further mention of this impending day. Interesting. Let's hope that Buzz or Mr.DownTheHall (or both) make future appearances, since I did bother to give them nicknames and all. 

Keep Your Hands to Yourself, Jim.

I acquired my first boyfriend when I was 14. I was battling a mean case of adolescent driven anorexia and this boy, we'll call him Jim, made it his personal mission to cure me. I, disturbingly, found this extremely charming. What's charming about a 14 year old boy trying to get into a girls pants by telling her he won't eat if she won't is beyond me, but apparently something was appealing. As technology would have it, the majority of our relationship was played out through AOL Instant Messenger--this included our break up. 

My best friend introduced me to Jim at the end of eighth grade. Jim had had a crush on Lisa, my best friend, but suddenly he was at my locker after science class, following me down the hallways. Due to a period of horrible awkwardness known to the vast majority of 11-14 year olds, I had trouble grasping the concept of someone actually wanting me. Jim was 6'1'', a good foot taller than my petite self. We shared our first kiss in the basement of my parents house, where Jim's head nearly touched the ceiling and I couldn't figure out which way my face went or whether or not to close my eyes. 

The next day, at summer camp, I sat on the bus next to Lisa. We scribbled furiously in one of our secret notebooks--a tradition since second grade. 

Jim and I kissed last night, like made out. I wrote. 

How was it? Lisa wrote back. 

Great! But...Do you keep your eyes open or closed when you kiss? Lisa had had a boyfriend for over a year. She was an expert, of course. 

Closed. Definitely. Otherwise you get all cross eyed and they look really funny that close up. 

I thought about this and decided next time Jim and I kissed, I would definitely close my eyes. Now, looking back, I think that is a stupid rule. Sometimes I think it is kind of fun to open your eyes, just to get a glimpse of your partner in full on make-out mode. Sometimes I actually giggle. I'm not sure the men I make out with appreciate that. Especially if they are naked. 

Things really started to heat up with Jim and I. We saw each other weekly for about two months during the summer before Freshman year of High School. About a month into the relationship, Jim and I were in the middle of passionately making out on the futon in my basement(with my eyes closed I might add), when all of a sudden I felt his hand creeping ever so slightly up my shirt. Panic flooded through me. I could barely stand to see myself naked, there was no way I was about to let a boy see me like that. The only thing I could think of to do was to slap his hand away. And so I did. He would cop a feel every now and then on top of my shirt but anytime his hand touched warm flesh I quickly pulled away. This would go on for the duration of our relationship as I had yet to find my inner slut. 

Just when things were really starting to get serious (think 2 month anniversary), I got a suspicious IM from Jim. 

J: I have to tell you something. 

Shit. 

Me: Okay, go ahead babe (thats right, we had cute nicknames for each other)

J: I feel so bad, I just don't know if I can do this.

Me: Do what? Oh fuck, i thought, he is going to break up with me. How can I diffuse this?

J: I don't think we should see each other anymore. It's not that I don't care about you, I just...

And here is where he really shoved the knife in my gut

J: I just really like Lisa.

Me: You like LISA?! My best friend Lisa? But, but you said you were glad she introduced us...

Tears began to roll down my face as I sat in front of the computer screen.

J: Well, I just really wanted to make Lisa happy, and I knew that going out with you would do that.

Twisting the knife even deeper. And so I will spare you the rest of the details of our two hour long online breakup but it included a lot of crying on my part and a lot of pathetic attempts to "work on" our relationship. Needless to say, it didn't work. We broke up. I was left with my first (partially) broken heart. I moved on (after many nights spent re-reading the print out of our breakup conversation through streams of tears). High School began. Other boys entered my radar. But don't worry, this is not the last time you will hear about Jim. Men rarely make a single appearance in the love life of LadyLindsay.