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.