‘Easy Like Sunday Morning’

Warning: TMI ahead. You must be at least five feet tall to read. Not for the faint of heart or for those who certainly have better things to do. 😉

Some readers have commented that I sound like I’m “easy” when I write my blog. I believe the word “‘ho” might have arisen at one point, although playfully. 😉 And the thing is, I can’t exactly argue with an impression like that, because it’s been a reality for too long for me to even try to deny it.

I know, I talk about sucking and fucking and licking and sticking and dicking and all kinds of other wholesome subjects in this weblog. And because I haven’t heard any complaints, I keep on doing it. But Jimmy said something today that made me think — he said that if he were dating me and reading my blog, he’d be counting on scoring with me pretty damn easily. And for the most part, he’d be right. 😉

I haven’t slept with (m)any of my readers, but yeah, I suppose I give the impression that I’m always hot to trot. ‘Cause I am.

But perhaps I am now giving a false impression. Or, at least, an outdated one.

Not long ago, we all had a debate over at Jimmy’s site about relationships gone bad, and I gave what I thought was good advice … read: advice I need to learn to follow. After realizing that all of us with failed relationships have one common denominator — ourselves — we need to figure out how to not let things go bad the next time we manage to snag someone — especially someone we’d like to keep in our lives for a significant period of time. 😉 My advice was to think of it in terms of switching from a PC to a Mac — if you want quality, you have to upgrade. Meaning, leave the losers behind and find someone more worthy of your time.

Tiff lovingly reminds me that my history can only be improved upon, and that I might just have started making better decisions. 😉 And she’s right. It’s easy to get laid, and I’ve taken the easy route one too many times — especially when I’m down on myself or frustrated, having cheap meaningless sex was always a quick Band-Aid for me. But something in me changed after my last one-nighter in March/April with the ex (Brat, for those who’ve been around that long). While I had fun, I closed a chapter that day and decided to stop haphazardly bandaging wounds that need stitches. I decided that it was time for a serious upgrade.

Which means that I will have to make a serious investment. So I strapped on the chastity belt and bought a fresh pack of batteries. I went on dates and went home alone. And while that was against my very nature (it’s almost a reflex, really, to give a guy a pearl necklace on the first date. Hee hee), it was good for me to keep the family jewels hidden in the armoire. I figure that maybe I’ll attract better men if I didn’t sleep with everyone in sight. And in the meantime, I enjoy getting to know — really know — people on a variety of levels. You can easily hide when you’re in a darkened room, a bedsheet and a condom. You can’t hide in a well-lit quiet area when I’m trying to get inside your head to see what makes you tick. You can’t hide from me unless you run away, and even then, I know why you did it. The problem is, I just don’t know how to keep you from leaving. So I don’t.

When I say upgrade, I don’t necessarily mean that I’m looking for someone with a better income/apartment/job than the last one. I’m looking for someone who cares, someone who calls, someone who’s expressive and fascinating and spontaneous and stable. Someone who gives a shit when I pull away, like I always do. I tend to take a step away to see if the guy has any interest in keeping me close by. I’m looking for someone who fills up my heart more than his predecessor. It’s not difficult to get inside my heart, but I tend to let go quickly if there’s no reason to hold on.

Jimmy and I had some discussion today about my blog image — that anyone who catches the sex that sometimes oozes off the screen would naturally have certain expectations of me in person. My knee-jerk response, in my mind, was, “Well, if they’re lucky. …” But my secondary response was more real, more accurate. Maybe I talk and think the way I do because 1.) I really am terminally aroused, and/or 2.) I’m afraid. I am terrified of feelings that I may never really have experienced before. I am afraid of revealing too much about what really goes on inside my head sometimes. Talking about sex — and actually having it — is the easy part. Feeling somebody in my heart and admitting to myself that I don’t want them to go away is another matter entirely.

So I don’t know when it’s going to happen, but I’m willing to take my OS out of “Classic” mode and make the full upgrade to “Jaguar.” And consider this another commitment to myself — to be discriminant and ready to jump back into the dating pool. Well, maybe jump is the wrong term, in favor of wading. I need to work my way through the shallow waters and cast aside the pond scum so that I can find something and someone as truly deep as I can handle. And I’m a handful to deal with, myself. I love matching wits and fighting the good fight.

I know I posted this here ages ago, but I was once told that the one who keeps me will be the one who tames me. I never thought I could be tamed, but these days, the tiger in me might just consider becoming less wild. I just want to make sure that the one who does manage to catch me will want to make me stay.

Until then, faithful readers, more cock talk may be coming! 😉

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