Random Acts of Awesome

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It's a difficult thing to do sometimes, saying no. Depending on the context, it can be virtually impossible. I've always been a pleaser. I want people around me to be happy. When people around me AREN'T happy, it's a big fucking deal. It's even worse when it's my fault. I've been trying to excise that part of myself, rather unsuccessfully. I deliberately put myself in situations where I have to chose my happiness or anothers, just to try and force the issue of choosing my own. But it too rarely happens. So, how does this manifest itself? Well, in nights like last night. I was out of work early, and went to Baileys to grab a beer. Trevor had spent most of the morning and afternoon pretending my vagina was a mouthy Irish boxer that needed to be jackhammered into submission, so I was a little sore. Or more than a little sore. But I was also WAY oversexed. When that happens, my body sends out signals to all available humans within a ten foot radius that I...

So often its the little things that make me catch my breath with desire. A woman just leaned past me, arm extended and crooked at the elbow. Her fine pebbly skin was tan, and I followed the line of her muscle up to the juncture of her arm and back with my eyes. That dip was stretched and taut, and looked so incredibly touchable. I couldn't help but imagine running my tongue along the lines my eyes had just traveled, and my stomach clenched with desire at the thought. And, for some reason, the lines around this man's beautiful eyes are making me a little breathless. Crows feet. Not a very sexy name. But I'm imagining them crinkling as he labors above me, face grim and eyes narrowed, tongue just touching the corner of his mouth. I want to reach out and run my fingers down the lines of his face.

This weekend... it was a whopper of a weekend. And it was a fascinating study of what sex means to me, what turns me on. It started on Friday afternoon, on a date with a pretty, pretty boy. 6'3, long, thick black hair, gorgeous dark eyes framed by long lashes, perfect beard... just pretty. My type of pretty. I took him out to Gravy, my favorite breakfast place in Portland, and then we wandered around Mississipi. I took him into my favorite store in the world, Sunlan. It's a dusty warehouse of light, run by a giant toad of a woman who sits in glorious splendor at her cash register, and can tell you exactly where any form of lighting you can think of physically resides inside her domain. We wondered the aisles for a bit, and he passed a test I didn't even know I was giving by being excited about finding some old Christmas light bulbs he bought to take home to LA when he leaves. We went to Baileys after that, and he started to get physically flirty. Up till this point I th...

Yet again, I neglected to write out all the thoughts in my head when I was thinking them, and now they're gone. I have a terrible short term memory. My mom says that there are three types of people in the world; Past, Present, and Future. Apparently, I'm a mix of Present and Future. Which means I forget about things as soon as they happen, because the past has no bearing on my life in the moment. Hurray. So, I have very few truly negative memories, and very few truly positive ones. I'm constantly jumping forward to the next sensation, and promptly forgetting the last one... This actually sounds pretty accurate. This was a good trip. It clarified a lot of things for me, explained a lot about the life I'm choosing to lead now. In many ways, it solidified my faith in myself, and in my decisions. It made me so sad, on some levels, to see the deliberate, eyes closed ears blocked ignorance I'd have to be living in if I'd stayed. I love and respect my family, I rea...