Some weekends just want to watch the world burn...
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 thought he was too cerebral for me. He was in town for a League of Puzzlers convention, and was very enthusiastic in describing, in full detail, exactly what that entailed. Which started off fascinating and quickly got boring.
But, at Baileys, his eyes went to half mast, he had a perpetual smirk on his face, and I could suddenly tell he was thinking really dirty things about me. Which he confirmed, bluntly, by saying that he would like to sleep with me.
That didn't happen that night. I had a party to get to, and I'd eaten smoked salmon and was burping it up. I felt distinctly unsexy. But we made plans for Sunday.
I then went to said birthday party, and then out dancing with a coworker. A coworker who I find quite remarkably sexy. She's a shorter, curvy little firecracker of a woman, and we have the raunchiest conversations at work. I fucking love this chick. But going dancing with her might not have been the brightest of moves. She's intensely sexually frustrated right now, and while I don't actually know if she's bi or not, she's at a point where she's bi enough. We went to a Drum and Bass club, and danced non-stop for 2 hours. Sexy, sexy dancing. It was more than a little frustrating. She's a TOTAL bottom, who is sending off dirty, naughty pheremones left and right. I am very, very aware of just how hot we could be together. But, she's drunk. And not openly bi. And emotionally vulnerable enough that I would never, ever fuck with her. I respect and enjoy her friendship too much to risk it by grabbing her by the back of the neck, bending her over a table, and fucking the ever living shit out of her... Oh. Excuse me. Did I say that out loud? Yeah. Grr.
The next day, I drove out to BFE to meet a guy who drives an RV and rarely leaves the house because of a sun allergy. I was kind of expecting to die that day.
I did not, in point of fact, die that day.
I did, however, fall a little in love.
We had a mental connection of the sort that I haven't felt in... well, a very long time, if ever.
We talked for hours about everything that is truly near and dear to my heart. He's a brilliant, brilliant man. Just incredibly intelligent. My nipples are getting hard just thinking about it. That's so weird. I know, on an intellectual level, that the reason I'm so sexually drawn to intelligent men is that my body is telling me we would make very smart, evolutionarily viable babies. I KNOW that. But it doesn't matter that I don't want babies. Because this man, with his beautiful brain, made my lady parts sit up and take vibrating notice.
It helped that he looked like a Native American/Jewish Daniel Waterhouse (apparently, DW has become my prototype of physically capable, hyper-intelligent nerd). His forearms were the size of my calves, and his calves were the size of my... nothing. He was a stocky, burly, tanned, chiseled featured man, with dreadlocks down to his butt. He's a programmer, who specializes in obscure languages, and just got a grant from the NSF to work on creating Artificial Intelligence.
Oh, the conversation we had.
He made me feel smart. I know I AM smart, but it's not a type of intelligence that easily translates to people who are actually SMART. I could talk to him about anything and everything, and I not only kept up, I excelled. My brain was sparking at a million bytes a second, and I was hyper and happy and a little frantic.
We went down by the river, in his RV. Which was really, really dumb. And something I had told myself I wouldn't do. Because, you know, complete and total stranger + RV = dead lady in every movie ever.
But, I got in his RV, and we drove down to the river, and he pulled some towels out, and we sat on the bank and shredded long grass into graceful little mini-flails and talked about everything again. He's half Jewish, and Israel is a subject that gets him really emotional. He teared up while talking about the plight of the Palestinians. Which could have been disconcerting, but wasn't.
This guy deserves a blog post all to himself, where I can gush about him. That'll come later, after I get over the brain buzz and see if I'm still attracted to him.
Last night also deserves it's own post. For now, suffice it to say that I discovered the pretty boy was an extremely dominant partner, who knows how to slap a lady in the face with his beautiful dick and make her like it.
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 thought he was too cerebral for me. He was in town for a League of Puzzlers convention, and was very enthusiastic in describing, in full detail, exactly what that entailed. Which started off fascinating and quickly got boring.
But, at Baileys, his eyes went to half mast, he had a perpetual smirk on his face, and I could suddenly tell he was thinking really dirty things about me. Which he confirmed, bluntly, by saying that he would like to sleep with me.
That didn't happen that night. I had a party to get to, and I'd eaten smoked salmon and was burping it up. I felt distinctly unsexy. But we made plans for Sunday.
I then went to said birthday party, and then out dancing with a coworker. A coworker who I find quite remarkably sexy. She's a shorter, curvy little firecracker of a woman, and we have the raunchiest conversations at work. I fucking love this chick. But going dancing with her might not have been the brightest of moves. She's intensely sexually frustrated right now, and while I don't actually know if she's bi or not, she's at a point where she's bi enough. We went to a Drum and Bass club, and danced non-stop for 2 hours. Sexy, sexy dancing. It was more than a little frustrating. She's a TOTAL bottom, who is sending off dirty, naughty pheremones left and right. I am very, very aware of just how hot we could be together. But, she's drunk. And not openly bi. And emotionally vulnerable enough that I would never, ever fuck with her. I respect and enjoy her friendship too much to risk it by grabbing her by the back of the neck, bending her over a table, and fucking the ever living shit out of her... Oh. Excuse me. Did I say that out loud? Yeah. Grr.
The next day, I drove out to BFE to meet a guy who drives an RV and rarely leaves the house because of a sun allergy. I was kind of expecting to die that day.
I did not, in point of fact, die that day.
I did, however, fall a little in love.
We had a mental connection of the sort that I haven't felt in... well, a very long time, if ever.
We talked for hours about everything that is truly near and dear to my heart. He's a brilliant, brilliant man. Just incredibly intelligent. My nipples are getting hard just thinking about it. That's so weird. I know, on an intellectual level, that the reason I'm so sexually drawn to intelligent men is that my body is telling me we would make very smart, evolutionarily viable babies. I KNOW that. But it doesn't matter that I don't want babies. Because this man, with his beautiful brain, made my lady parts sit up and take vibrating notice.
It helped that he looked like a Native American/Jewish Daniel Waterhouse (apparently, DW has become my prototype of physically capable, hyper-intelligent nerd). His forearms were the size of my calves, and his calves were the size of my... nothing. He was a stocky, burly, tanned, chiseled featured man, with dreadlocks down to his butt. He's a programmer, who specializes in obscure languages, and just got a grant from the NSF to work on creating Artificial Intelligence.
Oh, the conversation we had.
He made me feel smart. I know I AM smart, but it's not a type of intelligence that easily translates to people who are actually SMART. I could talk to him about anything and everything, and I not only kept up, I excelled. My brain was sparking at a million bytes a second, and I was hyper and happy and a little frantic.
We went down by the river, in his RV. Which was really, really dumb. And something I had told myself I wouldn't do. Because, you know, complete and total stranger + RV = dead lady in every movie ever.
But, I got in his RV, and we drove down to the river, and he pulled some towels out, and we sat on the bank and shredded long grass into graceful little mini-flails and talked about everything again. He's half Jewish, and Israel is a subject that gets him really emotional. He teared up while talking about the plight of the Palestinians. Which could have been disconcerting, but wasn't.
This guy deserves a blog post all to himself, where I can gush about him. That'll come later, after I get over the brain buzz and see if I'm still attracted to him.
Last night also deserves it's own post. For now, suffice it to say that I discovered the pretty boy was an extremely dominant partner, who knows how to slap a lady in the face with his beautiful dick and make her like it.
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