Fetishes Part II, Mr. Pussy

I’m pretty sure most women at one point in time or another said, “I would LOVE to find a man who has a fetish for eating pussy!”. I found that man and dated him for a minute.

It seemed too awesome at first.  We got along so well and had so much in common. He was a musician and I’ve always said that if a man can play a guitar like that, imagine what his fingers could do to you? He got me off just by sucking on my nipples. I’ve never had that happen before in my life! Then again, he had am amazing tongue.  Unfortunately, he also kissed the same way and, I’m sorry, that’s just not what I like. But the rest of it was epic.

He was very specific of what he wanted and literally got off by not getting off. Seriously, no getting off inside, no touching “it” for long or anything. When he said he wanted to get off only by eating pussy, he meant it.  A fact I apparently didn’t take as seriously as he did. I learned a lot though. I had no idea there was such a thing as a strap on that a man could attach to his face for a woman to fuck. I learned of all kinds of ways a man can eat pussy. Some really nice; some not my style.

What ended everything was one night I got on top of him and rode him too long (literally couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes as he had held it in a long time) and just as he said, “I’m about to cum” I still kept on instead of getting up and sitting on his face and he came. Sorry, not sorry, but even though I primarily get off by finger or tongue play, I love a good dick and the thicker the better. It immediately changed his whole demeanor. I went home shortly after and even though he told me to call when I got home, he didn’t answer. He finally texted me later and said he fell asleep.  The next day he told me of his disdain for letting him cum. You know? He was a tall, big guy, but he wasn’t that big in the pants. Not big in the sense that, as a lot of women know, if a guy cums in you while you’re on top and quickly his cum rests on his balls, he’s not exactly thick. Anyway, after he “thought it about it” for a day, decided I just wouldn’t work.

I understand. I have some specifics I need filled as well. I couldn’t fulfill his exact fantasy. For whatever fucked up reason though I thought we’d still end up dating due to our connection and commonalities and I was going to “try and do better”. I’m a fucking hopeless romantic despite my jaded personality and to this day always remain hopeful. Apparently, that is why it took him so long to reach his “decision”.  I was a little disappointed, but went right back on POF looking for the illusive “ONE”.

Fetishes Part I, Smoking and Voyeurism

I have learned of more fetishes this year that I didn’t knew even existed…

One guy I talked to for a bit off and on liked a woman who smoked. It was an oral fixation thing for him and he wanted someone who would smoke during sex, foreplay, oral, whatever.  He however, did not smoke himself. Go figure.

He also told me that he liked when his girlfriend flirted and talked to other guys and then turned them down and go right back to him to show said guys that she is his.  Seemed innocent enough until he told me a little ditty about how he and his ex-wife made a contract while he was gone on a business trip for her to give a blow job to a guy, record it and send it to him. Apparently he was so turned on by it he “Drove 3.5 hours back home to fuck her”.  He was OK though with dating someone who wasn’t into that now; so he said. The weird thing is, although I never got to meet him in person for various reasons on both sides, I really liked him and enjoyed talking to him. I’m sure know it was all in my head, but even though he was a retired military cop and still did contract work for the military, was far right and all that (I’m not usually into guys like that) we had an understanding and got along well enough we looked past some things.

We stopped talking the FIRST time over a misunderstanding/miscommunication/simply weren’t fucking getting along. The SECOND time he got mad at me for not telling him more about a date I went on that I planned before we reconnected. He actually told me that if I fucked my date he wanted me to record what I could and send it to him. Truth! The LAST time we talked, and don’t ask me why I chose to talk to him a 3rd time, I was seeing a guy that I as of this post just stopped dating (later on that) and was nice at first, then oddly got jealous and we got into another argument and we haven’t spoken since. He was a rude ass mother fucker about it too. Yes, hindsight it would have been disastrous to date each other. He got mad quickly and I deleted any contact info I had on him and I haven’t heard from him since either.

The Beginning Of The New Beginning (And It’s Messy)

So, I started relapsing more and more despite my continued good work ethics, working out and being a functioning adult. I decided to get on the single and desperate’s most favorite dating site, Plenty Of Fish. That will be another post in itself. I have some great messages and stories I’ll post later.

My father came down to help me with a car around mid January and it got ugly fast. I was good for the most part, but my relapse from before made him upset, understandably so, but he was mean. Now, I’m not being a whinny little white girl complaining he was a meany head; he was horrific.  Calling me a fucking bitch, saying he wished he never met my bitch of a mother and that I was never born and that I’m crazy etc. It got so bad I was scared all the time. He even came after me once like he was going to hurt me in some way. I stayed in my room and every time I came out he would keep on calling me names to the point I had to tell him to just stop and this was ridiculous. He brought up all kinds of childhood trauma and I balled my eyes out daily. I drank more and even at work. We had 1 decent day and that was it. He got me a cheap car and left. I was relieved. I kept on keeping on.


I kept working, doing my thing, talking to guys online and going on dates ranging from hooking up to not bad to crazy AF that one cannot make up.  This continued on for months and for the most part I kept it together, until I seriously didn’t.

As I started drinking more one day I left work early because I was buzzed and I passed out and hit a post.  I woke up after someone came to my window and drove off and then I ended up going onto the shoulder and hitting a post that ripped my undercarriage and pouring all the oil out of my car and locking up the engine rendering it useless. Cops came after they saw me passed out on the side of the road. How I didn’t get arrested and get a DUI is beyond me. Maybe they felt sorry for me. They tossed my bottle, towed my car and got I dropped off at a gas station where a nice old man gave me a ride home. I eventually lost my job from too many no calls, no shows. Before that I rocked it. Like seriously rocked it and was getting promoted little by little.

I didn’t listen to the signs being sent to me and still kept on keeping on. Got another retail job I fucked up and continued on my slow destruction.



All Hell Broke Loose

I feel the best place for me to start is where my journey began just before January of 2017.  This is the 1st of many installments coming soon.

Fireman and I had been fighting a lot and my drinking got worse. Worse to the point I actually passed out at work and got fired a few months before. I procured another job, but was still drinking. Fireman’s mother had come to our home for Thanksgiving and made my life a living hell. She’s one of those women who seem all sweet and nice, but will turn her head like the exorcist and spew out gossip, bullshit and taunt you with everything she has in her playbook.  Anyway, they were gone for a procedure Fireman needed on his feet. I literally could not get this woman to leave my home; she had been there 2 weeks already. I was mad at both of them and I drank. I took a nap with my son and woke up to a Child Services lady, sent by them, in my home that my 4 year old son let in (Hindsight, it was the 1st of many things I needed to kick my ass, but I still to this day feel they could have done everything differently. That’s not for me to keep rehashing in my head and worry about now, so I digress.).  They came home and all hell broke loose. I went to a 7 day detox rehab and came back home and immediately started gathering her things to throw her out. I was told by professionals that what she had been doing to me, the mind games, calling me names, talking about me to anyone who would listen and telling my personal information to strangers, not leaving my home after I told her I was uncomfortable with her being there anymore, giving away my son’s guinea pig, that he loved, away while I was gone… was very wrong and my feelings were justified. I messaged Fireman and told him she needed to leave. He came home and as soon as he did her demeanor went from, “OK honey, I’ll have him bring me home today.” to cussing me out and putting her hands on me and in my ears to get me to assault her. I did not. Shit hit the fan and I called the cops and they told her to get out.  She, Fireman and my son (because I was no longer allowed to be alone with him) went to a hotel for the night and went the next day to take her back.

I stilled lived with Fireman, uncomfortably, until the end of the year. Everything got so bad and I did too. By January 7th I checked myself into a 28 day program and when I got back Fireman moved out with our son across town.  To make a long story short…AA meetings, court, custody issues, supervised visitation, a lot of learning and healing, slowly gathering back the pieces, lost my other job despite my doing well personally, because I just wasn’t cut out for it, went back to retail management and did a kick as  job, getting my son more and more, working out, adopted a dog and feeling and doing great….Fireman and I almost reconciled over the summer, but I stopped it because it just didn’t feel completely right. I was right. It was tense, but wasn’t too bad.  I didn’t even attempt to date anyone the whole year. I wasn’t interested. I was trying to better myself.

Then, because I wasn’t making the money I use to my car got repo’d, but I was gaining Fireman’s trust back and he let me borrow his car. This was New Year’s Eve. When he picked me up our son wasn’t with him.

“Where is “Bean”?”  “Uh, he at home.”  “With who?”  “Uhm, my girlfriend.”  “Excuse me!”  “Ya, we’ve been dating a couple of months now.”  “And you just now thought you’d tell me this while he’s with a woman I know nothing about?!”  (((Long 10 minute conversation down the road)))

On my way to work I bought a pint. I drank it throughout the day, so I wasn’t really intoxicated, but more numb. I brought the car back and had him stop at the store for cigarettes. I left my purse in the car and he went through it to find an empty bottle. I did not get my son that night. I was over him, but the news just hit me hard.  Mostly because I pictured the 3 of them together like their own little family and the thought of my son possibly having a new “mommy” really pissed me the fuck off.

I stopped drinking after that day, until I started again. It started here and there, but occasionally got worse.

Where Do I Begin

And I mean this on a lot of levels right now. I have a lot of writing and catching up to do, so wait for it….more to come soon. It’s going to be REALLY GOOD too.

Girls Have Vaginas

Let me preface this by saying that I don’t just traipse around my child naked. Nakedness happens. When we get ready for work, when we change our clothes, when we go “potty”, whenever we shower.
In my opinion, when you make something a big deal, that’s when it becomes one.
There should be no shame about your body.
My Omi was naked around me all the time. Mostly because she had to wash the clothes she was wearing and literally ran up the back steps naked because she thought, “I might as well throw those clothes in too.” Granted we were 2 girls so that makes it a little different than between a mother and son, but I digress.
My point is, nudity and our bodies is nothing to be ashamed of.
The other day my son asked me where my penis was and I told him, “boys have penises, girls have vaginas”. There’s no “fun names” for body parts in our house. We tell it like it is. I think it’ll make him more informative as he gets older. I definitely don’t want to be a young grandma, I’m most certainly not a young mom, so why start now.
I think the whole point to this is to think European. Love your body. Don’t freak out if your kid sees you naked. You’ll make it a way bigger deal than it needs to be.

Ho Hum

I haven’t had much to write about lately unless you want to hear about family outings and I’m pretty sure you don’t because that’s not fun writing material. My life has been a bit boring, but boring is good. Boring means not getting into trouble or having major drama.

I’m not going to say I’ve been perfect at not drinking but I’d say I only drink 25% of what I use to, so that’s improvement. I talk to my online sponsor every week and will go to a meeting this week as well; I just haven’t decided which day. I should go to all of them, but since they give me anxiety I’m taking baby steps. Better than no steps at all or ones in the opposite direction.

I’ve made it lately so that when I get paid I pay all my bills and buy everything I want/need so I have nothing left to spend. I have a 401k so money is being saved; I don’t just make myself totally broke. That seems to help me for right now. That and staying so busy I either don’t think about a Friday night cocktail or am too tired to give a shit. Whatever works, right?

AA Meetings

Thursday I went to another AA meeting.  I promised my online sponsor I would go to more and I stay true to my promises.

All I have to say right now about AA meetings is that they make me want to drink.  They give me anxiety.  They make me feel like the kid in school with no friends that tries to stay home, but is still forced to go because you “need to”.

I’m so much better one on one.  I like my all ladies email group.  I like my therapist.  I like talking to my sponsor a couple of times a week.

I don’t know why this is other than I can be a shy person and I never feel really welcome and it seems like everyone knows each other and no one makes a real effort to meet the new person.  I’ve gone to a different group each time to see if one time something would be different or someone would be different yet, I just end up feeling uncomfortable.

I’m not sure how to get over this or if I ever will.

My Real Mom

As some of you may recall, my biological mother is a narcissistic cunt.  My Omi (grandma) was the main one who took care of me and was who I considered to be my “real mom”.

It took me a long time to figure the following out, but I think I’ve  got it now.  My Omi knew my mom had some mental illness like depression and a narcissistic personality disorder.  Partly, I’m sure, from having an alcoholic dad and part that it runs in the family.  I think she felt guilty and partially responsible that my mother turned out the way she did and that’s why she moved in with us after my parents got divorced.  She could see her downward spiral even though my mom was trying hard to get a good job,  be successful and obtain all those things (material) that she wanted for us.  She was right.  As the years went by, the more selfish my mom got.  She’d rather leave on business trips and act like she was such a great single mom even though my Omi did all of the work.  Omi quit her job as a lab geek at the University of Chicago, a job she had for 20+ years to help us.  Omi was my mentor, my hero, my best friend and advise giver.

I’m not supposed to believe that my hypochondriac, constantly needing attention, any kind of attention, always “sick or hurt”, mom killed my beloved Omi in that car accident, but I do blame her for it. It was her 3rd accident in a few years and each one was worse than the last.

Yesterday marked the 14th anniversary of Omi’s death.  Today would have been her 89th birthday.

I was really depressed yesterday and I think this had a lot to do with it.  Today I will try my best to keep my chin up and celebrate her life.



Tattoo Guy

I’ve been meaning to tell you all a little story of a guy I use to fuck date.  I said I would write more, so here we go…

When I was 21 I got my last tattoo (I have 4 altogether) and I had this guy, Tattoo Guy, put it on for me on my right shoulder.  He was newer at it, but I had seen some of his work and they looked good and so I figured, let’s do this.  We liked each other, even though he had a girlfriend, and wanted an excuse for alone time.  Plus, it was free. Well let me tell you, it turned out like shit!  He hamburgered my skin and if you don’t know what that means, it means my skin is forever raised in that area.  Even worse, I had him touch up the one on my left shoulder, but that didn’t get fucked up as badly.  Needless to say, but I’ve had them both re-inked.  We ended up parting ways because of that and he was too much of a pussy to leave a woman he really didn’t want to be with (that last part was an issue before the tattoo healed and realized he butchered my skin).  I was young, dumb and, well, that’s it really.

Move on to me at 35.  He found me on Facebook and he’s still doing tattoos.  I guess he got better at that, but he most certainly not improve as a human being.  I’m a stickler of the English language (I’m not perfect and I catch things on this blog sometimes that I screwed up and have to fix it) and I posted a sign one time that said, “Y can u no right? R U stooped?” because I was feeling funny that day I suppose and I was really sick of all the poor writing some of the less well-known people I had on there were doing and a few more well-known people on there that frankly annoyed me.  He was one of them.  He took it really personally even though it wasn’t about him directly and made a purposeful, poorly written post.  So I deleted him. He tried to re-friend me, but I wanted nothing to do with him.  He constantly posted his relationship issues and was just one of those, “everything is wonderful” or “everything sucks” bipolar, drama filled, posters.

He tried to add me as a LinkedIn connection a few weeks later, but I passed on that too.  Rejection hurts, huh buddy?

The desperation of some people is just palpable.


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