[Introductory unrelated guilt trip: So, you're too good to enter the contest? Lazy? Don't like the prize? It's okay. I feel the same way, sometimes. But so far, three people did enter, so why don't you join them and spark some competition? You've got til Friday, midnight my time, peoples!]
Inspiration is a great thing, really. I’ve got quite a few friends who inspire me: Sarah, to work hard at what I want; Stargirl, to be accepting and my perfectionist self simultaneously; Mr. Lady, to lend hands where they’re needed (and then some) and crack jokes at the same time; Huckdoll, to speak my mind and be myself. There’s more, but those are some main players. But then again, I’ve never really had much of a problem speaking my mind in the past decade or so.
In real life, that is.
Sure, I get into the dirty stuff sometimes on ye olde blog, but for the most part, I stay relatively removed from putting a specific opinion out there. I’ll tell you I’ve loved heroin, or that I haven’t eaten in a day or two, that my ex is an alcoholic that I kept sleeping with after we broke up for the second time, or about how much blood I can lose before I pass out. But opinions? I’ve tried to be Switzerland because, in part, I was concerned that the mommy crowd wouldn’t dig me.
I mean, I have told you I’ve loved heroin, or that I haven’t eaten in a day or two, that my ex is an alcoholic that I kept sleeping with after we broke up for the second time, or about how much blood I can lose before I pass out. Some people have glowingly praised me for it. Some have emailed me about liking my posts cuz I’m so brutally out there. But really, I haven’t been.
So here’s some more reasons you could be turned off of me: In a bit over a decade, I’ve slept with 17 people. Five of them were during a relationship. Ten of them were men. Two of the relationships? With girls. I started off thinking that it must have been because I was smoking too much pot or drinking too much vodka, because every once in a while, I’d be making out with someone who also had breasts. By twenty one, I knew – I dug girls.
While I don’t regret that number or gender makeup, I don’t like that one of them was when I was raped and another was with a boy (six plus years after I went to high school with him, during which he was known as a male slut) that had a girlfriend – that I found out about the next morning, after multiple sessions. (Natalie, I’ve humped where you’ve humped before – I blame cocaine. Also, him saying he’d always wanted to hump me. Whatever, I’ve got low self esteem, dudes.)
So, being the shallow person, sexually, that I am, I’ve really gotta make it very clear – I will never tell someone I will make out with them, or anything else that I might do with them/to them/let them do to me, unless I mean it. Cuz that has totally kicked me in the ass before.
And I’m not seeing that same moral in intrawebs land. Ha. Moral.
I see people complimenting boobs. Yeah, we’ve all got some boobs and if you don’t, then hey, about 27 of us just gave pictures of them to Sarcastic Mom to post! Some of them are huge, some sag, some are nearly perfect and completely fake, some are small and some aren’t even exposed, like, ever.
I see and have received and given comments about making out with other bloggers, of the female variety. The thing is that my feeling is that 97% of the “I will make out with you” comments are coming from and going to completely straight, coupled women.
And uh, for those of you not bisexual? Nothing pisses bisexual people off more than bicuriousness-as-a-trend (or only when under the influence), even on the intrawebs in comments and social networking sites. It’s a mockery then, right, of people who actually might do that? In the young twenty something bracket, it’s actually a way to get guys to dig you. Apparently men have gotten the idea that lesbians are hot and potentially turnable from somewhere right? I totally blame the college-aged crowd. And those damn Girls Gone Wild movies.
But I think a lot of us are guilty, myself included. Don’t worry, my opinion for the night is almost over.
This brings me to my second point.
I know a lot of moms have blogs that their husbands don’t or won’t read. Some have even hidden them, so it seems as if they read but don’t write, or if they do write in the open, they also have a secret side-blog. I’m assuming it works the same for some of the daddy bloggers, because, well, we women can be very insecure. And why shouldn’t they be when there’s boobs floating around to be voted on and rampant sexual dialogue?
Just cuz nothing’s being done, doesn’t mean it couldn’t be done, right?
I’m guessing that’s how some of the spouses of bloggers might feel if they were to read some of the comments on the networking sites. I’m guessing some of them might feel a little betrayed, or for the very sensitive, even cheated on a little. Intent doesn’t show on a screen. Words can be taken oh, so literally and hurtfully.
Me? I’ll never be the other woman again because it was almost the only time I ever felt dirty in all of my sexual encounters. And I don’t want someone’s wife or husband worrying that I might be, or might want to be, or worse, that their spouse might want me to be. So I’m out of the flirting game.
It’s going to be an uphill battle, since I’m this crazed, flirty chick. But I will have to take my aggressions out on the emo boys at Starbucks and the skate park. Cuz this girl?
Doesn’t want your husband to know that if you had enough vodka, she’d totally consider making out with you.
