So I went out with my good friend C Wednesday night. We had one major thing in common for New Year's Eve, and that thing was we are both going on long distance booty calls.
His booty call was with some chick he just met while visiting with a friend and his wife, and he is going to fly to the East coast to be with her for the weekend. He informed me he was in much need of some lovin', which is hard ot believe considering the man is a really tall Italian boy who is quite easy on the eyes.
I think it has more to do with the fact of the ex on and off again girlfriend that hangs around our parts, and the safest bet is a thousand or so miles away. That, and the booty call chick seems pretty cool and has traveled a lot. I know that intrigues him.
My booty call is a bit more dangerous. My booty call is going to be with The Mystery Man.
I realize this is probably a huge mistake. Enormous mistake.
Anyway, as we lament to each other over a few Jager Bombs and a couple (or more) Miller Lites about the fact that we both gotta travel to each end of the freakin' coast of our great nation just to get laid.
How sad indeed.
Now I have a valid excuse. I have a very low sexual partner number, so having sex with him won't add to it. Almost any chick can have sex just about anytime she wants, right?
That, and I'm real fucking picky about who is allowed to touch me.
And to be quite honest, in a TMI kind of way, I just need to have sex. It's been awhile....................
So while he's driving me home he informs me that it would be his luck that she'll be on her period or something.
I knew it when he said it. I knew the fucker was going to jinx me.
All men who are squeamish about any female junk are free to jump ship now. I promise not to go into to much detail, but I'm givin' you an out.
So today I start packing to leave for the weekend. I know I felt it yesterday, that icky, I'm kind of tired and my back kind of hurts. If I just ignored it, maybe it would go away. I mean really, that is a whole seven days away, and when I start is more dependable then a Swiss fucking watch.
You see, I do believe in Destiny and Divine Intervention and all that jazz. I do think we have free will, but Fate/God/Whatever you believe in will bitch smack your ass when you go to far off your path.
So the bitch known as Fate is trying to stop me from going off my path.
I decide the fastest way to avoid this disaster is to talk to God directly.
I promise Him it'll be just this one time. Mystery Man and I have talked about this. We are not going to start anything back up. We know we are wrong for each other.
But we both need to get laid. I mean really God, you are the one that put all these damn hormones in us to begin with, right? Isn't this much better then picking up some random stranger?
So as I sit here typing I'm thinking my pleading with God has not done a damn bit off good. It hasn't happened yet, but it's going to, and soon.
I'll be there by 8. It's almost one now. If I can just by some miracle of GOD (yeah, you, I'm talking about you) hold out until say 11 ish, I shall feel much better.
Actually if I could hold out until Sunday afternoon would be even better, but hey, beggars can't be choosers, ya know?
So if Fate decides to bitch smack my ass, I'm going to kill C when we both return. Not that it's his fault or anything, but all that pent up frustration needs to go somewhere.
That, or I'll make the jinxer have sex with me. Ha! That'll teach 'em all...
I'm sure that Fate would think this is a much bigger mistake then Mystery Man, because I adore the hell out of this man and it would suck if I wrecked it.
So I got me a little bit of a playing card. Hopefully fate doesn't know that I'm bluffing.
Pray to your Diety for me. 8 hours and counting...
Oh, and have a great New Years. I won't be back until Sunday night/Monday morning. May you all have wonderful sex this weekend, and hopefully you think the same for me.