make me purr

She’s gone again this week. Out of town, leaving me alone with the pup and the cat. The cat mostly hangs out in the basement, being too crochety to enjoy playing with the pup.

It’s just the pup and me, hanging out, watching the Oblongs together… It’s pretty quiet around here, which just emphasizes the wheezing little farts she lets out. Cute little dog, and I know she’s healthy, but - oof.

and I know it’s her.. cuz it sure isn’t me, and there’s no one else here. Starts sounding like a scene from _Taxi Driver_…

Think I’ll dig out some candles tonight.

Noooo, not to set the mood, you pervs. I don’t need candles for that. Not when I’m alone.

Who is the state to think they can dictate who can and who can’t get married? I would think that would (and SHOULD) be up to individual churches or religions. The Catholic church won’t (or it didn’t used to) marry a mixed-religion couple. Both people had to be Catholic.

I would say - let each religion and church decide for themselves if they can tolerate homosexual marriage.

Then also let each couple - het, bi, straight, - go to the city courthouse and sign some form of domestic partnership papers. Then, whether or not a couple is married “in the sigh of the church”, they can still be married “by law”, and deal with all the pros and cons of that.

But - to have the government say “No, you can’t get married” is like having them say “No, you can’t get baptized. You, over there, you can’t convert to another religion.” Marriage itself is a religious thing. The government’s recognition of a couple SHOULD NOT be tied to a religious ceremony.

Imagine the government saying “You. You’ve been baptized a Christian. You can own a house. You can take out a loan. You can have a tax break.”  Think that would fly? OH HELL NO!

That’s what they are saying. “You. You and your sweetheart have been together for years, but WE refuse to recognize you. If your sweetheart financially supports you, she can’t claim you (like a het couple can do, when one stays home to raise kids). Only SOME of the jobs out there will let you claim your sweetie, so you both can have health insurance.”

However, any man and any woman can get married “just for fun”. They can divorce a day later.

Who exactly are they protecting? Do “they” just think gay couples are too “icky” to deserve marriage? Are their own partnerships so fragile that if I get that tax break, or if she wears that ring, that suddenly they will be forced to fall apart?

Today I dropped her off at the airport. My faithful readers know she got a new job offer - it involves a bit of travel for a while. She’ll be back this weekend, so it won’t be too long. I’ll be lonely anyway though. I think she saw me hide her nightgown - it’s going to cover a pillow tonight, so I have something to cuddle up to that vaguely resembles her.

Before we left, though, we got in some snuggle time on the couch. I started rubbing up against her, running my fingers along her thigh. She liked that, and though we didn’t have a lot of time, she unzipped her jeans. I just tickled her legs and then up towards her undies. Pink with white polka dots today…. I kept watching the show on tv, pretending not to notice she’d closed her eyes and had a half-smile on her face. Steadily rubbing, not really trying too hard, then slowly slipping a finger underneath. She whimpered just a little. I don’t think she knows she does it, it’s so quiet. A little rub here, a little tickle there, and she was arching her back into the couch cushions.  We didn’t have a lot of time, so I slid my fingers down and just barely into her. 

Only moments later she was moaning and I could feel her squeezing my fingers inside, and I withdrew my sticky wet hand. She had to run to clean up, change undies, and then off we went so she could catch her plane.

At least I sent her off with a dreamy smile on her face.

I’ll have to come up with something good to welcome her back.

These last couple of weeks have been rather eventful for me.  First, my sweetie got a new job offer, and we went out to celebrate. We celebrated a little too heartily, and wound up crashing at a nearby hotel, rather than try to drive back home.

This would have been almost romantic, if either of us had been in any shape to even think sexy thoughts, much less act upon them. The next day was even worse.

This weekend began with a housewarming party. I should have known better, but I was full of Halloween cheer and feeling social. I watched as romance, or something like it, blossomed between two partygoers. We left shortly after that.

The next day was Halloween, and for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t dress up for it… I suppose I could have said I was some romantically ill Victorian lady, but who would I have been kidding? I stayed in bed with cold compresses, ginger ale, and soup.

I felt almost dirty.

Halloween is my high holy day of the year - my favorite holiday - one that doesn’t involve calling relatives, or guilt trips because I didn’t fly home to visit. It’s a holiday that doesn’t require gifts to one and all, nor are there “Halloween Drives” for the less fortunate.

Halloween is just about fun. Costumes, candy, some scary movies thrown in….

Oh well…I’ll do better next year.

Then… today…

My sweetie lost some weight recently. Now, I think she looked great before, but yes, she looks even better now, partially because she’s so proud of herself she’s smiling more.

Yeah, yeah, I can almost hear you all saying “awww”.

 She and I went out last night to our usual haunt. We met some friends there, and I had thought we were all going to have a great time.

Apparently not.

One of the women was upset about something, one of the men was also upset - about a related thing. Work-related. joy. Another guy took off fairly early, someone else decided to show up well into the night, etc. Ran into another friend of mine, and he and his girlfriend told me about the recent suicide of someone I used to work with. Nothing kills a buzz quite like hearing about someone’s death.

Anyway, she and I were pretty tipsy by closing time, and a friend walked us over to the local IHOP to attempt to sober up. Didn’t help, not nearly enough, so we decided to crash at the  hotel across the street. Far better than getting a DUI or in an accident.

Got her in a room, then we went out and collected the car (the friend drove it the block and a half to the parking garage.), had a couple of cigs, and she caught a cab. I went upstairs.

Now you’d THINK that having your drunk girlfriend in a tight, sexy dress, in a hotel, would be hot. She certainly LOOKED hot, and she’d been dancing in that sexy, wiggling way she dances all night long. I had been looking forward to pouncing on her since she came downstairs in that dress earlier in the evening.

BUT

she was almost asleep (coughpassedoutcough) by the time I got to the room. I gently took off her bracelet and ring, and tucked her in, then got into my side of the bed. Lonely night…I wound up watching some crappy cartoons until almost dawn, doodling on the pad of paper by the phone.

We went out this weekend to our usual haunt. She’s lost some weight, and was looking incredible. I looked ok, but not anything that special.

Lo and behold, as soon as we got there, one of the most attractive boys in our little social circle (and he’s single, and he’s bi) started rubbing up against me - so much so that I was wondering just how drunk he was.

Over the course of the night the three of us discussed all kinds of future possibilities…

Nothing happened that night, but it’s kind of been on my mind. He needs a place to stay pretty soon. We could use a houseboy. Even if absolutely nothing sexual happened between the three of us on satin sheets after a few glasses of red wine, a collective back massage that turns into something more… erm, yeah. Even if nothing happens, I could use a hand around here. He can cook, he can help with gardening… and he’s really, really pretty.

Still, I’m puzzled why he chose to hit on us. He could snap his fingers and have so many prettier, younger people all over him - why the cougar types who are in a relationship with each other?

eh. Might have been something in the water - another friend of ours was rubbing up against me too… remind me to wear that perfume again this weekend.

As Bowie said, “I don’t want to go out, I want to stay in….”

I could go out tonight. *We* could go out tonight. I don’t care. I would, however, like to talk her into wearing a short miniskirt and fishnets for a little while, and flirt with her. We haven’t gone out clubbing in a while. I have a little headache, but I could get over it. I’d like to feel pretty - and then I’d like to pounce on her and make her scream. It’s been at least a month since I did anything of note *to* her.

I had to tell him “But that’s where I keep my favorite dildo!”

That friend was actually talking about my bank and my money. I don’t have a lot of it, so I’m not all that concerned. However, I never did take an econ class - if I have a loan with a bank and the bank curls up and dies like an ant that’s been sprayed, what happens to the loan? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

I suppose I can always hope.

It’s been a sexy, sexy week around here. A friend had a little birthday party, got a little wasted, and proved the old theory true about straight girls acting bi when they are drunk.

She kissed one gay guy, one straight guy, at least two girls (whose sexuality I don’t know), felt up my boobies, felt up my sweetie’s boobies, and declared she preferred mine. While I was barely involved in the kissing and groping, I *did* have the foresight to grab my camera this time, and even remembered extra batteries.

Then we went home, just my sweetie and I, and tried to get it on…but, alas, she passed out before we got very far. I think I wasn’t far behind her, either.

Recently found a tentacle-shaped vibrator online. Don’t remember where, but I want one. Hear that, caustic? TENTACLE! woot

I was going to write about the cornbrator, which is a toy I have never had the pleasure to try: I’ve only seen it online.

Then I remembered that someone recently called me a libertine. I returned the compliment with a dark red, lipsticked sneer -or maybe it was a smear. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter, I was probably on my second Black Orchid by then.

      Black Orchid (approximately…I’m not quite sure what goes in it, but this is close to how they make it where I go)

      equal parts Gin, Vodka, Tequila, and Rum over ice in a pint glass

      add some chambord for color and a bit of 7-up, and a cherry on top.

I guess it’s like an Adios MotherFucker, but purple.

Anyway, back to the cornbrator. I ran into photos of this on a website recently. Reminded me of a certain candle I had a mad affair with. See, I went through a time when I not only couldn’t afford sex toys, but even if I could, I was too shy to get them. I did, however, have a very respectable candle collection.

One day on my way to work, I wandered past a store that was getting rid of seasonal items. Among those items was  a candle shaped like an ear of corn. Not as large, but covered with the little nubs. I stopped right there, suddenly hot and damp and blushing a little. I  ran in and bought it, and scampered off to work with my new love. I could hardly wait to get home - the day dragged on and on, and while I thought about taking a break and running off to the women’s room, well, I knew better…. Finally I got home, slid that sweet, sweet candle into a condom (it was painted, and I didn’t want that paint coming off in awkward places) and fully enjoyed myself.  I don’t remember what happened to it - I just know I don’t have it anymore. I probably wore it out and squeezed it into some unrecognizable form. Once those nubs wore down I wouldn’t have had much use for it anyway.

Oh boy. A new contest. I wasn’t trying to be flippant when I said my favorite sex toy is my mind.

Oh, the vegetable thing? Yes, I was serious. Once upon a time I had a fling with a carrot. Yes, a carrot. I’m not as loose as you might think. I was having a great night with someone I was “seeing” (coughsleepingwithwhenIwasintowncough) and he had a bit of a whiskey dick one night. He ran upstairs, got a carrot (carefully washed, of course), and went wild. He ate the carrot afterwards, much to my surprise and delight….