Taking out the Trash
I am not one for giving excuses, but my assiduous life-style has seemed to backfire on me. A pianist since the age of 6, I have gotten only one letter grade of a “B” in my entire academic career and I am additionally a triathlete. That said, my downtime is minimal. With training four times a week, the only extracurricular activity that I have time for is a monthly movie-night with female friends. With strict parents like mine, it is nearly out of the question for either my sister or myself to bring up the topic of dating. In fact, though a fallacy, I am one hundred percent sure that my parents still believe that I have yet to have my first kiss. This upcoming fall, I will be entering my final year of college and I found myself feeling far behind, in a non-academic sense. Everyone was having sex, with the exception of me. I failed to mention that though my parents disapprove of heterogeneous gender hangouts, my best friend since childhood, who happens to be a male, is always welcome. In last month’s movie night, the girls had an event to attend, so my best friend was the only one present. Up until this moment, our relationship had always been platonic. However, not only had I just recently finished the human sexuality chapter in my psychology class, but the two of us had watched three quarters of the film, The Notebook, and had just finished the love scene in which both protagonists reunite. Call it hormonal, desperate, or both, but I immediately grabbed his face pressed his lips against mine, and the rest can be left to the imagination. Surprisingly, there were no interruptions or blood, but simply sensual, physical interaction. In this sexually ambitious generation, a person of my age’s virginity is considered baggage, and I am glad to have finally thrown mine away.
The Lust of a Lion
It’s tough to be a non-traditional female student on a campus full of twenty-somethings. It has nothing to do with their supposed “ripe” brains or the rigor of the courses, but rather, the sexuality factor. Though it varies on an individual case basis, society virtually deems it appropriate for an older man to date a younger, of-age woman. Conversely, when a woman of my stature with four decades of life under her belt dates a 20 year old, she’s considered a cougar. Nonetheless, since my divorce five years ago, I have done everything in my power to date men who are nothing like my gray haired, droopy gonad having ex-husband. Naturally, this led me to the age epoch after mine, generation Y. This semester, I only registered for three classes, two of which were online. Being a full time employee, the composite of my scholastic and vocational schedules kept me very busy, which gave me the perfect segue into breaking things off with my most recent spring chicken, a 22 year old who was not only a tad too clingy, but also quite the unkempt kisser. In the first two months of class, I was pedantic in my studies. However last month, a blue-eyed beauty, whom I had not noticed because he sat in the row behind me, caught my eye. Or rather, we caught each-others. It was not long until the two of us exchanged numbers, subsequently meeting for study sessions. Intelligent, witty, and a tad peremptory, this young man was exactly what I was looking for. Typically, the two of us would prepare for exams in the early afternoon before class, however on one day in particular, my handsome pupil cancelled our afternoon study session, and asked if we could pursue our study bout at his apartment later that evening. Naturally, I accepted the alternate invitation and we subsequently convened. Not even thirty minutes into the study session, the blue eyed beauty kissed me so deeply that my entire body went numb. Though he had an average build, he easily lifted my body onto his bed, and caressed me as he took off each article of clothing seductively. In all 43 years of my life, I have never had a man so anatomically knowledgeable. He reached depths that I never knew existed, all the while, maintaining some form of composure, unlike his generational cohorts. Needless to say, our so-called “study” session lasted five hours. On my ride home, I visually played every moment of our sexual rendezvous repeatedly, and suddenly it occurred to me why it had taken so long for me to achieve such pleasure. My dates all consisted of coffee, lunch or even sight seeing–all of which are diurnal occurring events. Little did I know, that the freaks prefer to come out at night.
Bad Romance
I have no idea what has gotten into my boyfriend. After two years of normalcy, he has entered this eccentric experimental phase of which I cannot understand. From biting, to toe sucking, to impossible fellatio positions. He is not the karma sutra connoisseur that he believes to be, but rather a novice in the president’s seat. Nonetheless, I am madly in love. In attempt to be sensitive to his feelings, I made a subtle attempt to show him what kind of experimentation I desired. My birthday was coming up, so I told him of my dream to attend a circus, and additionally showed him a few lingerie pieces – two things that I “want but can’t afford” as some sort of hint, which I expected an enlightened college student like himself to get. This past weekend was the advent of my birthday week and my boyfriend told me that he wanted to spend Friday with just the two of us. Unfortunately, I had to work late, but he promised to be waiting at my apartment once my shift ended. Upon entering my bedroom, I smelled a warm vanilla aroma, as a result of the candles arranged about in the fairly large room. However, my boyfriend was nowhere to be found. I walked toward my closed bathroom door, when I heard the closet door open and out jumped a puffy haired, face painted, Ronald McDonald shoe wearing figure. I was initially terrified, until I realized that it was who other than, my boyfriend. Apparently, he misconstrued my interest in acrobatic entertainment and lingerie with some sort of abnormal clown fantasy. He completely killed my vibe, as well as the rest of my birthday weekend. How romantic.