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Please Don’t Talk During Sex. Thanks.

15 Jun

Back in April I met Adam, the captain of our softball league. I’ve been meaning to write about him for a while, so this is post is a bit overdue.

Meeting Adam

At the beginning of this semester I made friends with Carrie, another young teacher from my district. We had plans to go to a popular country bar in town, so I donned my new boots and my rhinestone cowgirl hat and drove to Carrie’s house. When I found her house, a few of her friends were already there. Including Adam.

Adam and I bonded over our love of country music, and I teased him for wearing a cardigan and a faux-hawk. He kept calling me a “peach” and he asked me to dance a few times. By the end of the night, he had my number and we kissed goodnight at Carrie’s front door.

I woke up on Carrie’s couch early the next morning ready to go home, but I had drunkenly given my car keys to Adam in the parking lot the night before and forgot to get them back from him. When he came back to Carrie’s house to return my car keys, Carrie oh-so-thoughtfully brought up my bookroom sexcapades in front of Adam. Swell.

Naked Adam

I didn’t really hear from Adam again (shocking!) until Carrie and I ran into him at a baseball game about a month later. After the game Adam invited me to watch a movie with him at his house where we drank wine and ate frozen mashed bananas with chocolate sauce. Naturally one thing led to another and we ended up making-out on his couch.

Originally, I didn’t want to have sex with him so soon, but after an hour or two of foreplay and a couple more glasses of wine, I gave in. The sex was good in the beginning, and it was adventurous too. We moved from bedroom to living room to kitchen and then back to bedroom. Then he went soft. Literally.

Just as we moved back to the bedroom, Adam decided to ask me a question:

Adam: “Is the bookroom better than this?”

Me: “No!”

 Adam: “Really?”

He seemed surprised by my answer, so I felt the need to explain.

Me: “Of course not! It’s a bookroom. It sucks.”

By this point he started to go soft, so I too decided to suck. It didn’t work. WTF?!

Adam: “I think we had a miscommunication.”

 Me: “Clearly.”

 Adam: “I asked you if this was better than the bookroom, and you said no.”

Oops.

Me: “Ooh, I heard, ‘Is the bookroom better.’ Of course this is better than the bookroom!”

 By that point the sex was over, even though he didn’t finish. I rolled off of him and got dressed. We hung out for a little bit longer and he wanted to finish what we started, but the moment had passed. He walked me out to my car and kissed me goodnight, and we agreed that we would do it again sometime.

It’s been a month, and it hasn’t happened again.

I know the Adam story isn’t over yet because since that night he has given me some signs that he is still interested – but that’ll be another blog post.

Lingering Thoughts

  • Who brings up past sex partners in the middle of sex?!?!
  • Adam must be very insecure to feel the need to ask me for validation.
  • Carrie has a big mouth and I am never telling her anything ever again.
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A Snake in the Bookroom

13 May

Last week was a great week for my…ahem…garden. Monday Viper and I had a secret rendezvous in my bookroom. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t a great idea because we nearly got caught, but hey, you only live once, right?

By the way, isn’t there a new acronym for that? YOLO or something? That just makes me think of yogurt.

Forbidden Fruit

Allow me to take you back a few weeks before I tell you about our bookroom affair.

After our initial bit of bedroom fun, Viper came over again a week later to seal the deal. That’s right, it took a week. It felt like eternity. It would have happened sooner, but Mother Nature decided to intervene for a few days. What a bitch.

Anyway, Viper hasn’t been back to my apartment in over a month since he lives an hour away…and he has kids and a roommate. Damn. Oh, and the roommate is his baby mama. His words, not mine. Double Damn.

Yes, I’ve known about his roommate from the beginning, and no, I do not know if they are still involved or not. Quite frankly, I don’t really care for several reasons:

  1. I have needs, and he satisfies those needs.
  2. This ensures that my relationship with him will remain completely physical, which is just what I need right now.
  3. He is not allowed to get jealous when I do my single girl thing.
  4. His relationship with her is his business, not mine.
  5. He is a grown man and he can do what he wants with whomever he wants.

Secret Rendezvous

Since it is difficult for Viper to get to my apartment, we’ve had to make do with the resources available to us such as his classroom and my bookroom. Usually we’ll just have a hot and heavy make out session in one of those two locations after school, but sometimes we get a little carried away. I mean, the first time Viper and I took advantage of the bookroom, he literally ripped my panties off. Aye!

The bookroom is a windowless room off of my classroom. The only way in is through my classroom, and the door to the bookroom automatically locks from the outside but not the inside. The only surveillance cameras at our school are outdoors. This is why we use the bookroom. It is a fortress.

On Monday, we were in the bookroom doing our thing (quietly, I might add), when suddenly we heard a noise coming from my classroom. Viper froze and we both listened. A moment later, there was another noise. It was the custodian coming to clean my room.

We quickly redressed and I grabbed a stack of random books off of the shelves. I flipped the light off just before opening the door while Viper hid in the back corner of the bookroom. The custodian glanced up as I walked into the classroom, and I cheerfully said hello. I took great care in setting down my large pile of random books and organized them on my table in a very precise manner. I then pretended to notice a poster that had fallen off of my wall earlier that day.

I smiled at the custodian and asked her if she had any duct tape. She doesn’t speak much English, so I pointed to the strips of duct tape keeping other posters and samples of student work mounted on the wall. The custodian smiled and said, “Un momento” and disappeared from the room. I quietly tapped the door to the bookroom, and Viper flew out of my classroom. Thirty seconds later the custodian returned with duct tape, and I calmly taped the poster back to the wall. After a few more trips into the bookroom to grab additional books for my pointless collection, I left.

Viper and I finished what we started on Wednesday. And it was good.

Why Books are Awesome

3 May

I love books. Books are awesome. I love how certain books such as Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, and The Outlander Series give me the thrill of adventure and excitement without having to put down my glass of wine. I have a tendency to suffer from post-book depression, which is common in avid readers. Post-book depression occurs when I finish a fantastic book or series with the knowledge that there are no new adventures to be had with my fictional friends. Good books leave a lasting impression.

I also love books because they can be kept in a bookroom. I have a bookroom in my classroom, and this bookroom shelves many exciting adventures between the pages…and out. Lately, I have gotten into a naughty habit of creating my own adventures in this bookroom with another teacher at school. Let’s call him Viper. I am currently typing this while waiting for Viper to come “borrow a book.” I love my job.

(By the way, this post is not actually about books, so if that’s what you are looking for you will not find it here. Keep looking.)

Middle School Crush

The Viper adventure began a couple of months before The Breakup. I tend to give off anti-technology vibes, so I have frequent need of the computer tech at our school. Naturally a friendship developed, but because I was in my loyal-girlfriend-state-of-mind I didn’t really pick up on his not-so-subtle flirty comments.

It got to the point when every time I would call him with a computer problem, he would tell me, “I can fix it, but it’ll cost you.” When I would ask him his price, he would ask for a cup of coffee. You should know that I make fabulous coffee. I have a knack for eyeballing the perfect coffee grounds to water ratio. Add a dash of cinnamon and BAM! The perfect cup of black coffee.

In January we became Facebook friends, and he started messaging me on the weekends. Our messages started out friendly, but they soon became flirtier and flirtier. When he would stop by my room for coffee, he would hang out for a few minutes while waiting for it to “finish” brewing, even when it was done. Every time he stopped by a curious thing happened: I was suddenly very horny.

Good Vibrations

Feeling the tingle below the belt is quite unexpected in a room full of stinky middle school students, but Viper just had a way of instantly turning me on. I started to fantasize about him on my drives to and from work. After G rated conversations with him after school, I would still be turned on when I got home an hour later. Then, he started to send me Facebook messages at six in the morning. That was when I finally figured out that he was interested.

I think Viper was the wake-up call I needed to break up with The Ex. I mean, The Ex and I had a horrible sex life. We had sex about once a month, and even that was a chore. I think it was partially because I didn’t have any respect for The Ex as a man considering his alcoholism, his lack of direction, his dead end pizza delivery job, and his frequent degrading comments towards me; but I am now sure that it was also because The Ex didn’t have a clue about foreplay. He would spring a boner and be ready to pounce without trying to start my engine first. Viper, on the other hand, is a foreplay GOD!

But I’m jumping ahead of myself, and I would like to clarify that I didn’t start fooling around with Viper until about a month after The Breakup.

The Epiphany

Viper helped me to realize a few different things:

a) There are other eligible men in this city, not just The Ex.

b) Many of these other men have much more going for them than The Ex did.

c) Some of these other men actually want me.

d) I could break up with The Ex and thrive instead of simply survive.

Not that I am looking for a new relationship with Viper or anybody else for that matter, nor do I need to have a man in my life to feel like I am worth something, but Viper helped me to realize that I am a strong independent woman who doesn’t need to waste any more time with a loser. I should take advantage of my youth and have fun instead.

And that’s what I’m doing.

In the bookroom.

But more about that later…

Luck of the Irish

30 Apr

So far, I’ve only been on one date since the breakup. This makes a grand total of four first dates in my life time. Wow.

I met Mark at a brewery on St. Patty’s Day. I wasn’t really looking for a guy at this point, but I wasn’t not looking. Anyway, this brewery is not really a place to meet people, but it was a good place to go watch the game and drink green beer with my girlfriends.

I noticed that a guy kept smiling at me from the next table, so I started smiling back (I just learned last week that this is referred to as “eye fucking.” I’ve been told I need to practice). He finally started talking to me, and I gave him my number at the end of the night. He called me in the parking lot before I had even gotten into the car. Is that cute, or creepy? I need help deciphering these things.

We had boring text conversations for about a week. I’m not kidding, his texts were awful. He always sent good morning texts, but they consistently looked like this: “goodmorning.” He would also send text messages that said, “Hi……” I mean, how many dots do you need? Three make an ellipsis, but six? Six make you an idiot…or a twelve-year-old.

I teach language arts. Poor grammar is a major turn off. Looking back, his texts should have been a deal breaker; but I was horny and feeling guilty about sleeping with Max so my standards were lower than they should have been.

The “Date”

I agreed to have dinner with him on Friday, and we made plans to meet at one of the fanciest, most expensive restaurants in town. I decided that I misjudged the guy. I mean, not everyone teaches language arts.

I was driving home from work on Friday when I got a text from Mark explaining that he had a meeting in the next town over so he may not be able to make our date, but he would let me know closer to seven. Seriously? We were supposed to meet at the freaking Chop House. I was going to shower, do my hair, do my nails, and shave my legs for goodness sake. I didn’t want to go through all that trouble for a maybe. I told him that we would just reschedule, but secretly I wasn’t planning on talking to this guy again in my life.

In the Breakup War, I’m Winning

The following day I had plans to see The Hunger Games with a friend. In the middle of the movie, I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. It turns out with was The Ex’s brother calling to say he was in my area and he wanted to pick up the TV. Needless to say, I was slightly pissed. I had broken up with The Ex six weeks earlier, and if he wanted to take the TV he should have done so when he moved out.

I decided to let The Brother take the TV without a fight, but I did go out and buy a newer, better TV before relinquishing the old one. I also made The Brother carry my new TV into my apartment for me before he carried the old TV out. It felt great.

I think I agreed to meet Mark for drinks that night because I wanted to prove that I was winning the post-breakup up competition. I was also very nervous to start dating, and since I didn’t really care if things worked out with Mark one way or the other he would be a good gateway date.

Hi, I’m An Alcoholic

I was supposed to meet Mark at the bar at 8:30, but I was about fifteen minutes late (it was totally worth it, but that’ll have to be a different post). As I leaned in to hug him, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He flagged down the server and ordered another cherry vodka and Red Bull, but the glass was about ¾ full of vodka with only a splash of Red Bull. He had about four of these over the course of our date, and he admitted to drinking before coming to the bar too. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me, but he had to have his brother drop him off at the bar. Needless to say, the date was awful.

Mark invited me to drive him back to his house to play pool, so I sent a 911 text to my friend, and she called me with a crisis. I was very grateful to crawl into my bed when I got home. Poor, clueless Mark called me twice and sent me about five more texts over the next two weeks before he finally got the hint.

I don’t know about this dating thing right now…casual sex sounds much more fun.

Good Ol’ Max

28 Apr

As you already know, I was with The Ex for eight years. When you spend eight years of your life with someone, you end up with quite a few mutual friends post-breakup. Max is one of those mutual friends. In fact, Max is The Ex’s best friend and he is also one of my best friends. Before I jump into the Max story, however, you need to understand the gravity of the situation, so sit back for a little background information.

 Here are some basic facts about Max:

  • Max was married when we met him.
  • His ex-wife, CDog, and I used to be good friends, until she lost her mind and became psychotic.
  • Max and CDog have two beautiful little girls together, and I love these little girls more than anything.
  • Max is the singer in The Ex’s band.
  • Max was a combat medic for the Coast Guard, and has served tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan.
  • Max was the only survivor in a helicopter crash while fighting overseas, and he is now considered a “disabled war veteran” but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.
  • Max is amazing.

Max: My Breakup Hero

The night I broke up with The Ex, I packed a bag and went to spend the night at a friend’s apartment in the same complex. Keep in mind that Valentine’s Day was on a Tuesday this year, so I had to teach the next day. In my emotional frenzy, I forgot to pack half of my over-night necessities, and the last thing I wanted to do was go back to my apartment to get the rest of my toiletries while The Ex blubbered over my shoulder.

As I pondered this dilemma, Max called to check on me. I think his intention was to talk me out of breaking up with The Ex, but after I half sobbed half yelled my extensive list of reasons for the breakup into his ear, Max said, “I can’t disagree with anything you just said.” I was shocked. He then asked if there was anything he could do to help me through the transition, and I explained that I needed The Ex to leave our apartment for the night so I could sleep in my bed and function at work the next day. Five minutes later The Ex knocked on the door to tell me that he was going to his parents’ house for the night. I went home, toiletry problem solved.

Wine + Whiskey + Max = Oops…

About a month after breaking up with The Ex, Max came over with wine and whiskey. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he usually came over with wine and whiskey pre-breakup too. We had a great time catching up with each other. He told me about his conquests, and I told him about the sexy teacher at school I had been flirting with for the past couple of months (I’ll tell you more about him later). We took shots of whiskey between glasses of wine, and even thought it was a Sunday night I decided to be reckless and drink far too much. I justified this behavior by reminding myself that the next day was library day, so I wouldn’t have to teach, just monitor.

The unfortunate thing about whiskey and wine is that there is a tipping point when all inhibitions come crashing down around you; but perhaps this happens with other alcoholic beverages too. Everybody has their spirit to stay away from. For most it is tequila, for many it is whiskey, for some it is rum. I suppose it is easier to blame the alcohol for your bad decisions than to blame yourself. It is much easier to say, “Well the whiskey made me do it” than to say, “I drank too much and made a bad decision.” I prefer to say that the whiskey made me do it.

Max and I reached the tipping point of intoxication around midnight. We were sitting on my couch which is really a love seat, and Max started to tell me how amazing I am, how much he’s loved me since he first met me, how he never thought that The Ex and I would break up. I’ll admit that I had always had a mini-crush on Max too, but I never thought I would have the opportunity or the carelessness to act on it.

He moved in to kiss me and in my foggy state of mind I was open to the idea, but he stopped just before making contact and asked if we were really going to do this.

We did. Twice.

The whiskey made me do it.