I Need New Lingerie (but not from Kmart)

I met Gary through some mutual friends a couple of months ago, about a week or two after I broke up with The Ex. I wasn’t really interested in meeting anybody yet, so I didn’t see Gary that way. I did notice, however, that he is very attractive for a blonde guy. Clothes hang well on him, and he is HILARIOUS. That night he had me laughing harder than I had laughed in months.

I didn’t think about him again until about a week and a half ago. One of our mutual friends, Kelsey, was hanging out at my apartment for a night of wine and pedicures. Gary called her, and she invited him to join us. He declined, which isn’t too surprising considering we were drinking wine and playing with nail polish.

I guess she gave him my number because I got a text from him the next day apologizing for not coming to wine night. We started texting back and forth for two days before I invited him to come over and bond over our mutual hatred of Kelsey’s boyfriend, Ted.

Whose Lingerie Is This, Anyway?

He came over on a Friday night. It began with what had been promised: Ted bashing. Gary then spotted my acoustic guitar in my bedroom, and he sat on my bed to play a song. Let me tell you, this guy has a great country voice. Like, panty dropping great. He made up a song on the spot, and I wish I could remember the lyrics, because they were ridiculous.

We were both a bit punchy at this point, and one of us jokingly mentioned a text message he had sent me earlier that night. The text conversation looked like this:

I confessed that I didn’t own much in the way of lingerie, but Gary didn’t believe me. I decided to show him my last lingerie purchase from several years earlier: a Mrs. Clause baby doll, complete with white fur trim and white furry pom poms. Gary found this hilarious, and dared me to model it for him. I jokingly replied that I would model it for him only after he modeled it for me. He inspected the craftsmanship of my Kmart lingerie, and decided that with the elastic back and mesh material it would be forgiving enough to fit his larger frame. He kicked me out of my bedroom for his transformation.

Gary didn’t model this over his boxers like I expected. He stripped down to just skin before putting it on. I will never forget how he looked wearing my Santa lingerie while covering his manhood with both hands. I laughed so hard, my abs were screaming and tears were running down my face. Gary changed back into his clothes and then threw me onto the bed. He pointed at me and said, “stay there” in a very serious voice before disappearing into the bathroom. When he came back out he snuggled up next to me and we just stayed there, joking around.

Naughty Fun

Somehow, the topic of boobs came up, and I mentioned my discontent with my 32B cup size. Before I knew it Gary’s tongue was on my nipple, and I remember saying that I’ve never let a guy play with my boobs before kissing me first.

He smiled and said that if he kissed me I would want to sleep with him, so he wasn’t going to do that to me since he wasn’t planning on getting laid tonight. Then he moved on to my other nipple. I said something about not wanting to sleep with him after seeing him in my lingerie, and we both started laughing again.

Break Check!

But he was right. I did want to sleep with him. We did everything but have sex that night. We had a lot of fun with my bag of sex toys, and I blew his mind with my oral skills (his weren’t bad either). When I was ready for the grand finale however, he refused to participate. He said he wouldn’t sleep with me that night, and I still don’t understand why. He had hinted to some naughty fun in his text messages, and while we did have fun and it was quite naughty I expected sex that night, dammit! It is half the reason I invited him over in the first place. Ugh, what a tease!

Regardless, I had a ton of fun with Gary. I haven’t heard too much from him since, which is fine. He is a good time, but I don’t want anything but a good time with him for a couple of reasons:

1. I learned that he hooked up with one of my best friends six months ago
2. He has a girlfriend, but he insisted that they were on a break the night we fooled around. Whatever, that is his problem, not mine.

Why Books are Awesome

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…

Good Ol’ Max

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.