Sunday, October 02, 2005

Tuesdays with Leenie

Yesterday was Tuesday and on Tuesdays I have therapy. My therapist is a spritely young lady who finds me funny. I'm a pretty goofy girl. Tonight I got my evenings mixed up and wasn't supposed to meet with her until next week. Well, the security guard knows I'm usually the last to show on Tuesdays, so once I showed up she went on break and locked the doors. My doctor looked at me strangely when we greeted and informed me that she thought two other people were supposed to be there, but earlier she had though I was supposed to be there. Instead of thinking that maybe her stoner patient may have flaked, she thought she'd fucked up the times. In the meantime, the real patients of the evening out were trying to get in and who knows what was going through their heads especially if they're really fucked up to begin with and this wasn't helping anything. I let them in on my way out without too much of a reaction from either one. What do I care about them? Who f'n knows. But it bothers me that they didn't really say anything when I opened the door for them. Whatever. Too many therapists were convinced smoking pot was the root of all my problems. What do they know? It helped more than they did at the time and in some ways still do. To pay someone to have sex with you is sad, but to pay to have someone objectively listen to you is an enormous help when you've tapped out your friends with your obsessions. The one thing I can't talk about is the phone sex affair with a might-as-well-be-married-dude half way across the continent. What's really fucked up about it is that I'm angry with the way men stereotypically treat women and the exploitation of women in the media. What kind of woman am I? An American Woman. I want what I morally shouldn't have, but the media makes it ok and I grew up on media and it may have done a better job than my folks. Why is that? Because I was the kid that was supposed to save the marriage. Probably the root of why I'm in therapy. And that's how it mixes in your stomach anyway. If you're just joining us... welcome. This is the beginning of something.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Dry Jewel Jello Mix

I have two gentlemen callers; one on the East coast and one on the West. Where am I? Somewhere smack in the middle. Both now have girlfriends, one lives with her and has been dating her all thru our 2 year phone sex/email porn affair while the other just recently acquired a lady after our two year phone sex/twice a year rendezvous affair. Both I knew for a while before ever getting involved. The one in the west and I have only made out, but the one in the east and I were longtime friends then talked ourselves into long distance fuck buddies after an unfortunate event. It's been important for my growth and understanding of yet another aspect of the male species: anal stimulation. In not so much as a week I have spoken with three close male friends of mine about anal poking, licking, fucking and each is a fan of at least one if not all three of the afore mentioned. If at one time in my life I can remember the oddest thing to me was anal sex. I loved gay men, but I just didn't believe that you'd put something in the out hole. It just didn't seem that it could possibly be comfortable let alone sexy or hot, but I have since changed my mind. I'm all over that junk now and in thinking of it and having just had a conversation with the newly acquired girlfriend guy about how clean I was after the penetration, I had to celebrate with a bowl of Dry Jewel Jello Mix since I'm on the rag, can't take care of my business after the phone call and I need chocolate so that's what you git.