I am such a girly girl when it comes to just about everything but romance. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a sappy chick flick that ends with a big Hollywood kiss as onlookers clap and cheer. I have watched Only You an endless number of times and still cry like a fool during that last scene where the scrumptious-in-that-drugged-out-and-tattered-sorta-way Robert Downey Jr. kisses Marisa Tomei when she gets on the plane finally having realized that she loves him. Fuck! I’m crying right now! But when it comes to the men in my life? Let’s just say that certain romantic gestures make me wanna hurl in a not so pretty way. This makes things very confusing to the men who want to woo me.

Being the kind girl that I am, I have decided to break it down to make it easier for any man who wishes to continue to woo me from here on. (*Nuno take note**)

What I DON’T like:

Bad icky love poems—rhyming or otherwise

Hearing I love you so often that it’s said out of habit more than feeling

What I DO like:

Well written poetry with a sexy or raw edge (Important: said poetry does not have to be written by you if you are not a wordsmith. Just telling me that you thought of me when you stumbled on it is romantic enough.)

Your time… because I know how precious it is.

Showing me that I am worth your time is the grandest gesture of all.

Damn! I am a great catch!!

I need to know what it is about meeting someone who sets your heart and loins aflutter that automatically makes all other men want you too. Seriously, you spend months…years, playing solo with no worthy man in sight, but the second you meet one and make the decision to commit; all of a sudden you have a line up of suitors at your door—good ones at that! What the f#ck??

It’s as if their coming out of the woodwork for f#ck’ sake! Two years in this building and only in the last couple of weeks have I seen this handful of hotties that have been stopping to chat as we walk our dogs or go pick up the mail. Where were they before?? And at the grocery store? Now they have the gusto to approach and ask me for my number and a date? Come on!! As fabulous as my tan looks; I think it’s more the scent of forbidden pussy that is wafting past and bringin’ em’ in.

It isn’t even just that more guys seem to want you, but you also end up running into ones that you wanted once upon a time, even more than a new pair of Manolo’s on the 75 percent-off table! Seriously. I have run into two men from my past this week who I used to lust after in the most inappropriate way. It makes me think that God is throwing temptation my way to see if I’ll bite and misbehave. To that I say:

Hi God. It’s me, Adrie.
Thank you for all the eye-candy that you have sent my way as of late. With all due repsect; I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not gonna work. Just cuz’ Eve was weak enough to cave doesn’t mean that I’m going to. So, feel free to send along all the loincloth-clad Adams you want, cuz’ I’m ready for them and all of their firm, juicy, delicious apples. You can throw in a snake too, cuz’ no matter how long and persuasive; I will not be swayed to take a bite no matter how satisfying and scrumptious it may seem.

Now if you will excuse me; I have to go get a napkin and splash some water on my seat. Oops! Face!! I meant my face!

The fact that I spent much of my trip with a hot, foreign tongue shoved down my throat has nothing to do with my not posting here as promised during those couple of weeks — really. Oh how I sobbed when I realized my Net connection was too slow and unreliable to write especially as I finally had something delicious to report!

This was my 20th year spending my summer vacay in Portugal and instead of going through the usual motions with blinders on; this trip proved to be enlightening and surprising and not entirely in my usual superficial sort of way either… well… kinda.

Things I discovered this year:

I am no longer as much as Lisbon girl as I am a suburban girl who hopes to learn to be a medium-sized village girl.

And happily, I have also finally discovered that not all men are cowardly and easily intimidated by me! There is at least one who knows how to say what’s on his mind; good or bad and knows how to take charge even in the presence of a strong willed and often times pig headed crazy sex fiend like myself!
This is not to say that I’m going soft on you all — on the contrary! This has just opened up a whole new world of things to laugh about, bitch about and kiss and tell about.

Oh! I also found out that a village that I thought consisted of nothing more than a couple of banks and greasy restaurants is also home to not one, but two sex bars — complete with Brazilian hookers and overpriced booze! Yes!! I really could feel at home there.

A big thanks to Vanilla Funk for this drawing of us. No matter how old and decrepid we get; she still sees us as the lovely “Vacation Angels” that we were 20 years ago.

Just a couple of days away from vacay and I can’t stop smiling! I admit that I was starting to dread the trip a bit until my friend FINALLY confirmed that she was indeed coming along. Now I can really get my funk on!!

She and I are painfully aware of what this trip means; with us being women of a certain age and all. We kinda’ see this trip as our last chance at having any fun until we are officially considered too old to act like goats as we troll the streets of a foreign country. This is our last call on wearing things like: platform sandals, camouflage shorts to the beach and juicy lip gloss. Fuck – who are we kidding?? We’re already pushin’ it now!

When you get to be our age, vacations with the girls are replaced by trips to visit the family in Buffalo on holidays or even worse—Disneyland with the kids! Eek!!

Oh! That reminds me:Thank you to my friend’s hubby for understanding how badly his wife’s spinster of a pal needs this trip!!

That’s right; it’s getting to be that time where finding a weeks worth of girls-nights-out is nearly impossible and we must accept that these types of trips will have to be tucked away on a shelf until our husbands die. After that, it still won’t be quite the same, with us being in our twilight years and dealing with things like hip pain and menopause.

Anyhow, I will be away in Portugal; trolling for cute men who speak no English and enjoying the freedom of being able to expose my almost D-cup ta-tas without a line up of gawkers forming! (Going topless may be legal here in Canada, but the men just can’t handle it yet)

I will continue to post while away unless busy wriggling on the face of a man named Joao-Pedro Ferreira or Jose-Manuel Faustino Carvalho. Hopefully I’ll be able to add a couple of pics from my ho-fest — oops — I mean vacation.

In the meantime, I will continue to thank my lucky stars for this fabulous opportunity and hopefully milk it so that the fuzzy memories can keep me warm until my seventies when my newly widowed (or 3x divorced) friends and I can head to Florida and spread our droopy, overly tanned asses across the sands of the Keys while sporting black and gold lamé bathing suits, big hats over our blue hair and way too much jewelry, while we fight to win the affections of the young cabana boys.

Ciao for now my lovelies.

xo

Yesterday morning was spent at the hospital doing a lot of waiting and worrying and more waiting. I had a follow up to check on the mess that is my uterus and admit that I have never been this worried for my own health before – very scary.

While I was waiting alongside about 10 other cranky patients; this couple made their way down the corridor and took a seat next to me. They really did wanna make us all hurl with their lovey-dovey kisses and nauseating acts of kindness towards one another, but there was something about it all that got to me.

I watched as he doted on her, and while I don’t particularly care for quite that much attention and feel that they should have toned it down given the time and place; something about seeing him there, supporting her as she waited for her test results made me want to cry.

I must mention that my lovely cousin Nat did offer to drop everything to come with me, but I tend to prefer to do these things alone — or at least thought I did. Sitting there next to that couple made me painfully aware of the fact that I was indeed quite alone. Not all of the patients with their droopy asses peeking through the hospital gowns could console me. I felt more alone than I ever had and had no one to blame but myself.

While this woman awaited some potentially devastating news; her partner did all he could to make her smile and keep her calm. From holding her hand, to kissing her forehead and telling her how beautiful she was even though she was wearing a hideous purple hospital gown; he was clear on how he felt about her and made us all clearly aware of how nice it is to be with someone who genuinely cares.

Worse than sitting alone with no more than a cup of coffee to console me was realizing that the men that I have a penchant for are the ones incapable of this kind of love—at least towards me. Her partner: by her side every step of the way. My closest thing to a partner—who isn’t really a partner at all but merely someone I hoped would be a partner: didn’t even ask how my appointment went.

How is it that a loving girl with some truly great examples of what a union should be, ends up settling for less than what she has always wanted? Is this payback for not wanting kids? The uterus issues and that mushy couple seemed to be some sort of spear to the heart from God, possibly punishing me for being so upfront about not liking children. I guess much like all the old ladies in my family; God also doesn’t think that a good marriage should be in the cards for a woman who doesn’t plan to have kids anyway! Or was this some slap across the face/wake up call from the universe reminding me of what I really do want in a man? Either way, it got my attention.

And for those that are wondering: I’m going to be fine.

I’ve been trying to figure out whether or not a woman can sleep with man that she is attracted to on many levels without getting too attached and setting herself up for disappointment.

I’ll be the first to admit (confirm) that you can enjoy a purely sexual relationship with someone no matter how ol’ school you may be when it comes to dating and relationships. There is this chemical thing that can happen upon meeting someone that just sets your loins a blazin’ and cannot be denied. These are the men who stir something in you on a very primitive, animal level making you not care about details such as interests, marital status or even name. You can’t really explain it and there is little time to try because the clothes are flying off and legs are being thrust up over his shoulders too quickly for you to say or even think anything.

Purely sexual relationships can be amazing if both people are totally upfront from day one. There’s something to be said about enjoying each others bodies and not worrying about where things will go. You’re free to truly enjoy the sex when you know and accept that things won’t go beyond the toe-curling, sheet-dampening, screaming like a banshee good time — and that’s ok. You know that you’re extremely attracted to each other on a physical level, but that’s it. No fuss. No muss.

What about when you’re dealing with someone who you actually do care (at least a little) about? Someone whom you admire on certain levels, who peaks your curiosity? Someone who you once wished you could have more with but are painfully aware that it is not in the cards, yet are so aroused by physically that you can barely concentrate at times? Is it worth it to give in to the all-consuming lust? Or is this a disaster waiting to happen?

There are those back up guys that you can call for sex, who leave you feeling a little… empty? I’m not talkin’ small penis here, but instead, someone who comes over when you’re in the mood for something more than a vibrator, who you can no longer stand the sight of once you’re done. Let’s face it; guys aren’t the only ones who have it in them to kick someone out the moment they relieve their tension and get what they want! It’s those guys and those times that make me wonder if maybe it wouldn’t be more gratifying to have a booty-call that you actually do care a little more about so that you can enjoy the afterglow for a few minutes without dreading the inevitable onset of repulsion.

Boy, it is hard bein’ a woman in this day and age. Years ago it was clear that sex was not an option till marriage and I for one still see the romance in that–to an extent.

What to do, what to do…

When you can’t seem to keep your panties dry for more than a minute at a time and your lips, breasts and clit are swellling to troublesome proportions; isn’t it worth the risk to be able to get what you want from someone that you know without a doubt will satisfy you like no other?? Even if it could mean a little heartbreak down the road?

I love all your comments as it is, but this time I’m really counting on you all to have a say and tell me what you think: can a woman really have NSA sex with someone that she is VERY sexually attracted to, but also admires and cares for on a deeper level? And when I say “VERY physically attracted to”, I mean in an all-consuming, walking around in a permanent state of damp arousal, attracted to.

Tell me what ya’ think. Please.

We’re always hearing that men are able to lose weight at a faster rate and more easily than women which is incredibly infuriating seeing as how men tend to care less about being thin than we do. I can’t speak for all ladies, but I myself don’t mind a little bit of a gut on a guy and think it’s kinda’ hot. (Would you kick Matthew McConaughey out of bed if he got a little mushy?? I think not.)

Anyway, I just came across an article with the headline: Whacking Off The Pounds and of course was overjoyed! I make no secret of the fact that I enjoy a little—okay, a lot of self-lovin’ while watching amateur porn on YouPorn, so it’s no surprise that this headline would get my attention. As I waited for the full article to load I started to wonder: if masturbating can make you lose weight, then why the hell do I still look like a potato on stilettos?? Seriously, it’s a fucking miracle I have time to write some days!! But alas, it turns out that this jerk-off-for-weight-loss theory only applies to men—of course.

Japanese Dr. Yamanalka, claims that a man can lose a considerable amount of weight if he spanks his monkey between 3 to 5 times per day. Apparently a man can lose up to 4 kilos per week following this ‘regime’! Four f’n kilos!! How unfair is that considering I clock at least double that playin’ with my nub?!

This exercise program, which is called Onanobics, also includes different combinations you can try in order to mix it up and burn more calories. For instance, if you do it while on your knees you burn more calories than you would doing it while sitting or standing. And if you’re a true pro, (as I consider myself to be) you can burn an astounding amount of calories if you beat your meat while jogging! I jog EVERY morning!! I am sure I could easily incorporate the two, yet these benefits only apply to men! Men who are known to be incapable of multi-tasking!! Why dear God? Why?????

Maybe this is what the term ‘penis envy’ really means, cuz’ I now find myself feelin’ quite green over men and their ability to lose weight by simply playing with their winkies. Then again, going back to the men being incapable of multi-tasking thing; its kind of a wasted discovery, isn’t it?

These last few weeks have been trying on my patience, my faith in people and my soul. You almost managed to rob me of that little voice in me that tells me that most people are good. You made me momentarily regret that I am as trusting as I am and even made me look at people in a whole new light — one that isn’t quite so rose-colored. But before you start to rejoice in your office chair, you should know what that means for you.

You expressed some insecurity over some aspects of my life recently and it really surprised me. Truth be told; it made me like you more because it made you seem a little more human and was somehow endearing. If you had meant all of the sweet things that you said that day and actually called back as promised, then you would have heard all kinds of things that you’d never expect from me as well.

You claimed to be worried about all of the “hot guys” that I am in contact with and said that you felt that you could never compete with them. Already being skeptical after your previous behaviour; I wondered if that was just your kind way of trying to bow out gracefully and spare me any more confusion, but you assured me that was not at all the case. If you had bothered to deal with things like a man and follow through with your promises, then maybe you would have been able to really get how I saw you.

Just for fun, let me tell you: I thought you were magnificent.

It started with thinking that I saw something sweet in your dark little eyes. From there, it grew as I got to know you—or what I thought was you. When I learned about what you do and as you expressed your passion for it; I was completely and utterly in awe and truly felt that I was in the presence of a gem at Starbucks that day. Hearing you speak of your love and admiration for your mother really touched me, and sadly, made me believe that your great love for her automatically meant that you were respectful of women. Silly me. As things moved on and I learned more about your naughty side; it seemed to bring out mine in a way that I had NEVER thought possible (even writing about sex for a living). I can’t begin to express how incredibly sexy and intoxicating I found you or the way my body reacted to simply hearing your voice or thinking of you. All of those things, coupled with your calm nature made me foolishly fall hard and want to do things with you and to you that would have left you cross-eyed and satisfied for a LONG time—and I don’t just mean sexually.

You see, there was no need to compete. Not that you deserve to know any of this, but when there was another “hot guy” that I was contemplating when we first met; you won out by a long shot. Kudos — the illusion that you created made you appear to be the hottest man on Earth.

This post originally started out to be a series of much deserved cheap shots at you for the way you misled me. A few wise cracks about your extra-curricular interests that you blatantly lied to me about and ending with something along the lines of: “go cuck yourself”. It would have made for a far more entertaining post than this one, but in the end, I am still too good a person to do that to anyone—even you—you lying little man, too busy with your quest to find the ultimate cuckold experience to see the amazing things that are right in front of you. Be grateful that this is all that I can be bothered to do in retaliation for the way you fucked with me. Had it been someone else, I would guess that those special pics of you would have been plastered allover your work website by now.

My rose-colored glasses are back on.

NEXT!!!

Only weeks away from my trip to Europe I can’t help but dream of beautiful sandy beaches, great shoes, hot men with sexy accents and the nerve to utter the kinds of comments that could get one charged with sexual harassment elsewhere and glass dildos. Yes, that’s right—glass dildos.

I can’t help it. I love sex toys. Sue me.

It’s not always about the actual using of the toys, because sometimes, there’s nothin’ like your fingers. For me it’s more about just enjoying the sex toy by simply having it in my possession and the joy of passing on the word to friends and sharing the love. And with sex toys getting just so damn pretty these days, how could I not love em??

I was writing up one of the dozens of packing lists that I will surely write over the next few weeks. In this latest one I remembered to put down “toy”. Let’s face it; vacation flings are almost a sure thing, but that one percent chance that I won’t find a quality playmate while away scares me and my clit to no end! So, as a way of covering my ass (clit) and ensuring a few toe-curling orgasms while there, I think it best to pack a sex toy.

Having worked in the airline industry for about ten years; I have witnessed the embarrassment of those passengers who made the mistake of putting their sex toys in their carry-on much to the juvenile enjoyment of the security guards at the screening points. I have also been there when the “bomb sniffers” have been called to inspect a suspicious vibrating bag in the bag room. Luckily, the passenger is rarely aware of this happening, but to save the ten or so employees and one dog the hassle; I would prefer to do my best to avoid this from happening when I go. And I think the best way would be with a glass dildo.

I figure whether in my carry-on or checked baggage, it is unlikely to cause a problem or draw the attention that another toy might. With a glass dildo there would be no risk of vibrating and the lack of suspicious looking wires or the obvious shape of a HUGE cock would keep the screeners from laughing up their lunches allover my pretty bag.

Glass dildos come in such pretty shapes and colors and let’s face it; most screeners would believe “it’s a glass sculpture I’m taking as a gift for my grandmother”.

The only small detail about taking a glass dildo away with me is the fact that I don’t actually own one. *sigh*

Let’s classify this entry under “cry for help”. I’d like to shamelessly call upon sex toy companies or makers of glass toys to come to my aid and answer my cry for help by sending me a pretty glass dildo as a sort of a bon voyage gift. Preferably one of the vaginal variety as opposed to the anal sort, though I do get that beggars can’t be choosers.

Please, oh please—send me a pretty glass dildo! Pretty please?

My attempt at online dating has opened me up to a world of different types of men that I never knew existed. Here are some of my favorites:

Low Self Esteem Guy - He’s reasonably attractive, hardworking with a good job and a sweet personality. He enjoys all of the low key things that I do including fishing (anyone who knows me understands how much I long to meet someone who will humor my love of early morning road trips that end with us sitting on a rock on the water fishing while I get in a tan and use Doritos instead of worms cuz’ I’m afraid of them).Our conversations seem to flow really well– so well that I consider him to be an excellent candidate for a real date and hopefully more. Then, during a conversation about our love of car sandwiches and truck stops and roadside sex on a long drive he throws in that he “probably isn’t any good in bed anyway at least not compared to me or the guys I have had”. What the f%ck?? The topper is when children come up and he informs me that he doesn’t want kids. I think “Great!” cuz I don’t either. He them tells me that the reason is because “you gotta love yourself before you can love a child properly”. And when I ask “don’t you love yourself??” he replied with a long pause and “not really”.

Next is The Boobie Man - This guy is incredibly good looking, well dressed and has a profile that could charm the most bitter of old maids. You find yourself waiting with baited breath for his reply and are immediately overcome with visions of your perfect date, in your perfect dress at the most perfect lounge a top the city on a perfectly beautiful and clear night. You imagine him to be articulate with great manners and a naughty side that peeks through only to those worthy… like yourself. When you finally hook up on msn to chat, the first question he asks is “Can I see your boobs?” You laugh it off as a joke or his silly little way of breaking the ice and go on to ask him about himself. In place of a witty response, you are instead bombarded with a series of boobie related questions and demands: How big are your boobs? Can I see your boobs? Do you have any pics of your boobs? Seriously, show me your boobs! *sigh*

There is also the I Think He’s Married Guy - This guy is sweet, sexy, unusually charming and in spite of his hectic work schedule seems to be up for regular visit s– during certain hours only of course. He chalks it up to work and responsibilities and swears that he is single. he even gives you his telephone number as a sign of good faith — his cell number that is — the one that is turned off every evening and weekend. This guy is great for your ego with impromptu calls to say “I have a little free time right now and would love to see you”, but if you are unable to drop everything to meet him right then, well, the moment passes and you lose your chance because he is “just so busy” of course. This guy seems to be very open and gives you all kinds of details about his life and is super caring — between 10am and 6pm only though. Even the most man savvy gal has trouble knowing what to make of him. You think he may be married cuz’ it sure does seem that way, but on the other hand he really could just be a great, sexy guy with poor time management skills or an anal way of approaching each day.

You’ve also got Married. Period. Guy - He is stupid enough to post his picture on his profile and state that he is married and looking for a little nookie on the side. I think it’s great that someone would be up front about being married if he is wanting just sex from you, but when the profile emphasizes several times that discretion is a must, you gotta wonder why the f%ck he would post his pic if he wants to keep his extramarital affairs on the down-lo! Stupid? Crazy? Both??

Finally, one that I keep encountering is one that I have spoken of before: the Only Dates Fat Chicks Guy. I am clear about the fact that I am NOT a small girl in my profile and while I don’t use the word fat; I do refer to myself as “big”, “curvy” and “fuller-figured”. My reasoning is that too many people are vague or just blatantly lie about their size and while we would all love to believe that size and looks don’t matter, the reality is that they do. So why mislead someone or even set yourself up for a rude experience by claiming to be something that you are not and cannot hide no matter how much black you wear?! Anyhow, this type of guy seems great and loves how open you are about your love of french fries and milkshakes and your acceptance of your size. Then, when you meet this guy in person the first thing he points out is that you’re “not big at all”. He even seems disappointed in spite of telling you how beautiful your face is and how sexy you are. My question still stands: Not big enough FOR WHAT??? For the record, the right clothing and the way you carry yourself can spare you the appearance of about ten pounds, but it’s when I’m naked that you’d really get to see me in all of my Boticelli-esque glory complete with all of my soft and magnificent rolls. But alas, you are so concerned that I may not be big enough for… well I dunno what, that you decide to move on in search of something more obviously dumpy and frumpy.

My experience with online dating as of late has been more like online shopping and met with the same approach as buying a dress on eBay. I cruise what’s out there and hope it fits, but deep down am skeptical of what I’m really getting and finding myself wondering why I even bother, only to do it again the next day.