Oh dear readers, I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update. Imagine me dramatically and sympathetically flopping myself on a bed. I don't know where June has gone, but I'm glad it's over. It was filled with romantic disappointments and work has quieted down to the point where I actually have to readdress my 2008 taxes and have the time to do it, now that the audit is over. July has the potential to be so much more. Perhaps it was that pathetic sex party that brought me down and tainted the whole month.
L'amour...it's quite pathetic. It seems that I'm largely unwanted--sexually and romantically--on the island of Manhattan, though I haven't tested my luck in the other 4 boroughs of New York City so men could be coming out of the woodwork in the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens and Staten Island for all I know. Doubtful, but, like July..possibly full of potential. Of the 5 men who have turned me down lately, one is a former lover who is now suddenly pretending that he is morally above the cheating politicans and likes to pretend that he couldn't lower himself and have sex with me, being a married father of 6! This didn't stop him from 2007-2008 when we had plenty of sex at the Gansevoort and the London Hotels. He seems to forget that I know just how much he likes getting head--and not just because 99% of people love it. I *know* because I was the one giving it to him and I got more back than Monica Lewinsky. I heard him moan, I felt his hand gently pushing my head farther down on his cock. Now that he can't really make a living and is looking for new employment, trying to be the good breadwinner, he conveniently forgets the past infidelity. Alas, like a prisoner on death row, he somehow found morality and turned me down.
Among the remaining 4, I had one guy from Jdate who, in the end, declined to meet me because he "just met someone" and told me that it's all about timing. My boy coupon expired and I have to move on. Fritz, who is currently out of the dating loop, which is silently breaking my heart and the other 2 are men that came on to me, got me all worked up, and just as they were about to pull the trigger, confessed that women that they had causally mentioned were actually serious girlfriends. If they could have worked out their fidelity issues without engaging my libido, it would have been greatly appreciated.
I complain about these men--these namby-pamby sorts who can't or won't do exactly what I want them to do. But, I don't really want any of them anymore; in the last few weeks, I've honed a different crush. The sexual movie that replays in my head is starring the manager of my gym, which is the lovely Equinox on the Upper West Side where I've had cause to deal with him lately. But before you assume that I'm just complaining to him just to get face time, I'm actually not--I'm trying to change my karma there, as I snuck in for the first 5 months of 2009 and now am offering my marketing skills and trying to help them increase membership and keep current members happy. I'm still not sure how I stepped into this role, but it started with me asking for a refund on a monthly fee (that I was not really entitled to) and ended with me offering to sit down and brainstorm with the manager and use pieces of my MBA. I tried to overlook his boyish good looks and his flirty customer service persona. I tried to remember that he was there to serve me ONLY in a appropriate capacity--making sure that I get my yearly assessment and my free personal training session--and remember that the flirting was just marketing to keep me feeling special and liked. I kept our conversation focused and cast the thoughts of sex with Equinox employees far from my mind. But, as we all know, when you are determined to NOT think about something, it's all you can think about.
We had a moment once--this manager and I. He was schmoozing with me, just trying to make polite conversation in an effort to enhance Equinox PR and I looked him in the eye and, were I a man, I'd have had a huge hard-on, which I assume would be awkward to run on the treadmill with. I was slow to look away but at that moment I knew I wanted him badly. So, my usual mode is to show my intellectual side, doing the dance of my brain and showing that I have no interest. That I am a dork and that only dorky things impress me--give me excel spreadsheets, talk about marketing and management concepts--only business theory into practice impresses me. This also tends to give them impression that I am straight missionary position girl, with little or no wild side; that sex is an after thought in my life, or something that I'm mildly interested if it's the appropriate setting. When they learn about my past jobs of phone sex and writing porn, of my liberal sexual ethics and my preference for light s&m and anal sex, it usually comes as some sort of surprise. Some, as we've seen in the last 2 weeks, are very excited about this and file me under the category of 'women to fuck' not 'women to date' and others, well, it may prove to be a little much--that taboo might be pushed too far. But, it's never what they assume.
I'm still in the intellectual portion with this manager and I'm tending to think that I am distinctly not his type. He has no idea the sort of effort I put into a comprehensive email full of marketing ideas to him, or that I casually look through the glass walls of his office every time I enter and exit the gym to see if he's there. I'm sure he doesn't realize that I'm harnessing my inner-8 year old and desperately try to ignore him when he passes the bike/elliptical machine or treadmill that I'm sweating profusely on when he passes by to make sure that maintenance is working or that things are processing smoothly. Or, that because I'm looking a little better and wearing more fitted clothes I'm trying to go to the gym for some reason when my hair and make up are done--did I need the New York Times digest that Equinox gives out for free? Not today. But, did I go in and claim it? Sure and did he even see me? No. He was checking his fucking email. It was mental masturbation. It's brain candy--no nutritional value but it tastes so good. And I like that this mundane situation makes me so wet.
I've been weighing the options of making some verbal pass at him and I know that when I am turned down, I'll feel a small pinch of embarrassment and get over it quickly--it's not really a gamble but just a odd way to pay a compliment. Surely we'll have a conversation when he reviews this appropriate business-y email that I sent him last night. And, the whole scene will go something like this....we'll be talking about altering membership to sustain the portion of Equinox members who have recently lost their jobs and are judiciously reviewing their disposable income. Blah blah blah. We'll be in a heated debate how Equinox is to extend their appreciation to such members and keep them as repeat customers and I'll mention, quite matter-of-factly that I really want him to fuck me and in one fluid moment (no pun), I'll be bent over the desk, his button down shirt clad chest leaning heavily onto my back and skirt hiked up, his pants around his ankles, both of us forgetting that the walls of his office are glass and the UPS guy who is delivering reams of paper and other useless office supplies can see exactly what's going on--not to mention the gaggle of ghetto kids who run the front desk and other members rushing to check in and get to their yoga or spin classes--and after we've come, we'll notice that Equinox literature is stuck to our sweaty hands that were pressed against his desk. Oh, and that will be my workout for the day and we'll be able to assess how many calories we just burned based on how long and hard he fucked me.
As you can tell, All I want is just a little bit of sex. Just a little. No long, romantic night (except if it's Fritz), no promises of grandeur, no commitment of anything--just a little fuck; like a facial after a bad breakout, or a waxing, or anything else that one does for bodily maintenance. And, much like my fear of cocaine, I'm scared to just pick someone off the internet for fear that they are psychotic and will fuck me, mutilate me and then kill me--or something to that effect. Please don't go thinking that I should just use a vibrator and have some special time with my hand, because it's just not the same. THAT is like shoveling your own walk.....you should do it. You own a shovel, you are physically able to do it, but it's much much better when someone ELSE does it and you can watch them, and busy yourself making hot cocoa for them so that when they come in from the cold you can make them comfortable and nice. Of course the fucking 12-stepper in me thinks that this is probably God's way of keeping me away from bad human fuck toys and focusing on myself and my goals. I'm hard at work at being a skinnier me.
If only Equinox could help me get to all my goals.
Now to return home in the rain.
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