The Lost Plum…

I had taken a nice solitude vacation at the end of my first year of grad school. Actually I spent the whole time in the resort room in Mexico writing my paper that was due the day I got back, and since I burnt crisper then a bucket of chicken on the first day, the room is where I stayed.

My favorite moments of this trip besides some nice sun therapy and the spa would have to be my late night phone calls with Mr. Popular while sitting on the balcony.

Mr. Popular and I had been chatting/texting/IMing for months, and had had a few in person adventures!

I got home to NYC red and ready to hand in my paper. I also was thinking somewhat dreamy thoughts of Mr. Popular. This was one of the only time I can remember of where I actually really contemplated us as a “couple” and in a real “relationship”.

Problem being I didn’t think he felt the same way at all. I was pretty convinced we had moved into the ever wonderful “friendship” zone. He treated me like a ‘girlfriend’ but just never touched me like one….or at least how I assumed all guys touch their girlfriends.

I was getting ready to go to bed early, as I get tired from plane rides, and I get a phone call.

Mr. Popular is in my hood and right up the street. He wants to come over and see me. Holy shit balls!

We talked laughed and joked around for hours into the night. Just lying on my bed talking. Only times he got off the bed was to take a smoke break. His smoke breaks consited of him at my window, stradling my ratiator so he was half out the window and half inside the bedroom.

As the hours flew by I became more and more convinced we dove deeper into the “friend zone” and pretty soon the sun was close to coming up.

SIDEBAR: I was pretty cool with friend zone, but starting to question his sexuality at this point. What guy lies in bed for hours with a girl and doesn’t try anything?

We were laying talking laughing and then all of a sudden he leans in and kissed me.

There it was! Wow!

“Did you just kiss me?”

He kissed me again!

And then he stopped stared in my eyes and jumped up!

“I have to go!”

He bolted, ran, left quicker then Kiefer Sutherland throws back a shot of whiskey.

And I went to bed with the sun coming up feeling rejected: Sad, lonely, and rejected.

Until I awoke to find I had company in bed with me.

There were feathers and bird poo all over as pigeons had flown in and taken up residence in my room through his open “smoke break” window.

Maybe first kiss birds really do appear. And maybe sometimes in the form of gross dirty New York City pigeons!

Yup. Brace yourself, here it comes: the virginity post!

Now unless my father asks this post is about me losing my virginity. If he asks this is a guest post by some dirty sinner! (Shame on you dirty sinner!)

People who know me are always surprised when the topic of “first times” comes up, and age is thrown on the table.

I was a late bloomer, not as late as other people I know, but to the masses I probably am.

I lost my virginity to “firstguy” when I was 19. There was nothing particular exciting, special or interesting about that evening, except I was 19. It was my birthday.

FACT: This is NOT the reason I dislike celebrating my birthday.

We were in my parent’s basement watching a movie. Braveheart, I only remember the movie cause ‘firstguy’ had a love for watching the same movies over and over again. Braveheart was one of these. I’ve seen that movie far more times then I would like to admit. (Far too many in like a two-year period)

Somewhere between Mel Gibson speaking with a Scottish accent and someone dying we had sex.

That is all I remember. No real detail about what was said or what was done, we just did more than the usual. And at that time more then the usual meant sex.

You always hear about sex hurting, and being painful and all that jazz. I don’t clearly remember that but if my memory serves me correctly I’d like to say that my first time as a girl didn’t hurt, or at least it didn’t cause me pain. But it was uncomfortable.

Kind of like when you tie your shoe too tight. You know that it doesn’t feel right, it’s alittle uncomfortable and it hurts to walk the first few steps, you know you just sense that something you did might not be right. But after that it loosens up and it’s like nothing wrong ever happened.

SIDEBAR: That analogy sounded cleaner in my head.

So there it was I was 19. One year older. I could vote, drink, and I wasn’t a virgin.

‘Firstguy’ was terrible at alot of things. Gifts were one of them, unless you count flowers. That boy bought me more flowers than Kiefer Sutherland buys rounds of shoots.

It was my birthday (and my first time) and all my boyfriend got me was cake, a Mr.Bean teddy-bear, Mel Gibson and a broken hymen.

I talked about facebook as a way to meet a potential mate the other day and thought I’d share a story.

When I first moved to New York I was bombarded with friends asking if I was on facebook because they couldn’t find me.

Facebook what is this facebook you speak of, my mind would wander. (We’re talking way back in the early facebook days; they didn’t even have Canadian networks then)

I had a good friend from home ask what it was one time as we chatted. I gave her my login information and was like “check it out”.

She did and with out my knowledge she friend requested about 20 guys in the city who she thought would be good for me. Oh and she would stress good-looking here cause that always equals a good.

I had about three of them add me as friends and one contact me. One day an email via facebook from a seemly nice guy on facebook introducing him self, saying he didn’t remember meeting me but he just moved to the city and didn’t have many friends, asking if we knew each other from some place else. Our emails continued and then they graduated to IM conversation. We spent months chatting for hours into the night. The months went by but I had still yet to meet him but I felt like I knew everything about him. He was slowly becoming one of my best friends in the city, and yet no face-to-face.

We talked on the phone, we late night drunken texted, and then finally we decided we needed an “adventure” not just a meeting, an adventure! We both discussed our love for penguins once and thus our adventure was to go and experience penguins. And this was a big adventure not just a central park advneture an outing all the way out to coney island to the aquriam on a very warm Febuary day (after almost 6months of ‘knowing’ eachother)

We picked up some coffee, and we jumped on the train and rode the train chatting like we’d known eachother for years. I’ve yet to have a more enjoyable subway experience with any other person. It is at the top my list of “perfect NYC days”

He really is one of my best friends and oldest friends since moving here. We’ve experience alot together, and always laughed along the way. He might not always return my texts (hint hint) but I know he’s one of those people I can always count on. And in the lonely city he knows me better then anyone else. If all else fails I know just seeing him makes me light up and smile. I live for times we get to catch up. He tells me tales of his girlfriend of the moment, I regal the ridiculousness that is my life.

It’s funny how we can go out searching for love (even if you don’t do the searching yourself) and find things that are even better then you would expect.

Whenever people get down on ‘dating’ or going out and meeting people I always think of how we find the greatest people in the most unlikely places.  I may still be searching for “mr. right” (or even “mr. right now” ) but I have my “mr.popular” and that’s just fine by me…

A few nights back I was having a DM conversation with @SimoneGrant on twitter, and telling her about the mysterious text messages I was receiving from a number I did not recognize.

FACT: If there is an award for best/most 140character DM conversations @simonegrant and I (@lostplum) would win! Seriously!

Now I knew two things about the texter on the other end. It was clearly a man, and clearly he wanted to see what I was up to.

SIDEBAR: I was up to stuffing my face with pudding and on the couch cathing up on my dvr still in my gym clothes from earlier.

Now like any of my friends (or even you my readers) might do, she jumped to the conclusion that it must be some random guy I’ve given my number to at some point.  She even offered up a few suggestions (she has clearly been out drinking with me) I tend to pretty much give my number to any seaming normal person.  I do this because I find it fun to play the “I bet he texts me (—)”  game, which I have become, VERY VERY good at!  I can pretty much give a guy my number after talking for about 30-minutes and tell you exactly what he will text me and when (or at least really close) If I ever entre another beauty (scholarship fund) competition again in my life that will be my talent.

But this isn’t a post about my talents (that would be far to long) this is a blog about the text I hate the most.  So I finally figure out who the boy is. And we are chatting.

Friend who has a crush on me: “How’s your night going?”

Plum: “ Not bad. How about yours?”

Friend with crush:  “Ok, but why don’t you come and make it better.”

And there it was THAT message.  That “come over and make ME better”, “want to make IT better” text. I f-ing hate that text!

Let me tell you something guys you have a much better chance of A: getting me to hang out with you and B: getting to feel “better” if you just ask in a nice friendly matter if I want to have a drink, or grab a late dinner. Seriously, dude! It’s already past 10pm, I already know what you are hitting at you don’t have to be slimy about it.

It’s not “cute” and it’s not getting me off my couch it’s making me so much “BETTER” then you are!

A purple spider, Punky Brewster, a tiger, and a ninja turtle all have one thing in common.  These are all things I have been for Halloween.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays.  I mean candy, costumes, drinking, and did I mention candy. What’s not to love!  It’s also the only holiday, which isn’t ‘family’ centered, maybe that is why we all love it!

Halloween is like over 200 years old and in my opinion maybe the most over commercialized and marketed holidays.  But more then that Halloween is over sexual.  It could be called “National Slut Day”. 

As Halloween draws upon us, all I see left right in center is slut attire. I was at the drug store buying tissues and cough drops and right next to the checkout were fishnets! (seriously?!)

Halloween is synonymies with cleavage, legs, and frankly sex. And females are mainly to blame (lame!).  Women dress in provocative garments to in most cases draw sexual attention and advances from men. Now I’m not saying anything is wrong with that but I think it’s gone a little far.  (this is where all my male readers which is about 90% of you chime in and say “hell no it hasn’t gone to far!”)

Halloween offers the opportunity to dress as anything at all and in true spirit dress as you something you really want to be.  Now I don’t know about you but I sure wasn’t telling everyone growing up in my sexy-school girl uniform that I wanted to be a prostitute.

I have never really dressed ‘sluty’ on Halloween so I can’t really judge can I.  In fact the costume I plan on wearing tomorrow is maybe my most sexy to date. And it’s not even that risky. In fact I traveled to many of the pop-up costume stores this city is filled with at this time in search of ‘additions’ to my costume. 

SIDEBR:  While at the costume store I over heard one girl tell her friend she should go as a prostitute because guys stick money in your boobs all night so it’s a win win!  (my eyes rolled, and I am rolling them again)

My costume this year needed alittle extra, and by little extra I mean 2-3 inches.  See in the spirit of National Slut day ever costume sold for women pretty much sits on your ass.  I mean maybe if you are a size 0 with no ass these lengths are appropriate but I grew up with my mother, who as soon as something went over the knee she raised a silently judging eyebrow.

StoreWorker:  Need help?

Me:  No I’m just looking for something, thank you.

StroreWorker:  Something in mind?

Me: Well, yeah actually I need something this colour or to match this.  (pulling out costume from my bag)

StoreWorker:  Are you looking for the same one? What’s wrong wit this one?

Me: It’s too short I need to add material to the bottom. Add more skirt.

StoreWorker: WHY?! 

Me: (laughing) It’s too short.

StoreWorker:  That’s how you get us guys to notice you. It’s sexy. You ain’t picking up if you ain’t showing leg.

Me: Honey, I was covered from head to toe and then some last year and I still had sex in the bar bathroom with a hot sailor. 

StoreWorker: (silent) Damn Girl!

It’s not about what you wear, it’s about how you wear it.  It’s about being confident in your own body, and I guess if most of us need that little “it’s ok it’s a holiday” excuse then I’m all for it.  Just make sure you have the confidence before you go throwing a mask over it. So embrace your sexy self and put on a costume or don’t it doesn’t matter. Just be comfortable in you, and the rest will fall into place.

MamaPlums advise for Halloween this year: “Play safe with others, and don’t accept candy or other ‘goodies’ from homeless men on the street. Oh and wear a hat you’re going to have cold weather”

PapaPlum left me a voice mail the other night with the following costume recommendation:  “You should go as someone who HAS received their flu shot. Hint hint.” (insert his laughter)

FACT: Sexy Sailor and I ‘dated’ for about 5 weeks after Halloween.  I didn’t even remember putting my number in his phone.  But I did…..that’s another story for a much later time.