We all have those embarrassing sex stories, those elbow to the eye, granny panties, fell off the bed, and the hit my head on a head board stories. And if you don’t have one frankly I don’t think you’re doing sex right!

But these are usually personal. One person fell off the bed, one person burped in the others mouth, and so on.

So rather then telling about what I think is an embarrassing sex story that has happened to me, and believe me there are lots! I thought I’d try to think of what awkward, funny, disastrous sex moment I’ve had that would be the other persons most embarrassing….

Some time ago I was having sex (that’s sorta has to be in this story doesn’t it) and it was good, wonderful and every word you can think of to replace “great”.

Basically, we can say I was very much enjoying myself.

He was ontop and therefore I was below him (the classic missionary) and all of a sudden I feel this strange pressure building up in my lady parts. It was odd, different, not like any feeling I’ve felt like before.

I gave him a funny face as he continued with his ‘business’.

“ummm” my face kind of twisted.

“You ok you want me to stop” he stops but still ontop of me.

“Ummm…..No, but….something feels strange.”

“Bad strange or good strange?” he seemed concerned but obviously his blood wasn’t going to his brain at this moment.

“Kind of bad strange, it kind of hurts”

He backs up, and this pressure that had been building stops, kind of rushes out of me in a strange ‘I don’t know this feeling’ kind of way. And then I notice everything is all wet….

I sorta backup, sit up, and look down.

“Did you just?….Baby! I think you peed in me?!” I say as this look of shock and embarrassment comes over him, and he hides his head and rolls over.

And I of course can do nothing but start to laugh….

SIDEBAR: Apparently guys aren’t supposed to be able to urinate while having an erection, however, my Google searches have proved otherwise….and so has this personal experience.

FACT: I guess this means I’ve dabbled in water sports, although I didn’t ask too.

Girlfriends I have and ones I just meet are always blown away by the fact that I will go home with a guy far before I take him home. Sometimes months before he even knows where I really live.

Girls always tell me they like the ability of telling someone to leave when they want them too. That it’s on their time, their territory, and their terms.

But what if they don’t leave? I however, like the ability of leaving when I see fit. Whether that is 3pm the next day or 3-minutes after walking in the door.

It’s only truly on your terms if you’re the guest. Unless he’s a serial axe murder then it’s on his terms. But as my friend ‘Tex’ would say, “I can’t get my deposit back with blood stains all over”.

When I was making my move to my new apartment a few months back I realized something.

I had never had sex in my room where I had lived for 2 years. Two years! 2 years without having sex meant my poor bed might be comfy but she sure was lonely.

In fact my bed hasn’t seen that much action at all in its 5-year life.  Poor bed.

I guess I don’t really have a point here, except that I like things on my terms I like the ability to leave situations I no longer want to be a part of. And I guess it’s just another way to show how I can be really closed off sometimes.

I speak my mind, I act out, I talk way more then I should in details far more then necessary, but when it comes to my home, my private literal space I don’t just let anyone come through the door.

I like having emotional connections, memories and heartbreaks outside of my familiar: Outside of my comfort zone. My home (where ever that maybe) is that for me. It’s my space, my life, mine.

Anyways, maybe I need to get this bed some more action before I get a new one. Because in my old apartment if those walls could talk they’d skip right over me and go to the next tenant.  But this new place is all mine, so maybe I need to give it some character. But then again that would mean trusting a boy enough to have him in my home…hmmm….we’ll have to see.

SIDEBAR: This is also a story I’ve sat on for a while. I’ve struggled with on so many levels, but in the end putting it out there is always best, or not. But here we go *deep breath*

You, Me, and the Stump equals three! Part One and Two!

I had noticed Elevator-Hottie since I starting working in the building 5 months ago. Ok, I didn’t notice him I straight up stared and maybe drooled at him. This man was hot, and by hot I mean HAWT!

We always seemed to be stuck in the elevator together, most times alone no matter what time of the day.

I simply chalked this up to fate!

We had exchanged a few smiles back and forth (god he had great teeth) but other then that, he watched the elevator TV and I pretended to be doing something important on my phone while I checked out his hot ass in his nice suit!

I worked late that night and as I was leaving the office around 8pm, I clicked the down button.

The door opened and there stood his tall gorgeous frame. (If I were a guy I would’ve got an instant hard on)

He smiled. I quickly looked down at my phone.

Elevator-Hottie: Can I just say something?

I looked up, mouth open from shock and stared at his beautiful face. I did not say anything, I don’t think I even nodded, but may have turned bright red.

Elevator-Hottie: You’re gorgeous! I’d love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like and are available.

I keep staring, drool may or may not have fallen from my mouth.

“Ummmm…(What ever I said here was most definitely babble and I fear evening thinking about it. I’ve blocked it from my memory)”

Elevator-Hottie: Can I get your card?

“Umm…yeah…sure” I fumbled for a card.

Elevator-Hottie: “I always wondered what you did at ‘the magazine with boobies’……”

His voice trailed off as he got off the elevator. I was planted firmly in my place still in shock and awe from the fact he even talked to me. ME!?! Did he just ask me out? HE asked ME, (ME?!) out!?!

The elevator doors closed!

SIDEBAR: I am an idiot!

I press the button the doors open (as I am already on the first floor). I walk out he is gone and there is Tom my favorite of our night security desk guys. “Smooth, very smooth!” He says with a smile.

I blew it! I totally blew it! Oh well.

But I get a phone call that night, and it was Elevator-Hottie. Seriously, I was now staring to believe in this ‘fate’ stuff.

Our first date was to be an after work drink. Although in all honesty I didn’t go to work till the end of day cause I was picking out the perfect outfit, getting my hair just right, doing nails, and all the girl (yes sometimes I’m like that) stuff!

We had a seemingly perfect first date. We had great conversation, I didn’t get to drunk (a usual first date flaw on my part) we ended up grabbing dinner, all in all a great date. As we were saying our goodbyes he gave me a “had a great time” accompanied by a pat on the shoulder.

He hates me. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third drink, maybe I talked to much, I probably swore to much, maybe it’s cause I made fun of him…..urg such is my life!

But he called me. And he kept calling me.

Now Elevator-Hottie was everything you’d want in a man, especially in a Manhattan man. Tall, unbelievable handsome, very well educated, good family, owned his own apartment with a park view (and not stand on the toilet  in the bathroom tilt your head kind of view, we’re talking a view!) He had great job, and he even a summer house.

Date number 12 rolls around and the most action I’ve gotten is a peck on the lips and a pat on the back hug. And a few flower arrangements sent to my office.

I mean come on, a girl cant wait forever. In my dating world 12 dates is pretty much an engagement! So you better pony up! I was so confused by the situation, and never been in one like this before. Plus, I like sex so I was alittle upset on that front too.

I was also struggling with him because as perfect on paper as he may have been. He really didn’t make me laugh. OK, I shouldn’t say that he was funny he would make any normal girl laugh alot. But I need and want a guy who makes me spit out my drink, maybe pee my pants just alittle bit laugh! (It’s a requirement)

My friends all pushed me towards the ‘perfect on paper’ and said to ignore the other details.

Oh right, I’m forgetting that one other detail. You see for all his great perfect on paper points, there’s one little thing he didn’t have.

One quality mister-perfect-elevator-hottie-on-paper was missing.

Actually, it was more of an appendage then a quality. You see Elevator-Hottie was missing his left leg below the knee. He had a prosthetic, no leg, a whatever you want to call it………There was no leg!

So I rationalized his lack of physical contact as a shyness of his stump.

Maybe it was all scared up and nasty! Maybe it was shaped funny. Maybe he was scared I’d want to lick it during foreplay.

All I knew was if he didn’t take my pants off on this our 14th date, it’s over.

Leg or no leg : Over!

I get a Text message: Instead, why don’t you come over and we’ll order in and watch a movie.

Thank you Jesus! Come over and watch a movie IS and has always been code for come over and have sex!

But now I was terrified. I frantically spent hours googling sex with one legged men, and so on. These results turned up nothing but scary porn, and creepy craigslist ads.

This was it. You see if the sex is amazing, I guess I can get over the lack of gut hurting laugher. Plus, I was starting to really like him. NowI was more nervous then excited.

I show up at his apartment. I walk in the door and he jumps me. Wow! Like throws me against the wall, jumps me.

Where did this guy come from?

Lips are intertwined, arms are throwing and ripping off clothes. This one legged Hottie was on a mission! And his mission was me!

We take this action into the bedroom. We’re doing it, and we’re doing it. Oh and we’re doing it! And it was really great. And did I mention the view of the park from the bedroom!? The whole thing was hot and amazing!

I’m in the moment. Really in the moment, and then he decides he wants to take a trip…downtown !

And as I lay there with my eyes closed enjoying his downtown adventure I hear a soft whisper in my ear.

“She’s good isn’t she.”

I look over. I look down. I look over. I look down. I look…I look DOWN!

And there between my legs is this mass of grey hair.

I jump back! So fast and hard I hit the headboard and the back of my head started to bleed.

There at the foot of the bed is this …..Old Lady.

Now not just old, we’re talking tales from the crept, old lady boobs to her knees, fucking Old Lady OLD!

As I’m picking up my stuff I’m speechless. More shocked then when he asked me out in the elevator. I kept looking at him and his perfect body his mouth was moving, something about it being ok, how he wants me to stay. I kept looking at her with her really not perfect body saying something about how he was right I am really pretty.

And I couldn’t say anything. Maybe it was just the surprise of it, maybe it was the feeling that I was pretty much just violated by an old woman, or maybe it’s because I hit my head so hard I was pretty sure I was dying of a brain bleed. I was shaking and in shock, and just wanting to leave.

As I ran out in my jacket, one shoe and holding everything else I came in with. I walked into the bar across the street asked where the bathroom was and said I was coming back for shots!

As I put my clothes on I held back tears. I don’t know why exactly, but I had never wanted to be more loved and cherished by a man then in that moment. It sounds odd I know, but all I could think was why couldn’t I meet a nice guy, why does every guy I meet need to be an asshole douchebag or a freak. Why won’t anyone ever just love me. What was wrong with me?

Because just when you think someone is perfect on paper you realize their grandmother is doing the book keeping from inside the closet, or under the bed, or wherever one hides a walking swinger of a corpse!

My answer was basically “if you have to ask if I enjoyed it, I probably didn’t.

But it got me thinking about all my bedroom turnoffs. So in the only way I know how to approach these things, here is a list of just a few….

The Times I’ve Been Most Turned Off In Bed:

1. Exactly what is said above. Every time that question has been asked in bed it is pretty much been bad. But one time in particular sticks out the most. Let me just say, I didn’t even know we had started and he had already finished and was very prod of the fact he just may have blown my mind. Trust me if it’s good for me you will know!

2. We were laying there after the fact, maybe like 5 minutes or so. Actually scratch that, like less then a minute, he had just rolled over then he lifted his leg and farted. (This was the first time we had sex….and the last)

3. “Am I big?” Honey if you have to ask it isn’t big. Also if you draw my attention to it in that context, that is all I’m going to be thinking about the entire time as I compare you to every other one I’ve seen in my head.

4. Showering right after, and I mean right after! Is my sex sweat that gross that it can’t be on you for more then 5minutes?

5. Being told to leave right after. A lady always asks if you’d like to say, and a gentleman always invites one to stay. If you don’t invite me I’m leaving don’t worry. You don’t have to point to the door before I’ve even found my bra.

6. The fluid motion of removing clothing and putting on a condom. Some guys are pros at this. I truly believe someone teaches a class on it! I’m always in awe and shock and kind of discuss of this ability. They are undressed and protected in the blink of an eye. I wasn’t getting up and going anywhere, hold your horses for like 2minutes at least.

7. Do not; I repeat do not push my head down towards your region. I’m already making my way down there. You shoving my head down makes me not only want to Not do it, but do it with teeth!

8. Pinning me down and sweating all over me. Now I’m not saying you can’t pin me down. But if your a massive head and face sweater and I can’t move, I’m spending less time thinking about the moment and more time trying to not chock and be blinded by the salty waterfall pouring down on me!

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.

11 TOTALLY SWOON WORTHY THINGS I LOVE ABOUT GUYS!

1.   Body Hair.  Now I’m not talking Chewbacca crawling out of your shirt attacking your face body hair. Just normal guy hair.  There is something really calming to me about the feel of arm hair, leg hair, chest hair, and so on. It’s manly and wonderful. Also, guys in general have great hair on their heads. It’s always full (for some), soft, unprocessed, and clean. (Unless they are bald or product whores I love touching a guys head of hair)

2.  Smell.  I heart a manly smell. That sweaty, musky, manly smell is something that should never be covered up. Well to a point, at some point you better be showering.  And then don’t even get me started on how great a showered guy smells.

3.  The 5 o’clock shadow. Hot damn, and oh so sexy. I even love the feel of it. Pure sex appeal dripping from tiny hair follicles, swoon indeed!

4.  Humor, hilarity, and absurdity.  Guys are funny. They just are! (when they aren’t funny it really makes my skin crawl, there needs to be an island for really unfunny men to just go and live) Guys are really good at finding the humor in a situation, and are the best for just wanting to joke around with.  They are able to poke fun at almost anything and especially themselves, and that to me is swoon worthy.

5.  Height.  I’m sorry for all those guys out there that aren’t tall. I’m sure it works for you and you’re sexy in other ways. BUT there is something extremely sexy about a guy who is taller then you.  The way you feel held while being hugged is pure awesome. Also it comes in handy for reaching things, holding umbrellas, and changing light bulbs.

6.  Balls! (both literally and figuratively) Guys push themselves and follow through. Yes there are some cowards out there but as a sex men are taught to well for lack of a better term “man up”. It’s about survival, and all things primal are HOT.  And since we are on the topic: Actual in my hand hanging down balls! Yes, physical balls!  It’s sexy to me that one of the most fragile parts of the man is just hanging out there. They carry the future of the human race in there and it’s so vulnerably put out on display, and I’m sorry but that is awesome.

7.  Problem solving.  Now I’m not talking being a “mr. fix-it” here, I’m talking life problems.  Guys always have a different take on things, a different way of looking a problem and then helping you either reach a solution. This isn’t always the best trait in men, but when I have a problem and I talk about it with a guy I come out with a different outlook in general, and always feeling very confident in what to do next.

8.  Muscles. Guys carry muscle tone so much better then girls. From arms, and backs, to shoulders and legs. Oh, and you better not get me started on those diagonal dents that run from the hipbone to the groin, jeeze louise those are hot.

9.  A Smile.  When a guy smiles at me it warms my heart.   It’s almost like they are opening up in a completely different way. Even a good smirk makes me giddy like a schoolgirl. Please note this does not apply to guys with nasty ass teeth, I really have a teeth issue, you have bad teeth you are just unsexy period. Seriously. I mean it.

10.  Penis!  Now I’m going to just put this out there: some are much more swoon worthy then others (MUCH MORE) but I’ll give all you guys the benefit of the doubt.  A nice penis is like boobs: you can never go wrong!

11.  Knowledge.  Guys know things that I don’t. Everyone is smart in his or her own way; about their own topics (even the real dumb kids) I love how I learn things from guys I never would have thought of. New things, ideas, and topics excite me. Excite me right out of my pants!

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!

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.

You can’t hop in a car and drive yourself to your front door.  You have to walk down flights of stairs or get in elevators with other people.  You can walk home, walk to the subway, or wait on the corner hand out for a cab.

In NYC there are just more people to witness the shame you are walking away from. (even when it’s not shameful) For most people walking usually becomes the main exit strategy.  Cabs are great, but early in the morning trying to get one while you draw stares from everyone around plus the extra cost sometimes just isn’t worth it.

One time I was seeing this guy and I spent most of the day sleeping and hanging out at his apartment (he went to work very early and I would usually leave later) just so I could wait for it to be later into the afternoon so I could maybe pull off going to an event rather then be making my way home in the early am in black tie attire.  (I even called in sick to work)

But we can’t always hide and sometimes we just have to own our silliness and our ‘shameful’ choices.

About a year ago I was leaving a guys apartment in order to get home, change/shower, and hopefully make it to work in time.  I was making my way around the hallway and I see six work guys doing construction on the doorway/entrance.  SIX GUYS! What’s a girl to do?

“Fuck it” I thought to myself and I walked right towards them. It was like they all turned their heads at the same time, I could feel the eyes and thoughts start to form on their faces.  So I did what any girl in my position should do.  I owned it!  I raised my hands and surrendered.  “Walk of shame” I announced as I flashed a little smile, “Walk of shame!”

Next thing you know I’m high-fiving all six guys as they hold the door for me and I made my way out into the city.  I might add it was cold and raining. I was dressed in gold open toe shoes and a cocktail dress at 8am….oh and I was late for work.

I always say every guy I’ve ever been serious about has cheated on me. Well all but one, but I always had my doubts about him as well. Now, I didn’t doubt him because other guys had cheated on me, or all guys are douche-bags kind of way. It was more just a feeling I got from him and this might have been one of the reasons we drifted (there are so many other reasons/issues but that’s a novel not a blog post)

So the other night I couldn’t sleep, and my mind was already turning. I needed something to watch/listen too as I rolled over and tried to sleep. I looked through hulu (nothing really was catching my eye), netflixs (nothing either), and then I quickly went to the living room to look at our much to large DVD collection. I for some reason grabbed a DVD I had never watched, a DVD I knew I didn’t really care if I feel asleep during, I mean what could possible happen that I would care about.

I grabbed a documentary filmed with ‘band boy’ and his band as they did a major tour.  I had heard great things about it, remember 14 yearold girls pushing me out of the way to get it signed, but I personally had never watched it. So, I start to watch the 5 boys depart on their world tour adventure.

SIDEBAR: I feel like I need to mention the fact that at the time of this tour ‘band boy’ and I were dating, and I was even lucky enough to go on location too much of said world tour.

I’m watching, I’m watching, I’m watching. I turn over, I close my eyes, and I’m entering sleep. And then…I hear parts of a conversation, I turn over, I hit volume up, and slide my glasses on. I then rewind, then rewind again.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

I watch with my jaw open as the boys are teasing, laughing at, and discussing ‘band boys’ hickey, and the girl he was with the night before.

A hickey!? Are you fucking kidding me! I rewind some more, check location. Yup, ok a hickey in less then 48hours since I had left him/seen him.

So, there you have it.  My one and only ‘maybe’ did indeed cheat on me. It is now official:  Every guy I have ever been in a serious relationship with has indeed cheated on me.

Now my feelings on cheating and such are for another day. All I will say is that the only thing about this that bothers me is he lied to me. Period. That’s the worst part (and even more so because I still consider him a friend) I’m upset with myself, because I knew this, I knew in the back of my head, and in my being that this happened at least once and now it feels like numerous times. I should have trusted myself, and I thought by that point I did, but it turns out no.

I’m very angry with myself about this! I hate when I let my guard down.  I also hate that this is bothering me so much.  BUT, I will say I’m glad I broke the heart of a guy who lets one night stands give hickeys!  Who does that?