The Lost Plum…

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.

I live in New York City!  The big apple, Gotham, The City that Never Sleeps.  It’s a pretty great place to live. It’s got a lot of “bests” going for it. However, it just might be the “worst” city for doing the WALK OF SHAME.

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 had a bad night the other day. I got upset, and the fact that I was upset over something I really shouldn’t be caring about is what really upset me.  The fact that I even cared made it even worse.

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?

Mama Plum is always known for giving me doozy relationship advice.

One of the few ‘warnings’ she always gives me is:  ”Don’t forget Spooning always leads to Forking.”

And I’d have to say I pretty much agree. Except, this ‘rule’ of hers only works in certain spoon positioning game plays. Obliviously, this only works when males are involved (sorry to all my women-loving female readers…here read this)

I usually spoon with only males (check), but yet I don’t find so much that this rule applies to me.  Maybe, that’s because this Plum prefers to be the Big Spoon rather then the Little Spoon.

It’s pretty hard for me as the big spoon to establish the forking (hey now, watch your dirty mind there), although I pretty much have nailed it down. We all know how I feel about morning sex.

I love being the big spoon! I proudly admit this fact.  I know it’s not a female trait to have, and I will agree that there is always something about being held/having someone wrap their arm around you.  But come on, Big Spoons are where it’s at!

Interesting FACT about Plum: I love to touch things with the ends of my fingers. I’m always rubbing them together, rubbing them on my clothes, eating food with my hands.  My fingertips are like one of my ‘zones’ if I can use that word. (god, I hate that word)

Being the big spoon allows me to touch and more importantly rub my fingertips against skin. (that sounds dirty..i know, I know!) I should have been a massage therapist.  I can rub/touch/scratch skin till the cows come home.

And believe me, I have never once heard a complaint!

So where are all my movies, TV shows, books, soft-core porn, music video and in general other ladies who like being the big spoon at?!

(reason #___why I’m single: I’m in charge with my big spoon! well it’s more of a spork of sorts.)

SIDEBAR: When the word Interesting is placed before FACT, it is subjective and subject to interpretation…aka, you might not find it interesting.

(reason #___why I’m single: I referred to myself as a spork!)