Catholics and Condoms (NSFW)

This is a semi-sex story that I told my sister, J. I think this story makes me seem like a bit of an asshole. And I probably am. But J convinced me it was hilarious and I should blog about it. So, here you go.


The last guy I was sleeping with was R. This feels like a lifetime ago, but it was actually only last year.


R was 15 years older than me. He was divorced and had a lot of kids. He was also an ex-Catholic. If you have read My Life’s Mottos, you’ll know that one of them is: Once a Catholic, always a Catholic.

You cant argue with those bitchin’ churches, though.

I have dated many ex-Catholics. And every single one of them has had some serious sexual hang ups. That’s not to say all that all ex-Catholics do, or even that all Catholics do. I am only talking about my experiences.


R’s biggest hang up was wearing a condom. He was against them. Extremely. Once, he got up in the middle of us making out, got dressed, and went home, because I wouldn’t have sex without a condom. That was one of the last times I ever saw him.


Not being a man, I don’t really get what the big deal is with condoms. I guess it doesn’t feel as good? It seems a small price to pay to minimize the risk of pregnancy and STDs. But maybe that’s just me.


One day R and I were hanging out and he asked if I was interested in having sex. I was, but I didn’t have any condoms. So we went to Walgreens.


We went inside and I walked right over the the condom aisle. I already knew where it was because all the Walgreens are set up the same. Also, the aisles are pretty clearly labeled.


Have you guys been to the condom aisle lately? I remember when I was a teenager in my shitty, small hometown, you had two brands to choose from and maybe two varieties in each brand, if you were lucky. You basically got Trojans or Lifestyles. And good luck finding anything else fun or interesting.

This was basically the only choice.

But nowadays the condom aisle is like the candy aisle! There are so many options to choose from!  There are ribbed, studded, flavored, glow in the dark. They have warming lubes and ‘massage oils’ and all kinds of brands and sizes and materials to choose from.

Like so.

So R and I were standing there, and he was red faced and whispering to me about what we wanted to buy. I am not embarrassed about buying condoms. I never was. In fact, quite the opposite. I’m proud. I’m like “Look at me! Having sex! With another person!”


A Walgreens employee walked by while we were talking and asked if we needed help. R got even redder and I laughed and told her “No thank you.”


By this point R was looking around all paranoid, like god himself was watching and judging (which, if you believe he exists, he always is, right?). So he got kind of rude with me and told me: “Just pick something already so we can get the hell out of here. People are staring!”


I looked around the empty aisle. “What people?”


“The woman that works here.” He hissed.


“So what? She knows we’re buying condoms. Big whoop. Who gives a shit?” I said to him.


“What must she think?” He asked, looking worried and embarrassed and annoyed with me.


“Um, that two consenting adults are buying condoms so they can have safe sex?” I was super confused by his attitude. I wasn’t underage. We weren’t having an affair. We were just two people buying condoms together.

condom ad 2

I’m guessing I’ll never have a better chance than this to show off these amazing AIDS awareness ads from Europe that I adore.

“Hurry up so we can get out of here!” He was losing his temper with me. And I thought it was hilarious.


I naturally decided to fuck with him.


We picked out a box of condoms and walked up to the register. The checkout person was a guy about my age. He rang up our purchases and I said to him, “Hey, guess what?”


The checkout guy asked “What?”

condom ad

I just love them. I think there are four in total that I’m going to share.

I said to him: “I’m buying condoms. And I’m going to use them. Tonight. With that guy.” And I pointed to R.


The checkout guy laughed and said “I figured as much.”


“We’re going to have safe sex tonight and it is going to be awesome.” I gave the checkout guy a thumbs up and a huge grin.

condom ad 3

And this.

R was seething now. But the checkout guy laughed again and said “Good for you. Enjoy!” And he handed us our purchases.


Maybe I should have stopped there. But let me remind you that R is in his mid 40s. He’s been married. He has multiple children with multiple women. He is allegedly an adult.


We walked outside and there was a young, hot, dude smoking a cigarette outside the building. He was maybe 20 or so.


I walked up to him with a big smile and said “Hey, guess what?”


He smiled at me in a friendly way and said, “What?”


And I said, “I just bought condoms in there. I’m having sex tonight! With him” And again I pointed to R. “I’m excited because it’s going to be awesome because he is great in bed.”

man condom ad

And this one. Aren’t they great?

The young, hot dude started cracking up laughing and said, “Good luck!” Then he high fived me.

R wouldn’t speak to me the entire drive home. He didn’t have sex with me that night. In fact, I’m not even sure we had sex ever again after that night. And we definitely never bought condoms together again.


Seems like I haven’t complained about some guy asking me out and then being a total dumbass in a little while. And I wouldn’t want any of you to think that means it isn’t happening. It is. Regularly.


A few months ago, I was asked out by the FedEx guy. This is nothing against FedEx. They offer a great service. Their outfits aren’t as sexy as the UPS guy or even the USPS guy. But they are marginally better than the DHL guys’ outfits.

Oh. Hello…

This guy was decent looking and we had talked a few times. He asked if I could help him out with something related to my job. And then he gave me his address and number.


I got his issues resolved and called him on my work phone to let him know. This is when he began to get idiotic. As we were wrapping up the phone call he said, “So, can I call you sometime?”


“I guess.” I replied. I kind of knew where this was going, but I prefer to not make assumptions.


“On this number?” He asked.


“Uh. Yeah.” I replied. I was already not liking the way he was going about this. But he was still doing better than the previous 10 or so guys that had asked me out.


“Okay. Cool. I’ll call you later.” And then we hung up.


I actually didn’t really expect him to call because I was not being very flirty or friendly with him. That deters the majority of men who seem to want me to swoon at the honor of being asked out by them.


A few days later he called me.  I basically sleep with my work phone. It takes some work to for me to trust someone with my personal number.

Basically me. Without the stubble.

I was out at dinner with my brother when he called. At our favorite restaurant. I decided to answer, to be polite.

Love this place. It deserves it’s own post.

“Hey. I’m eating with my family right now. Can you call me back later?” I asked him.


“Sure.” He said.


Except instead of ending the call he proceeded to ask me a bunch of inane questions about my movie likes and dislikes. I don’t think pop culture tastes really mean much of anything in a relationship. I mean, he isn’t going to be a good boyfriend, or even good in bed if he loves Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Stranger than Fiction as much as I do.

What a great movie!

However, the movies he liked were the kind of stupid, immature humor I can’t stand. He had frat boy taste in movies. But again, it isn’t crucial to my life.


I told him again that I needed to get off the phone as we were interrupting my dinner. But he again tried to derail my ending of the call. “Do you have a boyfriend?”


I told him I didn’t. And that’s when he asked the dreaded question.


“You are really pretty. Why are you single?”


I hate this fucking question. It is rude and presumptuous. Like there can be no reason for me to be single unless I am seriously damaged or lacking in some crucial way. Also, like my physical appearance is all I have to offer. My personality could be shit and it doesn’t matter if I am seen as hot according to WASP-y Eurocentric standards. Also, apparently my only possible reason for existence is obviously to snag a man, so why am I not more desperate for one, right?


But, readers, I behaved. I wasn’t rude right away. Instead I replied “I am still single because I know what I am looking for and I am not willing to settle. I will be single until I find what I want.”


“Oh wow. You’re really blunt.” He said with a very judgemental tone.


I am very blunt. But I did not think I was being blunt, so I said. “You asked me a question. I answered it. How is that blunt?”


“It just wasn’t what I expected you to say.” He replied in some kind of weird, flirty tone.


“I don’t know what you expected.” I paused. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I feel this was a very fair question as he had just asked me my relationship status. Also, he had to have expected me to ask it. Right?


He responded. “Well….I have girls that are friends.” He laughed like he had just said something really witty.


I was basically done at that point. I got irritated. “Do you have ‘girls that are friends’ that would be pissed off at you for being on the phone with me right now?” I asked.


“Oh. Well. You know. I live alone.” He again said this in a flirty, coy voice. Like I was going to be so fucking impressed with him for his inability to answer a very simple question.


And I called him out on it. Because I do that.


“Okay. Well you are clearly either in a relationship or you want me to think you are for some reason. I don’t know what kind of game you are playing here, but I am done.”

Also? Mary Poppins is the shit with her badass attitude.

And I hung up the phone.


If you have read my life’s mottos, you know that when I say I am done, I legitimately mean it.


I didn’t give him a chance to explain his dumbass game playing. He tried calling me every week for months. Which is a separate red flag all on it’s own. We hadn’t even had one date. We had one phone conversation, that I had repeatedly tried to end. And that I hung up on him during.


He also texted me a few times. He kept saying he didn’t understand what had happened. Despite me spelling out what had happened.


I even ran into him at work a few weeks ago. He tried to get my attention with the, always classy, honking at me as I walked by. It should surprise none of you guys that I didn’t respond to him in any way during any point.

I actually think he has figured it out by now. But time will tell. I had one guy texting me for over three years after a single date. But that is a story for another post.

In Love

I want to tell you guys about the only time I have ever been in love. I have dated a lot of people. I have slept with a lot of people. I cared about a few of them. I loved a few of them. But I have only ever been IN love with one person.

That might sound bad considering how many people I have dated. But I think after this story and this story, you guys might have started to realize I haven’t really dated anyone worth falling in love with. And none of you have even heard the worst of it.


This was during my heart surgery phase. I love that expression. It sounds like my heart surgeries were just a phase I was going through; like wearing glittery eye shadow or side ponytails.

That scrunchie is a nice touch.

As soon as the anaesthesiologist pumped me full of magical knock out drugs, I was out. I could have been dead for all I knew. The last thing I’d see was some random forest scene on the ceiling of the operating room. Then I would suddenly be riding out of the operating room on a stretcher and into the recovery room with no memory of the passage of time.

And I’d always be like, I don’t want to die looking at pine trees on a screen.

It was in the recovery room that I fell in love.


There was a perianesthesia nurse there in that room. He was the same person every time.  And this may partially be the drugs talking, but he was the loveliest human being I have ever met.


Waking up from anesthesia is traumatic. I would be wheeled in with IV lines in my arm or neck (or both) and heart catheters still hanging out of my groin. I also had very bad reactions to anesthesia every time.


But that nurse would talk to me with a voice that washed over me like a soothing balm. He was calm and soft spoken. I knew he would keep me as safe as he could.


He never put his hands on me without warning me first. He never lied to me. He told me it was going to hurt for a few minutes while he pulled my caths out. And it did. A lot.He told me it was going to hurt while he put pressure on my groin to keep me from bleeding to death with all the blood thinners I was on. And it did.

Apparently he was pulling this thing out of my heart. No wonder it hurt.

While he was hurting me and helping me, he was also talking to me. He would joke with me. He actually made me laugh in my miserable state. He made sure I felt okay, he would check in with me every few minutes. He didn’t try to rush me out of the room. He treated me like I was the only person in the world. Like I mattered. And he gave me some amazing drugs.


He told me I was brave and strong and good. And when he said those words I believed him. He made me feel brave and strong and good. He told me I was going to be okay. And I believed that too.


I think it is hard to not fall a little bit in love with someone when they are so good at their job and that pride and skill shows in their work. I think it is hard to not fall a little bit in love with someone that helps you through one of the worst experiences of your life.


I think we all want to be with someone that makes us feel brave and strong and good. Someone that makes us believe we are going to be okay. I never wanted to leave that recovery room. Each time I would stay literally for hours, just listening to his voice.


He never told me his name. I never saw his face. All I know is that he was a man and, judging by the ring on his finger, he was married.
I don’t want to find him. I don’t wish I knew who he was (though I do hope he knows how much I appreciated him). What I wish is that I could meet someone that made me feel as brave, and strong, and good, and safe, as he made me feel. But preferably without all the drugs and hospitals and surgeries.

Sad Sexy Math

Okay, so I started thinking about my sex life. I guess because I am not having one at the moment. And naturally it lead to me to consider my previous sexual partners and I started wondering how much of my sexual life was spent actually having sex. Because I feel like I have had very little sex in my life.


But of course, the only way to be sure is to do the math. So I did. Here. For science. And you can’t say no to science.


I felt the need to explain a bit of this because I was worried about being slut shamed. But really, I don’t believe in the concept of being ‘too promiscuous.’ I’ve never had a one night stand, though I might like to. These people I was only with once or for one night were because I didn’t WANT to be with them another time.


There were various reasons for this. Sometimes because they were so bad I knew there was no fixing it. But mostly because they acted like I was supposed to be their slave once they got me off. Let me tell you men something, your dick doesn’t do anything that any other dick can’t do… And I can get myself off better than anyone else can.


Also, my vagina isn’t the South Pole. Just because you have ventured out to it, doesn’t mean you can plant your flag and stake your claim. You don’t own it. I will do what I want with it.


I am hoping, in posting this, that some other brave souls will follow suit. I am very interested to see someone’s other than my own. It really was very simple. And of course, these are all estimates. But they are extremely accurate estimates.


It was a simple math problem once I laid out all the information. Feel free to email me at if you want any assistance in making your own. Please make your own, even if you never share it. It was fun and informative.


So, here you go:



My Age


Relationship Duration(in days)





























































































Total: 12 years

18 people

3576 days (9.6 years)




4380 days since I started dating. Minus 1140 times I’ve had sex. 3240 days I haven’t had sex since I was 17. That’s 8.87 years of no sex! Which is 73% of my dating life. Pathetic.


If you have something nasty to say, please don’t bother commenting. My life is my own and I couldn’t change my past even if I wanted to. Sure, there are several people I would have preferred I hadn’t slept with. There are many I wish I had never even met. But, that’s life.

PS  Android  really should make an app for this. Get on that guys.

 what about you guys? Anyone want to share?


First date

I have been really busy looking for a new place to move to. But don’t worry, I still managed to find the time to have this happen to me:

This past Saturday an anomaly occurred within the universe. I was out enjoying my day when an incredibly handsome man that I know asked me out. He and I are not friends, but I know him through another friend.

Let me tell you right now, that I have always been a bit judgmental towards attractive men. I spent most of my life believing that there was no way a conventionally good looking man would ever like me. And if he did, it would either be as a joke to humiliate me or he would be abusive.

I always preferred tall, chubby, hairy men. Nerdy guys with glasses and bad clothes. Older men. Beards. I liked faces with character and people that were interesting looking. Like sexy  ugly, if that makes sense.

I think he is super hot and my friends are like, no Nathan Fillian is the hot one.

I never found these “handsome” men to be attractive. I always likened them to paintings in a museum. I could stare at them all day and appreciate their beauty and artistry. But I could never own one.

Gorgeous! But out of my price range.

This lead me to act like myself around handsome men. They didn’t make me nervous because I knew I had no chance. I was only ever going to be their super cool friend.

But I realized how weirdly shallow this was of me. Good looking people can’t help their appearance any more than bad looking ones can. It was actually pretty rude of me to assume that someone good looking was a bad person. Besides, I have been dating my ‘interesting’ looking men for 12 years and quite a few of them were abusive. So I decided to allow handsome men to date me (I’m a giving person like that).

When this gorgeous dude asked me to go to the beach with him, I was like: “Sure. But just so you know, I hate the beach.”

J and I texted back and forth for a few hours. He was interesting and we had a lot in common. But warning bells were already going off. Not enough to make me change my mind. But enough to make me realize there wasn’t going to be a second date, for sure.

He started telling me all about myself. Maybe this is just me, but I don’t like it when men I don’t know very well tell me how sweet I am. What the fuck do you know about it? Also, I think ‘sweet’ is code for ‘doormat.’ Don’t call me sweet, call me kind. That’s what I am.

Then when he didn’t like how I responded to a question; he told me how I was supposed to respond. He had just unleashed my inner bitch.

“Why are you even bothering to text me? If you already know how you want this conversation to go, just write yourself a script and act out both parts. You don’t need me for that.”

He did not like that one bit. How’s that for ‘sweet’, motherfucker?

He apologized. By this point I was having serious doubts about the beach. But, he was the friend of a friend. And the friend hadn’t said anything negative about J. I was willing to let it go. I haven’t been on a date in a very long time. Did I also mention that he was hot?

The next day he texted me.

“I’ll be leaving for the beach tomorrow at 8am. 8:15 at the latest.”

I responded. “That’s a bit early for me. I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Can we push it back to 9 or 9:30?”

“No.” He replied.

I was surprised. “Well, can you at least come pick me up so I have time to see my doctor.”

“No. You need to meet me at my place.”

Now, I was really stunned. “Well, I won’t be meeting you at 8, so I guess I am not going to the beach.”  I sort of expected him to relent at this point or maybe make plans to meet up with me later.

Instead he said, “Fine. Please delete my number and I’ll delete yours. I won’t bother you anymore.”


Now I was shocked. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Who the hell acts like that?

All I could say was “Okay.”

He said a few things about how he didn’t have any hard feelings and hoped I didn’t either. But, could I not tell anyone that he had asked me out. (Which is exactly why I am telling all of you right now).

I chose to not respond as the only things I could think of to say would have been very counterproductive.

So, he called me. Our conversation consisted of him repeating his last texts and me telling him to delete my number and never contact me again.

The next day I told my doctor that she had definitely saved me from going on a date with someone that was disturbed in some way.

Who the hell acts like that on an attempt at a first date? Did he think I was going to cancel my doctor’s appointment to go to the beach with him? Where do I find these men? And, most importantly, why do I seem to draw them to me?

At least all is now right with the universe again.

SECOND UPDATE: Damn, I just realized some other point I was trying to make here. I hate when that happens. I always said I didn’t want to be one of those women that ‘tested’ men. But I don’t see how I can NOT do that. I’m starting to see how important it is to find out how someone reacts when they don’t get what they want. And the sooner the better. I think it will help me to avoid guys like this one too.

UPDATE: I just thought of someone better to use as an example of a guy I like that is unconventional. Because Alan Tudyk is seriously hot. Here you go:

Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws. Check off the list: Nerdy, glasses, hairy, beard. Done!

The Good Word

So, there was a time when I still had hope of meeting someone on the internet. It was before I got so badly burned, disappointed, and weirded out that I might have just given up on that avenue forever. I have many many terrible experiences from that heady time in my life.

Once upon a time, I was young and thin and single. Actually, I am still single. I turned to the internet, like many lonely desperate people do, hoping for love or at least a few non-shitty dates. I made a witty, edgy profile on a free dating site and downloaded some cute pictures that were tasteful and hid how nice my body used to be.

I got a lot of responses. A lot. Mostly from guys wanting me to post full body shots, or to at least let them see how big my breasts were.

I did talk to a few decent guys and even got some dates out of it. Dates that wound up turning so horrible I can’t even believe I didn’t give up right then. But no. I still had to meet, oh, let’s call him Trey.

Trey was cute and my age and sent me a very polite, very articulate message.

As I do, before I respond to anyone, I went to his profile to see what kind of things he cared about/believed in. Mostly about religion, politics, and feminism. Those things are kind of deal breakers for me.

I noticed that he seemed to be extremely Christian, stating the Bible as his favorite book. He was also a self-proclaimed Republican. But he was strangely silent on women’s rights.

Now, I made the mistake of believing that, while we weren’t right for each other romantically, I could have some interesting conversations with him. I enjoy talking to people about faith and politics as long as they are respectful to my own beliefs.

So I messaged him back that I appreciated his interest but didn’t feel we were right for each other as we held fundamentally different beliefs.

He wrote me back, still polite, that our beliefs didn’t have to prevent us from being friends or even from dating.

I was relieved to read something so inclusive. I wrote him back asking a question about his political beliefs. At this time Obama had been in office for about a year. My mistake.

He responded with a very angry tirade over Obama being a Muslim and not even an American. Then he asked if I had voted for him.

I proudly replied that I did and that I had read he was some denomination of Christian and had definitely been born in this country.

Trey wrote back again in an angry tirade stating that Obama was a socialist that was trying to turn us into a communist country with his healthcare plan.

At this point I still found Trey very amusing. I wrote him back that I supported universal health care and any other social program to help people that needed it.

He wrote back asking me if I was a good Christian.

It very clearly stated on my profile that I was both a Democrat and an Atheist. I pointed that out to him.

He responded asking me if I had, perhaps,  heard of Jesus Christ. Did I know about the Bible? Did I know that Jesus had died for all of our sins? Even mine.

I almost, almost wrote to him claiming to not know anything about it just to fuck with him. But I couldn’t be that mean. Instead I assured him that yes I had heard of Jesus, I was familiar with the teachings of the Bible, I just didn’t personally believe it.

And that’s when Trey let me have it. He couldn’t stand by any longer in the face of my blasphemy. He let me know that not only was I wrong, I would be punished by God for being wrong. That the very existence of the Bible was proof that God existed. That I had my head up my ass regarding politics and that I would be very hard pressed to find someone that would be willing to engage in my insanity long enough to ever get married. But he wished me luck in finding someone as fucked up and insane as I was.

I wrote him back hoping the same for him.

He honestly believed that if he just told me about Jesus I wouldn’t be able to help believing. As though my lack of faith was caused by a lack of knowledge about Jesus and religion in general. As if faith were really just that easy. As if anyone in this country could possibly have not heard the “good word.”

It still makes me laugh.