Se La Vie

So, my daughter's painted turtle died this weekend. She was a wreck. We've consoled her over and over again, telling her it wasn't her fault, that we all just handled the turtle so much and kept moving him from tank to tank that he just stressed out. The truth is, the water in his feeding tank was too warm and she shocked his little system putting him in there. But we tell her it's not her fault.

She refused to bury him because bugs would eat him - so I wondered about cremation. I have a "friend" I know who works at a funeral home, so I consulted with him. He said it would be too expensive, but as I sit here and type I realize I never got a price outta him. I should ask him. But i digress ...

You did notice that I called this dude a "friend" and not a friend, right? Well, he was way too interested in me and I wasn't so very interested in anything further than the occasional benefit - so I had to call it off. He was talking about marriage and my meeting his momma ... and I'm like "to me, we're fuck buddies" and he was all upset for a while. But then, I guess he was ok with just having sex and tried to hit me up for a while.

It was a bad idea though - so, it's been a long time since we were ... uhhh ... coital. KIDDING! Intimate. This was his chance to establish a civil relationship with me and instead he said he would come over and hold a ceremony for my daughter and it would only be a "nominal" fee.

Really?!? You trying to get some ass in return for a fucking burial service?

A BURIAL SERVICE?!?

THAT nigga can't event KISS my ass.

Now about the turtle
My brother-in-law brought two new turtles for the kids - they were happy with that, but still sad about Squirt. He was a rescue and wasn't quite a year ... and, as turtles go, their first year is delicate and Squirt was vulnerable.

The two new turtles are older and more stable - a different species ... and we've decided not to removed them from the tank in order to feed them. That should go a long way.

Rare Form?

I need a new goal - and quick. When I decided to give up fucking (because we're into euphemisms here in The Refined Ghetto) I was able to concentrate on other things.

In January I quit smoking. Have I mentioned to this point that I was one big crabby bitch and a half during the first quarter of 2010? I mean, I was impossible. But it kept me focused on making sure I was being a good parent. That note from my daughter to Santa is still pinned to the cork board above my desk. I mean I was FOCUSED.

Then I decided to train for the half marathon. That was cool. And then my knee got all swollen. That wasn't so cool - but I focused on physical therapy and did all I had to do to make sure I was good. I rejoined my group at the end of the summer and kept going.

Last month, I ran the half marathon. Successfully raising $1200 for the AIDS Foundation of Chicago and crossing the finish line in celebration of that accomplishment and my having quit smoking.

Since then, I've taken it easy - and haven't even been to the gym. The result? If I don't get to fucking soon, I'm going to lose my got. damn. mind.

So, I need a new goal to focus on - and I think it's going to be calorie counting. I did that in 2005 and actually made it all the way back to my college weight - it took me 10 months of that shit. But I was FOCUSED. I may need to do that ...

... or I may just need to suck the skin off a dick.

(oh, I wonder how many calories that is ...)

That married guy ...

I was in my college roommate's wedding as an usher. I looked pretty cute in that tux, if I do say so myself. That was in the late 90s. It was something I probably should not have done, I can admit in retrospect. It really was awkward standing up for that marriage, vowing before God and everyone that I would do everything possible to keep it together ... but I decided that part of keeping that vow was NOT telling her that I had slept with him while they were dating.

They're divorced now. (You're shocked - I know)

After that experience, however, I made a vow of my own without the aid of a tux, a church and a priest ... I vowed never, ever to sleep with a straight guy again. I mean, people ... it was fucking AWFUL. Just plan ole bad sex. It was so bad that I actually told him ... "man, you really ARE straight."

That did wonders for his ego ... because, people, really - he was just experimenting. Believe me. He was REALLY *just* experimenting. I know some people have a hard time believing that a guy could mess with another guy and not be one drop gay, but this dude was seriously just trying to exhaust every possible anything.

We had gone out drinking the night before. It was my ninth semester (out of eight!) and my last. (that's a totally different story - shh. Later.) And I had wanted this man in bed for several years. But we were friends and it was college and we just drank and acted like retards. That night, we were draggin our asses back from the bars and my dorm was closest and on the way to his. There was an enormous hill (There had to be a 25-30 foot change in elevation from bottom to top) between my place and his and to make a long story short ... we crashed at my place, both passed out on my full size futon.

The light of the next morning was poking at my eyelids while I slept and I tried desperately not to notice the red behind my eyelids. I felt myself taking deep, steady breaths trying to stay relaxed so that I could fall back asleep but a strange sensation came over me. I don't know how to explain it - through the dry hangover I felt watched. So, I opened my eyes and there he was, awake and staring at my face while I slept. I smiled, turned around and reached back to pull his arm around me. And then I went back to sleep. He didn't stop me, and he didn't pull away.

Later that day, we ended up back at my place - night had come. Conversation got interesting and we beat around the bush talking about what gay sex was like. I'd had it - he hadn't. Eventually, I told him I could kiss him and show him. He didn't say no. I approached him and placed one hand on each arm of the chair and leaned into his face. "Can you handle it?"

"Yeah," he said.

I licked my lips, drawing closer. "I'm serious, man."

Nothing.

Then I traced his lips with my tongue.

He kept his eyes closed as I looked to see his expression when I was done. He was steadying his breathing.

Then, I kissed him - full on. And he kissed back. And our tongues rolled together until I had to stop to get his shirt over his head. Eventually, he was completely disrobed.

He laughed quietly and became a bit shy. "I'm naked in front of you in your room," he said.

"That's the the problem. The problem is ... I'm *not*"

He took my clothes off in the clumsiest of fashions and I wished I would've just done it myself. He was better endowed than my ex ... the one man I had had sex with to that point, and I wasn't sure I could deal with all of that. But I took him into my mouth anyway ...

He had told me that he was frustrated with his wife because she couldn't get his whole dick in her mouth. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to either. I think I was about half an inch shy of doing so ... but I tried.

And that's pretty much how everything went. I tried to do everything his wife couldn't ... and he would do a fucking thing. As a passive participant, I think he felt it made him not necessarily gay. He continued to be clumsy, say things in the least sexy way possible and had an overall detached experience with me ... and it showed. For two years I wanted this experience ... but I wanted him to want to be there with me. And, he really didn't want to be ... he just felt safe with me - safe enough to experiment and not have anyone know. And I'm good for it - I didn't tell.

It was all just a big waste of my time. I didn't really enjoy myself at all. AT ALL. And, you know what ... I really don't think he did either. It all just got awkward. Mechanically, that is - his movements weren't fluid, he wasn't really into it and he just wanted me to make it all happen. And I wasn't nearly experienced enough to be all that right then.

We're friends to this day - he's the biggest whore I know. He's hot as hell and the women just love him ... and he does love himself some pussy. He gets laid more than anyone I know. And I've heard about lots and lots and LOTS of his conquests over the years and since his divorce. And once he send me a pic of his then girlfriend's tits ... holy fuck they were huge!

People - for real. He's straight. And I won't ever sleep with a straight dude again.