I'm Such a HO

I felt sleazy. I hadn’t meant to go back there, but sometimes I just want touch, be licked and lick. So really, who doesn’t go back for ex-sex? DV, the ex who recently invited me out of the blue to some documentary premiere with Lucas, Coppola, Eastwood, and the usual… an invite I turned down, he texted me on Friday night and said, “I already know I want you to drunk dial me tomorrow night. Ridiculous, but true.” Back in the day I was an infamous drunk dialer… oh wait, I still have tendencies.

Anyway, Saturday night he brought over a bottle of wine. We talked music for a while and watched some shit show in the background. I’m newly addicted to Listerine Breath Spray, so I sprayed it… and really, not for the obvious reason. I told him it was fun to spray stoned, curbs the munchies. He then uses a line, “you know what it’s fun for?” He then kisses me.

Fine. Fine.

We end up fucking… I wasn’t turned on… he started with the “dirty talk” which, oh so oddly, used to totally turn me on, but now it just felt awkward and forced… I made my “eeks” face as his head went down to kiss my neck.

And then I didn’t want to kiss him anymore. The next morning we messed around a little, but we didn’t kiss. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me either because, really, it was just too intimate.

Ex-sex is so strange because you’re trying to get into it with someone you stopped being into… someone you now see right through and wonder what it was about him that made you hot at the time.

When he left in the morning, I felt kinda’ slutty. Kinda’ like I shouldn’t have done that… that it was awkward and that it was truly just for fucking purposes and not for intimacy… weird.

I soooo understand Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she voiced the rules to Richard Gere that she doesn’t kiss. Kissing is way too intimate. She can fuck for her job as a HO, but kissing was for someone she cared about.

I felt like a HO. It made me realize that I don’t want to fuck just to fuck… that I really do want the next person I sleep with to be someone I really care about. Cheeeeeeeesey, I know. But it seriously struck me.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Let’s talk about 4 am Wednesday. Since I’m pretty awesome, Jackie-O asked me to be her wing-woman at a show where she was going to meet up with some dude. A dude in one of her blog posts that was fucking amazing… so I was stoked to see who he is. Once we met him he ushered us backstage. I could see the appeal. He was hot. He had good style.

We met all the people in the band. Rad. They were up and coming… being promoted by an SF rock station. But young.

At the end of the show, he brought us to the bar to buy us some drinks… and hey, the bartender, a female that I’d chatted with earlier and said “please” and “thank you” to with each drink… came straight for me, and she bought my drink. I chuckled a bit when he said, “you have more pull than me.”

After the show, the party continued back at their hotel… we all got drunk and high and talked shit. We headed home around 3 am, and I had to listen to a hundred songs on my iPod before I passed out.

As fucked up and as much shit as I was talking (like how awesome my bud was), I had some good times… met some new folks… did something different that day.

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND:

I spent some time in the East Bay… fucked DV... watched romantic comedies with a friend… shopped at Amoeba… and went to brunch. Nothing too exciting. Nice though. As I move further away from my feelings for silly boys, I’m feeling comfort again in my independence… of being somewhat (haha) in control of my emotions.