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Bursting My Bubble

Mr. Bubble quickly became my weekend go-to boy. Probably because he had a great bed and great food and was always smiling. These three things made him a lot of fun to be around, but like all good things, eventually doomed to go totally insane. A few Saturday nights ago, after 24 more hours of dating behind us, Mr. Bubble and I sat down to a quiet Italian dinner at his house. Now, the details are rather hazy to me because I was two glasses into a bottle of red wine, but I somehow offended Mr. Bubble. His response to whatever offensive thing I said was slightly exaggerated. We got into an intense argument that nearly rivaled our intense fucking and didn't speak for the next 12 hours. Finally, I made it home, only slightly worse for the wear. Once there, I quickly put Mr. Burst Bubble into the Fuck It Bucket.

Maybe I liked Mr. Bubble a little too much for my own comfort. Things were going too well for me to believe that it could continue. There had to be something wrong with Mr. Bubble, and honestly, it only took me about a day to figure out what that thing was. In the date immediately preceding our demise, I actually started to think that I might want to date Mr. Bubble. Like as his girlfriend. Fortunately, an hour of screaming and 12 hours of the silent treatment cured me of that affliction.

Adult Swim

Surprisingly, I sometimes do things other than have sex. One of the things I generally enjoy is swimming. I hate exercising, but swimming appeals to me because it's easy on my joints and I get to wear a really tight outfit. Mostly , I swim in an effort to not become Orca fat, but also because it's my quiet and relaxing time. No one bothers me, there is almost no noise and very few other people go to the pool near my house. Scratch that. very few people used to go to the pool near my house. Since it's now 900 degrees in DC, EVERYONE goes to the pool by my house. For the entire hour I was at the pool, I was surrounded by screaming children, pool peeing babies, and itsy bitsy bathing suits. For me, going to the pool is about exercising. Accordingly, I swear a racer back Speedo. Apparently, everyone else comes to the pool to squeeze their fat asses into band aid sized spandex, sit on the bleachers and stuff their faces with chips. Due to massive overcrowding, I spent a total of 10 minutes swimming laps. Mind you I was there for over an hour. Not only did I not get my workout in, but I also get so agitated that I went straight to the bar with my bathing suit still on under my clothes. I demand that, in the future, two pools be available. One for people like me who wish to exercise in peace and one for people with Turrets syndrome, limited fashion sense, and no sense of their own expanding ass who wish to float around in a giant bath tub.

Don't Shit Where You Eat

Dear Diary:

I fucked my coworker. Don't tell anyone even though I already blurted it out at the office happy hour when he wasn't there. Numbers 412 and 413 on the list of excellent decisions I've made.

Luv always,
L

P.S. Omfg! He's so fine I can't stand it. Definitely in the top 3 hottest boys I've ever been with.

De facto Dating?

The Roommate says that in the "regular" dating world (ie. not in my hussy world) that if you have sex with someone on three separate occasions with no one else in between, then you're dating that person by default. I don't know about these crazy "regular" dating world rules, but I'm sort of glad that I pretend they don't apply to me. To me, one's relationship status should be taken seriously. Five successful dates does not a couple make. I'm single until otherwise firmly established through conversation, not sex, and I don't enter into anything that I'm not 100 percent committed to.

Part of me is selfish and doesn't want to waste time and emotions on someone I don't see anything long term with. Another part of me is cautious to become too involved with anyone because I know that it would take a lot for me to give up a lifestyle I've become so fond of. My intention is never to hurt anyone. Recognizing that many people become emotionally involved when it comes to sex, I'm honest with my partners about the limitations of our relationship. So far, the policy has served me well. Most of my lovers have been short term, but those who've stuck with me over the years have accepted and understood my stance on the issue regardless of the number of times we had sex.

The Friend of a Friend is dangerously near to entering the list of long term boys I've had. In fact, at 5 months, he has been around longer than Disingenuous, who I actually dated. Not that I should be taking advice from him, but The Roommate says, "Call a spade a spade. There's a name for people who hang out all the time and have sex: couples." My retort was that no one knows we hang out or that we have sex. His response was not surprising--"There's a name for that too: shady couples."

Are relationships nothing more than who you take to bed on a regular basis? Not to sound naive but isn't anything sacred? I refuse to be defined or judged on the basis of who I let into my bed, but I do feel a sense of responsibility when it comes to emotion. Though I won't ask The Friend of a Friend if he does have feelings for me that extend beyond the carnal, I suspect The Roommate may be right. Two people rarely feel the same thing at the same time, and if you know that other person feels more than you, are you obligated to end it? As with so many other questions, I'm left without an answer. I do know, however, that it's scary to hear that someone doesn't need to fuck you to want to be around you.