My forearms were pressed against the cold hotel window, cooling my sex-heated body. I bend at the waist and arch my back as he enters me from behind at the perfect angle at his shorter height. He pounds into me in a rhythm that matches the storm outside. The repeated tornado warnings issuing from our phones beeping in the background, drowned by moans and sighs. The perfect background music. We watch the rain and lightning through half closed eyes, my breasts swaying with the force of his thrusts. He pulls my hips back to lead me to the bed. Still inside me, he pulls me into his lap. I ride him, his hands cupping my breasts, facing the window still watching the storm. I’ve always loved storms. Some girls freak out when thunder and lightning starts, but it infuses me with some chaotic energy and I’m just… Wild. It’s like my nature connects with the storm and we just rage together.

The evidence of my destruction, albeit unknown, is in his consistently chiming phone. His girlfriend texting to make sure he’s okay. She thinks he’s in Kentucky, but he’s 5 miles from his house in this hotel. I’d been blowing him off for two weeks. Scheduling conflicts get tedious after a while with the whole other woman thing. I get bored with timing issues, so I wasn’t all that interested, but he came up with this scenario, and it worked, so here I am.

I don’t love him. I don’t feel much about him, actually. I’m here because I’m bored. Nobody else is capturing my attention, so why not? I don’t want to steal him from his girlfriend. I’ve already had him as a boyfriend, and I already know he can’t be faithful, so there are no illusions here. But there is good sex, there is great sex, and then there’s what we do. It is like Olympic level fucking.

Here comes the awkward moment… We finish and he wants to cuddle. I’ve always had this no cuddling with fuckbuddies rule… So I’m getting dressed and he’s like a petulant child.

“You’re leaving already? I thought we could…”

“Mmm yeah, but I promised my friend I’d meet her for drinks at 9… It’s 8, and I need to shower”

There is no friend… No drinks planned. I just really want to get home, shower where all my stuff is, and go to sleep without sharing a bed with anyone. I love the sex, it’s like an addiction, but I have no desire to spend any more time in his company. Conversation is really not necessary.

I don’t feel bad that he paid for this nice hotel room. He has money, and he threw enough of it at me when we were a couple to make up for the fact that he kept me a secret and was cheating. This poor girlfriend. I won’t be the one to tell her. She will learn. I’m sure she’s just enjoying the gifts and the grand gestures. I’ve just never been much for that bullshit. I see through it and it just doesn’t mean anything.


I have a few friends and acquaintances who have children as a result of unplanned pregnancies. I see how they can’t make choices just to make themselves happy now. Like I do. That little life’s happiness is more important. Decisions become twenty times more difficult. And I understand that and agree. This is why my selfish ass has never even had a scare.. I take ever precaution not to risk unplanned womb squatters. (I really love babies, just not ready for one inhabiting my body and taking my nutrients) These moms may want to leave the baby’s father because it just isn’t working out. Not because he’s abusive or anything like that, they just weren’t ever meant to be forever, but they choose to stay because of the child.

This really makes me think that young girls should see this. See how, when you’re young, you have to do things to make yourself happy only. It’s the time to be selfish. Be selfish with your uterus too! I mean, don’t get pregnant because you think you love that guy and it’ll make him stay. Some people were never meant to stay in your life. Let them leave. Someone better is coming. And anyway, he’s going to leave, regardless. Nobody stays together for the kids anymore. They may for a little bit, but then it’s x amount of years where you’re both miserable… RESENTFUL.. Knowing it’s only because of the child.

Another thing, kids are perceptive. They sense the constant tension. Do you think it’s really good for them to believe love is like that? Tense? Angry? Unhappy? No loving looks, touches, words? Sure.. Raise another generation of emotionally unhealthy kids and wonder why they have bad relationships, maybe they bully other kids in school, maybe they commit crimes. I’m not saying every single kid growing up in an emotionally unstable household will do these things but can we at least try to make better choices about procreating with people you haven’t known long enough just because you THINK they’re the ONE after 6 months? Come on now. You hardly know their middle NAME or the little habits they have that may make you feel homicidal. Slow the hell down, ladies. Your eggs aren’t getting a little shriveled and dusty until you’re 40. Breathe. Do you. Make you happy.

She cradles the cupcake in her hands. A single tear slides slowly down her cheek as she whispers brokenly in a sing song voice, “happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…”

Someone I know may end up like this. Alone. Broken. Having pushed away anyone and everyone who ever cared about her, simply because she refused to see how some honesty may have gone a long way. All because she couldn’t handle confrontation so she screws people over being sneaky and devious. She wants what she wants RIGHT NOW and cant wait.

So she is all secretive and then waits til you’re gone and packs her shit and leaves you with a financial mess to handle on your own. She won’t answer the phone or texts. She blocks you on Social media. Then she does the same to the person who helped her screw you over. And then, stuck with a guy who is now cheating on her while she’s 6 mos pregnant with his kid and too ashamed to admit she was wrong, she states defiantly “I don’t care. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone”

But we are human. And we need each other. We were not made for solitude, in my opinion. Karma is a bitch.

Her curly brown hair bobs at her chin as the teenager looks down at her feet. She swings her legs back and forth from her position on the tailgate of a rusty F350. “Sometimes I just wish I had a dad” she mumbles as tears slide down her round cheeks. Her huge green eyes shining as she looks at me. I nod sympathetically. “Mine is just as worthless” I say. Half sisters, connected by the blood of our mother, disconnected by the blood of two deadbeats for dads all too willing to pass us off to someone else.

Type A in the Corporate World

My dad called me an asshole this past weekend when I went to visit. Oh he didn’t mean it seriously, he wasn’t insulting me, it was more of an observation. We had gotten on the subject of work while eating pizza, and I launched into my spiel about how I don’t understand why some things are the way they are and why companies cannot fire incompetent employees. (I did not word it so PC, but that’s basically what I said)

I told my parents I have discovered I am VERY Type A. My dad says, what does that mean? I said, “basically, I don’t think it’s going to get done correctly unless I do it myself and I’m a control freak.” and he says “Oh so you’re an asshole. I’m the same way. So is your mama. Your brother will probably be the same way when he’s grown. We are all Assholes.This is a family of assholes.”

We laughed until we were in tears. Really, though. I get it honest. 

This is the problem. There is ONE person, who, no matter HOW you explain shit to them, no matter how CLEAR and CONCISE, and no matter how often you repeat, CONTINUES to fuck shit up royally. Guess who has to fix it? If you guessed yours truly, you get a fucking cookie. No, really though, go grab a cookie, because it was a great guess. This person BREATHES and I get angry.

I just don’t understand how they don’t get it. This is an entry level position. It’s repetitive. We use copy/paste like our lives depend on it to keep breathing. IT IS NOT HARD.

The problem is, I have no tact. No diplomacy. No filter. So this person messed something up a month ago and I went to my manager and lost my cool. I insulted this person’s intelligence multiple times. I RAGED. We ended up having a meeting with the ENTIRE team, because apparently I’m not the only one complaining about this person and this person KNOWS our opinions. Whoops. Then, we all get in trouble. So for a month now, we have had to be super nice. We have had to be super helpful. I have pasted on a fake smile and cheerfully helped this person a MILLION times. Still fucking shit up. What’s worse? They KNOW. But because this person felt picked on, they just ignore the fact that this person just CANNOT do this job. 

Because of civil suits, employers now have this attitude that everyone wins. No. This isn’t 2nd grade track and field day. You don’t get a participation medal. This is grown up shit. You get a paycheck. You try not to stress the fuck out Monday through Friday. Taxes come out and shit. People fail. I live in a world where failure is ignored and allowed to make my life harder Monday through Friday. In my performance review, I’m told to take more of a leadership role. To lead WHAT???? To be constantly undermined because someone feels picked on because they are told maybe they just aren’t a fit for this job. Because no matter how you show them, repeat yourself, they are simply just NOT GETTING IT. No thanks. I’m good with putting my headphones on and doing my job from 8 to 5 Monday through Friday.


Maybe Dad is right. I sound like an asshole. I wish I was sorry. 


Black-Out Birthday

It’s all fun and games til I fall on my ass in the lobby of the building I work in on my birthday. My bf and I hadn’t even been speaking for two days and I didn’t even want to be at home risking the chance he wasn’t going to put his disappointment in me aside to celebrate my birthday. I had had to txt him at 11am to ask him if I was still being punished because it was my birthday and I just wanted everything to be okay at least on that day. He said “happy birthday to you”… Just that. My feelings hurt, I proceeded to drink away my feelings… And then I drank til I didn’t feel anything at all.

We had a work outing to celebrate last quarter and hitting our numbers, and it just happened to be open bar. AND it was my birthday. Open bar AND my birthday? Really, people, this is just ASKING me to do things I regret.

Ever had 50 people sing you happy birthday in a bar? I can say I have 🙂 I also won an iPad mini. I walked up to my manager and said “guess what? I’m drinking my feelings!” And proceeded to chug the two cranberry juice and vodkas I had in my hand. When the team meeting ended at 4, 8 cranberry juice and vodkas later, a few of us went to a different bar. Someone bought me a shot of tequila..and that’s what tipped the scales. Most of anything after that moment was told to me.

I was told I looked at one of my male coworker/friends and said “I’m too drunk”. I stumbled alongside him to our office building and sat down in the lobby while he grabbed his bag. When he got back, I stood up to go with him and hit the floor. I remember that vaguely. I don’t remember anything else til I was vomiting in his bathroom and telling him he couldn’t hold my hair, I got it, and to leave the bathroom. I don’t remember laying down on his bed and passing out.

I woke up at 4am when he brought me water and I asked where I was. The first words out of his mouth were, “don’t panic. You’re at my place”. When I found out it was 4 in the morning, I panicked. I thought my bf was probably worried but my phone had died 12 hours earlier. Just what needed to happen when we are already having relationship problems. Fucking great. But I threw up the water I had just drank so there was no way I could get out of that bed yet. I went back to sleep til 7 and then walked the three blocks to my car. After thanking my coworker for babysitting me of course. With a dead phone and rather large memory gaps, who knows what would have happened if he wouldn’t have taken care of me. He said I was obviously an experienced drinker because I made his job easy. No muss, no fuss and I managed not to lose my new iPad or any personal items. Apparently, on the walk to his place, I was clinging to my new iPad for dear life saying, “I can’t lose this, it’s my birthday, I won it and it’s mine”. I’m going to consider “experienced drinker” a compliment.

When I got home, I told him the truth about what happened. He actually thought I was at my best friend’s house and hadn’t even been worried. On another note, I’d say my birthday was a success this year. The hangover was just as epic.