Don’t Hit on Strangers in Elevators

8 04 2014

So, to the guy who works in my building (possibly as a custodian or maintenance man), I only told you my name because I couldn’t think of a way not to.

And no, I don’t want to model for you. I don’t care if you think my hair is amazing.

I’m sure there are plenty of aspiring models who will respond to a Craigslist posting. I’m pretty sure photos for a portfolio aren’t cheap.

But you’re not a photographer. Real photographers don’t have to stop random women in elevators and ask to model for them, they don’t ambush them.

Real photographers don’t complain that girls are ‘taking selfies in their underwear in their bathrooms’ and aren’t letting you take pictures of them in ‘regular clothes.’

Maybe someone else might have been flattered. But I doubt it. Your approach wasn’t subtle, and you approached in an enclosed space, which doesn’t leave a way for me to exit gracefully. Or at all. I’m stuck with you until I get to my floor. I don’t know you, you’re talking about a situation where I would be alone with you after complaining about women who don’t want to let you take their picture. It’s creepy.

And I’m not saying that because you’re a man, or because I don’t find you attractive. I’m saying that because you’re a stranger with a lack of boundary awareness, and that’s the best case scenario. If that is the case, educate yourself and quick, because you are going to cross the wrong person’s boundaries one day, and they might not just want to run away from you, like I did.

Because come on.

You know what I’m thinking? And I may not be right, but I think there’s a good chance that I am.

You don’t want to take my picture. Maybe that’s how you’d start it, but again, there are legitimate ways to acquire photography models.

You want to get me alone and vulnerable, and you want to see how far you can push. You think you can trick or convince me into having sex with you.

And you clearly didn’t care about the fact that I was uncomfortable, or wasn’t interested in talking to you.

So I’m saying this: Cut it out. Don’t stop random women and ask to take their picture or ask their name when they’re clearly not interested.

I’m not saying you can’t have a sex life, or make your interest in a woman clear.

Just have some respect while you do it. That’s all.

Sincerely yours,

J.J

 

 

 

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In Barnes and Noble

5 04 2013

I’m writing this post from a table at Barnes and Noble. I’ve been here about an hour; it’s a good place to write-people watch, yada yada. Most of the people here, myself included, at least buy a drink before hogging a table for ages. There are at least three people who haven’t, which annoys the crap out of me. Then people who actually have drinks have nowhere to sit. And two out of the three are these sketchy white guys who are either developmentally disabled or serial killers. One has one of the most pointless comb overs that I’ve ever seen, it’s like he threaded his head.

This week is almost over, thank goodness, because for some reason I have been snacking like a fiend and I have five weekly points left. Out of forty-nine. But today hasn’t been so bad. I had a Healthy Choice meal (the Top Chef ones are pretty good) and a salad, a large iced mocha (skim milk and sugar free syrup!), and two clementines. I have no idea what I’m going to do for dinner. I’m not going to be hungry for a while, so I’ve got a bit to figure it out. God, sometimes eating is a pain.

Okay, Comb Over has been reading the same page for about five minutes. Either he’s slow, or he’s not actually reading. He probably has body parts in his freezer. And Fat Pretentious Pubes Beard keeps picking at himself. Gross gross gross.

Oh, I almost forgot. This is my other blog. My writing blog. It’s just about as random as this one, but I still think it’s pretty awesome. Please check it out and read my writing! I’d love some feedback!

Oh, and I came across this the other day–>

And what did this make me think of? The image for Lolita.

 

This is nuts. Victoria’s Secret really shouldn’t be marketing sexual underwear to underage girls. According this blog post, they’re trying to sell underwear to these girls that say things like ‘Feeling Lucky’ on them.

Like we haven’t sexualized women and girls enough? Do you have to sell them underwear that invites sexual advances, that makes them seem themselves sexually?

It’s creepy. I’m not even a mother yet, and probably won’t be for a while, and I’m already worried about my potential daughters being seen as sex objects.  Ugh.

Then again, when I look in a Victoria’s Secret, the models are always posed provocatively. Now, as I am attracted to women, you might think that I like that. But it’s meant to appeal to men (really, the catalog is pretty much Playboy without genitals)  and the objectification of the women is more disturbing to me than it is attractive. It reminds me that women are still often seen as sex objects.

What does everyone else think? Am I being too sensitive? Men and women and whatever else you identify as, let me know in the comments!

Sincerely yours,

J.J





My Little Brother is a Tool, and a little Sex Talk

11 01 2013

Isn’t that terrible that I can say that? I mean, he’s my brother, and I love him, and he’s not irredeemable or anything, but oh my god if we weren’t related I would find him insufferable.

He’s turning into one of those guys who takes photos of himself (or has me do it) where he’s throwing gang signs or flipping off the camera, while in a beanie and sunglasses. I am going to pull those photos off the internet in fifteen years and make a slideshow, and the rest of the family with howl with laughter and he will never live it down. In the meantime, I have to ignore him when he’s all ‘You don’t understand my coolness’ and I want to kick him in the shins.

Anyway. I went to a Meetup yesterday. I am very proud of myself, because I wandered around until I found it and I talked to strangers with no expectations and I had fun getting my anime nerd on. If you had told the old me to do that she probably would have run screaming and eaten her body weight in chocolate. (I wonder if anyone’s ever actually done that. I mean, I love me some chocolate, but that’s more than 150 pounds of chocolate. Damn.)

Anyone with social anxiety who’s working on it, don’t lose hope! If I can do it, anyone can.

Now I have the desire to read more manga, mwahahaha. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to quiet clubbing tomorrow. It’s either going to be retarded or funny or a lot of fun, so it’ll be worth the cover. Big C is coming, so we can party all night long.

BB only e-mails once a day now. 😦 Whatever, I will find a new crush.

To people who want to tighten their core a little bit: get a stability ball. They’re not too expensive, and I use one as my desk chair. (Occasionally I use my actual chair because my back gets tired, but my posture is a lot better now.)

This part of the post is NSFW. Just so you know. I’mma talk about sexy things now. In red.

I know I am way too hung up on BB, but other than my massive crush on him, the sex was a big factor.  Now, I am of the opinion that it is a lot easier for men to enjoy sex than it is for women. Men have orgasms early; women can go for years without having them. Probably because female masturbation has taken years to grow out of taboo, while it’s almost taken for granted that men do it regularly. And to be blunt, men have more to work with. 

The point of all this? I have had a lot of ‘oh, is that a crack on the ceiling?’ sex. A lot of it. It happens. A and I? Not so much, we could have some seriously ‘wake up the neighbors and write home about it’ sex. That’s pretty much all I miss about him now. 

BB and me? Oh baby. Some of the best sex I have ever had. Hands down. I mean, when I’m old and I’ve got my little grandkids running around, I will sit back and smile as I remember it. 

Okay, sexy talk over. I am going to get some writing done. Have a good Friday, everyone!

Sincerely yours,

J.J





A Night Out That Was Awesome

16 11 2012

This post will talk about sex. And sex clubs. Not really safe for work.

Big C and I went to a swing club. It was so seedy, it was awesome. Also there were many transsexual women, which made Big C go all ‘…I don’t get it.’ (Some of them were old enough to be my grandmother. MAJOR squick factor.) And then there were very sketchy guys. Big C and I were morbidly enjoying the ambiance, but except for one thing, we probably would have left. The fetish room was sketchy and dark, the orgy room was full of men and transwomen, all of whom were scary looking, it smelled like sex and cigarettes…it was a mess. Except for that one thing.

Oh, that one thing. Well, not a thing. A man. My favorite type of man: a skinny white boy. I spotted him the second I walked in. And as a bonus: He had a British accent! I, like many many American girls, love British accents. It’s like ‘Yeah, baby, talk to me, that accent is like rolling on velvet naked.’

So Big C and I strike up a conversation with him, and we’re all laughing and having a good time. British Boy says he’s happy we’re there because he feels a little like a target. (It was true, people were looking at him like he was a piece of meat. Granted, so was I, but I’m not a six foot tall sixty year old transwoman, so I guess I’m less scary/more appealing?) British Boy is bi, and just my type, and I want him so bad, I could taste it. But he didn’t make a move, even though we were flirting like crazy. And we’re in a sex club for God’s sake, so I assume that he’s not interested.

Then Big C proves why he is awesome and mortifying all at once. He goes ‘Yeah, she really wants to fuck you’, and I’m blushing, and British Boy is too, and then we were looking at each other, and our touch barrier was breaking; my knee pressing against his, our fingers brushing, and finally we get up, and kiss. And we kissed well together-he was taller than me, almost a foot taller-oh yeah, I was happy.

We went into a private room-it was sketchy as hell, but it was clean. And oh we were kissing-there is nothing like someone who meshes with you when you kiss.

And the sex? Let’s put it this way-I had a glow for hours afterwards. Unrepentant, biting, scratching, let the people next door sex. Awesome.

Of course, he’s going back to England, and I’ll never see him again, so my number goes up by one and I regret that I can’t even have a sex friend. I think I’m seeking a connection, but I’m also sabotaging myself because I seek out people who are unavailable, emotionally or otherwise.

Though for some reason he asked for my number, so we exchanged digits. (Does anyone say exchanged digits anymore?) Like I’m going to call him? I sent him a text and he responded to that one but not to the next one, and that’s all. I was surprised he asked for my number at all. It was nice of him though, so it was a little less like ‘Hi thanks for the sex bye’ thing.

I don’t feel guilty about the sex, because that was awesome. I just think I’m a little lonely. I want more cuddles. (Which British Boy gave me, but it would be nice to have on a continuous basis.) I think, subconsciously  that I still think that sex is all I’m good for, that it’s the only way anyone will praise me that I can accept. (And who doesn’t want to hear that they’re hot, that their body is beautiful, that they’re good at…certain things.) But still, I want more than that.

I deserve more than that.

Well, I should wrap this up. I have other things to do and I have to get up at 6:30 in the morning for work.

Sincerely yours,

J.J





The Summer is All Consuming

10 08 2012

I have not posted in ages! What’s wrong with me?

In weight news…I have lost twenty-five pounds! Ya-hoo! But now, there must be more working out. If I lose a little more, I will buy a new bathing suit. There’s this one, I have it (or a very similar one by the same designer) in a dark emerald green, but the two colors are so cute! But then the one I have already comes in red, and hello, va-va-va-voom! Ah, fashion.

On Monday, I have lunch reservations at this seafood place before Restaurant Week ends- if I’m going to have a lobster roll, I want a good one. And I do believe there is a triple chocolate torte. So, hello, excited! I wouldn’t call myself a ‘foodie’, because who doesn’t love good food, but…well, here’s an example. When I talked about Restaurant Week, my aunt’s response was ‘Oh, can we go to Outback?’ Yes, when there is a whole city of new culinary opportunities, my aunt wants to go to a calorie bomb of a chain steakhouse. Oh well. More triple chocolate torte for me.

Oh, I got into college! YAY! Pray/hope/wish/whatever that my money comes through, ’cause otherwise I can’t afford it. Ha ha ha, no I’m not nervous, why do you ask?

 

***

Back from the beach! Other than an excessive amount of pebbles, it was a good day. I felt good, not self conscious, (and, really, feeling confident in a bathing suit, isn’t that wonderful!) and at the same time determined to get back to the weight where my thighs don’t rub together. They can brush a little, but rubbing is annoying!

And somehow, despite the proper application of sunblock, I still tanned! Not too much though, which is good, I don’t want to look like a handbag before I’m forty.

 

Last Saturday, I went with Big C (my guy friend) to a kissing and cocktails party. I was a little unsure of myself, but it was fun. It was a little too hetero (I mean, I could kiss any girl I wanted, as far as I could tell, but Big C was not getting any dude action), and there was one guy who kept popping up and I was all ‘Okay, dude, the entirety of my body language is ‘get the hell away from me’, stop talking to me’. Eventually he got it. I wore a pink petticoat for a skirt (with a slip underneath), got lots of compliments. I think I will keep the petticoat for special occasions, as it’s not my typical day wear, but I love it. Maybe I’ll incorporate it with my Halloween costume this year. That might be fun. Or I’ll wear it with leggings and be different. The rest of the outfit will have to be completely subtle. Or maybe I’ll just save it for parties. It’s so flouncy.

***

Holy cheese, it’s taken me about a week to write this post. (I bet holy cheese tastes like provolone…yeah, I”m hungry.)

Anyway, back to the party story. In my typical fashion, the person I was most attracted to? A man who was there with his wife, and his girlfriend. What is it with me and finding people (usually men) who are completely emotionally unavailable? (I got to kiss him and play with his nipple rings, so it wasn’t a total waste.) I’m assuming that I’m attracted to unavailable men because I had no father and may be seeking that love elsewhere, but I look for something similar to what I actually know: a man who can’t or isn’t capable of loving me. Maybe I should just give up on men all together! …nah. Unfortunately you can’t turn sexuality on and off like that. Besides, I’m still pretty sure any sane woman would find me too difficult to put up with. I think the urge to gloss over a lover’s failings is easier to apply to men. Oh well. I have other things to do than fall in love right now. Who knows, I may forget all about falling in love with Mr. or Ms. Right until I walk into them.

 

Okay, post is done now! I’m trying to be responsible and get some paperwork done and pick up prescriptions and laundry detergent and work on my novel and…maybe I should focus on one thing at a time. Hee hee.

Sincerely yours,

J.J





The Beginning of the New Year

2 01 2012

 

Time for New Year’s Resolutions!

1. Lose weight. (Like everyone else, right? But I am serious about it.)

2. Try to be more considerate.

3. Be more in touch with my emotions and understand where they’re coming from.

4. Try to mature, and reduce my anxiety.

 

I think that’s good enough to be getting on with. So far, I’m doing some work on 2, 3, and 4, and I’m trying to cut down on my sweets. It’s pretty hard for me, I crave sweets pretty often. But I think if I learn to substitute fruits or hummus for my need for sweets, it might help me some. I have come to really like hummus, and I love fruit, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for my cravings for sweets to subside.

I worry that I’m not too considerate, so I’m trying to work on it. But I sometimes I wonder if I’m doing it because I want to please A, and that I’m selfish and inconsiderate by nature. I’m going to try anyway, try to think more about the other people in my life, because they think of me.

I’m much more in touch with my emotions than I used to be, but sometimes I have emotional reactions and I don’t know where they’re coming from. So I am trying to be aware of how I react to things.

As for my maturity, I’ll just let it grow naturally. I’m noticing a little growth more often lately, and maybe I shouldn’t force it. And as for anxiety, that’s what therapy, lavender, and my medication is for. And it’s going to be gradual, I know that. But it’s gotten better. I can get out of bed, I can meet new people, I can face challenges without trembling. I’m going to get better one day.

_______________

Now as for what happened on New Year’s.

Friday night I went to A’s, planning on staying over. I got my Christmas/birthday presents at last. Three cell phone chargers (practical, no?). At first I thought that was it, but then he gave me a little ceramic box. When I opened it, there was a pearl necklace and bracelet inside. I think it’s vintage, I’ve never seen the type of clasp that the necklace has on modern jewelry. It was very sweet, and it makes me happy that he took the time to pick something I would like.

Then it was New Year’s Eve, and we were cleaning up the apartment. It was all very domestic, and I was happy. But I was nervous, because SG2 was coming, and it was the first time we met. To my shame, my first thought when I saw her was ‘Psh, I am way hotter than that.’ Maybe that’s part of the reason I don’t feel threatened by her, or by their relationship. (They also seem to argue a lot.) That, and his relationship with her doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. We aren’t interchangeable.

But! Then something really interesting happened. (Those with delicate sensibilities, you might want to skip this bit. It’s not really graphic, though.)  I wanted to stay, and SG2 wanted to stay, and we both wanted to have sex with A. I felt bad about her leaving, but I didn’t want to give up time with him, or just listen to them have sex. So A and I thought, since SG2 wanted to watch us do a scene, we could do that, since I’m not really into SG2 and vice versa. And, it was so.freaking.hot. I knew about my kink of being dominated, but being watched? Apparently I have a bit of an exhibitionist streak.

So, hopefully, now that I’ve broken the ice (very forcefully) with SG2, we might get to know each other-A says he wants us to have a relationship. By which I mean he’d like us to be friends. We’re not going to have a sexual or romantic relationship (not that A would care if we did), but A would like us to get along. (If they stay together.)

Now, oddly enough, that I don’t feel threatened by SG2, I had to find a new person in his life to worry about, a man I’ll call Mr. Domestic. He’s in love with A (though A says that he’s not interested, that they’re just really good friends), and he’s so…well, domestic. He loves to cook and clean and do house projects. I don’t. Well, I do like to cook and bake, but dusting and laundry and vacuuming? Not so much. I do it because there’s a sense of satisfaction in it and it makes other people happy. But Mr. Domestic does it all, and well, and he fawns over A like…rgh. I don’t like it. I don’t mind Mr. Domestic, but he makes me feel insecure. A says that I shouldn’t feel like I’m competing with him, that he loves me, and he doesn’t compare us that way. Also, we have good sex and he doesn’t have a sexual interest in Mr. Domestic. I should just believe him, but…urgh. I am so insecure.

Geez, this post took forever. I hope anyone who’s reading this had a good New Year’s!

                                    Yours,

                                   J.J





Let’s Talk About Sex

15 12 2011

Those with delicate sensibilities, be warned.

I like sex. Sometimes I love sex. Love it like chocolate covered strawberries and whipped cream and satin sheets. All of which go very well with sex. And since I’ve been in a relationship for a while (six months in another week, which is eons for me), I actually get sex on a semi regular basis. I say semi because between his other partners, the fact that he works full-time, and I sleep over about once a week, we have sex about once a week. Now, back when I hadn’t gotten any for a while, once a week would have sounded great to me. But now? It’s as if my libido was sleeping, and then the second it was offered sex again it woke up, and now it has no interest in going back down for a nap. I don’t know if there’s a set number of days a week I want/need/desire/ sex, or if it’s just a free for all, or what, but this isn’t doing it for me. I know being dissatisfied with your sex life is pretty common, but I haven’t felt like this before. Then again, this is a long-term relationship. The rules and the day-to-day stuff is all different! Before if I wanted sex, I just went out and got it like I was getting a half-gallon of milk. But that got boring. Maybe I’m just easily dissatisfied?

Maybe it’s the sex itself. It seems like we keep doing the same thing over and over like we’re following a play book. Little bit of foreplay, play with our hands a bit, a little bit of licking, some missionary, then we finish up in doggy style. I wonder if he does the same thing with his other lovers. I hope he’s not having the same sex with multiple people because, boring. I mean, I guess I could go out and find someone I’m interested in and ask for A’s permission to hook with them, but I’d rather try to get our sex a little more exciting again. I’m not totally vanilla either, so I’m pretty open-minded. I mean, anything that usually ends up in a toilet is right out, but if you want to tie my wrists and tell me I’m bad I’m game. (I realize saying things like that leaves me vulnerable to unscrupulous sorts, but I do have standards, I’m happy to say.) I guess I can just tell him that I want to spice things up, but I don’t want to come off as if I’m just laying back and thinking of England or something. I know he’s tired often-maybe we should arrange a whole weekend in bed and we can play. I haven’t had consistent sex with the same person in years. I’ve forgotten the proper manners for this.

I guess I’ve evolved as a person. The old me would have just gone off and done someone else and the hell with this. I’m maturing! I’m quite excited!

…but I still don’t know how to say ‘I want different sex’ without sounding rude. Maybe I’ll go for the ‘jump and ravage’ approach. That’s still cool, right?