"SEXTING" @ WORK

Phone sex has always seemed like a slightly humorous concept to me, although the few times I have engaged said activity, I have enjoyed it - not necessarily in a "sensual" way, more like in a playful way. I've always injected a modicum of sarcasm within my romantic endeavors.

Anyways, last night I got this and the following texts from T:

[I should note he is still out of town]

T: "Are you at work?"

ME: "Yeah, but not too busy, what's up?"

T: "Well, I am driving and will be home soon and wanted to have phone sex".

ME: "I just quit and will be home in 5 minutes :)"

T: "Haha, maybe we can just send each other dirty messages".

To further the context of this situation, we have never done anything like this before, and with my boss looming over me, not to mention my co-workers, it was difficult to even begin to think of anything remotely dirty nor sexy to text T...so I went into default sarcasm mode.

ME: "I want to use your thighs as earmuffs...because it's really cold tonight".

T: "HAHAHA, shut up!"

From then on we actually started "sexting" as the kids call it, and my God, it was fucking hot! At first we both improvised fantasies that will probably never happen (not if I don't have my way) and then we brought it back back down to earth, describing the favorites things we have liked doing with each other, or rather, to each other.

And then he told me I made him cum. Mind you, at this point my boss and her boyfriend are on the other side of the bar, sipping beer, with the bartender next to me doing weird goofy crazy dance moves (fucking Improv actors - love 'em) and I'm trying to play it cool...but I have a massive B-O-N-E-R.

Thank God I wasn't wearing skinny jeans, and Thank God it was dark and Thank God again I was behind a bar wear no one could see anything below my waist. Besides the obvious bulge, I was leaking pre-cum like an off shore drilling rig operated by BP. I had to deftly excuse myself to smoke outside in the cold to calm down.

CAN NOT WAIT FOR HIM TO COME BACK TO CHICAGO.

A BRIEF ENCOUNTER AND A REVELATION

Around 11PM last night at work, The Waiter I Briefly Dated came into the bar to join his co-workers in getting drunk. Not a problem, that why bars exist, for people to have a good time with their friends and occasionally drink to excess (within reason-ish).

My problem began about 45 minutes later. I'm fucking exhausted, struggling to stay awake on my tired feet and annoyed that we are now forced to listen to terrible, terrible fucking Muzack (someone put on the 80's Hits channel - it was not dissimilar to working in a chain book store).

Anyways, I'm behind the bar checking Facebook on my phone when I get a text from:

The Waiter I Briefly Dated: "How's the texting going over there?"

Me: "Killing time on Facebook".

Keep in mind, he's sitting with his back towards me, about 30 feet away. Rather than respond I went out front to smoke and he did too, albeit with a few of his co-workers, and he ignored me, or maybe I ignored him, regardless. I go back inside and 20 minutes later:

The Waiter I Briefly Dated: Got plans for later?"

Me: "..."

Like watching a car accident in slow motion, I slowly watched as his group peel off and right before we locked the door he plops down at the bar. It's empty except him, the bartender and myself. I'm trying to get the shit done I need to and he's blabbing while HIGH AS FUCK on coke and booze about how awesome Bonnaroo was. UGH. And for the record, I've been there, done that.

So the doors are closed and locked and he waits until the Bartender goes upstairs to deposit his drawer of cash. I'm smoking and sipping on a short beer and he intones:

The Waiter I Briefly Dated: "So... want to...hang out?"

Me: "No, I'm tired, I'm going home to sleep."

The Waiter I Briefly Dated: "Well...if...you want, I'll pay for a cab..."

Me: "No."

The Waiter I Briefly Dated: "...and you can take advantage of me and then you can go right to sleep."

Me: "..."

His further persistence was countered with my continued resistance; I offered a olive branch of sorts in the form of a shot of Jameson and he reluctantly sulked off. Jesus. Christ. Normally I would say something self-effacing such as I was flattered, but I was anything but; it was annoying.

YOU know, in the past, or perhaps even if The Waiter and didn't didn't share the past we did, I might have very well taken him up on his offer. And I'm not saying my actions last night were noble, far from it, because I bet, in fact I know I have been on the other side of the conversation, trying to force a situation that wouldn't, or rather, shouldn't happen.

And the thing is, a few months ago I did let it happen. We didn't have "sex" sex, but we had fun, and I feel partially responsible for planting that seed in his head that on the off chance that I'm horny (usually am) that I'll willingly whore myself to him, and me to him.

There is no moral opposition that exists in my brain to such a potential scenario, but I'm just...not the place right to do it. I could physically get it up, DUR, but mentally...fuck that. My tank of regret, shame and guilt is already overflowing, and I don't need to top it off, so to speak.

Furthermore, I won't ever NOT pick up Randos in bars going forward, but...it's not what I need right now. I know I'll end up liking whoever and mistake their lust for something more and just get disappointed, sink into a pool of depression, get fucking WASTED and have to climb out of yet another damn hole.

Besides. I can jerk off with either of my hands, if I feel the need for variety.

MY NEW FAVORITE OBJECT

I know, I know, please trust me when I tell you that I'm not into shoving my erect cock into cats faces. This is none other than my new prized possession; a water gun shaped conspicuously like "Justin Junior", that my friend (love you for this) purchased on my behalf.

My other buddy and I spent the last afternoon smoking pot, drinking beer and taking shots of whiskey when I pulled this thing out of my backpack. His cat immediately was drawn towards it, and I couldn't resit the urge to put it in it's face. Many giggles ensued.

That right there is the full on "cock" with the odd sideways balls. I plan on bringing it to work tomorrow. Hopefully I won't get arrested for indecent exposure. For now it shall reside upon the ledge next to the fridge in my kitchen.

I'm thinking of things other than water to fill it with. Skim milk? Vodka? Kalua? I'm open to any and all suggestions. Also, I'm thinking of all the potentially embarrassing photo opportunities. If you have any suggestions, leave them in the comments. Or e-mail me.

PS - Thanks again MK!

TURNING IT AROUND

[NOTE: I had intended to make this post about my take on the raging health care debate currently taking place in this country, but since the issue has been hijacked by fucking lunatics who have the balls to equate the President of the United States with HITLER...I'll pass.]

If hasn't been entirely obvious by the tone of my last few posts, I haven't been in the best of moods lately. There are many reason for this: feeling totally disconnected with the Boystown scene, asshole guys, the Cubs trying to make me cry, the insane heat which reduced my brain to lump of clam chowder, etc.

SO. I'm happy to report that I seem to have put that recent slump behind me! It's always takes me a few days to "get back on track"; it's a gradual process and one that I think is mostly normal, at least for me. What I really needed was to have a great night out, preferably at new place I had never been to before, just to switch it up.

Last night I contacted my rarely seen, but totally RAD female friend V. Although I have a few gay friends, I feel the closest to her for a variety of reasons. Maybe it's because we've known each other for a long time, or maybe it's just her "out there/forward" demeanor, which I'll attribute to her Argentinean ethnicity. She's also hot. Like whoa!

Anyways, I suggested we check out this bar in the trendy neighborhood West of the Loop. I know...it's a hipsters paradise, but this place seemed laid back. Plus, once a month they have a LGBT night. She picked me up in her ride (gawd - I forgot how cool it feels to ride in a convertible on a pleasant summer night in Chicago) and after a bit of a search we found the place.

Located on a residential side street, the bar itself used to be an A-Frame house many moons ago, but has since been converted into an intimate, though totally unpretentious bar, complete with a postage stamp size dance floor. It felt like being at friend's house, albeit one with a bar and a DJ. This was looking promising...

For most of the night we talked and I drank Maker's Mark while she sipped on Club Soda (she's on a strict no booze diet at the moment). At first I was worried the people would prove every hipster stereotype true. I mean, there might have been more bikes out front than people in the bar itself.

But you know what? EVERYONE was totally cool! Not one single pretentious asshole/d-bag crossed my path. Furthermore, the boys were actually quite attractive (if you like the skinny jeans/v-neck t-shirt look, thin and a but nerdy), plus they were friendly! Bonus!

That's all well and good, but what really tied the place together was the music. It's like the DJ had stolen my iPod and played all the fun shit on there (i.e. Diplo, Justice, etc). Now don't hate on me for saying this, but one of my biggest complaints with gay bars in general is the music that tends to make blood pour out of my ears. If Lady Gaga is your jam, that's totally cool. And there is a LOT of shit I listen to would make many a gay man annoyed. But I digress.

Speaking of the music, it actually made me dance a bit! HOLY SHIT! I know. And the boys and girls were just wildly trashing about, oblivious to feeling any sense of embarrassment. It was a nice feeling. And one I rarely, if ever feel at a gay club.

That feeling of tension I seem to feel at bars with an almost exclusive male clientele was absent. Perhaps it was because 1/2 the crowd was female. I like women. Really. I don't wanna sleep with them, but I sure do enjoy their company and I think their presence reduced the amount of testosterone in the air. I didn't feel like I was going to get molested or have anyone put something in my drink.

Oh! And I did meet a cute boy named Max. When V and I were on our way out, he looked sad when he asked me "you guys are leaving?" Awww. I was tempted to offer him my number, but decided against it. Why? I need more distance between the recent assholes in my past before I can consider putting up the stress before I try again.