It's not normally my inclination to post my personal problems in such a public way; specifically not my sexual problems. But the weirdest thing happened to me before, and since I don't really have a mom I can ask about it, I'm going to do the next best thing.
First of all, let me start off by saying that I am a virgin. I have never had sex.
Second of all, I am a chronic masturbator, but not in the way most people think.
I started when I was about 17, and it kind of skyrocketed when I realized that if you keep going, something good happens. I used to stop when I got tingly. I later discovered that I can only do it with one hand and it has to be a specific motion, as most women are. And I won't let a guy try it because none of them listen to me when I try to explain that the female anatomy cannot take a guy rubbing us like a penis. >:[ It hurts very much so, sir.
So anyway, figure on twice a week since seventeen. Usually when I do this, I do it dry because for some reason it's the only way I know how. I don't use any kind of lubrication or anything because I haven't had the gall to test any of them out. It usually takes about fifteen minutes, if I'm going slow, and five if I'm going fast. Most nights I can get between 2-3 good ones.
I have never orgasmed.
Well, today, on the second run through I noticed that there was a gushing feeling. One minute I was dry, and then I was wet. Very, very wet. My first notion was that I wet the bed, but then I realized that I have never, nor could I ever, recall a time that happened in my life (sans the time I was four and too sick to move, and I was beaten raw for it). Upon further investigation (and I'm not ashamed of this, because I was confused), I discovered that the liquid was the consistency of water. Clear and odorless.
It was then that I discovered that I was a female ejaculator.
And I don't know if I should be proud because of how rare it is, or terrified because I have never heard of a guy enjoying that...
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Waiting
And I'm waiting for you to capture my imagination because I'm fooled by the illusions in my head.
I still love him. I'll never stop loving him. But there's this terrifying feeling consuming me that I can't seem to shake. Everyone keeps telling me to leave him. By "everyone", of course, I mainly mean my coworkers. There's so many words on my mind, mixing and mingling, jumbling up my emotions and making me feel like a child without a light in the dark. I know what I want. I know exactly what I want. I want to be with him. I don't care what everyone seems to think; he isn't a bad person. He's not terrible at all. In fact, he's really only ever hurt me once since we've been together, and I suspect that was because he was under someone else's influence. (Likely the same one who emailed me and gave me a load of crock about how he was cheating on me with his ex).
The problem is that this feeling won't go away. I told him a day ago that I needed time to myself. I managed to get through most of the day without really talking to him. But today, it was different. I wanted to talk to him, but he wouldn't talk to me. We've talked...not via text, maybe...for an hour in the last week. I don't know what to think of this. I don't know if we're growing complacent, or if I'm just being anxious again. I feel like there's nothing I can do to win him back. I've had so many emotional train wrecks lately, I don't even know who I am anymore.
I fear that this may be the end of the line for this relationship. There is no further for us right now. It's all just an illusion that my mind created for me because I was simply lonely. I would never give up on love, not in my life, but perhaps it's not giving up so much as it is waiting for it to come back.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Okay, So, Yeah.
As my dear friend Adi pointed out, I haven't been doing much writing. I haven't updated any of my stories in a little over a year, and I haven't had the patience to sit here and argue with myself to write again. My brain seems to want to do whatever it wants to lately. I didn't write to be seen, though it would be nice if someone, somewhere, would comment once in a while. I write to express myself.
Recently, after I stopped writing, I got a job. I am now working at Krogers, and for those of you out of town, that's also Dillons, Ralphs, Food 4 Less, King Soopers, Turkey Hill/Chicken Mountain, and a billion others. I would not suggest working here as a first job. The store I work at is Union, so therefore, I cannot get more than 40 hours a week. Thus, I usually get scheduled for less than 30 a week.
Also, my bosses are dicks.
One of them, I won't be mentioning names, but we'll call him B, keeps trying to hook me up with everyone on the planet knowing full well I'm engaged. When I tell him, he says "So? He's on the other side of the country! Who has to tell him?" Joking or not, I take that shit very seriously. And I'd love to see the look on his face when Jae moves in with me.
Then there's R, who has this unnatural obsession with telling me constantly about his sexual deviance's, and his daughter's friends that tried things on him while they spent the night. Not cool, man. Not cool.
The job isn't bad. The time passes awfully quick. My one complaint about the store in general is the stupid checkout time. You get timed for each transaction. You need to score at least 80% weekly, or they will fire you. From the moment you scan the first item, to the moment you enter the money, you. are. timed. And there are people that know this, and like to fuck around.
Complaints about customers in general.
1. Why do you insist on bitching to me about your one dollar coupon?
-I really don't care. So I forgot it. Take it up with my boss. Hell, he'll tell me to give you a fucking dollar from the till, and be on your merry little way. Tis not that hard. But no, you insist on making a Goddamned scene about it by shouting at me "I don't COME HERE VERY OFTEN, and I don't BUY THIS VERY OFTEN, and the point of the coupon was to use it RIGHT NOW!" To that, I say, bug off or I'll spray you with bleach. =)
2. Please don't ask me to get you cigarettes.
-I don't smoke, so when you say "Pall Mall Menthol in the Shortpack", I have no fucking idea what you're saying. I will stand there, and stare at every single one of them before you tell me "THE RED ONE, OH MY GOD". They're all the same to me, and they all kill you just the same. So don't give me that look when I turn to someone else and say "can you?"
3. When I ask you if you have a card, don't say "yeah, let me dig it out".
-All of you customers KNOW that we're timed, so for butt-sake, have it ready before you come in the line. It really isn't that hard.
4. It's five minutes to closing, why do you insist to shop for a year at 10:55?
-And to top it all off, instead of helping me bag, while you're watching it pile at the end of my register, you continue to act impatient. Well, You know what, I can't move any faster since I'm the only other person working, and the other one has to count the till. By the way, we don't have to be nice to you after 11pm. Just because you're in the store, doesn't mean I have to be nice to you. After 11, I'm officially off the clock.
5. Stop asking me where to find things.
-I'm a cashier, not stock. My tag CLEARLY reads CASHIER. If I did stock, I wouldn't be standing up front, now would I?
6. Don't flirt with me.
-You see the ring, right? You do? Good. It's hard to miss it. When I say "oh, yeah, my fiance does this", then it's a hint for you to back the fuck off. Kapische?
7. Please, God, don't come into the express lane with 900 items.
-Yeah, you do it. Don't say "I'm not guilty of that", because the odds are, most of you are. You really don't know how difficult you make our job. We have a 4x4 space, that's it. There isn't much maneuvering we can do to fit it all on there. Just because you have a short-cart, doesn't mean it qualifies you to go in the express lane.
8. Additionally, I get that it's a holiday and we're all in a rush...
-But go in your fucking line. Coming through the express lane isn't going to make it any faster. In fact, it's MUCH slower because we have less space and have to bag everything ourselves. Do the math.
9. I get paid 7.25 an hour. I work 20 hour weeks. I'm quitting in two weeks.
-Piss me off again, I dare you.
10. Learn to take a joke.
-To the girl who reported me because I made a comment to a coworker that "I have some choice words for you, but now isn't the place or time", I was sparing you from hearing what I had to say in response to him calling me a whore. Thanks for hearing the whole story and getting me a warning. You're a trooper. I really hate the public sometimes.
Recently, after I stopped writing, I got a job. I am now working at Krogers, and for those of you out of town, that's also Dillons, Ralphs, Food 4 Less, King Soopers, Turkey Hill/Chicken Mountain, and a billion others. I would not suggest working here as a first job. The store I work at is Union, so therefore, I cannot get more than 40 hours a week. Thus, I usually get scheduled for less than 30 a week.
Also, my bosses are dicks.
One of them, I won't be mentioning names, but we'll call him B, keeps trying to hook me up with everyone on the planet knowing full well I'm engaged. When I tell him, he says "So? He's on the other side of the country! Who has to tell him?" Joking or not, I take that shit very seriously. And I'd love to see the look on his face when Jae moves in with me.
Then there's R, who has this unnatural obsession with telling me constantly about his sexual deviance's, and his daughter's friends that tried things on him while they spent the night. Not cool, man. Not cool.
The job isn't bad. The time passes awfully quick. My one complaint about the store in general is the stupid checkout time. You get timed for each transaction. You need to score at least 80% weekly, or they will fire you. From the moment you scan the first item, to the moment you enter the money, you. are. timed. And there are people that know this, and like to fuck around.
Complaints about customers in general.
1. Why do you insist on bitching to me about your one dollar coupon?
-I really don't care. So I forgot it. Take it up with my boss. Hell, he'll tell me to give you a fucking dollar from the till, and be on your merry little way. Tis not that hard. But no, you insist on making a Goddamned scene about it by shouting at me "I don't COME HERE VERY OFTEN, and I don't BUY THIS VERY OFTEN, and the point of the coupon was to use it RIGHT NOW!" To that, I say, bug off or I'll spray you with bleach. =)
2. Please don't ask me to get you cigarettes.
-I don't smoke, so when you say "Pall Mall Menthol in the Shortpack", I have no fucking idea what you're saying. I will stand there, and stare at every single one of them before you tell me "THE RED ONE, OH MY GOD". They're all the same to me, and they all kill you just the same. So don't give me that look when I turn to someone else and say "can you?"
3. When I ask you if you have a card, don't say "yeah, let me dig it out".
-All of you customers KNOW that we're timed, so for butt-sake, have it ready before you come in the line. It really isn't that hard.
4. It's five minutes to closing, why do you insist to shop for a year at 10:55?
-And to top it all off, instead of helping me bag, while you're watching it pile at the end of my register, you continue to act impatient. Well, You know what, I can't move any faster since I'm the only other person working, and the other one has to count the till. By the way, we don't have to be nice to you after 11pm. Just because you're in the store, doesn't mean I have to be nice to you. After 11, I'm officially off the clock.
5. Stop asking me where to find things.
-I'm a cashier, not stock. My tag CLEARLY reads CASHIER. If I did stock, I wouldn't be standing up front, now would I?
6. Don't flirt with me.
-You see the ring, right? You do? Good. It's hard to miss it. When I say "oh, yeah, my fiance does this", then it's a hint for you to back the fuck off. Kapische?
7. Please, God, don't come into the express lane with 900 items.
-Yeah, you do it. Don't say "I'm not guilty of that", because the odds are, most of you are. You really don't know how difficult you make our job. We have a 4x4 space, that's it. There isn't much maneuvering we can do to fit it all on there. Just because you have a short-cart, doesn't mean it qualifies you to go in the express lane.
8. Additionally, I get that it's a holiday and we're all in a rush...
-But go in your fucking line. Coming through the express lane isn't going to make it any faster. In fact, it's MUCH slower because we have less space and have to bag everything ourselves. Do the math.
9. I get paid 7.25 an hour. I work 20 hour weeks. I'm quitting in two weeks.
-Piss me off again, I dare you.
10. Learn to take a joke.
-To the girl who reported me because I made a comment to a coworker that "I have some choice words for you, but now isn't the place or time", I was sparing you from hearing what I had to say in response to him calling me a whore. Thanks for hearing the whole story and getting me a warning. You're a trooper. I really hate the public sometimes.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Day 6
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Day 3
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