so the first half of my life is over. great. what next.
Il y a 15 heures
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March 30th, 2006 | 12:31 am
One. Why do chicks pose topless, upload the pictures to the internet, and then get pissed off when guys want nothing more than a casual hookup with them?
(I’d post the link to the topless pic in that raspberrysundae profile, but you’d probably be mad if I did.)
March 30th, 2006 | 5:11 am
Yep, girls start at an early age marketing their bodies, this lady is 33 and she still gets confused when creepy guys make bizarre comments. It’s kind of sad and pitiful at the same time really.
March 30th, 2006 | 7:12 am
oh good I needed something to throw off kilter today …
March 30th, 2006 | 7:13 am
ah if it were only so easy as to not date guys who have seen my tits on the internet, huh? but since none of the guys i date have ever seen my site, i hardly think your dismissive response qualifies.
don’t forget - this is the internet. making the mistake of assuming how people conduct themselves here and how they conduct themselves in the “real” world is naiive, don’t you think?
i don’t get confused when creepy guys make bizarre comments. i understand that is part of the deal. i get confused when people can’t see the difference between what i look like and who i am.
March 30th, 2006 | 7:45 am
Ras - I am glad to see that you do not prostitute yourself and are “aware”. This post was actually to point out a natural marketing potential women have. I maybe should have written a few more words about that yes? You appear to be doing fine in your “real” world and are on top of your game, props to that.
March 30th, 2006 | 8:06 am
cool thanks - i just didn’t want you to think that i was some deluded bar star who figured that a nice rack was the path to happiness..
Who the fuck said it was okay for you to send your nasty ass to my boyfriend?! Well now that he's single, feel free to send him whatever boring nasty pics of yourself you want. But you might want to consider getting a nose job before u send a pic of the face. Oh, and if I sound mean and insensitive, well it's because you're both a couple of assholes and you deserve each other!note how she didn't leave an email address or a phone number or even her real name in order for me, or anyone else, to retort.
who indeed, says the raspberry. german issued me two challenges - be as explicit as possible, he said, then questioned my use of an alias in my blog.
i'm going to address the second point first, 'cause i'm just that kind of girl.
while raspberry sundae is not, i assure you, a name my parents blessed me with (far to conservative for that, they are (yoda say)), it is kind of who i am. raspberry is the part of my personality that is pink and girly and sensitive and passionate and fiery - all things which make for good reading, i figure. of course, i'm not entirely objective at this juncture. it's early goshfukkit, and i've only had half a cup of coffee (and half a cup of BLACK coffee, at that, 'cause i'm trying to go lower fat lower sugar. how dull is that?) (at this point german is rolling his eyes and shaking his head, wondering what he's gotten himself into. 'come on, girl', he's thinking. 'enough with the soft serve, on with the soft core!')
ANYhoo.... so i go by raspberry in my blog (and sometimes in the 'real world') because i do sort of want to remain at least partially anonymous. i want the raspberry side of me to be free to talk about what she wants, when she wants, with little fear of people she knows googling my real name and finding out all about me doing the dirty dirty on the hood of a car when i 'stepped out for a breath of fresh air' while out at a club. think of it this way - the reason that masquerades are so popular is because behind the mask you are free to construct, reconstruct, and deconstruct the boundaries which are created by you and for you. so i shall hold on to my mask, at least for a little while.
last week on the radio they were doing one of those poll things where they ask the listeners questions about their sex lives as a way of boosting ratings. it never fails to amaze me what people will say when you give them an audience and a means of expressing themselves anonymously (*ahem*). the question was "what's the shortest amount of time you've gone between meeting someone and having sex with them?" i think the shortest reported was half an hour or somesuch - and the guy took a bit of a ribbing, i gotta say.
half an hour. lightweight.
that night, the party was in an old community center on the outskirts of the city. the crowd was a mix of downtown party kids and bored local kids who'd heard the music and were looking for a way of passing a saturday night that didn't involve sitting around a bonfire, shotgunning beers on the tailgate of a truck. this was early early days in the party scene (in our world anyway) - there was only e, or acid, or mushrooms, and maybe a little coke, but no meth or k or g. innocent, you know? we were all still getting to know each other, and the rush of the drugs still came on with fingertips dancing across your skin and a goldrush brush of goosebumps.
the doors were flung open to the summer night. we'd been having rainstorms on and off for a couple of days - real rainstorms, too - none of this vancouver everpresent omnipotent wetness - sudden outbursts of water and wind and on the good days a little thunder to remind you that the gods weren't necessarily pleased with the way the world was ending. i was on the floor with den and matty, my own fingers tangled up in my hair at the base of my head, giving myself shivers of sensation in time with the music. i wandered over to the door to get a breath of air - the room was almost oppressive with sweet smoke and dancing - with bodies and hormones and beer. he was leaning on the doorframe, alternately watching the dancers and the rain, a slight smile on his lips. i looked at him as i walked past - made eye contact and got that little rush of chemistry you feel when two people zap connect pulse with mutual energy. the parking lot was mud and the moon was out despite the storm. i stepped outside and lifted my hands to the air, eyes closed, exultant in the sweet coolness of the night sky. he came up behind me, put his hands on my waist, squeezed a little and lifted me off my feet, so slightly. we're moving to the music, now, bass thumping off the cars, lights flashing through the open door. i spun away, dancing dancing in the rain. somebody (monte?) looked out - saw us there, pushed a speaker to the opening so the music came through. i turned and looked at him over my shoulder - he tilted his head to one side, assessing me, maybe wondering how far i was willing to go. i let him chase me around the corner, away from the door and the cars, away from the people but still close enough that i could hear the music, still close enough that it could be dancing. when he caught me this time i stayed caught - my fingers wrapped up in my hair again (still?), he pushed me against the building and trapped my hands behind my head. hot kisses on my neck, grabbing my lower lip in his teeth and biting just...enough...to..hurt. he wrapped one hand around my wrists, holding them firm behind me and grabbed my earlobe in his mouth. 'do you want it?' he breathed, more to himself than to me. i bit his chest through his shirt, didn't bother to answer. he pushed up against me – more forcefully, now. i could feel him through his shorts, through the thin fabric of my dress. he reached down with his free hand and traced the curve of my ass up from my leg to my back, under the skirt...gave a squeeze...his lips on my lips kissing kissing with a ferocity driven by need and haste...pulled my panties to the side undid his pants and was..in. i wrapped a leg around his waist, pushing myself against him, using my shoulderblades on the wall for leverage. his hand cupped my ass pulling me in close, moving with the beat of the records reverberating through the wall. i could hear people around the corner, people talking and laughing, dancing in the rain, but it was as if they were from a distance - as though i had stepped through a curtain of reality into this alternate place where nothing mattered but the taste of salt on his skin and the feel of his cock inside me.
when it was done, i went back inside and found den on the dancefloor. she reached up and touched my cheek, gave me a little kiss on the lips. "where'd you go? you're all wet." "just needed some air."
thanks for the invite... but to be to the point, i don’t see this developing into a romantic relationship for me. You are fun and i enjoy chatting and spending time with you but i guess i have been standoffish because i don’t want to lead you on. What can I say... attraction is not a choice. i’m completely open to being buds – i do definitely need some more cool female friends! my last girlfriend chased all my old ones off! lol i have several guy friends you may be interested in so keep the option open.
talk to you later...
so it was a year ago today that the kiddo went into the hospital. kind of a fucked up anniversary, but it resonates regardless. i don't want to talk about it, but i do. i've been counting down all week, for some reason - i knew it was coming and i've studiosly avoided writing anything 'cause i knew that it would come out - how scared i am to go to sleep tonight, and how afraid i am that he's still all fragile on the inside even though he *seems* so much better and so much stronger and so much more together. or maybe it's just me that is fragile on the inside, still, even though i seem so much stronger and seem so much better and seem so much more together. but i guess i am those things, at least a little bit.
i love my kid more than life itself. (i just wanted to say that out loud, cause love is magic and saying the word casts a spell and takes me out of time and place and makes it not this day) and i know you are saying "of course you do - he's your son". but it sometimes amazes me that it's possible to feel something for someone in a way that is so strong and so true.
anyway, i'm gonna go crawl into bed, and leave my door open tonight. the dog will crawl in beside me and i think that i need that. goodnight, kiddo, and goodnight to all the kids, all of you out there in the world who feel that you are alone. tonight you should know that you aren't - i'm staying awake to watch over you all.