Date Machine

I hate having my nipples touched in any way.

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I'm terrible at waking up. I set two alarms and spend at least half an hour hitting the snooze button until the absolute last drip of sleep has been extracted from the warm cocoon of my morning bed. This is a pretty embarrassing habit to have when someone is sleeping over. It's terrible to share a bed with someone soft and warm and then hear the harsh blare of talk radio coming from one side of the bed, and then the staccato jingle of my cell phone alarm from the other side a few minutes later. Variating between the two for twenty or thirty minutes, like some languorous cat trying to figure out the world's simplest Rube Goldberg contraption, has to leave a bad impression.

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Life's little disappointments:

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Just to keep you updated, for the new year I've completely overhauled my other blog over at walrus comix. I've given it a new name and look, and hopefully this will exorcise all it's demons...

So for those of you who enjoy reading my posts here, or those of you who hate reading my posts here and are simply masochistic, why not drop by and read of my day to day exploits, it's all quite fascinating I assure you... What's it called you ask? Well its Zeitgeisty:Born To Lose of course!

Could it have been called anything else?? 

 

 

I was in college the first time I heard "Love Fool" at my friend R's apartment. She was drunk and really stoned when she put it on and the first thing she did when it started playing was apologize for having chosen it. I liked the song fine, but wasn't really paying attention. The rise to fame on the sparkling froth of that song made it easy to dismiss The Cardigans as some fly-by-night producer's invention. A few years later I ducked into a coffee shop to get out of a rainstorm and heard First Band on the Moon playing on the stereo. I listened to it while sipping black coffee, trapped indoors, waiting on the weather to lighten up. That's when I realized that I really like The Cardigans.

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Yep, it's another one on age and dating, so check out now if you are going to get all snippy.

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For fun, I like to come up with "interesting" sexual scenarios, and decide which ones I'd rather take part in if I was FORCED to... so today I put them to YOU in a little piece I like to call.... WOULDJARATHER !!

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I try to not worry too much about my appearance, but it still winds up feeling like a trip to church or the office. There's a continuing knowledge that I'm being inspected by someone else, appraised on physical appearance, among other things. I always wind up being a more hygienic, self-censoring version of myself when I'm on a date. I wish I could say that I'm completely uninhibited when meeting new people, offering an open and free-spirited glimpse at my truest self, but I'm not. I edit myself, even when I'm consciously trying not to.

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I've never been able to successfully date jealous men. I'm not exactly polyamorous, but I definitely like to have a slew of male admirers in my life. Being a Professional Dominatrix is a good way to go about achieving that goal.

So ironically, being paid to dominate men is a kind of kink of mine. It puts me in the position of being unattainable, and I like playing hard to get. Indefinitely. It keeps my actual love relationship fresh, because I come home from appointments invigorated, a little high on my own power.

At the end of the day, I know it's not really power. Not of a substantial kind. It's a game and an illusion. But it's enough to set my pants on fire, so I don't complain.

It's a bit unorthodox (and a little dirty), but it does the trick. Do you guys have anything like that?

Anyone who answers yes to more than 10 of these questions wins a free T-shirt. 

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I'm bored with my masturbation routine.

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I used to be an art model..

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Looking back on all the women I've had relationships with, I’d have to say the majority of them have had at least some carpet munching experience. 

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My least favorite thing about the holidays is the leaving. I enjoy the family rivalries, the inevitable clashes of different threads of family and friends. I'm indifferent to the added stresses of holiday crowds in airports and on the freeways, but saying goodbye over and over again is hard. We can live farther away from the people we love and stay in touch with the various digital wonderments of fiber-optics and satellites orbiting overhead, but there is no replacement for sharing the same space. That's the inevitable conclusion I arrive at every year during the holidays. Arriving home, dropping the ungainly weight of my bags, opening the windows to freshen the stifled air of my dormant apartment, looking out on the streets below, familiar but filled with strangers flowing past in their indifferent rushes, I feel small and alone.

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All of my long term relationships have been with men my age or up to around three years younger.

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I was parading around in my new underwear yesterday

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The following is a recounting of an interesting date I went on a while ago - pre girlfriend. 

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I'm a little jealous of men's relationship with porn. It's a simple pleasure that most women can't seem to appreciate. If only the sight of someone else having loud, sloppy sex made me ache to touch myself. Instead, I usually find myself thinking "Geez, she looks bored" and "Whoa, that camera angle is NOT flattering."

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  I've never been a big fan of the whole 'new years' tabula rasa gestalt. Personally, I like to make my resolutions during the summer when it is warmer. Still, here it is  - New Years Day, and I'm in need of a subject for today's posting, so I'll go with it.

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Hey all.. from everyone here at Date Machine...

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What a Year for a New Year - Dan Wilson

New Year's Eve and New Years Day are emotional times aren't they?

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In case you missed it, here is the longest confession ever from the Hooksexup Confessions page:

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Was reading this article on the web about moustaches being one of the 'regrettable trends' of 2008... Well I can say that I had them all beat by a full year!!...

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My friend P came to visit for a few days just before Christmas. I pulled out a spare mattress for him, but we still wound up sleeping a few feet away from each other in my one room studio. He arrived on a weeknight and we went out for dinner and then had drinks at a bar with some other friends. We got home close to 2AM and spent another half hour talking in the darkness. I felt a little distracted by the specter of getting up early for work the next day, but it was nice to finally talk to another man outside of the jocular strictures that seem to guide how many men talk to one another.

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‘So just how many HAVE you been with? Be honest!’

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It's never truly the holidays without a little sex talk around the table.

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While I was away in Costa Rica, I noticed something surprising: during my entire two-week stay, I neither witnessed nor was the object of catcalling. And it was always 90 degrees, so it's not as if the men lacked material: ladies were showing plenty of skin. Here in NYC, a woman is hard pressed to make it five blocks-- wearing a parka and face mask -- without some lame-o offering his opinion about her appearance, or making some declaration of love.

It was a refreshing change, if you ask me.

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Kissing is such a simple pleasure.

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