Skip to main content

Stepping In

What's the maxim? Never begin a relationship with someone you work with! 

Fair. 

But sometimes you just have to Step In and see where things lead. Maybe things will lead to a sushi dinner at Sushi Wabi or burger and fries at some greasy spoon or a meaningful evening in each other's arms. You just have to Step In and find out. 

It's risky. Yeah and so is leaving your home. Shit happens; but good shit happens once in a while, and that's the shit you want. The key here is you have to want it. 

"What do you need?" he asked me, today at work. "Because I'm willing to give it to you. I don't know how much more I can show this to you."

I want a lot of things: I want better manners; smarter decisions; tastier grocery store fruit; 36 hour days; more competent co-workers; better investments; more time with my family (sans cousins); my sister to be okay; less cramping; more women to utilize the sanitary bags in the bathroom to dispose of their feminine products; less crappy television; better books; more journaling; more hot soup. 

However, the things I need are simple: I need to be free; to be human; to be in love, even if it's with something like good deeds. I need someone with bigger hands than mine to hold me, caress me, be a fucking cliché with me. I need...love of a different kind. Not the kind that Jan gives me or Viv or even Diana's sparse love. The love I'm missing is the kind that makes me fall asleep feeling chock-full of bliss; the kind of love I plan my weekends around. 

I want a lot of things, but I only need a few things. 

I'm a little scared to start a relationship with someone who already knows whether I shave or not. I've already opened a very intimate part of myself to him, but he doesn't know the part that I give to the man I love. Sure, he can have all my sex, but my love, my real time, that takes more than making me squirt a hundred times in one night. Sometimes you do have to Step In, but sometimes you have to make sure you're not stepping into something unsavory. So I guess I'm checking my shoes. He'll have to wait.
Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

Goodbye, for Now

On Tuesday I turned 27. I am officially in my late 20s, fast approaching my early 30s. There was a local story about a woman who biked, ran, and exercised her way into her 40s. She started running a day before she was to turn 40, and by midnight, she entered her 40s with an exhaustive bang. Meh. I think I will fuck my way into my 30s, with a hopeful orgasm exactly at midnight. But that's three years away, so I can plan accordingly. Anyway, I know it's been a long time since I've updated this thing, and there is a reason: no time. Life has been quite busy. Work is more hectic than ever, and I am often working late into the evening and bringing work home. I don't even have time for a decent dinner. Dinner tonight was canned fruit cocktail in gross heavy syrup (I couldn't find it in juice) eaten straight from the can and a  Diet 7-UP. I was grateful for the time to consume even that. But how I dream of spicy veggie lo mein and shrimp in lobster sauce. At 3 a.m., ...
Read more

All Is Revealed

is name is *Jim. He lives in Naperville. He has two dogs. He's divorced. This info courtesy of a clueless Viv. I casually brought up the man in the blue shirt and black slacks to her and she spilled all. "Do you think he's cute?" Viv asked. (Bless her naive heart.) "Oh, I think he has a nice mouth," I said. Wink. Wink. Inside jokes to myself? I need to get a life. Night.
Read more

Friday Night, Vol. 2: Rare Breeds

Last night I went to a wonderful party thrown by my friend Viviane. I love going to Viv's parties, because there are two things I know for certain will be in abundance: Men and good wine. Last night was no exception. I had sex ... technically (I think I better confirm with Clinton ). Anyway, the point is I did orgasm last night at approximately 11:34 p.m, sitting on the edge of Viv's pool, my crotch thrust in the face of a man whose name I didn't bother to learn. And thanks to his game of Let's-See-How-Fast-I-Can-Make-You-Come, I knew that it took him less than five minutes to complete the job. That was that. No numbers exchanged; no small talk; no promise of getting together next week for lunch. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Just a girl and her orgasm. This encounter is so strange, and now that I reflect on it without the delicious pinot noir imbuing my brain, I realize that we didn't kiss or even rub parts. I don't even remember how I ended up being orally pleasured by th...
Read more