Oink Oink!

I originally started this blog so that I would have somewhere I could record my adventures.  I have the worst memory in the world, so I figured this would help me out and allow others to enjoy my constant dealings with the men of D.C.  Well, so far this objective has seriously failed.    

As a new blogger and a full time student with a job on the side, it is difficult for me to keep up with posting let alone my other responsibilities.  With that out there, I will now give you a run down of my foibles since I last posted….the ones I can still remember anyway.  These updates will take the form of a numerical list of new things I have learned about dating in dc and myself in general.  Each update will come in different posts as I try to piece my life and vague memories together.

1.  Men are pigs.

Considering my married man incident and many many other experiences where men have conned me into sleeping with them in one way or another, you'd think I would have been previously convinced of this concept. Well, no I wasn’t.   

When it comes to men, I am inexperienced in an all-too-experienced way.  Like many women, if I really like a guy after the first few times of seeing him, I tell everyone, “He’s just different,” which to me means that he doesn’t only want to sleep with me, he actually wants to get to know me.   

It turns out that more often than not, and in my experiences every time, all men want to do is get in your pants and the personal emotional interactions are secondary, if that.  

 Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a very emotional person, but something changed in me recently.  I am by no means old, but I feel there is a time in everyone’s life where you feel like it is time to move on from biddie central to actually looking for something long term. 

I have been in the biddie stage for some time now, and just realized that with the advent of thinking that men are pigs instead of seeing myself as a pig taking advantage of helpless men, I was getting older.  I now know that I am ready for a relationship to take me out of this endless game.   

That’s when things really started going down hill.  No longer was I the one in the drivers seat.  One after another, the men fooled me.  They were different….for the few days I knew them. I am gullible and was convinced it would go farther so why not sleep with them now? In the words of my own mother, “you have to try it out before you buy it!”

They should be decked in flashing lights

So sorry I haven't posted in a while. I have been incredibly busy and am finally ready to release information I have been holding back for a week or so.

This past weekend was Halloweekend, but I need to backtrack before I go there and that deserves a separate post. Reverse to the Saturday before Halloweekend. I attended a nerds and ninjas peace corp party with my girlfriends. Being the nerd I am, it was not at all difficult for me to dress up for this. I initially tried ninja, but figured out I just don't have the concealment skills I needed to complete the look.

It took the four of us about an hour to walk all the way to the party in the bitter cold, and once we got there we found that most of the guests were over 30. AT LEAST. The average age was most likely somewhere around 35.

Long story short, I never want to attend a theme party with 50+ year old men. They go all out. And I mean ALL OUT. Pocket protectors, swords, tight black spandex all over. Never again. Yeah, I admit I am normally into middle-aged men, but every one of these guys was creepy/unnattractive and didn't even have the ability to carry on an interesting conversation.

When I finally got out of there, it was about midnight. I decided to cab it all the way to the bar where some of my friends were even though it was going to cost me an arm and a leg. I should have just gone home while I was ahead.

When I arrived at Front Page, there was a line out the door waiting for entry. While waiting to get our ID's checked, this beautiful man with piercing blue eyes, dark hair and burberry lining in the collar of his polo under a blazer struck up a conversation with me. After some small talk, we both made it inside the bar and split up to find our friends.

As a side note, I highlight that he had Burberry lining his collar not because I liked it, but because I now realize he should have flashed douche across his forehead. I will never make this mistake again.

After mingling with my friends for a few minutes, I saw Burberry walk by and catch my eye. I followed and we talked for about 20 minutes. He filled me in on his life. He was 35 and with his buddies that wanted to go out. He wasn't that into it because they were really drunk and he doesn't drink (which honestly made him that much more appealing...I saw it as a challenge to conquer a man that had no goggles on). In the middle of our conversation, Latin music came on. I had just told him this was my favorite kind of music and he said, "Want to dance?"

I was officially in love.

We danced for a while and were both really getting into it. He was a pretty good dancer and we just seemed to mesh well together. I have been so let down recently by the selection of men out there that I was getting more and more excited by the second. He eventually leaned down to kiss me and we made out on the dance floor swaying our hips to the music for a good five minutes. He was a fantastic kisser.

When we both took a break and came up for air, he looked at me with his beautiful eyes and said, "Have you felt this?" While simulatneously lacing the fingers on his left hand with my right.

And then I felt it.

No, I didn't feel what everyone is thinking. Get your minds out of the gutter.

I felt a sliver of metal encircling one of his fingers. I shot my eyes up to his face as my jaw dropped to the floor in horror and disbelief. I had just officially made myself "the other girl."

Yes, he had been married for five years.

After yelling "What the fuck!" an excessive amount of times, he calmly says, "I have two kids. Wanna see pictures?"

Dumbfounded, I stood there not answering as he pulled out his phone and whipped out two pictures of the most adorable children I had ever seen. I wanted to melt right there on the dance floor.

He finally asked, "why is your mouth still open," to which I responded, "What the fuck!" Apparently eloquence is not my strong point in moments of emotional distress. He proceeded to tell me that he hadn't done anything wrong. When I pointed out that we had locked lips for a considerable amount of time just moments ago, he insisted that was perfectly fine.

"I would totally sleep with you too," he said.

Well thanks. Really. Thanks for that compliment. I have now learned that since I am often attracted to men significantly older than me, I need to constantly be on the lookout for these horrendous bands of metal. I will always look before I leap from now on, and never ever will I think a man with Burberry on his person is a man for me.

Notice to married men: please get your ring implanted with flashing lights so tipsy Sylvie doesn't turn into mistress Sylvie. KThanks.

And then there were 9...

So as you can probably guess, I have continued my explorations into the male species further and I certainly have new things to report.

After getting my first brazilian wax Friday morning, I was determined to use my "new vagina" that very night. I obviously had to test it out!

The only problem was, I had no prospects. Dina had to be up early and JG (my hilarious roommate and partner in crime) had work the next morning so I was at a loss for what to do.

Around 10pm one of my Marine friends texted me to come out with him and his uncle who was in town. We met in Dupont circle around 10:45 and I was surprised to find out that the uncle I thought was going to be in his 30's was a 45 year-old flamboyantly gay man.

I trotted my 6ft tall self (6'2" with the heels I was wearing) up the stairs at The Big Hunt and turned right around when they decided to hop to another bar. Walking back through the bar with a

1. Very short Marine (about 5'2")
2. Married guy who had just had a kid 5 days ago
3. Flaming 45 year-old gay uncle with a shirt that said, "I'm so gay I can't even think straight."

Was an experience in itself. I think everyone in the bar was beyond confused as to how the four of us had come together in the first place.

After we left Big Hunt, we traveled to Mad Hatter to see if there was a more lively crowd. Nope. After we finished our drinks, The Uncle begged us to find a gay bar. I'm not gonna lie, I have been meaning to visit a gay bar since I got to DC three years ago simply for the experience. And OH was it an experience!

Long story short, I was one of 3 women in the bar and the Marine and New Daddy were obviously both epically straight and uncomfortable with the skantily-clad men dancing on the bar.

I was intrigued by the lack of clothing that I was witnessing right before my eyes, but dissappointed that they were all small men in more ways than one. I am a burly man girl.

AND THEN HE ARRIVED. Stepping up onto the other side of the bar was the MOST BEAUTIFUL man I had ever laid eyes on. His thighs could compete with those of a bull. Just try to picture seeing thighs like this in real life:

Yes, this is no exaggeration, he actually looked like this with a dash of Hispanic.

Ok, promise I am done gushing now. The second I mentioned his beauty to The Uncle, he slapped a $1 bill in my hand and pulled me to the bar. I was red as a beet. The stripper forced me to put the dollar in his drawers and grabbed my arm and ran it up and down his oiled abs.

I. DIED.

Long story short I'm pretty sure he was straight since he was giving me not-so-gay sex eyes the rest of the night.

I had been telling the guys all night that I really needed to use my new vag, so we finally left the gay bar and headed to one of my favorites, Front Page.

At this point I am beyond desperate. It had been a week since #8 and I was not pleased. Here's how it went down. Pay attention ladies, because I think I might use this tactic more often:

1. Walk into bar
2. Walk around entire bar. Find target.
3. If no target is found, find bouncer friend.
4. Approach bouncer friend, lean in for hug and whisper, "I need to get some. You game?"
5. Go home.
6. Accidentally fall asleep.
7. Get woken up at 3:30a.m. to find trusty bouncer friend at your door.
8. Bang him until 6a.m.

Success.

I Overslept

Yesterday I was hanging out with my friend Dina (note her name as she is everywhere in my life) and we were talking about my comings and goings in the two months since I broke up with my ex.

I am going to be honest here and say I have slept with nine people since the breakup. I know its not kosher to tell the world your number, but I think that women should be proud of having a healthy sex life.

After I finished updating her on my most recent adventures, she quickly replies, "Thats more than one man every week!"

HINT: There are 8 weeks in two months, which is about 56 days. 56 divided by 9 men is 6.2 meaning that every 6.2 days I had sex with someone new....so once a week.



I froze. That makes the number sound so much worse than I thought it was originally. I was not only shocked, but ashamed.

I have been mulling this equation over in my head since she pointed it out, and I wondered why it was considered so bad to sleep with men at my leisure. In my opinion if I have the ability to handle it emotionally (which honestly I'm not sure I can even if I tell myself I have the ability) and I am being safe, then I should be able to sleep around if it so pleases me!

Maybe I am just not normal (very likely) but I honestly do NOT understand the reasoning behind why sex is portrayed as something bad in our society. I understand all of the emotional connection type bullshit for why women shouldn't sleep around, but don't people get a similar emotional connection to a person when they date them or kiss them or anything of the sort that isn't sex? Why is sex always portrayed as the bad guy?

Now, I'm not suggesting that you go out there and shack up with a new man every night (like this girl who slept with 2.5 men a day for 9 years if you do the math), but I do believe a girl should be allowed to go through a phase every once in a while.

If you ask me, sex is the best drug out there. You burn calories, you get a high of sorts, and you don't die from it. To me that sounds like a done deal!

Slut List

I'm going to start this off by elaborating on the "About" section of this blog.  I have been wanting to blog for some time and have actually started one before, but never followed through with actually posting regularly.

I am the kind of girl that moves from boyfriend to boyfriend pretty seamlessly and have been since high school, but now I am single and my life has been entirely shaken up.  The first thing you have to know about me is my ability to be a woman genetically, but a man when it comes to sexual relationships.  They say men think about sex at least a hundred times a day...I'm right there with them.

I have a history of moving from man to man if they don't measure up (take that however you wish), and my friends often criticize my lifestyle.  In my opinion, if I am having fun and being safe they should be happy for me.  If I die tomorrow I want to die with the happiness of getting laid the day before.  I can confidently say I have never gone more than two weeks without getting it in since I was 16 years old.

Excessive, maybe but I wouldn't have it any other way.

The second thing you must know is that I am actively trying to find someone to be with long term in the process.  I know it probably isn't the best idea to attempt to find the love of my life by sleeping around, but I am determined.  My friends know me as the energizer bunny type, allowing me to work hard, play hard and all the while get myself a good man.

The last and potentially most important thing about me pertaining to this blog is that I have a horrendous memory.  I can remember someone's face for years after glancing them once, but can forget I slept with him a week ago.

I have used something called a slut list to keep track of my adventures in the past.  The list includes the name (or descriptor if I cant remember his name) of each man I have done anything with along with a description of who he is and a number.  Each man's number indicates the base I got to with him (1-4). Problem is, I have entered a whole new era of men and need a new strategy.

This blog is mainly for my benefit, allowing me to constructively reflect on dates and male interactions while documenting things I am bound to forget the next day.  Read at your own risk, although I warn that this is going to be all over the place and potentially too descriptive.