who's filling your christmas stocking?

Ok so last night I did the unthinkable. I'm sure I'm not the first and I won't be the last to disgrace to do this. I peed in the proverbial swimming pool. I mixed business with pleasure, and ended up with more than my usual serving of Christmas cheer at the annual work Christmas party.

Our offices consist of  5 floors of more than 1600 people. So let them loose with a glamour theme complete with rat pack singers, roulette and black jack tables, unlimited alcohol and minimal food and there is always, always bound to be more than a quick canoodle going on under the mistletoe.

The night started out relatively innocently, I dressed up in a LBD, killer heels and complete with lots of bling, red lipstick and wine permanently in hand. Before the night was midway through I'd had a quickie wedding with a friend of mine, lost all my money on red and was dancing up a storm. As the clock was getting closer to midnight I thought I'd make a quick and graceful exit rather than a decidedly disgraceful one later.

Standing in the coat line I came across he who shall now be known as Mr Charismatic. Tall. Skinny. Blonde. Blue eyes with hooded lids. Big Hands. Big Feet. Cute. Completely not my type. But there was that unmistakable spark. A match was lit and I wasn't about to blow it out after the time I'd spent with my fireplace untended to. The phrase 'Why Not?' sprung to mind and I went with it. After a few shared compliments over outfits and a quick chat on the debauchery of the night he walked me to the tube before offering to buy me a few drinks. Cue an hour later and we had thrown the mistletoe away and seemed to be searching for it under each other's clothes in a dark, secluded corner of the bar, so much so that the bar manager asked us to leave. Not my proudest moment. Next thing I knew we were in the back of the cab and I was reaching for his stocking  and he was unwrapping me like the unexpected Christmas gift I was.

Back home and 4 and half shags later I was left feeling less than satisfied. Sure I'd enjoyed it, it was random, fun and exhilarating and naughty but I still  felt a bit like Lily Allen lying in the wet patch of the bed feeling sorry for herself. At some point in the proceedings it had turned teenager both in style and technique on his end.  Bringing up the following issues:

1)      Bareback ride anyone? - He was doggedly persistent about not wearing protection. But once he realised it wasn't on if it wasn't on he soon got with the program, but every time he still tried to angle for a bareback ride. When in this day and age with the prevalence of stds and over nasties did it ever become ok to shag a stranger without protection? I found this almost as disturbing as his kissing technique

2)  Pash rash- His kissing technique, well what there was of it that is. It involved a mashing, nashing of teeth against my lips. I now have several blood blisters in my mouth from his voracious nashing snogging. I also have gravel rash on my lips and chin. He would basically try to eat my lips and beat up my tonque with his. I almost wanted to say out loud '1,2,3,4 I declare a tongue war'
     

3) Holiday Hickeys – they were never cool in highschool and when u have to work the next day, sporting a bright bruise on your neck is like holding a neon sign above your head saying 'I'm a whore' or 'please consider me the office bike'. Not good, but this guy loved vacuuming, with this mouth. To the point I am now sporting not just one but multiple hickies on my neck and bruising to boot. I have whiplash, and not in a good way 
   

4)   Dexterity -His dexterity below the belt involved a rather rough poking and twisting of his fingers and somehow I think he mistook my cries of discomfort for being in the throes of passion. I gave a few gentle instructions, but he was fingering with the frustrated ministrations of a sex starved teenager

5)   Oh Oh OH – perhaps the most distracting thing about the whole situation? His girlish scream and whimper when it came to the point of orgasm. It literally stopped mine in its tracks. He was a louder groaner and moaner than I was and pretty sure my flatmates heard every thrust and throb.

Sadly I didn't have a lot of OH OH Ohs throughout the night and ended up resorting to faking quite a few which I hate, but he was just so mortifyingly bad with some of his technique I didn't know what else to do. I'm sure there are a range of things which shape a guys sexual experience but these days when I've given feedback it's been met with aggression, disdain and insulted glares. Would a guy really prefer a girl to be unsatisfied and fake it? If so, I might just abstain for a while because the only Oh Oh Ohs I'll be making is when I'm skipping the yellow brick road to orgasmville.

In the meantime I'll be walking with my head down and navigating corridors with furtive looks in a bid to avoid an awkward lift encounter which is bound to happen. That's the last time I take a free gift without shaking first for what's inside.

Merry xmas all

Ho ho ho xx

Jh

show me your love solar panel..

My  latest post on the slimey, predatorial and manipulative ways of the PUA got me thinking about all the conventional and slightly less so pick up lines that have been used on me.

I've decided to list the highlights for some light amusement, there are a couple which haven't been used on me directly but on friends and if they achieve anything, they certainly land a laugh or two...

•  (A guy walks past and empties his glass all over the floor, glass falls all over the floor) - There we go, that breaks the ice, "Hi I'm Jack"
• You're just like a parking ticket. You've got fine written all over you.
• I keep wanting to tell you how beautiful you are from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but I run out of breath everytime I look in your eyes
• Is that a mirror in your pants or do I just see myself in them?
• See this watch it's a magic watch, it tells me you've got no underwear on.. on hang on, its an hour fast
• Do you believe in love at first sight or do you need me to walk past again?
• There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can't take them off you.
• That's not a bald spot. It's a solar panel for a love machine.
• How do you like your eggs, fried? poached? or fertilised?
• Was your father a thief? Because he must of stolen the diamonds you have for eyes
• Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?
• If I was a squirrel would you let me store my nuts in your hole?
• I want to know where you bought your clothes, because it has destiny written all over it
• I was always dyslexic as a child, for some reason I keep putting U and I together

and my favourite - if I could nominate the 8th wonder of the world, it would be your breasts..

xx
jh

3 dates in 3 days

Ok so I've clearly pleaded once or twice to the love and dating karma gods to deliver on the man front, particularly the romantic man front mainly as all girls do from time to time. Only this time they appear to have delivered.

In the last three days I have been approached by three separate guys for dates. Flattering yes. Exciting yes. Unexpectedly annoying yes.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful nor petty nor one of those girls who have impossible standards designed to intimidate, frighten and self consciously ensure your unhappiness for the rest of your life. Not at all. It's just that there's something missing. With all three.

How can this be? Am I just being asked out by the wrong guys? I am the first to admit that I've often felt like I had the word A tattoed on my chest to attract either Adulterers, Asshats or Animals. Only it seems this time to have changed to 'Mr Very Nice and Want to Romance the Pants of off  You', who have the sexual appeal of a dishrag.

All the men (how awful does that sound!), who asked for my phone number, asked nicely, I hadn't been overly flirting or even all that interested. Nor did I lead them on. One on a bus, one on a tube and one at a pub. All unexpectedly. But being the girl I am and always saying yes to new opportunities I happily gave my number thinking why not, what harm can come to it.They all seemed like nice men, all be a little bit desperate.

Only now I have been on the recieving end of countless messages from all three, lets call them Larry, Harry and Barry. All have been asking me to go to french restaurants with them, go kayaking, go on picnics and pub crawls. All very nice, but it doesn't make my heart beat faster when I  think of them. Wouldn't a quick drink suffice? Why the constant text banter pretending they know you or who you are? I thought that was the purpose of dating, to get to know someone and not presume? It all a big fat turn off for me. I don't want to be wined and dined because I'm a woman and they want one and any variety will do. 

I don't even get flustered or smiley when I get a message from them, in fact I forgot to respond to one for a whole day. Not deliberately, but I just had a busy day and they weren't high on my radar. Verdict is - no tummy tickles, where you feel that spark of excitement at what might or could be just around the corner.

Nada. Zip. Zilch.

So now, because I don't feel any of that spark I'm facing the prospect of turning down not just one guy, but three guys, in three days all down to chemistry. I fear this will tempt the rath of the dating karma gods immensely as well. I asked for it didn't I? They delivered didn't they? And yet I turn down the offerings.

You would think recieving 3 date offers in 3 days would make any girl feel special but instead I feel the opposite, I want to hide under my bed for a week. But better to end things now rather than lead anyone on. My theory is, when its right, it feels right. And this feels like it should feel right, but at the same time feels very wrong. And not wrong in the good way.

So goodbye Larry, Harry and Barry and hello bed.

At least there is always bob, he can't give cuddles but he can sure put a smile on a girls face.

xx
jh