Liquid Courage

I don’t mind a drink now and then. I don’t like the feeling I get when I’m drunk, or the dark place my mind goes after a few stiff drinks. Liquor makes all of my meanness come to the surface and I turn downright ornery. I know some people use a drink now and then and drinking as an excuse for their behavior.

I don’t appreciate when the only time I’m hit on is when the person has their confidence amped up by a drink or two. It’s discouraging and any comments made just sound like they’re horny and insincere… even if they admit that they feel that way sober.

I remember a good friend many years ago drunk dialed me late in the evening and then waxed poetic about my perfectly round ass… and how it made him feel guilty. They were in a relationship and told me they watched “ebony porn” and would get off thinking of how it would be to have fun with that rump of mine. I admit I had a tiny crush on that friend and knew that they were with someone. I wouldn’t make a move unless it was the kind of union where that kind of thing was allowed. Still, it left a little bit of a bad taste in my mouth. They apologized the next morning to say they felt ashamed of themselves and that they felt they’d very much disrespected me. I didn’t care that they found me hot. The matter is that they couldn’t say so otherwise.

Alcohol was an excuse.

That friend long stopped drinking but I do remember the words…

And so I feel quite annoyed over some words that were passed to me last night. He admitted that he thought I looked great during his “day visit”, expressed interest in doing more, talked a little about a quickie during my lunch break (to which I said it would be a terrible tease), and then invited me to go to the shore with him over the weekend.

He was drunk.

I joked a little that I’d take him more seriously after he sobered up a bit if he could still hold that invitation out.

He hasn’t said another word.

Of course I could just be looking at this prematurely. I know before I felt a lot of longing, just wanting to be told I looked good after that whole day of nothing. After dolling up just a teeny bit instead of the full make up of the day before, I wanted to be told I looked good. Even after seeing the mouse that night – he didn’t say a word. Just for me a soft, sloppy kiss and a hello and good bye. I’m not at all impressed. He might talk to me more again tonight regarding this matter but I won’t talk to him seriously unless he shows a shred of courage… of not turning tail under the “pressure”. He hasn’t said a word yet about it though he has said as much as a hello and that he managed to pass out last night.

And I’m back to not expecting much.


“He said he wanted to surprise me.”

It feels strange… and it all feels so bittersweet.

He still looks good I wonder how I appeared to him. Perhaps, slightly bronzed, with my layer of makeup... I joked a bit. His hair was a bit trimmed and a bit wild. There was a thin, short, kind of scraggly mustache. He gained a bit of weight. He still looks good. My heart still trembled.

I looked in a mirror for a moment after he left to put one of my earrings back in. Perhaps, I didn’t look bad at all.

The sight of him felt a little like old times. Nay, it could be said to be exactly like those old times. He came to me for just a moment with a smile, a joke, few words, and then gone again. That soft, oh so sweet tension in the air between us... Perhaps, it was mostly in me. I was the one who kept my eyes fixed on his. That feeling… that intensity… that warmth…

I felt shy, but only a little. He came to my workplace. He said he wanted to surprise me and as such looked around the building for where I would be. He laughed a bit while complaining of walking too much , and I only smiled. I could have teased a bit because he claims to bike to and from work on a near daily basis.

A smile and a wave, and just like old times, a pen is pulled out to write as soon as he is out of sight. I would always start writing as soon as he said good bye. Maybe he’s a little bit of a muse for me.

He came looking for me… maybe to be polite, maybe feeling a little shy in and of himself. A little awkward but still an exciting feeling, still a warm feeling. A certain charm… perhaps… perhaps… Perhaps, both of us holding our own charm in the end...

And honestly, I felt a bit happy to see him if only for that brief moment. I fantasize too much. I could possibly hope for too much. I did stop myself from running to him at the sight. I stopped myself from the joyful calling of his name. I stopped myself from getting up at all to reach around and hold him close. I felt the urge. Then remembered how I was thought to be intense. We are distant. We aren’t deep friends, but there is indeed an attraction there even with the incompatibility.

Burning… explosive... I wonder what it could have been…

And still, he seems to have this power to make me feel both big and small all that the same time. In his gaze, so many emotions can stir up, oh so quickly… I feel brave, bold, and timid.

I still feel beautiful. I know I still am. I still have my smile and my own inner brilliance. Yet, even as hopeless as it might be, I wonder if he saw that. I wonder if he feels the same. I wouldn’t try to push the issue too much, not now at least. We still have our own paths to walk and I wonder a little if he’ll once again cross mine.

It’s possible that I’m not just more into women than men these days – but more drawing away from the man that is the mouse. Or maybe it is just the soul of a person that draws me most and more are pushing me away than pulling near.



I feel it deep within me… this kind of grumble… a kind of prowling feeling with the want to extend my claws… sink in my teeth…
I feel it deep within me and wonder if it’s a 2nd Chakra thing (I did some self “work” last night with a carnelian egg… and whenever I do – I get this feeling afterwards).

I wonder if it’s because Mr. L is back in town.

For those who do not know – he is a close as I am to a friend from college or a friend from out of town. We worked together for a while during a time we were both seeing other people. We always had smiles between us and I think also some degree of sexual tension. I crushed on him HARD and I’m pretty sure that showed too. So he told me last night that he’s in town for some fraternity affair and I can’t help but feel that old flutter bubble up again… I have that “secret smile” again… and I remember how he told me once upon a time that I was a bit intense. Maybe I was. Maybe I just didn’t know what in the world to do with myself around him… or forgot what good boundaries were.

My boundaries were kind of a wreck at the time and I think it would be clear to say that I was going through a bit of a big change in myself and my world views. Rather, a change in my approach to the world outside my body.

I dressed up a little bit, even though I know he might not come by at all. I put on a little lipstick and foundation, even though I know I might get “ditched” . But the whole thing was about getting a bit sexy for work. That’s all. He mentioned perhaps coming by for lunch and I don’t think he’ll follow through, but even so I got a little dolled. I expect nothing… but yet… I put on the soft teal smoked out eyeshadow and a bit of shimmer. My lips are chocolate… and I have a sore throat. I expect very little but it would be nice to hear something from him or see him again at some point.

It would be nice.

There’s something about that guy that makes me melt a little inside. Something about the way he smells and stands that makes me boil in the blood. Something about his confidence and attitude and just plain dorkyness that makes me want to scream. His scent, as some woman I respect and adore once said, makes something in my mind snap “Ungabunga!” And I squeal a little in primitive delight. I could run my nose along the inside of his arms and smell him all day. There’s the fact that I’ve made him drip precum through his underwear and a pair of jeans. THAT in itself turns me on and brings up my pervert smile. (That’s one of my favorite things, after all.)

I think of fire.



I’m in the mood for some deep, painful, catharsis inducing play. The kind of play that’s so intense that I can’t even fairly call it play… but it still is. I want to get in my skin… have the tears beat out of me because I’m too proud or too stubborn to let them out on my own. I want to open up and unravel. The question then becomes who to share this with.

There’s only so much you can do by yourself even with going into a meditative, trance state. There’s only so far one can go without a guide. Perhaps it’s possible to go farther than I think and I’m just scared to go alone… or that I know that I need someone to reel me in now and then to make sure I haven’t passed out or fallen asleep.

I can fall into a fantasy with the right stimuli but I can get jerked out rather abruptly as well. Maybe a “playmate” just to help keep the scene going and enjoyment flowing.

It could be a basic incompatibility nagging at me… a love for lingerie that isn’t shared… or similarly a love for lots of foreplay.