“Why do people call it ‘day drinking’?” One of my two officemates asked, recently.  “It just draws attention to the fact that you’re getting drunk during the day!”

“That’s the point,” I laughed.  “It’s an indulgence.”

“I try not to start until noon,” the other chimed in.  “Like the saying goes.”

“Actually, ‘It’s 5 o’clock somewhere,’ is the adage.” I corrected her.  “But, psht – I’ll begin whenever.  The only reason it may not be until noon is because I’m still passed out from the night before.”

Real rough, this 21st century 20-something American life o’ mine.

Filed Under: mortifying my momma, Oh *hey* adulthood., Watch your language!, Who'reyahcallin'adruuunk? by JJ
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It has been years since I have applied baseball metaphors to my sex life.  This is partially because I took great relief in the opportunity to stop pretending I had any interest in women or sports the moment the words, “I’m gay,” tumbled out of my mouth.  Mostly, though, I just don’t weRRRq with such a broad spectrum.

A little innocent making out may be satisfactory on occasion. I have conceded to that before.  But in my mind – in my bed, on the back seat of my car, outside of the parking structure near GYM bar – there are really only two bases:

Sex and everything but.

Why not?  It is humanity’s favorite pastime.  And so long as you never step up to bat with out a glove –

PLAY with those balls!

Filed Under: dirty talk, Oh *hey* adulthood., perspective, You read it here. by JJ
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What the – why is my mouth blue?! I gaped at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, yesterday morning.  Has it been SO long since I’ve gotten ass that the signifying hue of sexual frustration has spread from my testicles to my tongue?

No, no. Turns out I have not been biologically branded with a cerulean letter – ‘D’ for desperate.  Apparently I went to sleep (read: passed out) with a blue raspberry Tootsie Pop in my mouth.  No telling where I picked that up, but I found it demi-devoured and stuck to my comforter.

I can hardly begin to filter through the problems illuminated by this situation.  The first being that I am most relieved it didn’t get wrapped up in my prized mane, not, you know, that I didn’t choke to death.

Somewhere in Wisconsin, my mom has been hit with a sudden and inexplicable wave of exhaustion.

Filed Under: food for sex, mortifying my momma, Oh *hey* adulthood., Who'reyahcallin'adruuunk? by JJ
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On my family vacation in WIsconsin, last week, I took both my credit and debit cards and all of the cash I had previously withdrawn. Every – spare – coin. My V.I.P card for the Factory, West Hollywood’s hottest Friday night dance spot, however…

THAT I left behind in the safety of my quadruple locked bungalow.

Had I lost my wallet, I wouldn’t have been able to gas up my car or put food in my mouth, this week, much less pay to check my bag on the flight home, yesterday. Come the weekend, though, I’d have no trouble securing free access to all the Lady GaGa, B.o.B, and Beyonce a boi could ever hope for. I’ll bet I could even caress a few biceps and flirt my way to inebriation, too.

“…You really need to rethink your priorities,” I can imagine my mother saying after a long pause.

Don’t tell her, but in this instance:

She would be right.

Filed Under: gaydar, Oh *hey* adulthood., West Hollywood, Who'reyahcallin'adruuunk? by JJ
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“Should I message him? No! I shouldn’t. Should I? Ugh,” I dropped my head into my hands, last Monday, as I waited for my friend Liana’s advice on how to move forward after a weekend of particularly lackluster textual responses from one of my latest crushes.

“It is so weird to see you falter,” she shook her head in dismay. “You never falter.”

“It’s just with men. I hate it. IFUCKINGHATEIT!…No, I love it. Oh Gawd,” I began to cackle deliriously. “AHHH! Wha’doIdo?”

“Let him come to you,” she chuckled. “It’s like when I was a kid and my mom told me to do the dishes just as I was about to do them. I’d already planned on it, but then I would get annoyed that she hadn’t given me a chance and I would no longer want to do them.”

“Hmm…” I frowned. “Well, I never want to do any kind of housework, but I guess I see your point.”

“I think the safest and most growing experience for you right now is to allow him the capacity to do them on his own,” Liana continued in her role as Grasshoppah. “Doing them for him or reminding him to do them is just going to set up your entire relationship on a foundation where he’s not learning and not allowed to grow himself.”

As usual, she’s right. Love should never be a chore, but it does take work – on both ends. If I, if any man or woman should ever want to get to a point where we share more than a sexual connection with another person, then we need to learn to be patient and strive for balance.

When applied, this realization is extraordinarily freeing. In worrying less about the degree to which those with whom we are smitten return the favor, we are allowed to take more time to remember what we like about ourselves. So long as this increased self-awareness promotes confidence, not arrogance, it will only serve to further draw in those we desire.

Plus, you know, when we put a personal limit on the number of hours spent cycling through each and EVERY one of their Facebook photo albums, we might finally find some time to do the actual dishes.

Filed Under: Facebook, infatuation, love, Oh *hey* adulthood., perspective, stalkeration by JJ
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