National Condom Week

The first Tuesday that I lived in San Diego, I made my way out to PB to see a friend who was working and to get tacos and margaritas. 

 

 

Having lived in the middle of fucking nowhere for a year and a half, I couldn’t believe how many people were out and about on a Tuesday evening.  (It was my first legitimate culture shock being back.)

PB is always nuts.  But on a Friday- on Fridays, PB is a shit show. 

We had a pub crawl for work last Friday in honor of National Condom Week.  We walked around PB, in the prime shit-show hours, and passed out condoms.  I was not disappointed. 

 

“Hey guys, it’s national condom week, we’re handing out free condoms, you want some?”
“No thanks.  I don’t use condoms”
“Well, here’s our business card.  When things get funky, you give us a call.”

“Hey ladies, happy national condom week, do you want some free condoms?”

“no thanks, we’re lesbians.”
“Need a dental dam? STI’s can still be transferred through oral sex”
“yes! Thanks!”

 (Two guys sitting at the bar together)

“You guys want some free condoms?”
guy 1: “No thanks, I’m married.”
“Well what about your friend?”
Guy 1: “no, he just likes it when I stick my finger up his ass hole.”
“Oh, well take some lube, sounds like you’re going to need it.”.

To a table of 5-6 people:
“Hey guys, have some condoms, it’s national condom week.”

“ummm, ok. Thanks?”
“Will it make you feel better about it if I give you an XL?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Here ya go, buddy.  Hope you feel better now.”

 Two guys sitting with their backs to the bar:

“Hey guys, want some condoms? It’s national condom week!”
“Um, we’re not together.”
“Well, I didn’t necessarily mean for the two of you, just in general.”
“He’s lying.  He loves it when I jizz on his face.  He’s a cum guzzling fool.”
And then they continued to make “cum guzzling” motions. 

And my favorite: The last stop of the night, some older lady comes over and tries to grab the condom necklaces from me

“It’s my birthday, and I NEED one of these condom necklaces.”
“Well, here’s the thing, I’m only supposed to give the necklaces to security and bar tenders.  If you want the beads, you’re going to have to do something special for them… like show me your titties.”

And then she pulled them out.

 

It's a Small World After All

I can’t get over how small San Diego is. 

Population of 1.3 million people and a shit ton of people from Mexico and you’d still never believe how small San Diego is. 

Tai and I have been friends for roughly two decades (sweet Jesus, when did we get so old?!)

 

 

Tai was seeing this guy- we’ll call him Washington- for a few months.  She wasn’t into it at first and I, of course, told her not to settle.  But he kept pursuing her (and who doesn’t love to be pursued?!) But legit, every story I heard about this dude, I hated.  There were several times when Tai tried to break it off “I don’t feel like you’re really into it, I’m not that into it.  It’s fine, it was fun, let’s let it go.” But he wouldn’t let it go.  He kept at it.  So she kept going with it.  And then sometime after the new year, when she tried to break it off again, he says to her, “I just don’t want to start anything, I’m about to go underway and I’ll be gone for over a month.”  This was January.  He wasn’t coming home until March.

The day before her birthday, she receives a text from him that said, “Happy birthday tomorrow.  I’m out to sea but barely getting reception.  Hope u get this.” (They hadn't spoken for three weeks!)

 

 

While I was at Salty’s pool match last week (on Tai’s birthday), I sent her a SnapChat (if you’re not friends with me on SnapChat, you’re missing out) of what I was doing. She sent me a text back and told me that Washington plays pool on Tuesdays as well.  I didn’t think much of it, but did note, while talking to one of his teammates all night, that he was also named Washington and had a daughter whose name started with an A.  He seemed kind of…questionable (mostly because I felt uncomfortable with the way he was talking to me in front of Salty)

So this week, Tai and I met for drinks.  Beforehand, we talked a bit about Washington and Salty.  I asked what base Washington was stationed at, she didn’t know but knew he worked in the hospital.  And Salty plays pool with his work friends. 

She gets to dinner (I’m already a margarita in at this point) and she asks for Salty’s last name because she thinks he knows Washington.  I asked what his daughter’s name is (the same as Salty’s teammate) and if he had a sleeve.  When she finally pulled up a picture of him, I confirmed.  Her Washington and Salty’s Washington are the same guy.  He lied.  He’s not on a boat- he’s in San Diego. 

Second largest city in California.

Towards the end of last year, Olivia was dating an old man.  (Ok, he was 37 but he was horrible for her and not very fun… so he was old.) They had been seeing each other for about six months and he was crazy into her (but she definitely wasn’t crazy into him).  And then he all of a sudden got weird and distant.  He stopped responding to text messages and even ignored her attempts to get back the key to her house he had.  One night, about a month later, driving home from the airport (she had missed her flight that morning so she was getting in way later than we had anticipated) we look to our left and there he is, on the 5 North, driving with his two dogs and a girl in the front seat. 

 

 

Eighth largest city in the United States. 

When I lived in Sacramento, I started going to European Wax Center.  I had my first waxer for about 6 months before she moved to Austin, Tx.  I bounced around for a while but never found another one that I liked as much as her…and then I moved to Indiana.  When I moved back to San Diego, I started going again.  I walk in the first day, and, to my surprise, it’s the same person I went to in Sacramento.  The one who moved to Austin. 

 

 

Cue: It’s a small world afterall.    

 

 

The Ex-Radar

I don’t know what type of radar system boys have instilled in their brains that go off when you start talking to someone knew- but they never fail.  NEVER. 

 

 

Tuesday while anxiously waiting for Salty’s plane to land, Cole sent me a text. 

Randomly on Wednesday, Johnny Tsunami hit me up. (I haven’t heard from him in legitimately almost a year.)

Thursday, work boyfriend randomly texted me and asked me if I was busy and what I was doing.

Friday, while getting ready to go out, GQ randomly texted me.  (But we all know that I LOVED this… especially when I found out that he also smokes.  Yes, it is official, ladies and gentleman; I am in love.)

 

 

Saturday morning when I woke up, I had a Valentine ecard from Matt:

 

 

My Kings husband called me on Sunday.

Arrrsssseeeeenioooo sent me a text this morning. 

 

Seriously, boys? Is this real life?

 

Get it, Gurrrrrrrl

Salty came home early on Tuesday, I was ecstatic, couldn’t wait to see him.  It seriously got to the point to where I (we) were counting down the hours until he arrived.

And then he got in an hour late.

So I got to him right as he was getting home; two hours after I was supposed to see him. 

And it was good.  Actually, it was great. 

 

 

We went directly to his pool tournament (holding hands. In his Corvette). I joked with his teammates, was thoroughly impressed with his skills, and felt naked when he was further than arms’ reach from me. (Yes, I just admitted to that.  And no, I don’t know what took over my body or what aliens did with the real Karsen.)

 

 

We went home and joked around.  We cuddled.  We kissed.  We watched and made fun of stupid horror movies.  We stayed up until the wee hours of the morning waiting for the Kings’ highlights to come on.  And then we went to bed. 

And by “went to bed” I mean we had the most amazing sex of my life.  Twice.  And then once more in the morning. 

 

 

True story: I would suggest making a cast out of his penis.  It is borderline perfect.  

 

 Funny reminder:  This time last year I was frightened by black penis.  This year: proclaiming one be casted and enshrined as the perfect penis.

 Funny how things change…

Salty

I don’t know when the Friday night crew at Ale changed, but I’m so glad it did.  It had to have been around late November when Charlii and I took about three weeks off.   The new guys are fun.  And they love us. 

 

 

Pikachu is still around (but isn’t up front with us most nights). Aladdin has quickly jumped to the top of our favorites list.  He’s hilarious… aside from the death stares he gives anytime we’re dancing with another guy.  There’s a little Asian guy who’s actually from Guam and then there’s Salty.

 

 

He’s been one of my favorites since I found him. 

 

And then one night, the Cupid Shuffle comes on and all of a sudden he’s rightbehind me with his hands on my waist.

 

It was one of our back2back weekends and on Saturday, he was there but wasn’t working.  He came up to us (black button up shirt black backwards hat- quite possibly my most favorite boy outfit of all times), kissed my cheek, gave us hugs, and introduced us to his friend.  After a few songs he put his hand on my waist and told me he’d be back later.

 

 

Towards the end of the night, he meanders back over with a margarita in hand.  We talk a bit and I see him fiddling with a chunk of salt on the side of his glass.  And I knew exactly where it was going and all I could think to myself was “Please be sugar. Please be sugar. Please be sugar.” He gets the chunk on his finger and holds it out for me to suck off. It definitely wasn’t sugar.  And it was a LARGE chunk of salt.  So I drank the rest of his margarita.  He invited us to the after party at his house that night, but we lost him and then got over it, so we just went home instead.

He’s been in Sac pretty much since then, so I haven’t seen him, but he gets back on the 13^th.  And we’ve talked all day every day since he’s been gone. 

 

 

Catching Up With Work Boyfriend.

In the 392 days that I have lived in San Diego, I have met two boys that I would consider dating.  Two.  The first one, my work boyfriend, was deterred before it was ever able to take off.  And the second is GQ (and that hunt isn’t over yet). 

I, for whatever reason, never got around to posting about work boyfriend, so let’s recap!

I met WB at, surpise!, work.  Within the first twenty minutes of starting, I was on the phone with IT trying to get my computer to work.  And he was on the other end of the line.  Giving me shit.  So, I dished it right back.  He ended up having to come and fix things himself… and the shit talking continued. 

We exchanged pleasantries- college studies, high school accolades, ya know, the usual.  I was smitten within the first 20 seconds. 

 

So, like any normal girl, I stalked him on Facebook.  However, not being a normal girl, I stalked him on Facebook while he was still in the cubicle. 

No girlfriend.

 I waited.  I thought about it.  Ran the idea by my mom, and added him on Facebook two days later.  (Seriously, I don’t waste any time.)

He accepted and then modified our friendship saying we worked together… immediately flags went off in my head and thought “he must have just gotten out of a relationship or is talking to someone.”

To test the waters- I sent him a message (which after I pressed “send” on, everyone told me NOT to send.  Fortunately, I give zero fucks) that said, “While you were practicing drama in high school, I was refining my detective (stalking) skills.”

He loved it like I suspected. 

I spent the following month getting as much information about him as I could.  Turns out he HAD just broken up with his girlfriend… because she had kids, wasn’t supposed to be able to have more kids, and he wasn’t sure he wanted kids at all… let alone kids that weren’t his.  So, I dove in one night while I was out for a bachelorette party in Normal Heights.  (Turns out he was also out and in the area.) We sent drunk messages back and forth to one another on Facebook until my phone was starting to die… and then I made him text me instead.  And then we (drunk) texted until 3:30 in the morning.  At the end of the conversation, he said, “You’re killing me over here.  I want to experience this banter in person, let’s go to dinner on Tuesday and continue this face to face.”

So, Tuesday rolls around and he sends me a text that says, “how about we nix the pho idea, and instead start at my house, walk to the bar, and then walk to the food trucks.  We can go back to my house, smoke some hookah, and watch Netflix.  You’re obviously more than welcome to stay the night.” So, after work, I ran to Target (so convenient to have one across the street!) and bought an outfit to wear the next day and headed to his house.  As he cleaned his bathroom, I did a quick over view of his room (I LOVE dissecting boys’ rooms!) and found the jackpot of all jackpots in the closet.

 “YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU SMOKED!!!”

“You never asked!”

We walked a total of probably 5 miles that night.  Laughing the entire time.  We had drinks, we held hands, we ordered dinner, and as we were waiting for it, he looked at me, said “I really want to kiss you right now” I giggled, and he said “fuck it” grabbed my face and kissed me.  We walked back to his house, on the way stopping at the Larson’s (before they were married, mind you) so I could pee, and then back to his house. 

 We moved the love seat into his room, loaded up the hookah (and the bong) and watched Netflix.  I honestly don’t even remember what we watched on Netflix, in fact, we probably didn’t watch it at all, we were probably too busy laughing at each other to watch anything.  When we finally crawled into bed, we laid there facing each other, him brushing the hair out of my eyes and he said,

“When was the last time you did this?”

“What? Sleep in the bed and not have sex with someone?”
“No, sleep next to someone who is clearly into you and just wants to tell you how pretty and amazing you are.”

 

In the morning, we got up (his alarm is “Here Comes the Sun”), showered together, and headed to work.

 

 

*****

 

A week later or so, was the Larson wedding.  I invited him to be my date, but he had other plans (which ended up falling through) so afterwards, the Scientist and I stumbled to his house.  (He wasn’t expecting me to bring a friend but was expecting me so he left the door unlocked.) I crawl into bed next to him and wake him up, and introduce him to the Scientist.  He humored us, was completely nice about the whole thing, and told us there was a blow up mattress in the closet in the living room.  Completely unlike him, I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t getting out of bed to blow it up himself.

“Omg, you’re naked, aren’t you?!”

“I told you I’d be ready for you when you got here.”

And then I reached over and confirmed.  Yep.   Definitely naked. 

We blew up the air mattress and everyone went to sleep.

When the Larson’s got back from their honeymoon, I met up with them for a couple drinks near WB’s house, so I invited him to join as well.  He said he didn’t want to spend money but said I should come over after we were done… so I did.  We smoked, and then laid on the bed laughing for hours.  HOURS.  We laughed so much and so hard that my abs literally were sore the next day.  It hurt to move.  I have never met someone who I’ve clicked with so well before.

And then we both got busy.  I was out of town, he was out of town, I had plans, he had plans.  We didn’t hang out again until the beginning of June… and that’s when it all fell apart.  He invited me over on a Sunday night to do drinks and dinner again.  When we were walking back to his house to watch Netflix (seriously, this was part of the original plan) he tells me that he was getting back together with his ex-girlfriend because, “even though I don’t know about the kids, I think she’s just too good to pass up.” 

So, we got back to his house, he put on Scandal (because I love it!) and I made him watch it with me… and then he put on House of Cards and got into bed…  I ended up passing out through half of it, waking up, feeling really awkward and going home.

 *****

We haven’t hung out alone since then, but recently, new and interesting things have come to light. 

There’s still trouble in Paradise.  She has trust issues and WB is a free spirit.  There’s a lot of friction  there.

He’s still not sold on the kids.  And they’re definitely not going away. 

He told one of our co-workers that they haven’t broken up, but alluded to the fact that it wasn’t far off. 

And all of a sudden he’s texting me more.  And inviting me to join his fantasy football league next year.  And inviting me to Super Bowl parties.

I’m not about to be his rebound… but at the same time, I’m secretly hoping for their demise because our chemistry is off the charts. 

Oh Boys!

Growing up, I always imagined marrying a tall, dark, and handsome doctor. 

Well, I found one. 

And he’s in the Navy. 

 

He’s 6’3” half white and half Mexican, and makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met before.  On paper, he’s absolutely perfect.  He owns his home (which he has been fixing up) and wants to settle down.  He’s a cook, a handyman, and did I mention he’s funny? Because he is.  He also wears dress shirts and ties on red-eye flights, but I mean, everyone has to have a flaw, right?

 

Here’s the problem: I’m intimidated by him.  I don’t even know how to handle it.  This isn’t even a feeling I’m accustomed to…I definitely don’t know how to handle it. 

But I’m not ruling him out.  I mean, I guess mostly because in this situation it really is not him, but me. 

 

***

The other day Cole called me drunk.  (The only state in which he calls me, of course.) He informed me that we were getting married.  In Reno… just like his parents.

I told him there was no way I was getting married in Reno.

He informed me we were getting married in Tahoe.

We already tried that once, it didn’t work.  (Seriously.  One weekend we decided to go to Tahoe, we saw a cute little chapel and decided to get married… except we couldn’t do it without our friends there, so Cowboy and Traitor drove up… and then we got far too drunk to get married.)

He informed me we were getting married in Vegas, and after the wedding I’d move to Sacramento with him and we’d live in his little yellow house with his yellow kitchen.  

I wished him the best of luck in that endeavor- he’s going to need it.

 

Did I mention Cole found out about the blog?  He then asked if I’d been slapped in the face by a black penis lately. 

 

 

Unfortunately, I haven’t.  I mean, it could be possible if ARRRRSSSSSIIIIINNNNNYYOOOOO wasn’t such a pussy- but he is, apparently, afraid of me.  Or he doesn’t actually exist outside of Ale.  Sofia thinks he’s a frog… and Charlii agrees.  She also thinks it’s possible that if I kiss him while he’s a frog, he’ll turn into my prince… in the form of GQ.