Crystal Virgin: Part II

After my little oral escapade with my adorable non-virgin 5 year old niece, I couldn’t help but wonder, are there any virgins left? Has the virgin become a rare species that is only heard of but not seen, a myth of sorts.

I honestly cannot say that I know of any virgin above the age of 17. I do not consider anyone below the age of 10 a virgin because for them it’s more of lack of opportunity than moral standing. Once the temptation comes and you let it pass without falling onto it, then you can claim the title.

In the family circle I am considered the ‘cool’ aunt/cousin, which isn’t entirely a good thing. When the young ones need advice on career choices and investment decisions you won’t see them coming to me, but as soon as someone is pregnant, or wants to go out without their parents knowing I am always the decoy. So it’s not a shock that they never lie to me when I ask whether or not they are having sex, and sure enough they all are. Even the saintly ones who are do-gooders are still getting some. Its either we are one entire horny messed up family or the whole world is knee deep in river of pussy and dick.

I know I am not one to speak on the issue but what happened to waiting at least until you’re out of high school? 

Personally, I didn’t start having sex until I was 20; believe it or not. In fact I had actually planned for 21, at least but along came a man with a sweet tongue and the cat jumped out of the bag, literally. 

The funny thing is that he actually convinced me that he wanted to wait until I was ready. I am not sure if he was actually a nice guy or just had very good game, coz that line just made me want him more and in the end I was the one who pressured him to fuck me.

After that, things went downhill. Like every other drug, sex is addictive. Once you start you can never stop. If you have pre-marital sex, (and am certain there is no one reading this who hasn’t), you can be assured of this downward spiral

1.       My first will be my only

2.       He breaks your heart and you go on the rebound with a few if not many seconds. I say seconds because later on when you are asked you will summarize all of them as one man.

3.       In love/lust again, and you’re sure he is the one and the last

4.       He breaks your heart again and you go on the rebound with another few seconds

5.       You start rewinding dick. It’s not a big deal if he’s already been there. This theory also applies to cheating, if I dated him before I can sleep with him without feeling guilty

6.       In love again…

That is basically how it is, for me at least. I am not one for regrets but if I had a choice I would never have started on this sick cycle carousel.

PS: if you are a virgin and you’re out there, I am very proud of you and almost envy you , but I will say, you have no fucking clue what you’re missing!!!

crystal virgin part 1

Thanks to my 5 year old non-virgin niece, I have recently discovered my favorite ad of the year. You can follow the link to view it on you tube.

always check check

If you want me to continue with this very interesting tale you will have to hold back those judgmental stares and the SMHs about the ‘non-virgin’ statement. That’s much better, now let me explain

With the 24 voice: 

“The following conversation took place on 27^th April, 2011 between 7.00 pm and 10.00 pm”

My sister and her 5 year old daughter were at my place for no apparent reason other than she is a nice person who visits, unlike me. So her daughter starts humming the tune of that always check check song; it was hilarious actually coz when we noticed she proceeded to do the entire dance for us, I kid you not, I have just watched it on you tube and the girl has mastered all the moves. I did mention that she is 5, an age at which the only dance I knew had a lot of holding my waist and fore head, clapping and switching hands.

Big sis left us and went to search for a bite in the kitchen, (am such a bad host)

Niece: … check check every day I check..

Me: do you know what that song is about?

Niece: yeah, always

Me: what’s always for?

Niece: for big girls who are not virgins

Me: (silently laughing) are you a virgin?

Niece: no!

Me: (almost passing out) how come?

Niece: because I have a boyfriend

At this point I didn’t know whether to call my sister to the rescue or find the demon-boy that was fucking a 5 year old, but from the innocence on her face I decided to just clarify

Me: how did you stop being a virgin?

Niece: I got married to my boyfriend

Me: (still in shock) and?

Niece: that’s it. Married people can’t be virgins

Me: so what else do you do with your boyfriend?

Niece:  we sit together in class, and we play and eat and draw… and when I get bigger he is going to kiss me, but don’t tell mum

Me: (with a sigh of relief) so do you use always?

Niece: no, I am not a big girl yet

            do you use always?

Me: yes

Niece:so you're not a virgin?

Me: (confused) ask you're mum

 

wedding day bliss

1 oz Champagne
2 1/2 oz cranberry juice
splash of vodka
1/4 oz cherry juice

I start with the 1 .oz of champagne then i put the very slight splash vodka in, then the 2.5 oz of cranberry juice and finally I put the 1/4 oz of cherry juice in, if done correctly the drinks mix as you pour them in.

 

First I must say that I tasted champagne for the first time, it’s not all that, there is something too sparkly about it, but that’s just me. But in my opinion I would much rather take a sh. 1000 bottle of sparkling wine than a sh.10000 bottle of champagne. 

Second, to all those who had a long 4 day weekend… I loathe yet envy you and secretly wish that you’re all still hangovered.(i had to work on Friday and Monday)

Third, I attended my first wedding in ages, Eve's wedding and yes, no matter how much she tried to rush it, the baby bump was still showing, or maybe it was all her back fat that was spilling over in that ill fitting dress. Didn’t she realize that she would be gaining weight with the pregnancy? Honest to god she looked like a cheap fat stripper on her so called ‘big day’

But if you ignored the inappropriateness of her dress, the wedding was absolutely beautiful.

At the risk of sounding like one of those commentators on the wedding show, I will say that it was just the right amount of glam, without appearing like an attempt to flaunt wealth. It was a small wedding; invite only, more friends than family.

I took the boyfriend as my plus 1. He hates weddings but so do I and I wasn’t about to suffer through that alone.

At some point during the service, the pastor was addressing singles and mentioned that you never know where your future husband/wife could be, he/she might even be in the room as we speak.

The boyfriend and I had been playing tic-tac-toe on my phone, silly game but it passes time and is a great distraction without necessarily talking, just passing the phone back & forth sort of like 12 year olds flirting.

For some reason I couldn’t quite concentrate on the game after the pastor said that, the boyfriend didn’t even seem to notice, I doubt he even heard, something about men and multi tasking.

The thought of getting married to T.B has often crossed my mind, but it never really seemed real until now. Imagining myself in that tight little ugly white dress and him standing tall and handsome pretending not to notice as we made vows we would probably not keep.

Could I really? Forever with a man? This man in particular? 

Then there would be kids and in-laws, mortgages and bills, joint accounts and assets. 

Seeing him everyday isn’t really a problem, in fact it’s practically how the situation is now but knowing that I do not have the choice to not see him is scary as hell.

Right now we are content because we have no major issues binding us, we can afford to giggle and play tic-tac-toe during a ceremony but what happens when we have to be the responsible pretentious adults who shout at the kids to stop playing and pay attention. Is there a school where people learn these things, a sort of finishing school where they tell you to reduce your drinking, be home by 9 to tuck in the little ones, stop using curse words, cover up the tattoos and piercings, have quiet sex and worse still… have sex only once a week coz the other 6 days you are too tired or the kids are in your bed.

T.B is 28; he always said he’d be married by 30. Never once has he specified whether or not it is to me. I am not reaching out for a proposal here; god knows am less than ready, but a girl can wonder right? Does he picture me wife-material? I don’t picture myself anything wifey but I do love him. And no, that’s not enough to warrant 2 people to get married; there have to be so many more factors that precede love.  Love is a necessary but not sufficient condition for marriage.

Which begs the question, am I wasting my time with him, better yet am I wasting his time? Should we be out there meeting and courting our spouses to be.

I, the handsome rich billionaire who has enough maids to do the work and a wine cellar that can keep me happy for our ‘forever’, (for him I would even be willing to develop a taste for champagne.)

For T.B, a nice, timid, pretty home-girl who learnt to cook and clean at age 7; the kind of girl who works 8 to 5 and still has time and energy to get home, cook supper and still look beautiful enough that he is willing to take out his daily frustrations on her in bed.

Better yet was the pastor right? was my future already in the room with me? are we already on the verge of our forever together?

 

mind fuck

This is a term whose use is becoming very rampant in today’s slang, for those like me who are slow to these changes and inherently chose to stick to the Queen’s English, the urban dictionary attempts to give us some insight on its use and meaning:

Mind fuck:

1.       To experience a situation which calls into question the way your mind currently sees a certain idea or the world n general

2.       When someone messes with your mind, usually when someone of the opposite sex plays games with your head, but can be used when anyone tries to manipulate you through mind tactics

I happen to be dating one of those men who think that all women are liars and I am the she-devil that taught them to lie. The man has seriously never trusted a single thing that I have told him. The day we met happened to be about two weeks after my birthday but when I told him he assumed I had lied to get a present (height of desperation), am so sure that up to this date he still has his doubts about my birth date.

Although I cannot really blame him, I did lie about a couple of things and got caught. For instance:

1.       I am a virgin. Only god knows why I would tell someone I was planning to sleep with that, but I did.

2.       My name is Serena. I don’t usually tell strangers my real name so that 1 I will be excused for.

3.       I have long beautiful hair. That wasn’t really my fault; he saw the weaves and got fooled. Silly man. Although it didn’t help that I didn’t allow him to touch my hair for almost 3 months. I told him I had personal space issues.

4.       I don’t drink that much. Ha!! That 1 he discredited on our first date

All the above were somewhat small lies that turned into a joke once I was caught, although they did result in him not trusting me without proof

The only lie that ever got me in trouble was one that every woman has had to make at least once if not a million times. 

In every relationship there comes a time when one party (usually the man) will want to exchange sex histories. Thus the mind numbing question…” how many men have you slept with?” us chicks (and pardon me ladies for telling) usually have a pre-determined answer, which is exactly what I told him, “three; my first, my ex, and you”

I thought I was lucky because he didn’t pry much, he just asked their names and the subject was dropped. 

One week later, he emailed me a list of names, the subject of the email was “guest list”, I almost ignored the email assuming it was accidental. But my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to take a look at it. It was first names only, all male. 

It was my list, exactly how I had compiled it one afternoon many months ago while drinking with Sheila after she had been dumped and I had dumped an ex. We had titled it the guest list i.e visitors to our vaginas.

I had no idea where or how he had come to know of this list but I wasn’t going to go down that easy.

I instinctively replied,”hey, I was wondering where I put that list, it was supposed to be the guest list for mike's bachelor party”

He never replied, I never brought it up again.

Up to this day I don’t know who was the greater mind-fucker; me with my fast elusive lies, or him, with the questions and the email knowing full well what that list represented

Man punch

Every man has two very extreme and different sides to him, unless of course he is one of those boring ones who believe in routine and are at the fore front of the war against any form of change.

Take the boyfriend for instance, he is at times a 12 year old in the body of a 28 year old, and other times, especially if you put a good suit on him and put him in a board room he will be a 50 year old in the body  of a 28 year old. In fact I don’t know when he is ever just a 28 year old, based on the fact that I don’t know how exactly 28 year olds are meant to act, unless they are a confused mixture of adolescent and midlife crisis.

his personalities make him a sort of man-punch, all the different ingredients that come together to make the not-so-perfect man minestrone

The adolescent…

For one, I do not need to repeat the tale of how I was almost pregnant-suicidal… you can read all about that here

Another instant happened last night; we had just come from a mind blowing session of sushi. He walked out of bed drumming on his newd black but. It’s a habit he has; whenever he is walking naked he will always drum on his but, but that’s beside the point. 

He walked past the mirror, paused then walked back; stared at the mirror then exclaimed as if in disbelief, “hey man in the mirror, that’s one hell of a package you’re carrying there” That still wasn’t the shocking- adolescent part. He then proceeded to try and tuck his balls between his legs just to see how he would look without balls, then… (it gets worse)… he tucked his dick right in there with the balls and walked towards me screaming… “look at me, I look just like you, I am a girl!!”

Amidst all the laughing I couldn’t help wondering, “After all these years of carrying around his ‘package’ did he just realize that he could play with it? What was he doing from age 6-10 while all the other boys were playing with theirs, or is it just a man thing? Do all men play with their parts?”

The midlife crisis man…

Every so often the boyfriend will be the adult, around me these moments are rare, but I have seen him in business meetings and out with his work colleagues and I am usually shocked at how mature he can act. I say act because I think his true nature is more of the adolescent boy described above.

But even in the moments he does act above his age, he often borders on the lines of a man deep in his midlife crisis…

You know the typical classic midlife crisis routine… travel all over the world, date younger girls, have sex in obscene places, go out to joints that are way below your age bracket, emotional unavailability to the one you love etc etc… good examples are here, here and here...

Again last night, the boyfriend had an episode of mid life crisis man… After his little “I’m a girl act” he got into bed and just as I was getting cozy he gets up and out of bed, dresses up, walks to my closet, takes out a very short and slutty dress I haven’t worn since campus, placed it on my bed and said “ Hun, get up, we are going out, and if you’re not going to wear that dress I am leaving you behind”

So guess what I did?

Lets just say that I wasn’t left behind, but now I have a cold and I believe I must have picked up herpes or something even worse from sitting on my bare ass on bar-stools.

blow my skull off (almost)

2 oz cognac
1/2 oz peach schnapps
1/2 oz Jagermeister® herbal liqueur

Pour all ingredients into a mixing glass or cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes. Stir well to combine, and chill. Strain into a chilled martini glass, and serve

I know I have been awfully quiet this past couple of days… but well so have you.

What have I been up to?

Blow my head off (almost)… first try:

I had my first pregnancy scare. Every girl goes through one of those at some point. It’s not actually the first time I have been late it’s just the first time I have been late after accidentally having raw sex.

I hate the whole experience of taking a pregnancy test starting with the wrecking nerves, the peeing all over your shaking hand while trying to aim in a little cup (T.M.I… I know, but who gives a shit). Basically I was a mess and that pee took like an eternity to travel up that tube… all three of them. I have this theory that for me to trust a test I must do it thrice. So there I was standing in my bathroom, with the boyfriend in the next room unaware of what I was brewing for him behind the locked doors.

I hadn’t really thought through what I was going to do if the test turned out positive but I didn’t want to tell him I was suspecting just in case he freaked out on me and it turned out to be a false alarm. So I waited for the three minutes that seemed ages; and when I was absolutely sure that the three tests were all negative I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I decided that since it was just a false alarm there was no harm in sharing it with the boyfriend, it would make for a good laugh if nothing else. I opened the bathroom door armed with my three sticks in one hand. As soon as he saw me and my sticks he just screams “oh shit!” and left.

Of all the reactions in the world I did not see that coming!

Blow my head off (almost)…. 2^nd attempt:

After the boyfriend pulled a fast one on me I did the thing I love/ know best… served the tequila in a huge brandy glass. Enough to avoid thinking about what his adverse reaction could mean. Did this mean that had I been pregnant I would now be battling with the option of an abortion or raising a kid alone? He didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say, he just left! Who does that? Half a bottle of tequila later… actually 3 hours later I woke up to the boyfriend screaming over me. (He was actually crying, although he won’t admit it). Apparently he thought that I had committed suicide after he ran off on me… “nigga please!”

And worse still, having found my dead body there he didn’t know what else to do so he had called his MOTHER! What 28 year old man calls still runs crying to his mother?

Now the onus was left to me to explain to his mother that I wasn’t dead or pregnant or planning any of the above. The first time I talk to the lady and it’s about suicide… aaargh, talk of first impressions.