When I was young, I didn't know a thing about this "type" business. I knew I liked men, but my taste ran more to loose guidelines than anything specific. Clean-cut was one criteria, although the right bad boy got me hot. Tall, average or short were fine. Athletic or normal body. Shy or outgoing. You get the idea. I was young and my hormones were raging. Nerds, surfers and jocks...front of the line. But like I said, I didn't really have a type. Even an aggie (pickup truck, Wranglers)...

So.... I'm officially SINGLE again ;)
As of last Sunday night.... so a little over a week ago....

I just got sick of it. I thought to myself "Do I like him.... or the idea of him?" Obviously you know the answer to that.

I haven't heard from him since Sunday evening. and the endings of our conversation went like this:

Him: "I'm sorry"
Me: "Don't be... it doesn't matter..."
Him: "It matters to me"...

So... I've recently discovered my "sex mojo" that I've been radiating for the past few months... I'm not sure if I had a large amount of it before or if it was discovered while practicing hot yoga and contorting my body into ridiculous positions in hope that I'd be able to show off my bad ass skills in the sack with a steamy man...

Of course... I got hot steamy sex once yesterday morning and once last night... and when I propositioned him to come over tonight he was going...

I keep revisiting the past, and I know I have to move on. Perhaps what I need is a sexual palate cleanser - a new man, a new cock. Some new sexual experiences to replace the ones left behind.

As I never meet any new people, I am using a "dating" site from which to select a new friend with benefits/fuck buddy.

So bear with me as I drift away from my fantasy blog to detail the search.....

Let's look at the candidates so far:

1. The...

One moment I was steering a shopping trolley through a crowded mall - cursing the fact that I had the one with the wobbly wheel ... again - and the next moment she was there, right in front of me; and the other shoppers, the noise and the smells all disappeared and there was only her.

She sat behind a trestle table selling raffle tickets for charity - a Range Rover or $50,000 cash. I have no need of a new car. Even the cash seemed a mere trifle compared to the richness, the ripeness...