On Irony

I love living with my gay faux-boyfriend 90% of the time. He is smart, funny, always has the right thing to say to me, and puts up with my newfound interest in cuddling. As you know, I have been battling this dilemma of seeking out a LTR. All of my friends are Noah’s Arked aka in serious relationships, and to be quite frank between work and school and writing in this blog, I have no desire to ascend the Ark with them. Unless there is a cute Jewish boy who is just as busy as I am and wants a cute big breasted cuddle buddy, and nothing else. No dating, no phone calls, and definitely no having to listen how his day is going. I am just too emotionally exhausted to deal with anyone else except for people who I care about. However, just because I am not dating, doesn’t mean that I do not have…’physical’ needs. But my germ-phobia and something called ‘not being entirely over London boy’ prevents me from cultivating/calling the potential fuck buddies on my list.

Last night I had the worst case of insomnia that has hit me in a very very very long time. I went from feeling entirely tired one min to feeling entirely wired ½ hour later, and this I blame a lot on the stress of sucking at my present job. For the guys who read this and my friends who went to MHC, you’ll feel me on this one. There is nothing that helps me sleep like a baby better than masturbating. Get ichi and peter the wabbit, throw in some hott erotica and you have a very happy girl who is out in 2.5 (seconds that is). So, last night, feeling a little randy and wanting to get to sleep before 3am, I masturbated and then laid in bed watching some Discovery Health shit.

Suddenly I hear a soft tap tap tap. I ignore it and think that it is the wind. But I hear it again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I open the door and see John in a pair of PJ pants (he never wears PJ pants) peering over and whispering, “Do you have condoms?!” There was a boy in his bed. He was getting ready to have real live people sex as I just made love to my mechanical latex vibrating dildo.

Fate, you have one sick twisted sense of humor.

Especially since I bought 2 boxes of condoms (first time that I ever have done it…go me and reveling in my sexual freedom that living with a gay man will grant you) and have given away 1.5 boxes. Yes, out of 2 boxes of condoms I have 4 left. And I even bought the special dual pleasured ones…

In other news, I decided that I am throwing a Kwanzaa party in my Greenwich Village apartment with mezuzahs adorned to the doors. I mean, after the OC and Seinfeld, there are no funny things that I could do with the holidays. Picture it, a Kwanzaa celebration complete with Kente cloth, Ol’ E, Hennessy, and of course no party is complete without a stripper. And to get into the Kwanzaa spirit, I want my stripper to be black.

If you think that will rock, you should see how I’m going to reenact Passover next year! The people in my building will not be amused (see, I even make racist jokes about my own people).

Oh the sick fucking things that entertain me…