Believe it or not, I used to be easy. Call it low self esteem. Call it the 90’s. Call it not being able to pass up (what was supposed to be) a good time. Call it what you will. Now, however, I have to be an example. More like, I am an example of how to do EVERYTHING wrong and still come out of it alive.
I have said recently that my vagina is closed. It sure is and it is staying closed until I can figure myself out. That being said, it doesn’t mean I turn down free meals and good company. I’m calling him Rocco. I have always had guy friends. There have been many times in my life where I have only had guy friends. Now, at this point and time, I have three guy friends I can tell anything and they don’t try to get me naked. Mainly because they think of me as a dude with incidental breasts and vagina and because I would kill them.
Rocco’s story is this: I have known him for a long time and I trust him. How can you tell if I trust you? Simple, I will eat in front you. Rocco’s has seen me eat many times over the last 12 years. I trust Rocco so much that I have asked him to check my teeth for food. I have probably asked him to check up my nose in some drunken episode. We have a good history. He has seen me at my lowest and with bad eyebrows and has remained my friend. Rocco recently asked me to dinner. I said yes. Duh. I then offered to go dutch even though Rocco knows it is a little game I like to play. For real, I never have any intention of paying. I never order the most expensive thing on the menu either because I’m a lady.
Dinner was great. Rocco was himself and I was myself. We ended up too full to laugh anymore and on the way to the car I accidentally throw him an elbow to the bridge of his nose. It was a perfect shot. I didn’t leave a mark and his nose hurt like hell. Rocco forgets that after dinner and drinks I tend to talk with my hands and upper body. He laughs it off and the conversation turned to him asking me if I like the “rough stuff’? I tell him in a night of true confession what my limits are as far as sex. “Look, I like what lots of girls like. Well groomed, smells nice(or at least clean), decent amount of dirty talk, hair pulling, gentle spanking. Nothing unusual.” Then he asks me if I have read that crappy book about bondage that all “yenta’s my age are reading”? Fuck no, I tell him. Here is another truth. I know a guy that has all the stuff in that book. He once asked me to chain him to the radiator in his bathroom for the weekend while his girlfriend was out of town. Then he wanted me to come over twice a day, spank him and throw cold cuts at him. Oh yeah, and then feed his cats. That was the biggest NO ever. I’m not a cat person. Plus eating in the bathroom is just disgusting.
I am telling you what I told Rocco. The no’s on my list are as follows: anything that requires pooping. I don’t think I even needed to say that but just in case. No electronics or farm tools. No porn. No funny voices or references to your mother or my mother. That goes double for father references as well. No relatives in general. No sex during my shows. No foreign substances in my hair. No comments on the shows I watch and please don’t plan on moving in and saving me. I’m all good. No begging. No pouting. No anger. No food in my bed. No weapons. No looking in the mirror at yourself. No grabbing the ‘Mommy roll’. No comments about the “Mommy roll”. No accents (which kind of goes along with funny voices). And for God’s sake, don’t talk for at least five minutes unless I talk first. Please carefully choose your compliments and say it with sincerity.
Are there too many rules for Rocco? It never occurred to me to ask. See, I have always loved Rocco enough to keep him away from my drama. I leaned on him but not enough to scare him off the friendship. Now, who knows? He has the rules. If not, Rocco my friend, next dinner is on me.
