Category Archives: Politics

I’m just gunna say it how it is


This will be a post that not many will agree on. They may be just as many, hopefully more that will agree with me on. Let’s hope you are enlightened people. I hope you are. If not, well that’s sad. I want to tell you to kinda of fuck off then… but I won’t, because I believe that you have a right to have an opinion… but people with the wrong opinions, well I don’t like you. I really don’t like you.

Abortion is a right. A fucking right. Your right to picket abortion clinics? No. Shut the fuck up. Write an angry letter to your political official. Start an angry blog. Hey, write your own suicide note in your own blood telling the world how you feel these women are murdering babies. Go on. Do that. In your own home. But don’t make a hard decision harder. You can’t understand until you’ve been in that situation… you can emphasise of course. No one wants to be in a situation like that, but sometimes you make a mistake, something goes wrong. But hell, I don’t want to bring a child into a world where I can’t buy clothes for it. Can’t afford to feed it. I want that child to have everything I didn’t have and more. Your child is the embodiment of the love you have for someone else, or maybe is this being you created out of pure love. That’s a child. You want its happiness. How is bringing a child into a world where all it will know is sadness, poverty and discomfort? I don’t want that. I don’t even want that for my enemies. Do I want children? Sure. I’m an only child. I grew up alone. I like being alone, but I wished as a child for someone to play with. I wish I had a big brother to protect me when I fuck up. I want someone to be there when my parents die, and hold my hand because they understand. But I’m alone. So that’s probably why I act strong. Some say bitchy and outspoken… maybe. But I also know deep down, that I came into this world alone… and I will die alone, so I pick myself up when everything seems to fuck up around me. I want a child, because one day, maybe I’ll be so in love with someone, that I want to create something with that person… a little someone that will one day find a love of their own. Because I know that when I find that someone, and I’ll look into their eyes, they will want the same thing from me. But it will be a choice. Because a child is sort of having a tattoo on your face… you have to be bloody sure you want it. There’s sort of no “backsies”. And that’s why abortion is important. The right to decide when you create this being, and with who. Sometimes you make a child, and you fall out of love… that happens. But that child was created, hopefully at a time of love… sure there are exceptions… there are those people who don’t care. They make babies coz they don’t know what else to do. Maybe it’s expected of them. Who knows. But the right to say no, as a woman is my choice. Sex is fun. No, with the right person, the right chemistry. It’s flipping amazing… but I don’t want to live in fear that every time I am with a guy a baby might be created. Use a condom… go on the pill… whatever works for you. But sometimes mistakes happen. It brakes. You forgot. You may be raped. Who wants to bring up a rapists baby? Have a constant reminder of a horrible moment in your existence? Who wants a father who is an unknown rapist? No one. No one can live with that.

Bringing a child into a world or an environment that is not ready, is not “saving a child”… it’s actually selfish… because you have brought a human being into a world that it won’t thrive or grow in. If you have every read any of Darwin’s books, you will be familiar with his world changing theory of evolution (which isn’t just a theory, it’s fucking reality “SAY NO TO CREATIONISTS YOU MORONS”… and yes I’m looking at you America!)… which means you know all about natural selection. Natural selection is technically no longer applicable to humans, owing to advances in medicine, but it still works on a social and anthropological level. Why do people who start life in richer families generally succeed better? (there are obviously exceptions, I mean look at Albert Camus for starters, but there are many… but rarer). With money, sadly comes opportunities. With opportunities, comes better schools, education, travelling… etc. it opens the child to a better job… a broader mind… better access to food and healthcare etc. This isn’t always true, but it is undeniable that it is a major factor. But it helps. So, if I take myself as an example. I’m a 25 year old student. I finish my studies in about a year and a half. I don’t have a job. I have a small flat. I can barely look after myself… let along a tiny human being. When I want a child, I want to be able to buy it nappies. Food. Whatever. I want it to go to a good school. Get a great job. Meet someone that makes them laugh and smile. I want them to be happy. Can I make a child happy now? Nope. So yes, if I get pregnant now. I’m having an abortion. Yes it hurts. Yes I don’t want to have to make that decision, but if I have to I will… because abortion isn’t murder. Abortion is about making the right choice at the right moment. Bring a child into a world that it can thrive in. Because unlike animals, the weak ones don’t just die… they poison your whole life. It’s sort of like being born with a thorn in your foot. You can still walk, but it fucking hurts. Being born to someone who can’t give a child all it needs, is the same. It won’t always thrive, it will eventually sort of go gangrenous and won’t be the best it could be. It takes someone who is born into hardship to say fuck you and pick themselves up. Look at the people who are born with too much money, or too much love and fuck up because they don’t have the fear to pick themselves up and sort themselves up. Life is about balance. It’s about trying your best to be the best you can, not just for you, but for the people you love and respect.

 

So, make the right choices… because that’s sort of what life is about. But it’s your life. So you make the choices that are the best for you. Don’t attach a rock to foot and jump into the deep end. Jump into the water with armbands on. It’s better to float than sink.

I dedicate this post to CB. Who always talks to me straight. No bullshit. And who always makes the best choices, even when I can’t, they aways give me the benefit of the doubt, and doesn’t judge me when I do go down the wrong road. Thanks.

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Filed under Choice, Culture, Family, Friends, Happiness, Hate!, Hello?, Love, Politics, Risk, Sadness, Sex, Shut The Fuck Up, Society, Sorry, The future, USA

Lock, Stock and Two Pints Too Many


Okie dokes. Where to start today? Difficult I’ll admit. Well. It’s a beautiful and sunny day here, and it can only put a spring in your step and a smile on your face. But, I shall talk today about something darker… what happens when you drink that golden nectar we all call beer (or for me, cider).

Today will continue from the last two I believe, but I can assure you, will be the last on the subject. Why you may say? Ah ha, I suppose like every good fairy tale, it has an ending! But not surprisingly (well for moi at least) not the ending you would desire. But that ladies and gentleman is not a shock, I mean come on, this is Roxy, everyone best friend! The last to be picked for sport etc! But, hey I’m not sad about that, I suppose you get used to that kinda shite anyway.

So, I’m feeling lazy and tired of all the shit to do with life, so I’ll be brief. Some friends of mine and I decided to do a onesie night and visit a few bars. We had copious amounts of gin at my flat, then headed to town. Now, we were very very hammered, so I feel like this probably explains why I went bat-shit crazy after (which for the people that know me, know I don’t do stuff like this, so yeah. Not my usual self!). We spend about two hours in bar C, and we left because there was live music, and I’m afraid to say we did not enjoy it! We then decided to go to bar MP. Mistake my friends would say, I on the other hand think with hindsight this was the only way, because visibly he didn’t have the balls to tell me, and I don’t want to live in wonder land (what pisses me off, is that I didn’t think he was a shit, I mean sure, I knew the guy had baggage (don’t we all?) but I swear I didn’t think he was this much of a heartless git. You will understand after, but holy fuck, I would have loved to say my own damn face, but anyway…) so I suppose at least I was… sure of his intentions (which to clarify here, is to clearly fuck me, lie and lie again, so super dooper Roxy!).

Anyway, so we all walk in, you could hardly miss us, because… I was dressed as a skeleton, one of my mates was a rabbit and the other one the cookie monster… so yeah. It’s not like we could “blend in”. Everyone in the bar was clapping and stuff, so they thought it was funny. We ordered a few pints and sat down. T’s mates came over and said hello (oh yeah, I forgot to say, dickface, or Mr T, was already there, but I ignored him, because, well he’s a big boy, if he wants to say hello he can, I don’t bite.) We had a few laughs… etc etc… I turn my face, and he is literally eating this girls face. I swear to you, all class went out the window, bit… sad really, I mean… seriously I think we are all old enough to know that PDA is a bit sad. Anyway. So, you are wondering what is going through my mind. Ah ha!!!! Well I was like, holy fuck, the dick. Ok fine. At least he’s made his choice, but didn’t have the balls to tell me. Okie dokes. Fine. I shall just enjoy my night anyway.

This is why I’m not totally sad about the whole thing, is because I have friends who love me and will defend me. One of my greatest friends screams “OI, T YOU FUCKING CUNT” across the bar. God Knows if he heard but hot damn does that make you feel good! This is when it gets funny, funny for me, definitely not for him. Now, I’ll remind you, I have never EVER done this, but as I saw him go to the lavatory, I shout “Oi. Dick head.” He pops his head up, and acts… mmm a mix between, drunk, surprised… and shock? No wait… shy… yeah he really hasn’t got balls… never thought about that. Oh well, (that said I usually go for shy guys but hey, maybe I should change hey?) I then (now I have got his attention) to shout something along the lines of, you piece of shit go fuck yourself. I can’t say I remember anyway. He then shuffles off.

I didn’t realise one of his mates heard and asked my friend C, what was wrong with me, she gave him an abbreviated version. (I found out the next day that he wasn’t aware of anything, so I’m thinking they can’t be THAT close. Oops. He said to C something along the lines of, oh well that’s probably girl A (in other words… well he’s got so many girls begging to date him that he has to class them, plan A, plan B…). Now, for people who know me, I have big issues with myself, my family etc but fuck me if I am going to be made to feel like a worthless pile of crap because a guy thinks I’m not good enough for him. So, even though I would of course want to see him again and all that jazz, for respect for myself etc, I can’t. I just can’t. I just hope he finds happiness. Or at least learns not to treat women like shite (although who knows, he may have made a special exception for me and decided to treat JUST me like shit! Who knows).

The thing is, in all seriousness, I don’t wish him ill. I really hope, he sorts himself out, maybe see a Psychologist or something. He has deep rooted problems, he doesn’t seem happy. Now visibly, I wasn’t the girl to help him, but maybe someone else will… but falling into another relationship… would just be a band aid… you can’t be happy with someone if you can’t be happy with yourself. I can attest to that, because I know how much I hate myself. I know why I hate myself, and yet I get up every day and try to be ok. I put on my mask and smile. The thing is, he likes wallowing in his own mess, that he thinks he’s the only one who feels the way he does. That’s called despair, and all I can say, is that everyone feels like that once in a while. So who knows what adventure lies on the other side, but if you don’t try, you can’t find out. As for me, oh well, it’s a shame, I really like like him, but what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger (argh, did I just quote Kanye West? Well… it WAS an expression before he made a shitty song) So… I’ll put that down to experience, and hope that one day it’s my turn for a great guy and a super relationship… or whatever! Until then, I shall… paint, draw, drink, laugh and cry! xxx

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It’s no longer the KKK… it’s the FFF (Friends Fucking Friends)


This post, has nothing to do with the KKK… but everything to do with the FFF. If you do not know what the FFF is… I am not surprised… I just invented it… but it is a way of explaining a new social change. You don’t understand? Ok… ok… I’ll explain.

Lately, and when I say lately… I mean in the last few years since sexuality became a “boring occurrence” in our/my everyday life (in other words, since sex isn’t a word that one whispers into your ear like a dirty joke or the name of the school bully). Sex has become, at least for me, something I son’t actually talk about with my friend anymore. I was actually talking about this with a friend last week while I was in London… when we are all just having sex, it was all “omg he did this… and did you know… and it was so big/small…” etc… now… everyone you know, has pretty much already done it and it is no longer a measure of “coolness” (I shudder that this was a big part of whether or not someone was loser or not…ohhhhh childhood!). Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. I have noticed that people… are either already in long term relationships… or are dating friends of friends.

You find this normal? You don’t understand? Ok… I’ll explain.

I have a very close friend of mine (female) who is one of those girls who you can just let everything just hang out, you know? We are just comfortable together. Anyway, she has an older brother who (and it feels like a million years ago… but it is in fact probably nine years ago) I had a crush on. Although, if I think about it, I think it was probably because he was nice to me, not because I was attracted to him (and anyway, I was fourteen… everyone has a cringe crush when they are that young!). So, we are chatting and she tell me that a friend of mine (female) who I introduced to them about two months ago, went out with her brother (a friend but not close). Now… some will jump to the conclusion that I am jealous… and holy jesus mother of god am I not… I am… surprised (and it always comes back to me, of course). Why?

Well… I am actually surprised because this always happens to me. I can hear you screaming through  the computer what this has to do with me, apart that they are my friends, but it is actually more than that. This is like the millionth time (ok fine, probably nearer three or four times) that I have introduced two people from two different social groups of mine and they have “hooked up”! And this time it is even more… irritating because my female friend is one of my closest friends… why? Because this girl… is the girl that everyone fancies!!! Blind DateNo… really… every time we go out together for a drink… or go to a party… or whatever… all the guys flock to her… and I am always… the “cool funny girl” or as I refer to it “everyone’s best friend”. I am going to be single for ever (and this is why I said it always comes back to myself). It’s not the person she is with that irritates me, or that she has found someone (I am always happy when a friend has found love or a semblance of it) but it is just ridiculous that I have got friends who are all dating each other… and yet no one introduces me to guys… as I write I can feel myself getting more and more bitter… but I don’t really think I am… I think I am becoming Cilla Black, that old chipper bird from “Blind Date”. I am… a catalist of love, a fucking synapse… an electric spark… people just stick to each other, and I end up being the discarded charred rubbish… or in more realistic terms… the “introducer”… the presenter of “who wants to meet… your new (choose from this selection) boyfriend/lover/husband/wife/fuck buddy or one night stand…

The thing is, I know this is not going to stop… why? Because I don’t practise “friend segregation”. (sorry to use such a loaded term, but I felt I didn’t have a choice here). I… just mix all my friend together in a fruit salad. My philosophy is that if I get along with them, they I am sure they will all get along too. I have plenty of friends who don’t mix their social circles… notably a “friend” of university I no longer speak to because she found a more interesting group of friends and stopped hanging around with me because she didn’t want to mix “me” with her “law friends”. I felt like… discarded trash… so I said… ta taa to her.

To conclude, I am not annoyed by my friends getting together, my opinions on whether or not they are suited for each other is another matter, I just hate the role I have… because deep down, I two wish I was the contestant, and not the presenter. But hey, I have the shotgun loaded for my fortieth birthday… if I’m still single and I have cats plural, then it’s KABOOM… other than that, I’ll be looking for a new day job, if anyone has any ideas !

l

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Filed under Clichés, Errrrrr wtf?, Friends, Hate!, Men vs. Women, Politics, Society

“SPAM” and not so fast mails…


Spam ?Lately, I’ll agree I’ve been pretty busy, I apologise to my very few readers (that said, over 11 000 views in 2 years… feeling pretty cool right now) for not writing as much as I’d like, but alas, I have started another school… (after history and history of art, it’s up to graphic design…) in Paris, and I have no time at all!

So, SPAM… I am of course not talking about the gross looking congealed processed meat, but in fact the lovely mails we all receive in our email “trash cans” (definition : Spam is the use of electronic messaging systems to send unsolicited bulk messages, especially advertising, indiscriminately). In general, I am lucky enough to get a few seedy emails from people offering me various “busty/sexy/hot/horny housewives/topless…” (all or a variety on these examples) women… a couple of bizarre, clearly misguided emails offering me “penis enlargement”, which to be honest, if I was a guy, I’d be worried about getting and the usual “spend a zillion dollars and get this” or “how to get a green card”. Now, I don’t know why, but this got me to thinking… I actually get more trash emails that actual people sending me emails to find out how I am, or if I dead. Sure I could be offended, but in reality… it’s a sad comment on how society is getting… automated and anti-social… with so much social media at our disposition, I feel that people are feeling too connected, thus no longer crave real intimacy and friendship. You no longer have to interact with someone to find out about what they are doing. We are a few clicks from becoming a real “Wall-E” world (cf: go watch the movie losers xxx). I’m worried… that in a few years my only relationship will be with my 15 year old Tamagotchi. No, i’m not kidding, It’s still alive (does it count if the batteries have died?). Even when one does send an impromptu email… you have to wait a certain amount of time before getting any sort of replies nowadays… why I hear you ask? Ok, here is what the people across the pond call the “low down” :

1) No one will respond immediately or make the first move, this indicates neediness and unmanliness (or in general “no ball syndrome”… apparently this is more figuratively that physically, i have, you will be pleased to know done the “leg work” as an anonymous blogger to check),

2) Replying fast apparently also means you are too eager (thus back to point 1) and a giant loser, so there is an appropriate time lapse before a response (between 24hours and 72 hours, after that he/she isn’t interested, so hunny/dude you should let it go),

3) This “time lapse” equation is hard to calculate, because it can vary… for ex, needy person will wait for 24hours and conclude that the guy/girl = not interested (maybe because there is a larger percentage of interest on this person), but if someone is more “blasé” about the response, he/she won”t be annoyed/irritated by the time lapse…

This leaves as all juggling more than the initial “hi-how-are-you-bla-bla-bla” conversation opener with the “OMG-will-they-think-i’m-desperate-lonely-loser” as well as… “desire” (how I hate that word… I feel like I’m in an 80’s mustachio movie when I use that… I shudder, excuse me for that. When I was a kid, you didn’t think of “perception”, you just did what you wanted when you wanted. I try to be like that, aka… if I get an email, I reply… immediately… but even I am reeled in to the “yes-my-name-is-roxy-and-i-am-single” dilemma… So what to do?

In my opinion, I’d want to say fuck it and not think about the consequences, but I feel that I’ll then receive an angry letter from someone complaining that that attitude gets people pregnant or dumped. So… maybe my advice should be that people should do what they feel is right… but I don’t agree on that either… there is far too much “missed communication” (don’t you dare use the word “connexions”, that’s bullshit). But I’m lost… what are we supposed to do? I don’t know the rules to these games any more… Oh blasphemy…

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It’s no longer chicken soup for the soul ladies and gents…


It’s raspberry cheesecake and chilli chocolate muffins.

Not to out do Martha Stewart… after a day of boredom… i decided to bake… bake… and bake. Not great when you’re on a “diet”… I need to lose boob and tummy weight… even though everyone says I don’t need to (especially the boob section) but I suppose I just made that a but harder… in any case… I got a message from a friend a few days ago… asking how I was and if I wanted to meet up (in Toulouse) next week… But to be honest, I don’t know if I should. I mean, (and I am still confused about this part) after I left Stockholm, I got back to uni… and everything had changed. My guy friends just… “dropped” me. Why? I have… no idea… this guy (who I really liked… as a friend… and may I say… he tried to sleep with me a fair few times… not that THAT was going to happen) just decided… he didn’t want to be friends anymore… well to be more correct when after 3 months I still hadn’t gone for a drink with him, I asked him straight out why we had not seen each other… and he said “I don’t have the same desire to see as I did before”. Now, to be brutal… I was floored. We had never been uber close… but close enough to know each other pretty well…

So what did I do?

I got up, and made myself some new friends! Partied like a crazy person, worked hard and got over it.

So… why do I suddenly get this… request to “meet up for a drink it’s been ages”…? I have no idea… argh. Even I can’t try and psychoanalyse this shit. So I am going to have a slice of cheesecake, and a giant glass of wine… or diet coke… whatever I can get my hands on first.

If you want the recipes… here we go (at least something positive can come out of it) :

Baked Raspberry Cheesecake 

Ingredients

  • 8 digestive biscuits
  • 50g butter , melted
  • 600g cream cheese
  • 2 tbsp plain flour
  • 175g caster sugar
  • Vanilla extract
  • 2 eggs, plus 1 yolk
  • 142ml pot soured cream
  • 300g raspberries 
  • icing sugar

Method

  1. Heat the oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas 4. Crush 8 digestive biscuits in a food processor (or put in a plastic bag and bash with a rolling pin). Mix with 50g melted butter. Press into a 20cm springform tin and bake for 5 minutes, then cool.
  2. Beat 600g cream cheese with 2 tbsp flour, 175g caster sugar, a few drops of vanilla extract, 2 eggs, 1 yolk and a 142ml pot of soured cream until light and fluffy. Stir in 150g raspberries and pour into the tin. Bake for 40 minutes and then check, it should be set but slightly wobbly in the centre. Leave in the tin to cool.
  3. Using the remaining 150g raspberries, keep a few for the top and put the rest in a pan with 1 tbsp icing sugar. Heat until juicy and then squash with a fork. Push through a sieve. Serve the cheesecake with the raspberry sauce and raspberries.

Dark Chocolate and Chilli Cupcakes

Ingredients

  • Chocolate cupcakes :
  • 175g (6 oz) unsalted butter, softened
  • 140g (5 oz) light muscovado sugar
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 2 tablespoons golden syrup
  • 225g (8 oz) self-raising flour
  • 115g (4 oz) dark chocolate, melted
  • 1 or 2 red chillies, deseeded and very finely chopped
  • Chocolate frosting :
  • 175g (6 oz) dark chocolate (above 70% cocoa solids)
  • 2 tablespoons dark muscovado sugar
  • 150ml soured cream
  • To decorate :
  • Red and green coloured marzipan
  • Red sugar sprinkles

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF/gas mark 4. Line a 12-cup muffin tray with paper cases.
2. Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy. Gradually mix in the eggs and stir in the golden syrup, flour, melted chocolate and chopped chillies.
3. Spoon into the paper cases and bake for 20 minutes or until just firm to the touch. Cool in the tin for 10 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.
4. To make the chocolate icing: chop or break the chocolate into small pieces and melt in a bowl placed over a pan of steaming water, stirring until smooth. Remove the bowl to the work surface and beat in the sugar until dissolved, followed by the sour cream.
5. Spread the frosting over the cupcakes and decorate with chillies, or hearts moulded from coloured marzipan or sugar paste icing. Scatter over red sugar sprinkles.

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Filed under Alcohol, Beginnings!, Cold, Desserts, Errrrrr wtf?, Europe, Food & Cooking, France, Friends, Games People Play, Goodbye, Hello?, Men vs. Women, Politics, Sadness, Society, Spicy!, Sweden

Men are like Russian Dolls…


It’s the summer, which means for me that I have far more time to write. I have sadly been pretty lazy on the writing front lately. But My “mode year resolution” will be to take more time to write (and read, I have like 10 Hemingway books to read at the moment). So, today is a very special day for French people, and if you don’t know why, I highly recommened using google (hello the french revolution anyone?), so instead of writing something very predictable… I have decided to write about men, and their many “layers”. Predictable? I think not! Plus I have the very latest mac, so I am very very happy.

I got the idea to write this post on the follow up movie (with the name “Les Poupées Russes”) after the “l’Auberge Espagnol” by Cédrix Klapisch (with Romain Duris). But I have decided to put my own twist on the title, men are like russian dolls… why? Well, just like in the movie “Shrek”, the main character when asked what ogre’s are like, compares himself to an onion… an ogre with many layers… but wouldn’t you say that russian dolls are a far better (and prettier) analogy? 

Well I do. But I hear you behind your computer complaining, “why aren’t women russian dolls? Don’t they have layers?”. The thing is, it is a common fact that the woman psyche is very complicated. I mean of course men are complicated as well, but as goes relationships and such, men are far for direct that women. Women have a (horrible) tendency to analyse every act, every word… everything. Whereas a man is far more simple (in general of course). I highly agree with the whole “He’s just not that into you theory”. I know that we can’t paint all men with the same brush, I know, but I think it is the common belief that men… even if they beat around the bush a bit, one day tell you, make a woman understand that they “like” them.

Everyone has layers, but I firmly men believe that mens layers are easier to understand if you try and uncomplicate your own. We all need a bit more simplicity… and honestly. I mean sure, the chase is great… but sometimes it would be great to just have someone tell you (email, text, tweet, call, sign language, smoke signs… etc.) that they like you, maybe take you out and hopefully bump uglies (at some point).

This year, I have personally taken a year out of the “drama”. I have not flirted, not dated done practically nothing with guys because I wanted to “trim the drama from my life” and also get to know me better and find out what I wanted first (also I had 2 jobs in 2 different museums, as well as in a Pub and all the while going to uni… so not that much time anyway). I soon realised that… if you peel away the drama, everything seems more… simple… I have had more courage to just “say things”, and understand guys better. I’ve also learnt not to listen to girls who gossip, but to just let them talk, because a gossiper… is usually talking a lot of crap.

So back to russian dolls. Imagine that each doll is a layer of various things, it could be a conversation you had with said guy, another layer could be a date, one could be a missed call… anything. Peel away all that, and just talk honestly. Don’t believe the hype about men being from mars, and women from venus. We all can communicate in one form or another, so stop playing games, just talk. But sometimes, the dating game is to peel away the layers… so don’t walk through the relationship without looking. Keep the game clean, don’t buy yourself a “How to date” dictionary, try and make your own. Each guy, each woman and each relationship is different… so peel away differently… and individually.

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Sexual Penpals…


Bla bla blaaaa

Bla bla blaaaa

Just like the fuck-buddy… the sexual penpal is the new “must have” gadget of the 21st century. Don’t lie. Everyone has one… or at least a dirty little secret they won’t 100% admit too.

Let me explain. Is the fuck-buddy is your physical toy… the sexual pen-pal is your imaginary one… or at least one you don’t have regular sex with. He (or she) is… not computer or techno-phobic like some other guys/gals. He/she will reply to texts, e-mails… dirty texts… photos… and if you’re lucky (and he/she doesn’t mind spending money/time/credit on you) the elusive “chat” (this dirty way of communication is good for the popular nineties fad of phone sex… nowadays it’s more skype sex (or msn sex if you still have windows 98).

In any case, the sexual penpal is the person you exchange more or less steady contact with, rare daydreams (because let’s be honest, you’re not too attracted to them) but you keep the relationship alive, because… if you’re honest… you like the attention.

There’s not point lying. We all do it. Everyone has a sort of emotional “tampon”. A guy/girl who we keep around to make us feel good about ourselves. The sexual pen-pal is just the same. Except that you swap dirty provocative texts with the latter, and keep the emotional tampon around for when you want a bucket of ice-cream and a hug. I really like my sexual penpal. I like him because I know I better looking than him. I like him because I know he likes me. I know things about him… so sexual blackmail usually gets me small gifts (don’t worry, don’t call the RSPCA, we are friends… he just… likes me more than I like him…) anyway.

The sexual penpal is a great tool to try weird fantasies and desires out. Sure… you might not really do them to him per say… but if you really want to have “up the butt sex while wearing clown shoes and wearing nothing but bacon” then… it’s a good idea to try that idea on him/her first (this is how I found out he likes anal sex… thus the blackmail…).

What you notice about the sexual penpal is two distinct relationship evolutions : either you continue to talk… and even if neither of you want to admit it (either because the sex was embarrassing when it happened, and/or he has misshaped balls (this happens. Get over it hunny. Could be worse.) you have actually become fond of each other… (more of this in a minute) OR you lose touch because he : a) Is embarrassed, b) Decides not to keep contact because he has got a new girlfriend/realised he could never get you back into his 6m2 apartment for some “rollin’ on his mattress bed (classy… it’s on the floor… but he says he likes it that way” c) Is bored… etc.

In any case, like most things it’s either yes/no, black/white, 50/50, yes/no… etc.

To illustrate point one (becoming fond of each other) I’ll tell you about my “sexual penpal”… No lies, all truth (and in case my daddy’s reading this… It’s all a lie! ^^).

I met him online. Yes did I hear you cringe on the other side of the screen? Yeah, I know… online dating is… I’m afraid for social retards who can’t function in real society… and thus need to use the inter-web to find a date (yeah I’m talking about you, you immature little boy)… Anyway. We met online. I was in a period of my life, when I only needed, and wanted one thing… so we got down to work. He then moved to another city pretty far… which led to me forgetting him and finding someone else… but for some reason, he would text from time to time, so… as a friendly person that I am (I really am) I texted back and forth for a few months… at the beginning, all you talk about is sex… and a bit of “what are you doing at work/school/prison/pirate ship”/ etc.)
I started to noticed more and more  texting… and so I eventually asked him “Are we friends?” He replies by telling me he doesn’t want to date me. Now for some girls, you might shed a tear, urinate yourself… or both. Me… well I’m not really like that. What actually came into my head was “Why the fuck wouldn’t you want to date me, I’m fucking amazing… and then… Babe I definitely don’t want to date you… or be seen in public with you…” So… I re-explain that for a guy who still insists I’m just his “ex-fuckbuddy”… then why the frick his he still contacting me? Seriously. If you don’t like me… Do what I do… I delete everything about you… literally. For me it’s all or nothing. In any case… he said we could never be friends because we had had sex (no I’m no prude… and I’m no whore… but I don’t see why I can’t be friends with my exes and/or guys I’ve had sex with. Seeing someone naked doesn’t mean “no, no we can’t ever been friends, you’ve seen my pee-pee”. What generation is the write one to be in? (I will just add that this guy is about 10 years older than me…). Anyway… to continue… he continues to text/call/email/facebook the lot. I even got some sexy photos and a skype show (but let’s keep some details personal shall we!?) So… one night, he calls me, we chat… and Roxy loses it. People who know me, know not to piss me off. I go from 0 to 220km/h in 2 seconds flat. To cut a long story short. I get him to admit that for someone who doesn’t “give that much of a crap about me”, he does sure contact me a lot… and I had to say was “Grow the fuck up you baby” and “Actions speak louder than words” and I go the answer I wanted :

– Ok, You’re right. I suppose we are friends… like like to occasionally bump uglies.

That’s all I wanted. Honesty.

Now. Back to sexual penpals. In my opinion, they are great ways of of experimenting and well when you’re bored on a 3 hours train/bus/car ride like I usually am… it’s a good way to pass the time. And it’s cheap sex. No condoms or buying drinks/dinner for anyone. I think it sounds like the perfect relationship. Problem is. Sometimes they get jealous… which I never understand.

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