Sir, I would argue most things don’t have a point

Want to know a pretty embarrassing yet still totally true secret?

The only thing stopping me from trying to fuck this one professor from my undergrad now is the idea that if I’m ever a published author it’ll be more of an excuse to contact him than…just randomly deciding to do it on Linked In.

So like…I’m saving that attempt at seduction for when I have a true reason to be contact him. IF I add professors to the acknowledgments, still undecided if I will, he would be one of them, along with like three others from undergrad and….one…..from grad school. That’s one thing I always found fucking hilarious. I liked the professors at my first college, the one in my hometown. I didn’t get along with any of the students. I don’t know what it was, just no one ever talked to me, unless they were complimenting me. God that sounded bad when I read it. Whatever. I stand by it because it’s accurate. Like one time when I was leaving a psych class in undergrad, a girl asked me, “Do you do your own make up?” Which is pretty cool thing to be asked, because it’s implying they noticed such an intensity/variation in your face art (as I like to call it) that it seems like you’re having someone else do it for you. But…I didn’t know what to say to her question besides, “Yeah.” Like….if I were different, I would’ve started a conversation there. Because that was probably what this other girl was trying to do. I’m jut SO bad at those sorts of things. Like…either I was never taught, or I just never learned or absorbed it, but I NEVER know what to do or say. There’s of course my good friend alcohol. I mean, I already like drinking (I feel like I might have mentioned that by this point? Yeah it’s probably come up) and then I’m like nervous, and awkward, and dying to do anything to make myself more outgoing/likable. Yeah that’s a dangerous recipe. And the fucking product is a hungover Cassie the next day. The last time I really did that was when I went to that work outing last February. I drank like….a tall boy, a pitcher, another tall boy, then two more talls at a B Dubs. Which I hate that restaurant because they’re way overpriced but my young, bougie coworkers think its the best. I’m like, oh they’re too young to have taken the time to try anyone good..I see….But yeah, I was hungover as hellllllll the next day.

Then, in grad school I liked (in some cases, REALLY liked…huh? get it?) the students, but less so the professors. There were maybe two…possibly three if you throw out the bitterness on the third one which was hard to ignore at times, who I really liked. And I had higher hopes for grad school, IDK why. I guess I got laid way more because of grad school.

But anyway, SPEAKING of work.

So.

I was being a huge ridiculous pessimist. Like W. Which is why I’m normally a self-proclaimed cynical optimist (like, make the best of things, but remember shit happens, k?).

But I mean, her email was a LITTLE ominous. Even best friend agreed. And she’s the last person who would become emotionally distraught. She’s so effing clinical. I mean, I know why, so it’s fine. She shows her love in the funniest of ways, just like my 100% first generation from Germany grandmother. So to me it makes sense. I always found it very strange that best friend tests INFJ and I test INTJ because…to see our interactions….you would think that’s reversed.

I think I know why. But I don’t have time to get into that. Plus. I can’t talk about her childhood without bringing up my own. And again, no time.

So my boss gave me a great review, and $1/hour raise (I make $19.50/hour now….again no idea where my money goes) and she wanted to conduct it on Saturday because she wanted to discuss moving my career forward with the company because she likes keeping good people with the company. And she does. She demanded the president of the company invent a job for someone because he wanted to leave our department to work for an automotive company. He still left our department, but to go work for the president directly. So yeah, if she values someone, she like fights to keep them.

I am apparently one of those people.

I kind of like…can’t tell when someone’s just being a hard ass or if they’re being emotionally abusive. I mean to ME those are the same thing. But also, because of my endurance/tolerance levels, I can put up with SO much stress and still seem calm. That’s not what’s happening internally, but I’m like always a mess in there. Organized chaos, as I like to think of it.

So. Now you know one of my many embarrassing fun facts. I don’t even want to call them secrets because they don’t matter that much. I just know better than to tell people about most of my shit. Because, like 98% of the time, they do NOT fucking care. And that’s fine. People are busy with their own compartmentalizing and repressions and so on and so forth. Ain’t no one gotta tell me about how some people are SO talented at hiding how horrible their life really is, those feelings have nothing better to do, and they’ve grown so strong over time from such constant misery, that they start eating away at you. Literally. Not in the makes you thin sense. In the cripples your bones with pain way. You can call it slipped discs, and bulging discs, you can get repeated back surgeries, you can be reduced to needing a walker or some means of assistance just to get around, you can listen the entire time to your spouse in your ear reminding you this is happening because you’re so overweight and have been for so long……but your grown ass daughter who bailed on you knows the truth.

I was talking about my mom just then.

That was something I realized, I think there’s times when someone might read this and think one of the many times I’m describing what’s going on with my parents, and it seems like I’m talking about my own marriage, because I get weirdly second person about some shit. IDK why it’s involuntary. I always have to edit the shit out of my blogs, because when I get stream of consciousness I drop thoughts to never return to them. I’ll write a very eloquent subject to a sentence, then add a period and move on. Like….why did we mention this…

I know I speak in the plural about myself.

It’s not an MPD thing, I swear. It’s like…you know how you have to become your own father figure/hero, in some cases? So like, if you do that, you develop an inner dialogue with your inner self. The one that’s always telling you what you KNOW you need to do.

Like move on.

Stop thinking about the unhappy past.

Stop comparing yourself to others.

Stop wondering why over deprivations and barely acknowledging the good.

Stop trying to fuck people you wanted back-when. It never goes well.

But, now we’re back to why I started this blog.

I really need to go get real writing done.

Sorry blog, to me this is almost masturbatory. Enjoyable and all, but….does it have a point?

Although, I’ve got to say…..it makes me significantly hopeful how normal/happy this blog is compared to say…the livejournal that I had when I was 17-20…..HOLY shit……the bitch was so dark and sad and lonely I fucking let it die. Livejournal only keeps stuff for so long.

In fact I have a history of erasing myself on social media.

I turned off my Xanga, social lifeline in high school, once I started college.

I deleted my Myspace when I started liking Facebook.

I had to stop using Livejournal because….shit was dark.

I deleted Facebook and Instagram July 2017 because that was when I realized I couldn’t take the bullshit anymore.

Now it’s just Twitter, but only one real life person is on there. So far. One day I’ll have to make a bunch of social media accounts for my pen name. But I’ll worry about that problem later.

So. You guys know the stories of the two times I HAVE gone back and fucked someone I wanted to real bad at one point.

The first was the guy you all know as Doug. The post I wrote about him last April is still my most viewed blog. Okay I’ll link it for fun. So we all know how that went: Doug or “You’re gonna want to strap yourself in for this next one.”

Then there was R.

Because I was way into him the entire time I knew him in grad school. What can I say? I met him in a Shakespeare class fall 2014. It’s easy to remember because it was around when I got engaged.

I was honestly pretty infatuated with him for quite some time. He was very attractive (he would be still but…your drinking, your constant sedentary lifestyle, your unstoppable mountain of inactivity stemming from depression….you know….) He had a very broody prettiness to him, and fucking excellent hair, and all right, yeah, great dick. Obviously. What do you think I was putting up with and for what? Honestly, at the beginning, unless I was done up, R looked like he might’ve been too hot for me. Like, he had a certain presence, and a shit ton of tattoos (it’s fun fucking a person with a bunch of tattoos, it’s like having sex with an art museum) and all that. Which is funny because his appearance didn’t match his personality at all. Which I liked about him. And, I also liked that he talked to me. All the time. Over facebook messenger, over text, he’d only call if he was wasted and upset. So still a lot but never for normal reasons. Then he called me a lot when he was in jail but that was out of sheer boredom. He was in jail over my birthday and called on my birthday but then didn’t acknowledge he even knew what day it was, when I have possibly the most memorable birthday ever.

So….again, R was another time when I was like…SUPER into the idea of fucking someone…then after a few years had passed, it randomly and actually happened.

Wait.

It’s always 2 years.

WEIRD.

Doug was 2 years after high school ended.

R was 2 years after I met him.

I guess, if you count attempts, N was two years after he first contacted me, (asked if we were swingers, then was like oh let me check with my wife, then was like oh wait nevermind she’s not into it anymore). That was actually what prompted my husband to make that profile and why we met up with those two different couples fall 2016. It’s like when we thought about the notion it seemed appealing so when N and his situation didn’t pan out we were like well lets see what else is out there. Yeah not much. The guys especially were just total goons. I barely count the last one as a sexual partner because all that ever happened was I sucked his dick forever. Which of course is easier to do when you’re plastered. But yeah, dude could NOT maintain an erection once a condom touched his dick-skin. Let me tell you. Like. If you have such an aversion…perhaps the sexually deviant life is not for you….

So when I say I’ve had sex with ten guys, I kind of only BARELY count that 10th guy, because to me to count as a sexual partner there needs to be some dick in vagina. Just a personal estimation of the word’s meaning, is all.

I don’t mention my number of partners because I’m like…omg look at my superiority….because I REALLY cannot stand people like that. Coming from the community/life I was raised in….that’s very much a real thing. I know women who got pregnant right after their wedding then had a premature baby who felt the need to post on Facebook how people were making “unfair assumptions” about them – that they got knocked up and that’s why they got married. Could you imagine feeling the need to do this?

I mention my number as like, a matter of record keeping. Who knows, it might increase soon.

If I find someone worthwhile. This is not easy.

I may or may not have started an Ashley Madison, and a Wild+. My husband has like a Tinder, a Grindr, a Bumble and a Wild+ so.

But so far the ones hot enough to be worth my time don’t seem into me.

Which okay sure.

That’s the thing like. There’s a too perfect quote for still feeling fine when someone isn’t into your appearance, and it comes from someone I saw perform live, it was awesome: “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.”

So you know. Plus like, IDK there’s a certain body type I am not at all like, so if that was someone’s preference I could see a “yeah no thanks” from a lot of those dudes. Plus I’m suuuuper fussy. I mean. Why wouldn’t I be? There is no rush.

So. This started as I’m going to use CF, when it’s done, to try and fuck a professor from my undergrad. Then I briefly mentioned how my pissing on about my work review was totally unnecessary, then I got distracted yet again. What a shock. Weed man. Makes you creative. Also makes you dyslexic and ADD. Maybe that’s just me. But still, I feel like I need weed. With booze I’m like….okay….you should probably go back to not doing that again…..but….also….hard…..

Anyway.

I haven’t been drinking this weekend. I’m sick. I’ve been chugging cough syrup, I’m not going to also drink. Like. Cmon. Liver. I need that bitch. Of course I’m still smoking. I’m not insane.

SO anyway. The only fun in my foreseeable future is a needle-in-a-haystack find on online dating.

There’s one guy on AM who needs to be a little more intellectual or a little more attractive, and he would do. But….IDK…..he goes a line too far with certain things that make me think he’d be CRINGE in public/person.

I like having shit to look forward to.

There’s working on CF.

There’s Thanksgiving. Not the fucking holiday, are you kidding me? Then I have to deal with my mom emailing me over her sadness at not seeing me AND spend all of it with my in laws. They’re stressful people. And my husband acts really weird around them. So I don’t like the holiday, I fee like Jake Peralta feels about Thanksgiving, “The pilgrims were murderers and turkey tastes like napkins.” BUT, it is a four day weekend. So that’s fun. I spent Black Friday 2016 hung over from a swinging adventure. Still hate that term by the way, need to invent a better one and inculcate it into the mainstream lexicon. I spent Black Friday 2017 making Christmas wreaths and watching Six Feet Under. What weird magical Cassie joy will this year hold.

My team at work won second place, the prize for our incredible hard work is a subpar lunch. But still. Our seven person team came in second, up against departments like 4 times as big. And we made and brought in everything, and we all had bitchin’ costumes. The team who won first just bought tons and tons and shit, and they were three huge departments in a conglomerate. I’m still proud of us. We tied the department who won 1st, for 1st, last year.

There’s true drama over Halloween at my work.

It’s my favorite little thing about that place.

And, I guess my boss is waiting for them to invent a job and when they do she’s going to put my name in for it.

That’s why she wanted the review to happen when we were alone. Because people listen.

SO the opposite of what I thought.

So that’s tight.

I also was honest and told her that I was thinking of leaving the company because I don’t want to live in this area anymore. I just don’t like this part of the state. Like, it’s not that great, the people from down here just act like it’s the fucking best thing ever.

She said it’s possible I could move and still work for the company. That that might actually work well with what position she wants me to take, when it exists.

SO. There’s that also.

Anyway. I’ve wasted a frighteningly amount of time now…so…to CF!

~Cassie

What the goddamn fucking shit is going on with this past week, am I on some sort of reality TV show right now?

Just absorb the message of that email:

I’ve gotten three reviews from this exact boss before. This is first time she’s ever requested we do so on a Saturday…and for the specific reason that she wants to do it when no one else is there…..BUT WHY.

I guess if I walk in on Saturday and someone from HR is with her I’ll know. She said it’ll take “approximately thirty minutes.” I’m literally filled with questions and confusion and dread. OMFG it’s been the week for those feelings, hasn’t it???

Like, I would love to say I’m not upset and angry about shit. But I am. I wish I wasn’t. If there was something I could magically fucking do to stop consistently thinking about the same shit, I would do it. I mean I tried rage stigmata, but my hands aren’t strong enough not like they were when I was a kid. At least now I just have to hold it together at work. My husband is good, VERY good, about emotional support. That and his unique status as the first/only guy to ever EVER appreciate me for the awesome person I am are why I’m still with him AND married to him AND took his last name. Again, these things did not occur magically, they are possibly my hardest “earned things that aren’t things” as I like to call them. Like my friendship with my best friend, which most people don’t have with someone from the 8th grade. Or the fact that my ENTIRE life people have been telling me I’m a strong/talented/good writer. Or that my husband tells me all the time that I’ll always have a husband who loves me.

Oh my fucking god, like WHAT IS THIS WEEK? Do you realize how normal and happy and excited I felt last Thursday compared to today?

You know what I found TRULY unfair? How misery doesn’t burn calories. I mean, it should, right? You can say the whole lost-my-appetite-due-to-sadness and yes that does happen to me all the time but I’m still an alcoholic who truly prefers beer. Jesus I haven’t worked out in like a week. But it’s cool because I haven’t been able to afford pole classes in a month. It’s $75 for 4, and it’s $ I just haven’t had. Which is so fucking embarrassing and pathetic. I’m thirty, I’ve been working since I was 16, I worked full time through a bachelors and a masters….and I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck the entire time. My husband is a barista. Yeah. I work REALLY hard at not comparing myself to others…which is good….because I really often think about how no one else I know rents anymore or drives the car they had when they were 19. But whatever. I’d trade actual, genuine friendships/FWB over that other shit. But spoiler I don’t get that either. I see my best friend roughly three times a year, on a good year.

Why doesn’t crying burn calories? It goddamn should. All it does is make my under-eye area super puffy, then the next day it’s a little more wrinkled than it was. How DEEPLY unfair is it that crying causes eye wrinkles???? Like…clearly I already HAVE problems please no more.

Speaking of, I read something that said donating blood burns a shit ton of calories and prevents cancer.

Do you think that last one is true, or is it like Red Cross propaganda? The calories makes sense because like…they steal a pint of your blood and all.

The game plan.

I am on my first tall can.

I have one more.

Before he goes to spar, I’m going to ask my husband to get my the shit for my favorite mixed drink. Prepare yourselves, because I’m about to reveal how trash I really am. It’s rum (a cheap one, because we’re broke AF like always on Thursdays, so probably Castillo…yeah….Castillo.) and wild cherry pepsi on ice. Don’t tell me that isn’t perfect and amazing. But it’s probably just as calorie-laden as beer.

BUT the drunk from booze is different than beer drunk. Personally, I HATE wine drunk. I know, revoke my vagina right now. Like most people I don’t like who I become on tequila, I don’t like any of the “brown” liquors (despite LOVING the phrase “stuff it down with brown,” I just pretend it pertains to beer…although I only like light beers like pilsners or heffeweizens or kolsch. OMFG I love Kolsch beer. Okay I sound like one of the pretension douches. Get this straight, 90% of the time I drink Coors Light from the can. I don’t even pour it in a glass because then I have to wash that glass.

So I’m going to get very, very drunk tonight. I work at 6am tomorrow, and it’s going to be a day spent ENTIRELY thinking about how my boss is making me drive to work an EIGHTH time this week to give me my review when no one else is around. There’s literally no chance it’s for a GOOD reason. W used to do this to me. He’d have to break away from a lecture/screaming session because the POS needs to chill out all the time (by “chill out” I mean sit and watch TV and drink coffee and chew tobacco and get high on pain meds/booze) THEN when he’s done chilling out…if he doesn’t feel the need to nap (thank god W never had a job to get in the way of his lifestyle) it was right back to it. I’d be in my room, or watching TV in a room separate from the room HE watched TV in…and there he’d come, charging in, all angry (even moreso this time because you know, heightened level of fucked up-ed-ness) just to bring it up all over again, and just keep saying the same shit over and over. That’s part of his I’m-going-to-wear-you-down-mentally play. W never stopped being a shitbag cop. No one knows this more than his family. With my mom, he’d come charging into the room where she was attempting to dissociate and say, “AND ANOTHER THING,” that’s how he always started it. Like…keep that fight going…don’t let bad feelings die…bring up mistakes someone made 5 years ago when you’re mad at them for something completely unrelated….just you know, the mean (WOW that was a mistype but a spooky one…) the MANY things he did on a constant basis that I grew up thinking were normal. I was the only one smart enough to get away out of the four of us. I guess W’s way out is a little dark, but you know what the fucker chose his lot in life when he ruined my childhood and my brother’s sanity.

This is why, more than ANYTHING else, I’ve so far controlled my urges to contact N again. Because I’m seriously obsessed by the idea.

Not over sex.

Please.

Do I LOOK desperate? Look at my ass in this dress. You could crack walnuts with that thing.

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BUT, like….I fucking NEED beta readers. And who else do I know who’s smart besides my very busy best friend? My husband is already my very first reader.

Is this me lying to myself?

IDK. I don’t think so?

I don’t mean to be mean but like….it’s not like the guy is SO good-looking I can’t be around him without it getting weird for my hypersexual self. Like the MEGA fine director who sits by me who says good morning to me on certain mornings. I literally cannot look at him and talk to him at the same time without turning SO red. We had a guy in sales, one who I had to work with because I remove sold units when the buyers come get them, and EVERY time he came over and talked to me, I could feel my face turning red as the conversation went on. Omg he was so cute. I added him on Linked In and he never accepted. He left the company kind of bitterly, but he bothered to come over and say good-bye to me when he said he was probably going to be leaving because he asked for more money and if he didn’t get it he was leaving. SO tragic the day Donnie left. I said his name. It’s common enough I guess. So, I don’t have all that going on with N. Plus I’m great at looking terrible when I want to. It’s a skill if you’re trying not to get creeped on. Not saying N was creepy with me…in fact the opposite…if taunting someone with sex (twice!) is the opposite of being a creeper.

So. I could potentially see asking him to read CF (nickname clusterfuck).

But then part of my brain is like What are you doing? Do you WANT to have to kick yourself later? Why do you love that SO Cassie, mmm? Do you know? Why are you intent on pursuing the men who behave as if you couldn’t possibly matter that much to them?

I always know.

I’d say that’s the deepest loss in all of this.

God I CANNOT stop obsessing over this.

It’s just like when I was like….8-12 years younger than I am now.
Well that’s probably not the best sign.

SIGH.

Well, I think I’m going to finish this night out by writing maybe another page – because side note I want to try and write every day in November – then I’m going to drink heavily and play Friday the 13th online, which is a dope game, if you’re so inclined to gaming.

‘Til next time

The soon to be unemployed

~Cassie

30th birthday/420 weekend recap

The title says it all. It was great seeing my best friend for longer than three hours between her driving from her place on her way to her mother’s. She got here around 12pm on Thursday. But then she was gone from like 1-4, so I’ll count from then on. We went to a grocery store to stock up on the random things i needed to make Mai Thais (then, in total this weekend, we made one mai thai, I made her one at the end of the night with almost no rum in it…because we’re old now…anyway) and this fun alcoholic coffee drink I like making. Then when my husband got home from work on Thursday around 7 we went to a brewery by me that was disappointing. But then we came home and ordered astoundingly good pizza from a specialty award-winning one-location-only pizza place by me. So that saved it. Then we went to bed after a few more drinks.

Then Friday on my actual birthday we got up somewhat early, after my husband had left for work, she and I went to a breakfast place I’ve always wanted to try, but it’s always so busy I never try to get in on the weekends. That’s the first picture. What’s hilarious, what I didn’t notice happening at the restaurant but my bestie did, was that there was a couple sitting near us, and the girl got jealous/mad because either the guy said something about us/one of us being hot, or she caught him staring at us, because she said really loudly, in a voice meant for us to hear it (I didn’t hear it because we’d just gotten our food and I was like…devouring that…) she said “Oh that girl? Right over there by that waiter with the tattoos? Oh, she’s too gothy for ME.” Idk which one of us she meant, my bestie has dark hair, but I have a bunch of rando ear piercings.

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See, I told you we were real cute. We always have been! Anyway….I LOVE how, even a little hungover and unshowered, we’re still making this rudeass person in the breakfast place petty as hell. Mwaahaha bone structure.

Then part of Friday was spent running the boring errand of getting my paycheck from work and taking it to the bank, because LORD forbid we have direct deposit…..Anyway.

Then we went back to my place for a few hours. BFF got some cardio in, because God forbid she not do that for one day. Then she and I got ready. Then around 4pm we hit up a book store I’ve always been meaning to look into, but never got around to going to because they close at freaking 5pm. It was a disappointing book store, to say the least.
Then we went back to my place to wait for my husband. He gets home from work around 7pm. Then, we finally got to the Mexican place I wanted to hit up for dinner around 9. Then we’re there until almost 11pm.
I’d wanted to get all done up and hit up a gay club, like I told you guys, but then I was REALLY tired by the time we got home from the restaurant, I was like I don’t want to go pay cover just to buy expensive drinks and want to come home the whole time. So we only took only more pic:

 

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Then Saturday morning she left to go with her aunt to visit her mother in our hometown. Then I did NOTHING on Saturday. Like I did our laundry. And I SAT on Tinder. That’s right, I started a Tinder again, this time under my alter ego, Cassie. That’s right. AND, I managed to nail down a situation that i think will work out.
I won’t say the guy’s name because I don’t want to be rude about confidentiality, but he lives near enough and is the same age as me, and is very interested in being the bisexual interloper we need for a MMF threesome. I mean, that’s what I really want out of life, and my husband is also very into the idea. And he likes the guy I found. BUT, the guy said he can’t meet up until the weekend after next, sigh, so we’ll see if things hold up that long. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about Tinder convos am I right?

I’m a little embarrassed I had SO much extra time off, and I didn’t write any more than normal…but oh well. I had a good time doing nothing, swiping left, slowly wooing this one cute guy for my husband and myself….It was a good time. He sent a dick pic and that’s a good situation, so that’s awesome.

So, the last thing I did this weekend was get done up to do some photos. As you know I have an at home pole, well enjoy below, one is me on my pole, I’m not rich enough to have the video support plan…sorry y-all. Then there’s another one of me because I did my hair AND make up and wore a fancy new pole outfit.

Then the last picture is me having a mai thai by myself, in comfy clothes, as i know my bestie suffers at her mother’s house in our hometown. I feel for people who still speak to their parents. That sounds real tough.

Anyway, I had a good 30th birthday and long weekend off from work, I really do appreciate that I had my best friend and husband with me for it, as I have for so many now. I cherish them both and my relationships with them. I’m sure my 30s will be great considering how fucking bad my 20s were by comparison, right?

Hope everyone had a good weekend. My birthday gifts were my pole, and like 12 edibles, and a new bubbler that makes me feel like a wizard when I use it.

Peace

 

~Cassie

 

I told you about my whole open marriage thing, right?

That’s the line I’d use, in my fantasy scenario (with 1 of the 2 men on my “Free Pass to Fuck” list that I keep current with my spouse, I know his too, I think his has 2 people on it too?).
We’d be drinking in a bar, discussing some profession matter that had brought us together in this new place to begin with. I’d be feeling bold after a few drinks, probably too many knowing me, am I right guys? And I’d say something about something that gave away from hint that my husband I walked a little more on the wild side than maybe we seem, what because we’re boring lower middle class Lutherans and all. But then there’s the weed. And the occasional swinging. And the side piece I had for like a year. And then all of the drama attached to our horrible problems with alcohol, luckily long gone due to sobriety.
But in this fantasy, alcohol would play a huge role. Because I know I would need it to be uninhibited enough to go through with asking my subject/question/title.  I would ask, then judging from his reaction, go from there. Maybe, I would touch his leg under the table. Maybe the bar we’re in is across the street from a hotel. I tell him to get a room and text me the number, I’ll come prepared. When in truth, I’d packed condoms hours earlier when I was getting ready, when I was just nurturing the minor hope I’d get to spend some quality alone time with him. He texts me the number. I’m there as fast as I can be.
Need I go on?
Honestly, out of the two guys on my list, lately I’ve really only been feeling the one, and he’s been on the list WAY longer than the other so I think it’s only right for it to be that way.
The one I’m less into is the one you know about already, I’d say I’m at like 30% for this dude. In large part because I know that in reality, the chance that I would EVER actually bag this dude is like…..0.00005%. Like, I’m nearly certain that this guy has only ever had sex with his wife, which means sex is a big deal to them. Which means the likelihood that they would be down with swinging (and by they I mean her, because it’s usually the woman you have to win over, am I right?) is SLIM. It’s a possibility, I guess, but I would probably surmise that it would never happen. (This one is the Coworker, as I like to call him, and that’s all you’re getting, he’s someone from the massive company I work for)
BUT, the one I’m really into, the one I don’t think I’ve ever REALLY gotten into with you-all, lets call this one the Professor. He is one of the professors I had along the way, through maybe my Bachelors, maybe my Masters.
The Professor, I was really into him from the start.  I remember seeing him, on one of those hot first-day-of-the-semester afternoons, and feeling my heart race before it even sunk in how cute he was.  And then, OMFG, the way he taught! It’s like he was trying to be a fuckable as possible, I swear to you. He was just SO into it, and SO funny, and SO encouraging of ideas and possibilities. I was by far more vocal in his class than I was in any other, and that’s saying something because I was always notoriously silent in other classes. Sometimes, in that first class, he seemed a LITTLE more engaging with me if I wore a slutty outfit. I don’t mean that derogatorily, because I would never speak of myself in such a way, but I would wear what I call a slutty outfit. A pair of knee-length black legging type pants that REALLY made the shape of my ass noticeable (it’s nice, trust me) and a low cut (sometimes VERY low cut) dress that stopped just at my hips. Then of course my make up was always especially wild back then, when I was young and brave and in love for the first real time in my life. Oh, also, of course, I would go to EVERY class with him just blazed out of my mind. It was an afternoon class, right? Like twice a week, I think. And I would have a long break beforehand. I would eat, go home and smoke the fuck down, then drive back to campus for his class. I just had such a good fucking time going to this class completely toasted, talking with this truly delicious, brilliant professor. I’m still so fucking into him, looking at his LinkedIn profile made me wet. I’m sorry, I know that might have been a bit much for some of you, but it’s the honest fucking truth. I feel like I’m some horny gay dude on the inside. When my book is published, you’ll see what I mean. But, instead of being born a gay guy, I’m this hot chick with all these weird emotional complexes, but also way better T&A than most girls get. Plus I’m all smart and talented and ONE DAY I’ll be able to say I’m good at pole dancing. Not right now, I’m still bad. My instructors try to encourage me to do shit I know I can’t do and I’m like “No, I have doubt my leg can hold my whole boy like that,” and they’re like “oh, don’t have doubt,” and I’m like, okay but really though I don’t want to die….
SO ANYWAY. Such an enjoyable first class inspired me to seek out the Professor two more times for a class while at the school he taught at. When I did his final student review at the end of that last semester, my last one at that school as a whole, I wrote that I felt honored and privileged to have him as a professor. And fucking sappy as that made me sound, I fucking meant it. I really did. It was very lucky of me to get to have him as a teacher twice.
And, okay I’ll give something away, I had to ask the Professor for a letter of recommendation once. And when I did so, it involved meeting with him in person. Part of the conversation steered towards discussing what I would want to write about in my doctoral thesis (If I got that far). He said something along the lines of “You know, you would want to go with something along the lines of ‘I’ve always been fascinated by the strange, the exotic, the beautiful,'”
Then, when he said that, as he said it, as we were alone in his office by the important Department People, which he is one of, it kind of dawned on me that he was mentioning the things that he associated with me. I smiled at him in this, hmmm, how do I describe it, this kind of “Did you really just say that?” kind of smile, and he literally looked down and turned red.
He was known for turning red while teaching. It was just one more endearing thing, like when certain things made him tear up (you could almost hear the *sploosh* at that point…if you watch Archer, you just got my joke…if not, omg watch Archer its good and its on Netflix).
So, we had this like…moment….way back when, in 2012 when I asked him for this letter of recommendation. I would call it that.
I was his Facebook friend, back when I had Facebook. He liked two statuses of mine…if you can imagine I certainly noticed and kept track. But now all I have access to him through on social media is LinkedIn, like I already mentioned.

So I still have all of these really specific fantasies about the Professor. Lately, a lot of them have been linking up with writing my book. Because I mean, is there anything wrong with linking up goals? I want both things separately, to varying degrees, but should I not use one to instigate the other, if I can?

Sometimes I wonder if he would be into it. Or if I should not force it, just let it happen naturally.

In all honesty, men, help me out here, would you want to hear from a former student who wanted to have sex with you?

See, my husband would be aware and all right with all of it. It would be an affair only in the sense that he’d be having sex with a married woman. The lying and cheating would be out of it.

Is that the sort of thing guys want to get in on?
I think the answer is, some guys. Or is it most guys?
I’m pretty sure this guy is straight.
He thinks I’m exotic, beautiful and strange.
I’ll take all three of those, that’s cool. It’s actually very insightful of him.
Like that kid from grad school who said I “seemed like a swinger”

So….should I try and pursue having sex with this guy? I love achieving sex goals. I mean worse to comes to worst, I get rejected. It’s not like I’d ever have to see him, if I didn’t want to. Sadly, I have no reason to go to the town where he lives and works. He’s in my hometown. Where my parents are. No reason to go there.

…..Part of me is planning on reaching out to him when I have a really polished draft, and asking him to edit/read/review it for me. If he said yes….my god just the thought of talking about that with him….yeah I’ve pretty much got a play by play porno of whole thing in my head at this point.

 

See, is this the sort of thing a guy would be into? Or would this just seem obsessive and stalkery and weird? It probably depends on the guy, right?

Right?

 

Ha, well anyway, I just wanted to talk about him, because hey, you never know what the future may hold, maybe one day I’ll be like omg guys guess what I actually fucked the Professor.

What a fun day that would be.

okay, dinner time. hope everyone had a fun weekend. I wrote and ran errands and cleaned and went to pole dancing class. The usual.

 

~Cassie