My drive-by traffic signal

I LOVE this blog! But every time I read it I get pangs of envy and maybe a pinch of regret that I am not single and having fun anymore.

My brain has been on overload lately, I often think about things too much and sometimes I just can’t stop obsessing with an idea in my head that it takes over pretty much any downtime my poor substance abused noggin’ can handle.

I think recently it’s been a combination of this, this and this post that have come together in some horrible gooey ball of ideas that I want to either have an affair, or leave my husband. Isn't that just horrible, random and shocking!?!

(P.S. If you know me in real life do me a favor and don't, like mention it to him in conversation or anything... Thanks!)

Of course as new ideas, events and other such shiny things are put in front of me I may forget this notion, but it’s strong at the moment. Re-inforcing my theory all along that I should never have gotten married so young and for all the wrong reasons. But... that shall be put on the back burner for the minute, as I re-visit my slightly more slutty yet ever so enjoyable past with a story from the single days!

The Peruvian, Japanese, Turkish weekend (Part I)

I’d like to say I’m a multi-cultural kinda gal and my boy toys were no exception, any nationality, skin colour, accent, I was open to just about anyone! (sexually explicit pun intended) I always avoided people I knew really well, like say, work colleagues. There were many reasons for purposely avoiding having ‘one night love’ with people I had to face the next week, for one, a lot of them were dipshit foreign English teachers. Nuff’ said… Another being the old ‘don’t shit where you eat’ kind of thing, I didn’t want to smear my reputation too much in the office. And the only other option were the Japanese office guys, who were either not worth it personality wise, or fun to flirt with, but more than likely duds in bed, plus they were all about 22 years old fresh out of university and hoping to clamber their way up the corporate ladder to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, otherwise known in Japan as a pension and 10 days holiday after working like a dog for 30 years. Not my type at all…

So to the big city’s clubs and bars are where I mostly found my lovers, it was fun, fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol and easily forgotten the next day if you could ignore your pounding head and desire to vomit up the ramen you ate at 3am on the way home the next morning.
There was one particular weekend that sticks out in my memory (I actually have a pretty good one people tell me) where it was a whirlwind of drinking, shagging and general craziness that left me completely exhausted.
Friday night~ I was walking home from the station when I saw a car slow down as it passed me and pulled in to the conbini near my apartment. I didn’t think it was that odd, not like back home where you’re scared a serial killer might drag you in to the car and torture you or anything but then I saw a young-ish (I have no idea how old he actually was) guy poke his head out the window and stare at me. Again, not that strange in a land of people who like to stare at whities, but enough to get my attention. I ignored him and went on my way but then the car came past me again and slowed so that he was looking at me and obviously wanting to talk. He was cute so I decided to be a bit of a flirt and said “Do you need directions” and he laughed and said in fantastically rubbish English “Yes! You house please!” Still, pretty smooth for a J-guy, I was instantly impressed.

I told him to go back to the conbini and I’d talk to him there, I totally intended to take him home but needed a little bit of well-lit talking time to make sure he wasn’t going to slice me up and eat me or anything. When I got back to the conbini he was inside buying cigarettes, I wanted to go in but I didn’t know him from a bar of soap, couldn’t really just rock up next to him, but I also wanted to buy beer for myself so made a drinking motion at him through the window and pointed to the back of the store at the fridges. He finally got it after much gesturing and got chu-hai instead, but it was alcoholic, that was all that mattered.
When he came out we sat in his car and drank and talked for a bit, he was determined to speak to me in English which set off gaijin hunter alarm bells but after we started kissing he gave up which was a big relief, nothing worse than being asked what the past tense of a verb is while you’re trying to give a blow job.
I’m not one for car shenanigans, I like my own house and all the comforts so I told him to ‘walk me home.’ I don’t remember if the conversation was that awkward but we laughed a lot, he told me his name was Shingo and I asked if he minded that his name just made me think of a traffic signal and he couldn’t stop laughing. I told him my name and he said Korea!? Korea!? Still, laughter is an aphrodisiac for me, I guy could be super hot but if he doesn’t have a sense of humour then I’m just not interested, so it was all good.
Once we got home I did my OCD ritual of teeth brushing and face washing while he drank and watched TV, and when I was finally ready we got to bed. The dirty details are a bit sketchy but I’d give him a 6 out of 10, he had a pretty small cock but didn’t really know what to do with it which was worse than the actual size issue. He must have been pretty young because he kept asking me for direction, which I was more than happy to give, but my Japanese wasn’t the best back then and I kept losing my moment because I was concentrating on what to say. It was also all over red rover pretty quickly AND I’d gone to the trouble of giving him head but ended up finishing myself off- fuck, now I think about it I change his rating to 5, he gets bonus points for being funny and sweet. He got dressed and started with the bullshit of… “Errr what’s your number…blah blah blah” but I was already tucked up in bed and mumbled that it was OK, I’d probably see him around some time at the conbini or something. Shocked or happy I’m not sure, but he left and I slumbered, having no idea I’d need all the sleep I could get for the next few days.

And for my Peruvian and Turkish stories, you’ll just have to keep reading!