"A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life, to be thankful for a good one” ~ Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

So Peoples,

                        I decided before I do another “hook up” blog i should tell you about a man, not just A man but THE man. It should be noted that if i even become fb friends with this MAN i will have to delete this post because it is WAY too explicit, so read it while you stil can!!.

This man shall - for the purposes of his own sexy privacy (that and the fact he has an extremely complicated surname that i can’t spell) shall be referred to as 

“ THE ITALIAN MAN “

or 

" T.I.M "

This invented pseudonym is quite DEVIOUS of me actually - simple because the only thing that actually makes this man in any way shape or form “Italian” is the fact that he attends my Italian tute.

I didn’t really notice Italian boy until week 4 then BOY did i notice him.

 I had walked into the lecture just as it was starting, its one of those lectures that everyone comes early to to get front row seats, not because its a good lecture but because there is a couple that has dry sex up the back......... actually lets segway for a minute :

AMUSING SEGWAY:

Couple in the back of the lecture -
A few weeks ago the couple in the back of the Italian lecture where going at it......more than usual, so much so that the girls heavy breathing and cries where echoing through the lecture hall. In her moment of passion she yelled out 

“YES”

Much to the amusement of the class, the lecturer stops, gets on to the microphone and yells back

“IN ITALIAN ITS SI!, SI! (insert girls name here)”

I think i love that lecturer.....

later on she said to another student 

“I am just glad that (insert girls name here) is getting it while she still can”

ANYWHO (snap out of pondering the logistics of having sex in a lecture theater):
So i walk to class and the only seats are down the back so i have a CLEAR line of sight to “ITALIAN MAN” - so its a pretty standard tute - 

That is until Italian man (who, i should add has a horrible habit of wearing the ugliest jumpers i have EVER seen - one week he had green and blue lamas circling the bottom - apparently its “vintage”)moves to remove his ugly jumper-

WOW

his ugly jumper was removed to reveal a TIGHT WHITE t-shirt that beautifully emphasised the RIPPLING muscles on his back that quivered ever so slightly as he twisted it off 

My perving - as it usually is - oh so OBVIOUS and the girl next to me saids... inappropriately loud:

“don’t drool on yourself hun, he’s not taking anything else off!!”

I. almost. died.

So, i hear you ask, what is it about Italian man that makes you subconsciously undress him as he walks past? 

(you said it, not me)

His hair: its blonde, usually i cant stand a blondie but its just long enough for him to run his fingers through it.

His bod -ay: he is a part time gardener and FIT i am pretty sure you could play the xylophone on his washboard of a stomach and his arms (god, iam a sick puppy)

They are the kind of arms you could imagine yourself encircled in on a cold night.....next to a fireplace....with a bottle of Champagne.......on a fur rug.....sigh

His nice- ness: even though i am the biggest pain in the arse and SO FREAKIN OBVIOUS in gawking at his perfectness he still says hi and dose the small talk thingy

His cheek / jaw bones: god, apart from everything else, i am a sucker for good cheek bones - Like that guy from that supernatural show - i melt when they tense their jaw and it becomes all hard and chiseled 

~WHY IT WILL NEVER WORK~

(beside the fact he is not attracted to me in ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM)

His hair: eventually i will become self conscious that my boyfriends leg hair was less noticeable than mine - 
suffice is to say i have my coffee like my hair - black

His bod -ay: i would feel like a piece of shit if i had to look at that everyday then see myself next to it and wonder what the funk went wrong in my mothers womb?? 
(actually i know what happened... it starts with C and ends in Hoclate)

His nice-ness: i don’t trust people who are TOO nice - every now and again every one should have a bitch or be judgmental or be in a bad mood or rant ... 

it DOSN’T MAKE YOU A BAD PERSON

if your doing it everyday of your life to the people that love you THEN your a bad person

He’s cooler than me: i quote the famous Mike Posner

“you have designer shades to hide your face

and you wear them around like your cooler than me

and you never say “hey” or remember my name

its probably ‘cos you think your cooler than me”

thank you for your wise words Mike, much appreciated...

He is one of those 
“I am so indie I am just going to die because living is so mainstream” 
kinda guys - and he has Indie hair and Indie shoes and Indie clothes and those ridiculously expensive ray-bands (that i am sure are vintage making them even MORE indie - if thats possible)

So thats it, 

if you have a similar story of lust and loss over a pretentious but beautiful indie / italian man do tell - or you want to vent about unattainable skinny white guys or you like Mike Posner or having sex in lectures

tell me 

peace out

Bridie

xoxox

A man's kiss is his signature. ~Mae West

Hello,

The perseverance hotel is my “Joint” simply because there are a heck of allot of boys, 

(Note, observant reader, that i DON’T say men. I am not sure when it happens but unlike girls who seem to mature slowly with time, a boy is either mature or a testosterone fueled idiot with too much confidence and usually pumped with alcohol.)

The positive attributes about this are - they are my age, like me are up for a “hook up” or “a session” or whatever you want to call it and you can take what nameless lips you can get and you never have to talk to them - this however means a few things

a)You don’t know what your going to get!! a friend of mine recently described her experience as if 

“he was trying to suck my tongue out of my mouth” 

- Though i think it is a bit harsh to say “ALL boys MUST be GREAT kissers” i don’t think it is so much to ask that you don’t feel like your being mouth raped.

b)It’s totally akws if you see them again. This, i think, can be split into a few categories depending on the scenario, but:

- you may or may not have given them your number and you never answered their call, 

- like me, may have given the “reject number” 

- don’t remember their name, 

- don’t remember making out with them, 

- don’t WANT to remember making out with them ect ect

So i did two VERY sad things the other day (Friday to be exact):

I had a horrible “hook up” - the man shall hence forth be named “Saliva man” - there was nothing wrong with him...... a little short.......AMAZING ARMS (you know the ones that stretch the arm fabric of a t-shirt just a little)

Anywho, Saliva man was a good dancer, he was doing the “awkward hand on my hip” 

kind-o-thing and after this lead up we kissed and

 HE DUMPED a LITER of saliva in my mouth... i literally had to walk to the toilet and

SPIT. IT. OUT.

ew. 

Saliva man tried to dance with me a little more after that and i think (in my semi inebriated state) i told him i was gay.......it wasn’t the most convincing line i have ever come out with (considering i had just kissed him and all) but it did the job.

I watched him for the rest of the night though (mainly observing his friend who, had man boobs the size of which would make even Dolly Parton's "girls" jealous) I watched girls lock lips with Saliva man and LOVE IT!!

I heard one girl say loudly to her friend

"O. M. G. he has an AMAZING tongue" - maybe i should add that this girl, not only had the skin that resembled an Oompa Loompa but she had fake eyelashes with tiny crystals at the end and nails with little pictures on them (It dosn't have bearing on anything i just thought you should know)

Anyway, this happened a few times (Saliva boy got around) and every girl came away looking impressed and all i could think was 

WHAT THE FUNK??

Is this OK this TONGUE / SALVA BUSINESS?

I was mentally scared by this kiss and these other girls looking like they had just had the "session" of their lives.

Have i missed something, honestly?

Secondly due to the experience, I bought a bottle of Listerine (you know those 800ml mothers). 

Do you ever have those moments (like mine with Saliva man) when you realise your mouth is WET and it is not WET because of your OWN saliva, more often than not it is wet with someone ESLES salvia? 

There is a sudden AWARENESS 

and TASTE of 

SOMEONE ESLSES saliva 

in YOUR MOUTH 

and you just want to vomit. 

Added to this, there is a very sick reoccurring thought that I read once on the back of a toilet door, it said:

“the saliva in your mouth stays there for two weeks, so when you kiss someone, you are kissing every person they have kissed in the last two weeks”

.gross.

Anyone else have a horrible hook up story that ended up improving there sense of personal hygiene they would like to share please do alternatively tell me if you are into "The Tongue"

peace out

Bridie

XOXOX

There's a little bit of hooker in every woman ~ Sarah Miles

Dear Readers,
                       This is the fourth blog i have tried to write - It should be more successful then my last, simply because I have decided not to do this one anonymously, by this i actually mean i subtly put it on my facebook page (this is far as publicising it as i will go) and i plan to let go of my already shamelessly low inhibitions and just tell my embarrassing stories as they are.


So, the background to this story is I recently came home from Europe after 10 months of "Mills and Boon" style romantic escapades - much to the happy ignorance of my family and returned to find that I had suddenly lost my bag of charm I could deal out, that came with being an "exotic Australian with a cute accent". And so I was desperate. You know what I mean, when your eye starts an involuntary twitch every time an attractive man walks past and a little bit of spittle escapes from the side of your mouth at the thought of the beautiful Italian man in your italian tute (another story).


Then one day at uni my Irish luck turned around and I met a man who, for the purposes of this story will be called "Leather Jacket". Leather Jacket ticked my boxes:
- He was Scottish (usually its the Irish accent that makes me subconsciously undress immediately and usually leeds to me unwillingly and embarrassingly salivating, but Scottish is super cute too)
- He was studying engineering (as an Arts student who has no viable career prospects with a decent monetary reward, one has to consider how my travel bug / dress collection will be maintained)
- He was tall (what can I say? I am not short but a partner needs to still be taller than you when you wear heals - otherwise you just look stupid)

So when this tall, dark, handsome, Scottish engineer asked me back to his apartment for lunch I thought that I had found the solution to my twitch wink, wink.
So, we went back to his place and he made pasta - it was nice pasta -
and we pleasantly chatted for a while and we had a glass of wine

and he saids -
"So, do you want to come upstairs and look at my leather jacket?"

First of all the little Bridie inside of myself was all like:
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS  FI.  NAL.  LY.

Now, I'm pretty sure that are were thinking what was thinking ( "I think I am B2")
that "come up stairs and look at my leather jacket" could be translated to
"come up stairs and look at my etchings"
"come have a coffee in my car"
"come up to my apartment for a drink of milo" ect ect - you can see where my dirty mind was going with this.....

Anywho, i say "yes" (probably a little too quickly and a little too loudly) and I followed him up stairs where he sat me on a armchair outside his bedroom door.
And so I waited

(crickets chirp, tumble weed)

And he throws open the bedroom door to reveal .... HIMSELF! exactly as he was dressed before hand but with a leather jacket on!!
He looked at himself in the mirror opposite and said
"isn't it a LOVELY jacket"
he proceeded to do a little SPIN, ADMIRING himself in the jacket, looking at himself over his shoulder in the mirror.
He finally acknowledged my existence -
 a SINGLE, semi- ATTRACTIVE, FEMALE, in his APARTMENT, ALONE with him and asked me if i would like
"to feel how soft the leather is?"

He then asked if he wanted to walk back to uni with me because he had class.........

I can't decide what the moral of this story is
"when one is desperate, it is easy to read too far into situations in an attempt to plicate the desperateness"
or
"men REALLY don't have "one thing on their mind" as sister Loretto told me in sex ed yr 7"
or
"the quality of leather in Australia is not as inferior to European leather as was thought"

I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings

Bridie
xoxo