Another from the archives:
Awhile ago, my cats picked up the odd and temporary habit of leaving my condoms lying around my apartment. I have a box that sits on my nightstand, because I’m classy like that, and I guess they just fished out the ones they liked, placed them in strategic locations, and then got bored and washed their butts for awhile.
I wasn’t sure if it was intended as a hint or not, but I plan on now giving those condoms to people I dislike. Consider yourselves warned, I guess.
I went out dancing awhile ago in honour of my internet stalker friend, and along came DB, his cousin, and a friend of theirs, the Cuban. Now, I’ve always known I’m a cranky old lady, but this outing really just cemented it, and if you’re willing to bear with me, I’ll tell you why.
Many months ago, when I was dating the French boy, we went out dancing with some of his friends, and I was vaguely shocked and amused to see the way in which dancing is used by so many people as a prelude to mating – it was never more apparent to me that dancing really is the human equivalent of the mating dance. And in some ways, that’s fine, I get it – it’s genuinely nice to date a guy who’s a good dancer, and especially one who doesn’t mind being out on the dance floor.
But I don’t need and don’t want to see you going after your partner’s spleen with your tongue, performing public breast examinations, giving someone a handjob, or even grinding so heavily I’m worried you’re going to get pregnant while I watch.
Yeah, I’m old and cranky that way. The DB likes to accuse me of being an exhibitionist, which is a total crock. Certainly, I will kiss him in public, we hold hands, and we’ll cuddle in front of others, but that’s as far as I’m comfortable going where other people might be subjected to it. I’m not vain enough to think the world finds me attractive, and much as porn is fun, that doesn’t mean I assume everyone wants to be privy to the real-life version.
As you can probably tell, I’m also not a voyeur.
The dance bar we were at this time happened to be occupied by a frosh crawl, so it’s entirely possible we hit it on a really bad night, but seeing all the babies grinding against one another like they just discovered a new trick made me wonder – do you all live at home? Don’t some of you at least live in a dorm, where you can do this in private and I don’t have to watch it?
I mean sure, I’ve had public sex and variations on foolings around, but I was at least courteous enough to do it someplace where we were at least marginally protected from being discovered. I don’t get a rush out of the risk – it was a convenience thing. And I guess in part a bit of a story thing; it’s fun to be able to say you’ve tagged a particular location.
I have friends I’ve spoken to in the past about their exhibitionist tendencies, and without using as many words, the result was that I asked them to basically stop what they were doing when I was around. I consider it a courtesy and respect issue; if I really want to see your partner’s body parts, I’ll request to see them – I prefer not to have them foist upon me, as it were, or to have to watch you exploring one another’s mouths in front of me.