While I cannot tell you, on a serious level, what exactly it is about a man in uniform that gets me, I've come up with a list of ten FUN reasons why any girl should want to take one for a ride, at least once....
1.They know how to use their guns.
2.(Usually) what's underneath that uniform is worth the energy it takes to get that shit off.
3. They have handcuffs and they know how to use them (ok, so this only applies to cops but trust me, its a quality not to be dimissed lightly)
4.They are take charge kind of men. Throw you up against a wall, bend you over the couch, make you scream and beg. They aren't afraid to be rough with you.
5.work hard, play hard. nuff said.
6.They can handle a bad girl, drop the F bomb, be a bitch, trust me they've heard worse.
7.Independent? Got a life of your own? PERFECT. They do too, and long work hours too!
8.Job Security. I don't care whether he's a cop, soldier, marine, whatever, those jobs won't be outsourced anytime soon ladies!
9.TRAVEL! (yeah, this one only applies to active duty military mostly, but can you say Germany? Italy? Hell even Alaska doesn't sound bad..for a while)
10.THEY'RE FUCKING SEXY. who even NEEDS another reason!?
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
My favorite bitch....
Bad girl bloggers asked about our favorite bitches and although I am about to reveal myself as the biggest history dork you know, I'm going to throw her out there anyway!
Anne Boleyn. (Image to follow shortly, my computer seems angry with me today)
Why? Well, I kind of think she got a bad rap, I know she stole another man's wife but he was the King of England...the most powerful man in the KNOWN world, how was she supposed to say no??
That fact aside, she changed the course of history, religion, politics and female leadership. She aided in the reformation, bringing the Protestent religion to England and using her influence over the King to bring it to England. She was also no foriegner to using her sexuality, she knew what she had and she knew how to work it!
I think she was ambitious, sexy, strong, and extremely intelligent, she's my pick for bitch of the week because the awesome qualities she had (especially for a woman in the 16th century) are always over looked for her reputation as a slut, witch, and the second and sadly beheaded wife of Henry VIII!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Wrong Soldier (Part two)
To say I FUCKED up, may be the understatement of the century. I drove 45 minutes for a booty call, it was supposed to be a booty call, he swore it was dammit. I remember texts that contained words like "just fun" and "casual" and "no strings attached". So I show up at his apartment with the idea in my head that I'm going to have some sex (hopefully good), go home and go on with my life.
Let me go back for just a moment, to a night a year before this booty call, we were sitting in the parking lot at Denny's waiting for our friends to catch up with us and Cam informed me, he would NEVER be with a girl who had been with one of his friends. OKKKKK I can take a hint! I was suprised he had invited me over, but I figured maybe "just for fun" didn't fall into his category of "being with" the girl. Ok, or maybe I was in denial. This was a man who in the 4 years I'd known him had never had casual sex to my knowledge....
I went home that night, but hadn't made it halfway there before he sent me a text asking if it was "ok", didn't we cover that when I woke your neighbors screaming? Or when I walked into the wall because my knees were so weak I couldn't walk straight when I tried to stand up?? But I figured I can reassure him, I mean after that many orgasms I owe him at least that. I still (in my deep deep denial) thought that would be the end of it.
The next few weeks included texts, facebook IM's and calls from Cam. "When can I see you", "that was SO great, you don't even know" (yes, I do, I WAS THERE), "so you wanna do it again right", "Don't forget me" (how can I? you text me 50 times a day!!), "you don't have to drive all the way home, you can sleep here " (since when do booty calls sleep over!?!?). All those I could handle but then it took a turn for the emotional and I just wasn't sure, and to be honest I was still wrapped up in this cop I had a thing for and I hadn't taken a moment to consider Cam for anything more than his FANTASTIC tongue.
Through these couple weeks I had been avoiding, dodging and trying to sweetly pretend I wanted to see him so I could have that tongue again, when I wasn't too busy. But on the night of the "emotional incident" as I've taken to calling it in my head, I put my giant bitch pants on. He started out asking me if I had ever thought that would happen, upon my reference to the Denny's parking lot chat, he informed me, all that really mattered is how much he liked me, that he was sorry he'd said that (SHIT), the incident continued with his confession he would never have done that if he didn't trust me, he was not a whore ( DOUBLE SHIT) and when I blew off these statements, changed the subject, and refused to admit that I knew what he was telling me, he posted a facebook status in my honor. The lyrics to the Darius Rucker song, Don't think I don't think about it. For those of you who don't know, it goes something like this:
Let me go back for just a moment, to a night a year before this booty call, we were sitting in the parking lot at Denny's waiting for our friends to catch up with us and Cam informed me, he would NEVER be with a girl who had been with one of his friends. OKKKKK I can take a hint! I was suprised he had invited me over, but I figured maybe "just for fun" didn't fall into his category of "being with" the girl. Ok, or maybe I was in denial. This was a man who in the 4 years I'd known him had never had casual sex to my knowledge....
I went home that night, but hadn't made it halfway there before he sent me a text asking if it was "ok", didn't we cover that when I woke your neighbors screaming? Or when I walked into the wall because my knees were so weak I couldn't walk straight when I tried to stand up?? But I figured I can reassure him, I mean after that many orgasms I owe him at least that. I still (in my deep deep denial) thought that would be the end of it.
The next few weeks included texts, facebook IM's and calls from Cam. "When can I see you", "that was SO great, you don't even know" (yes, I do, I WAS THERE), "so you wanna do it again right", "Don't forget me" (how can I? you text me 50 times a day!!), "you don't have to drive all the way home, you can sleep here " (since when do booty calls sleep over!?!?). All those I could handle but then it took a turn for the emotional and I just wasn't sure, and to be honest I was still wrapped up in this cop I had a thing for and I hadn't taken a moment to consider Cam for anything more than his FANTASTIC tongue.
Through these couple weeks I had been avoiding, dodging and trying to sweetly pretend I wanted to see him so I could have that tongue again, when I wasn't too busy. But on the night of the "emotional incident" as I've taken to calling it in my head, I put my giant bitch pants on. He started out asking me if I had ever thought that would happen, upon my reference to the Denny's parking lot chat, he informed me, all that really mattered is how much he liked me, that he was sorry he'd said that (SHIT), the incident continued with his confession he would never have done that if he didn't trust me, he was not a whore ( DOUBLE SHIT) and when I blew off these statements, changed the subject, and refused to admit that I knew what he was telling me, he posted a facebook status in my honor. The lyrics to the Darius Rucker song, Don't think I don't think about it. For those of you who don't know, it goes something like this:
Don't think I don't think about it
don't think I don't have regrets
don't think it don't get to me
between the work and the hurt and the whiskey
could've been, should've been all worked out
I know what I felt and I know what I said
But don't think I don't think about it
I tried to pretend this wasn't happening, I tried asking if he was drunk and finally I told him I had to go to work (I had the night off) and ended the conversation. I ended up telling him he was annoying me and to back off (yeah, yeah I knowww). All of this would not matter if I had not had a startling lightbulb moment a couple months later. After all the crap I said to him and all of my terrible behavior, when I needed a place to stay because of an awful snow storm the day after Christmas (he lives MUCH closer to my work) he was willing to let me stay there, and while we sat on the couch watching a movie, after he bought me chinese food I realized, I had made a mistake of epic proportions....this felt SO right....and AH FUCK. In case I had any doubts he got up the next morning, made me coffee, cleaned off and warmed up my car AND brought me lunch at work despite the crappy roads. I'm still trying to do damage control on this one....I just can't blame him for being a bit distant after ALL the shit I did.....
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Wrong Soldier....
I met my ex, the man I nearly married, through my darling friend Lindsey. By accident. I was not supposed to meet him (I've spent hours wondering what nasty piece of karma had me meeting him first). I was supposed meet a friend of her boyfriend, sadly this man had more than one friend and I met my future ex, Paul, first. That is a whoooooole different story in my uniform index but it needed to be said so I could discuss the other friend.
Cam, the one she'd originally intended for me, was....oh he was yummy. Built, tattooed, uniformed with that nice square jaw line. On top of that he was sweet, stable, intelligent and LOCAL (if you develop a taste for the military that becomes an important point). But did I meet him first? No I met my ex, when he came walking into my friends apartment in all his tattooed, badass soldier glory. And instantely I was smitten. Other guy? What other guy?
Years later, Cam would eventually become a close friend. We had weathered my break up with Paul (and his nasty accusations that I was the pyscho and not Paul), his break up with the bitch to beat out all bitches (her name was a virtue too, irony at its best) and we had also weathered his general whiney-ness. I had a genuine, good guy friend. A man who would put my drunk ass to sleep on his futon and then sleep on the couch next to it, just to make sure I was ok. A man who called me at 5AM to ask me what kind of lotion wouldn't bring his acne back out in full force and a man who sent me pictures of the gifts he got for his nieces and would spend endless nights talking to me, just because I needed a friend.
So why am I writing about him, since clearly he is an all around great guy? Well, because I, in my infinite wisdom, FUCKED THE WHOLE THING UP. A little light flirting and some sexual innuendos were normal for us, we were both young and always seemed to be single. But one night while I sat at work and he at home, it turned into a whole different game. I wish I could remember the details, but all I rememer is that I called him a "goody two shoes" and by 15 minutes before my shift ended he was asking me to come over so he could "pull my hair". After a (very) short internal debate I jumped in my car and drove 45 minutes for this booty call that I had very little hope for.
WRONG. I'll save my fuck up for another post, if I'm going to lay out all the cards of what a wretched bitch I was, it deserves its own post. But I will leave with this, I remember rolling over and blurting out the first words that came into my head, "Sweet Jesus I was fucking the WRONG soldier"
Cam, the one she'd originally intended for me, was....oh he was yummy. Built, tattooed, uniformed with that nice square jaw line. On top of that he was sweet, stable, intelligent and LOCAL (if you develop a taste for the military that becomes an important point). But did I meet him first? No I met my ex, when he came walking into my friends apartment in all his tattooed, badass soldier glory. And instantely I was smitten. Other guy? What other guy?
Years later, Cam would eventually become a close friend. We had weathered my break up with Paul (and his nasty accusations that I was the pyscho and not Paul), his break up with the bitch to beat out all bitches (her name was a virtue too, irony at its best) and we had also weathered his general whiney-ness. I had a genuine, good guy friend. A man who would put my drunk ass to sleep on his futon and then sleep on the couch next to it, just to make sure I was ok. A man who called me at 5AM to ask me what kind of lotion wouldn't bring his acne back out in full force and a man who sent me pictures of the gifts he got for his nieces and would spend endless nights talking to me, just because I needed a friend.
So why am I writing about him, since clearly he is an all around great guy? Well, because I, in my infinite wisdom, FUCKED THE WHOLE THING UP. A little light flirting and some sexual innuendos were normal for us, we were both young and always seemed to be single. But one night while I sat at work and he at home, it turned into a whole different game. I wish I could remember the details, but all I rememer is that I called him a "goody two shoes" and by 15 minutes before my shift ended he was asking me to come over so he could "pull my hair". After a (very) short internal debate I jumped in my car and drove 45 minutes for this booty call that I had very little hope for.
WRONG. I'll save my fuck up for another post, if I'm going to lay out all the cards of what a wretched bitch I was, it deserves its own post. But I will leave with this, I remember rolling over and blurting out the first words that came into my head, "Sweet Jesus I was fucking the WRONG soldier"
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Someone told me I should write a book....
A close friend, one I depend on for advise, especially for the (usually dramatic) intimate part of my life told me I should write a book. I was amused, to say the least. What on earth about my life could be interesting enough to write a book about? His answer: Tell me when the last time you dated, slept with or hell even LOOKED at a man who didn't wear a uniform.
He's right....its been almost two years.
And even before that, I only sprinkled my dating/sex life with so called "normal" men. So why not write about it? Will anyone read it? I couldn't tell you. Some people are certainly going to read it and see SLUT. To be honest, that is fine with me. I long ago decided that what makes ME happy is far more important than other people's opinions of my personal life and the point of this blog is to make people LAUGH, if I could figure out why I can't learn to avoid a man in uniform, trust me ladies and gentleman, I would be working to fix it.
I can't even pinpoint something they all have in common except that they all wear some variety of a uniform. Cop, Soldier, Marine, Sailor, Airman....And so this blog will be about just that, the confessions of a uniform addict.
If I'm going to confess, why not start at the beginning, right? My very first uniform? What was he you ask? A soldier. To be precise I was 18, fresh out of high school, was at a county fair when I stumbled across a booth run by the National Guard. His name, which for the purpose of protecting his identity and mine, will be John. John was in his late 20's, cute and had a friend for my friend. SCORE! Now, I'll be honest, this relationship wasn't going too far from the beginning, he had about as many brain cells as your average house cat, even at 18, I could barely tolerate a conversation with the man. But oh when he turned those baby blue eyes on me, and I stared deep into his....wait....were those....yes....those were STRIPES on his uniform. Jackpot. John, I will admit was short lived, turns out, he worked at home depot for a day job, lived in a CRAPPY apartment and had a disturbing obsession with Yoda (YOU try waking up to Yoda action figures on the night stand *shudder*). For about a month I over looked these things because I knew, that uniform was just waiting for him to put back on and the minute he did it made hovering everytime I had to pee at his place worth it (aren't military men supposed to be super clean?) But alas, I did finally reach a point where I thought, alright, this has been lovely John, but I am going to have to exit the ride at this time, I think I just heard the words "meet" and "mother" in the same sentence.
After changing my phone number and avoiding the town he resided in for a month or two I had some time to think....sure he was dumb....and sure he was a little weird....but Sweet Jesus was he HOT. I learned a few very important lessons from John, Star Wars IS as dorky as I always thought, theres nothing worse than puking in a dirty toilet after a night of drinking, and a man in uniform for me is like a new flavor of ice cream, I just HAVE to try him out!
He's right....its been almost two years.
And even before that, I only sprinkled my dating/sex life with so called "normal" men. So why not write about it? Will anyone read it? I couldn't tell you. Some people are certainly going to read it and see SLUT. To be honest, that is fine with me. I long ago decided that what makes ME happy is far more important than other people's opinions of my personal life and the point of this blog is to make people LAUGH, if I could figure out why I can't learn to avoid a man in uniform, trust me ladies and gentleman, I would be working to fix it.
I can't even pinpoint something they all have in common except that they all wear some variety of a uniform. Cop, Soldier, Marine, Sailor, Airman....And so this blog will be about just that, the confessions of a uniform addict.
If I'm going to confess, why not start at the beginning, right? My very first uniform? What was he you ask? A soldier. To be precise I was 18, fresh out of high school, was at a county fair when I stumbled across a booth run by the National Guard. His name, which for the purpose of protecting his identity and mine, will be John. John was in his late 20's, cute and had a friend for my friend. SCORE! Now, I'll be honest, this relationship wasn't going too far from the beginning, he had about as many brain cells as your average house cat, even at 18, I could barely tolerate a conversation with the man. But oh when he turned those baby blue eyes on me, and I stared deep into his....wait....were those....yes....those were STRIPES on his uniform. Jackpot. John, I will admit was short lived, turns out, he worked at home depot for a day job, lived in a CRAPPY apartment and had a disturbing obsession with Yoda (YOU try waking up to Yoda action figures on the night stand *shudder*). For about a month I over looked these things because I knew, that uniform was just waiting for him to put back on and the minute he did it made hovering everytime I had to pee at his place worth it (aren't military men supposed to be super clean?) But alas, I did finally reach a point where I thought, alright, this has been lovely John, but I am going to have to exit the ride at this time, I think I just heard the words "meet" and "mother" in the same sentence.
After changing my phone number and avoiding the town he resided in for a month or two I had some time to think....sure he was dumb....and sure he was a little weird....but Sweet Jesus was he HOT. I learned a few very important lessons from John, Star Wars IS as dorky as I always thought, theres nothing worse than puking in a dirty toilet after a night of drinking, and a man in uniform for me is like a new flavor of ice cream, I just HAVE to try him out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)