I Don’t Give a Shit

I am sure you all have read The Vagina Maintenance blog. If not, go read it at https://nikkiolsen.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/vagina-maintenance/

If you don’t feel like reading it, well don’t.

Today in my doctor visit I was again asked to pee in a cup. The nurse handed me another fruit cup to pee in but this time she gave me a little mason jar as well. Included with this jar, a clear plastic bag with orange Biohazard printed on it was mine to sport around the office. Now, I was asked to bring this back at any time before my Monday appointment. I don’t think I need to spell it out for any of you what I am supposed to do with this new container but I can tell you I am not shitting in a plastic jam jar in public and then carrying it through a waiting area. They just need to swab my ass or something because it’s not happening. I can barely use a public restroom as it is, much less try and get some poop in a condiment jar. Who are you people?

If any of these people would stop and remember they too possess an intestine, most likely two and a vagina they would stop putting us common folk in distress with these outlandish requests. Carry my poop in a jar, in a bag, and through a lobby? I think not. The biohazard bag alone is enough of a neon sign on me flashing “I have shitty problems.” I want to retaliate with my own sign “I don’t give a shit, especially in public.” It’s one thing to clean some pee off my hand but no, I am not doing the dreaded number two in public, no. I can’t even begin to imagine how I am going to get the crap into the Tupperware at home. Ugh.

I am not calling my Mom and this isn’t even a phone a friend kind of problem. Well, not any of my buddies that is. I have a strict policy amongst my comrades and bodily functions are yours. And by yours I mean, not mine, at all, ever. I am perfectly perfect knowing none of my people poop, fart or have menstrual cycles. I am not the one to come looking for sympathy if you have cramps or need some Imodium. That’s your friend named Walgreens, not Nikki. If you have gas, then go away, use the restroom, take a trip to Disneyland but simply stay away from me. You people that let that stuff out on purpose are inhumane and I am glad I never have to do your laundry.

I was a bit taken back when the doctor was asking me to discuss my bowel movements with him. I mean, I have talked with my girlfriend about issues but not a dude in a white coat with pens in his pocket. He asked me if it foamed. I raised my eyebrows and stared at him blankly. I finally managed to say “what, foamed?” I was sure it was a language barrier type of question but nope, that’s what he said. I probably had a look of pure terror by now when I said “I don’t think so. I certainly hope not, that would be a little crazy.” I wanted this conversation done when he asked “what color is it? Does it smell?” That did it for me. I blurted out “of course it smelled and no clue about the rest. I don’t know, I just don’t want to know. I suppose I will start paying attention if you need me to.” He gave up on me about the turd talk and that’s when I was issued the bag-o-biohazard.

Anyway, so it’s a self-problem; exactly the way it should be. I will refrain from giving any updates. Not one soul in this universe wants to know the outcome of this. Hell, I don’t even want to know. I picture this poor little man in a lab wearing a gas mask with random outbursts such as “stop giving me shit.” On really busy days he screams “no more shit from you people, enough.” I would like to apologize in advance Mr. Lab Worker, I am truly sorry, surely you don’t need any more crap in your life. I really was happy in my life not giving a shit. I wonder if I need to put in for a permit to haul this crap back to the doctors office? Isn’t it illegal to transport hazardous cargo?

Peace. Please be kind.

See, I did make a t-shirt.

Dear God, It’s me and I am Gay.

I once read that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is when SHE brushes up against me and puts her arms around me.
And there are no words for that…

When I was approximately 14 years of age my Mother and Step-father took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant. I was in the middle of a bite of deliciousness when my Mom softly whispers “we believe you are having homosexual tendencies.”

I spit out my food and stared at the two of them. She may as well have been on stage with a microphone and holding a huge spot light on me. It felt like the entire restaurant came to a halt and all eyes were on me. In my mind you could have heard a pin drop in that establishment. “We know you have been kissing girls” is what I heard “and you are going to hell.”

“Umm…well…uh, I think you are wrong! NO” is what I believe I said while viciously shaking my head back and forth.
The 14 years of knowledge I had was far vaster than these two who’s combined age was like 88. The reason they took me to the restaurant was because I would run like hell from anything uncomfortable. Literally, out the front door and down the street not to be seen for hours was my method of operating. I suppose this is still my modus operandi but at least I am aware of it now. Simply because he was a social worker and she worked with emotionally challenged individuals, what the hell did they know? Who cares if I had a girlfriend and the majority of my friends were all gay? These two were just plain stupid. I was not going to be one of those homosexual people made fun of. I was not going to be referred as a “dyke, lesbo, lezzy, queer, carpet muncher, fruitcake” and my favorite “crack snacker.” Of course I could pull a “Vagina Monologue” here and make a list for days but you get the idea. It’s not that I wasn’t gay; I just didn’t want to be.

So, long story short. I fought it, lied, made myself miserable and acted out in the face of all of the love and support most people long for from family and friends. Somehow, despite the understanding and acceptance I had, I was determined it was wrong. I was a latent homosexual I guess. I suppressed and repressed on a conscious level. At the age of 24 is when I finally accepted myself after NUMEROUS relationships.

I didn’t drape myself in a rainbow flag and run through the streets screaming “I am here, I am queer and I am here to stay.” I simply stopped lying to others and more importantly, myself.

I make an effort to never tell someone unless point blank asked. This only seems to arouse curiosity in others, especially men. I get the “oh, can I watch?” and “you just haven’t had the right man” crap all of the time. Some of the women on the other hand just freak me the fuck out. I had one who just didn’t get that if she was a woman and I liked women then I should automatically like her. Uh..NO! That is not how I roll. I am sure if you like woman and like men, you don’t automatically like EVERY man. Ugh, why do I have to explain this? Get some self-confidence people! Just saying…

AND this is going to be so shallow and rude but I am going to say it anyway. YOU, the lady who was expressing the longing for a lesbian experience while your husband was away, I am not the one! When you took off that sweater thing you were wearing to show off what you were working with, well, you looked like a tube of biscuits that were just opened by smacking it on the counter. Corsets should be worn in certain places and I despise a cheater.

Sorry, I know that was bad but I needed to get it off my chest.

A woman I dated back in the day had a horrible accident and is brain damaged. I am not sure what her mentality level is now but from what I can tell it is about at the age of 12 or 13. Her Father loves her unconditionally and believes religion is the cure for homosexuality. Even though she remembers hardly anything from her past she is still gay despite her Fathers attempts on finding that cure. When we dated 100 years ago he told me San Francisco had earth quakes because it was the God’s way of getting rid of all of the queers. One day there was going to be a big one and all of the gay people would be stuck out on an island to die of AIDS. I didn’t want to point out that the earth’s plates moving in opposite directions of each other might impose a great amount of pressure imposing lithosphere. I was afraid if I did so my lithosphere would break because this is what happens when the pressure is too great. I didn’t want to blow up (ha) in front of this man who called himself a “Christian.” I did want to ask him if a little fairy would be picking me up prior to this natural disaster since I don’t live there and I am queer and gay.

I just let the ignorance flow like lava.

Another recent honorable mention needs to be called out here. I was at work. I walked up to a woman and said “What are you having to drink?” you know, because that is what I get paid to do.

“I’m not gay but my girlfriend is.”

“Cool, but what does that have to do with beer?” is what I said as another person next to her begins to apologize to me for her.

I stand there for a bit and realize there is a deeper issue here. The lady was serious. I thought she was referring to that t-shirt I have seen in the past. In her drunken state that mind is just spinning and fighting her inhibitions. The woman is not accepting herself. Constant battle within her and all I want to do is give her a damn beer and go back to my conversation with my self confident friend at the other end of the bar. He has become one of my favorite people and was telling me a story about driving BMW’s. This is much more of what I want to talk about instead of feeling sorry for that poor woman and her girlfriend. In my two minute encounter with them I can see the “gay” one loves this woman unconditionally and the “not gay” one is in it because it happened and now she feels trapped despite the decade they have been sharing the same sheets. Whatever! Get on board lady or get off the train.

Sorry again for being rude but I just needed to let out some steam.

I am so way off subject here. This story was supposed to be about funny recent encounters with people. I can’t begin to tell you how fortunate I am to have the love, support and acceptance I do. I prefer to hang out with “straight” people because I have a low tolerance for drama. Not that there is not drama in the heterosexual world but it is usually lower or just the people I surround myself with. Lesbians tend to date one another just because there is someone there. I want the full meal deal; super size it if you will. I don’t settle because I have been that dumb ass in the past. The next time I do it, I am doing it right. I will not waste my time or another ever again! Ever!!

I am usually the only gay person in a group. Most of my friends only know one gay person. (That would be me for you slower people.)

I don’t know what my whole point to this is but let me point out this business.

1. Thank you for loving me as an individual.

2. When around gay people or in a gay bar you do not need to pretend to be gay. We don’t care who you are. Just be your SELF! There are enough of us. Breed on; our tax dollars will assist you.

3. A true person, gay or straight, is not into converting people. We do not get a door prize. No free toaster or even a tax break. This holds true for you jack asses who don’t think I have had the right man because I know some amazing men.

4. I understand some of people’s hatred comes from their environment or upbringing. I am sad for you. Only you have the ability to change this. Stop the circle of hate and start right this damned second. Teach your children love and acceptance so they will be in a better place than what we had to grow up with. If you are a hater, please know it is a sign of weakness.

Shit, this did turn into a sermon. Sorry again!

In closing I would like people to ponder something:

What if a gay person did not have sex? Would they still be gay?

The answer is yes. I can assure you one thing; if I could get the same mushy, weak in the knees, passion throughout my soul with a man I would. It has never happened. It’s the same feeling anyone gets when love enters your being, mine just happens to be with the same sex. It is not a choice. I am not going to be someone else or not love simply because hate exists out there in this world.

Peace!

“Be kind and expect the same.”

Vagina Maintenance

Years ago, I had to visit the doctor because my period had been non-existent making me seriously contemplate crawling in a cave and hibernating. Since I do not care for bats in dark holes and being awake provides all manners of unexpected fun, I chose the doctor route.

“Okay,” the doctor said “say ah, now take a deep breath and now another. Follow my pen with your eyes. No, Ms. Olsen, just your eyes don’t move your head. Stick your tongue out, Hmm, okay, lift your left arm and twist slightly to the left. Now move your left arm.”

Alrighty, let me know if this hurts?” as she pushes on my abdomen.

“Ouch, Jesus, let’s just play twister and get it over with” I groan.

“Go ahead and get undressed, put this gown on and I will be right back” she says completely ignoring my groaning.

Given my modesty and fear of having all of my business up in the air I grumble as I put the so called gown on. But hell, a girl has to do these necessary maintenance checks. It was obvious there was a check engine light on, perhaps even flashing.

The doctor comes back and starts the exam. “Hmm okay, relax.”

Yeah easy for her to say, she isn’t in stirrups with her vagina all out in the open. She pokes, prods and uses tools I never want to see again. She and the nurse are making small talk about my cervix and shit. I want to wave my hands in the air to remind them I am not just some box.

As she is finishing up she says “hmm, I am stumped. I just have nothing to hang my hat on.”
My eyes open wide and I say “well, I sure in the hell hope not.”

She was not amused. “Let’s get some urine.”

The nurse gave me the empty fruit cup looking thing and I went to the restroom. Now, not many people know this, but unfortunately I have peed in many of cups for a variety of reasons. Just for the record, none of them were court ordered. For someone who “don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies,” I’ve peed in more cups than Lindsey Lohan.

I’ve perfected the art of aiming without having to look. We don’t have the luxury of sticking a stick in a cup and peeing with no mess. It’s a totally different ball game when you’re dealing with the vertical smile.

We have to strategically position the cup so that the wayward stream hits the side and runs down or we could be looking at a messy spasm chasm. Do not even think about hitting the middle of that cup or it becomes a pissy splatter. Now fuse this with the hovering technique because sitting down is not an option. Doing so would result in the cup becoming a bobber or your hand hitting the water.

Remember, I have just been in stirrups with ground zero all up in the air and now I am on a public toilet. If my hand hits that water or seat just call in the prosthesis team because I am cutting the fucker off.

I shuffle in the bathroom holding my gown carefully as to not moon the nurse. I don’t know why it matters; she has already seen my vagina. I assume the squatting position and put the plastic contraption in the line of fire at a tilt and think of water. I begin to let it flow gradually and what in the hell, my hand is warm. Holy crap, I clenched to prohibit the stream and shivered that urine was on my hand and repositioned the apparatus.

No need to think of a waterfall again, it’s ready to go. I proceed with caution.

Shit, shit, shit there is more warmth on my hand. It is not stopping despite every Kegel repetition I attempt. Can my urethra be kinked or did it change its downward and forward direction? Is this even possible, ugh?

Now there is piss everywhere and I can’t sit down to inspect what is going on since I contaminated the entire bathroom. I am now in a yoga position never seen before in an attempt to avoid peeing on my legs and little hospital slippers. I finally pull the cup away from my best twister/yoga position. Surely some of the urine made it in there and it will be enough for the vagina inspectors.

Well, yeah there may have been some piss in the cup if I would have taken the damned lid off.

To make matters even better the label on top with my patient number is disgustingly sodden and smeared. I throw it all in the trash and start the hot water. I go back and forth between soap, hand sanitizer and killed a tree with the amount of paper towels I used to clean me and the bathroom.

I opened the door and almost forgot about the damned gown until I saw MY nurse walking with another patient. I simply stared at her with my back to the door. She looked down at my hand and noticed it was empty. I shrugged and said “I need another fruit cup.”

“What happened?”

“Is a story really necessary?”

“No, I suppose not, I’ll be right back, you can wait in your patient room.”

As I sit there waiting, I look over at my clothes folded neatly with underwear and bra hidden underneath. A knock happens and she walks in with a new cup and I grin and say “I don’t know why I hide my under garments from you, it’s not like you didn’t just see all my holiest of holes.”

Her eyes widened and she said “now that is a new one and I wish more people would hide their garments especially the under ones.”

I giggled and went off to think about water.

Peace! Be kind and expect the same.

Just a little Love truth

Just a little Love truth.

Just a little Love truth

You know love is a funny thing. What I don’t get is how one heart can be so in love and the other just non existent. I suppose I have only truly been in love once in my life. I have had a few other close calls but not like that “one.” The good part to this is I am glad I have loved like that at least once in my life. Breaking up was probably the best thing I ever did for my personal growth. I am one hell of a changed person and independent.

Don’t get me wrong, I have fell hard for someone and enjoyed every minute with them, craved them when we were apart and even wanted more of them when we were together but then something always happens.

A broken heart is so….well, I just don’t have a good description for it. It is the worst pain in the world. Your every thought, your every movement, your every breath hurts knowing that person is no longer with you. I do not wish it upon the most horrid person in the world.

Everyone says with time it gets easier and that is true to a certain extent. I am beginning to believe people do die with that piece of their life missing. Some people settle for another pretending to be happy but it is just a way of getting by. There is nothing like coming home to the one you love. It doesn’t matter if that person has been sweating all day or sick or they have been in a horrific accident and permanently disabled and injured. Love is unconditional.

Another bad feeling is when you know someone loves you unconditionally and would give their life for you but the feeling is not there. This is most difficult because no matter how much you care for that person you know you just can’t be true to them. You feel their pain but your heart is not in it. You can NOT sacrifice your life just because you do not want to hurt them. (If you are a person who uses someone you know loves you…you are the scum of the earth.) Sorry, just my opinion.

I have recently noticed something about people. When they are angry with another or others it is usually due to some unresolved anger inside them. Everything you do to someone is a reflection of who you are. Rather it be kindness or hatred, it is you and only you who is responsible for your actions and behavior.

I use to have a problem with haters. I am ashamed to say but I have been hateful lately. I lost myself for a while. Being ill and vulnerable will do that yet it is no excuse. It is NOT who I am.  If you know something in your heart is not good then why keep doing it?  Why let yourself be used by someone? Do the time, the heartache and send that person love and let them go. The truth is you will be the one who is free in the end. Please stop trying to mask the pain and hurting others who truly love you. Let them free and do it kindly. Do not hate that person or wish them harm. Be honest and do not lead people on and stop allowing yourself to settle for someone who treats you like shit.

People often ask me, why do you talk to that person or hang out with that person or feel sorry for that individual? I will tell you why. Until someone does something to me I believe in human kindness and that phrase I live by, “Be kind and expect the same.” I learn my own lessons and judge people on an individual basis. I can tell within 5 minutes if someone is a shitty person. I have been called a snob before for not associating with someone. It is because in the end I was right about their true intentions. I was recently schooled again on this. I knew better but wanted to believe the words spoken to me. It is okay though. Lesson learned and I am a stronger person for it. That is what life is about…learning. I do not regret one heart ache, one lie or a two faced person. It has made me who I am.

I heard this quote on Oprah, “”Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different.” I happened to be waiting for the news to come on and heard this. It was meant to be because I never watch the show.

I believe in true love and refuse to settle for less. Both hearts must be there and you must give it your all. If you do not, you are simply passing the time. If that person doesn’t make your heart drop every time they touch your lips or you see them after a long day at work or whatever the case may be… it is NOT your person. For FUCKS sake…let them go and find that one that does.

Then there are those who run the moment their heart does start to feel something. I watched this happen as he used another person to fulfill that loss only to break another heart who actually thought they were going to get married and have a life together. STOP people…STOP hurting others to pay back that one who hurt you.

For those of you who start to have those feelings and haul ass because of your fear of that broken heart, I feel for your sadness even if you are surrounded by family, kids and friends who you think in the end will make up for that bliss feeling. It doesn’t matter how many loved ones you have around you or how busy you keep yourself. There is no feeling in the world like sharing it with the one you love and want. What probably kills me the most is when an individual uses alcohol or drugs to hide from it all.

I am thankful I have stepped back from some people in my life. It made me realize I lost track of who I am and my standards. I wanted to believe those jaded hearts needed a big hug and some kindness. In the process I got used and hurt. I am not angry or sad over what happened. I am thankful. I have me back and still a work in process. I will be until I die. There is that proof again… EVERYTHING happens for a reason.

This blog has nothing to do with one individual or even two, three or ten. It has to do with observations of my last couple of years of life. I am guilty of running away, accidently hurting another and loving someone unconditionally. Yet, I never played with anyone’s heart. Why…and I do mean WHY mess with the most precious thing a person possesses, that beautiful heart? It is one thing to date someone and have feelings and then realize, OOPS I am not all there and break it off. That is human. However, please stop hurting those who have good hearts. It is unforgivable and whatever you believe in, what ever your higher power may be, the Universe, Buddha or God himself (I am sure there are many more) it will show in the end. I personally believe in Karma.

This blog should be a country song. 🙂

This is an edit. One of my dearest friends reminded me of something.

“Peace out suckas.” I have no idea how I forgot about that.

Help Becca save a Boob or two!

Today is one of my dearest friends date of birth. This particular woman has a beautiful soul and a warm heart. She is climbing a mountain to save a boob or two. Hopefully some of you will help me help her save the “TA-TA’s.” I could bore you with statistics, charts, graphs, people’s stories, blah, blah, blah…but I won’t. Let’s make our own story by assisting her and her team. http://www.bc4b.org/

We all want to help causes. There are so many out there it is hard to choose sometimes. Many of you helped me help a family during Christmas time.  https://nikkiolsen.wordpress.com/2009/12/25/damn-fine-job-santas/ It was a beautiful thing to see so many people come together for a stranger. We did a damned fine job.

SOOOOOOOO…let’s do this again! Make this your Facebook status, send out an email, run outside and yell “Help Becca save some boobies.” Just do what ever it is you can. Here is the website:  http://getinvolved.fhcrc.org/site/TR?px=1035381&fr_id=1130&pg=personal

Babes Climbing 4 Boobies!!

There is a deadline and it is approaching FAST! http://www.bc4b.org/

Second to the last exit.

“Nikki…Nik…..NIKKI.”  I attempt to wake up. “Nnnik—eee, Nik—-eee?” again in a more drunken slur.

“Huh?” I mumble.

“We have a…um’ed…sit-u-ation” she says giggling.

This “situation” better be a mini van full of strippers in the driveway pulling a Coors Light Trailer for someone to be waking me up from this incredible dream I am having.

“What would that be?”

“Your girl! Call her” I hear simultaneously with the sound of someone peeing in the bathroom.

“Why?” I groan.

“Because, hee hee, she locked herself out of the restaurant and her car and I am drunked up so she tells me to come wake up you for her, hee hee” I hear with a flush.

Shit what time is it? I pick up my phone and look at the time. 2:09 a.m.

“Uggh.” is all I manage to reply.

I push notification and it says 3 missed calls and 4 text messages so I call her…”uh huh” I grumble.

“Hi baybeee” she says in a hyper voice.

“Hi”

“What are you doing? Are you asleep? Have you been drinking?  Well baby, ai’,  I locked myself out of work and my car, have you been drinking, Hello?” she says as she gasps for air.

“Uh huh” I reply

“Oh you have? Don’t worry I will take a cab. How much have you had?” she says in one breath.

“Yes, I was asleep and I had two beers a long time ago”

The alcohol consumption was around 10:00 p.m. but I am not going to waste time explaining this to her. She is obviously in a panic and is not in the listening mood.

“Well…I know what your two beers mean so I will call a taxi, are you asleep?”

I am pretty sure I was talking so I ignore the tenth time she asked me if I was asleep. I will have to agree with her about my definition of two beers because this is not always accurate. However, in this case it was in fact just two.

“I will get dressed and head that way. Oh but wait, where is your work?”

I haven’t lived here that long.  I don’t usually explore the East side of Seattle but I have been lost many times and paid attention.

“Are you sure? This wouldn’t do any good for either of us if you are drunk.  Really, are you sure? Well just get on 520 East? Are you sure? Baby?”

“Yes, I will call you when I am in the car” as I fall out of bed.

At this point I have said two sentences, I dodged a drunken person, I fell on the floor and I still don’t know where I am heading. I grab some jogging pants and the biggest warmest hoodie I can see with one eye and my shoes and head out the door in search of Hwy 520 or Road 520 or State Hwy 520, this is unknown at this time.

“Hi” I say when she picks up

As she sucks in some air I hear, “Hi, did you fall back asleep? You said you were going to call me when you were in the car. Where are you? How are you? Did you fall asleep?”

I am still not completely awake and her energy level is similar to someone who has been snorting cocaine off of a stripper’s ass all night.

“I am in the car” I say as if I really needed to point out the obvious.  I am sure there is considerable background noise of passing cars, wind and the bump bump noise the tires make when hitting cracks in the road.

“But Baby….you said…you would call me when you were in the car”

“Yes babe, and once again I am in the car. What exit do I take?”

“Ummm, oh shit…I don’t know the name, ummm” Pause.

“It is the second to the last exit on 520.”  She says proudly.

My eyes get wide and I shake my head because I am sure she really is not this absent minded.  I mean what the hell am I supposed to do? I guess I could drive until the road stops. Instead of saying anything I remain silent for a minute. I am hoping some little map quest fairy will pop in her head.

I finally say “WHAT?”

Laughter fills my ear which is quickly ended with “I will call you back” Click and silence.

“What the Fuck?” I say to an empty car.

I put the phone down in the passenger seat and look up to see a sign which reads, Redmond Way. Well, I know she works in Redmond so I will try this. If all else fails I can get back on 520 and go all the way to the end and come back to what may be the second to last one. It is  now 2:39 in the morning. So I exit.

There is a sign that says “Food <—-“ and since she works in a restaurant it seems sensible to take a left. I don’t want to go too far in the event I am wrong so I pull in a parking lot.

I pick the phone up and dial…ring…ring…ring….”Hi this is…”

Damn voicemail. I push end and put the phone back in the passenger seat. I am puzzled as to what she could be doing.  I look around for some gum, a mint, maybe some water, a revolver. No luck. Bzzzz  bzzzz “whucha know about me” bzzz bzzz my phone says.

“Uh huh”

“Hi baby, WELL! Take the one that says next to last exit” and laughter erupts in my ear.

I pull the phone away from my head like it has just spit on me. I immediately think she must have been drinking the wine she was cooking with.

“What in the” is interrupted with more laughter and I hear “no take the Redmond Way exit and keep going until you run into me” again the phone has just puked on me so it is further away from my head. I am not in the mood for this shit. It is freezing outside and I am losing patience. Until I run in to her?

“Um, do I take a left or a right?” I say very slowly and accurately to accommodate her lack of concentration on the very simple task of giving me directions to a place she drives to every damn day. Never mind the fact I have already taken a left and know there are only two options once you exit. THAT WOULD BE LEFT OR RIGHT!

“Oh left” she giggles.

“Got it and then what”

“Just keep going until you see me or a vee she says in Spanish (I think) because “ah Vee” is not clear in my years of getting directions.

“What?..Ah—V?” I pronounce again in a manner as if I am talking to a 4 year old from China who is deaf.

“Yep”

I bang my head on the steering wheel and almost hit the curb. I don’t know about anyone else but I am pretty damn sure there is not some restaurant in the middle of the road taking up the middle lane just waiting for me to smack in it going 40 miles per hour.

“HONEY, Left or the right is more of what I was hoping for?”

“Neither baby”

“Neither? Really? What the…oh there it is” is simultaneous with “There you are” as I slam on my brakes to take a left into the parking lot from the middle lane of where I guess that phantom restaurant was really suppose to be. I am sure if you are reading this I do NOT need to point out that I took a LEFT. In her defense the road does V but the only option is to take a left from this direction.

I pull around by her car and park. I look around. To the left, to the right, in front of the car, behind the car, nothing, no girl, not even a mouse. I wait a minute and look around. Finally I pick up my phone to call and on the first ring she appears.

“Hi baby”

“Hi”

“I am so cold” she whimpers.

I turn up the heat and push the button for her seat warmer and put my hand on her hand “I bet.”

“Ai ya ai, BABY my hands are cold, they feel like they are going to break off”

“Oh…sorry” I say and put the car in reverse. I mean seriously, sorry about the brief moment of affection I just attempted.

“Uhh, I can’t believe I did that, I knew I did it when the door shut, I am so glad I grabbed my hat and scarf or I would have really been cold. Can you believe I did that?, oi, uh…baby turn here. Oh look that cop thinks he is sneaky, look at him. You said you were going to call when you were in the car, I thought you fell back to sleep. Were you asleep? I’m sorry. Thank you for picking me up.”

I know she doesn’t do drugs but if I didn’t know better she was talking like a crack ho needing a fix. I mean why bother answering all of those questions? I don’t think she is going to wait for an answer.  It should be pretty obvious that I can believe you did that since I just drove all of the way here. She knows I was asleep and for the love of God I am in the car this can be clearly proven by the fact she is sitting in it with me. Instead of saying this I simply mumble, “I was in the car.”

“Well I just thought”

I rudely interrupt her by saying “Were you busy?” in an attempt to get away from this conversation where I am doing my best to stay calm and patient.

“Of course! It was Friday! It is always busy on Fridays and then the owner, well his best friend died and it was his friend from High School and so he had to leave. It is an awful story, the wife went to take the kids and then came back, and BABY! The heat, the heat! What is the problem?…uh” She turns all the vents to point up, turns the wrong dial, pushed the vents again.

I stare at her while she has this fit and then turn the appropriate dial to one and move the other dial back to the proper position.

“I just don’t like heat that blows.”

“I see” is all I say but of course my patience is right about gone at this point. I mean I think everyone should act like a two year old in need of Ritalin when turning down the heat.

We drive for a little bit. I remain my calm self remembering she has just worked her ass off, stood out in the cold and probably more tired than I am. This keeps me in check.

“Baby…BABY, what in the hell are you doing? What is that music, the radio…what is it?” she says in a panic.

“What are you talking about?”

“The music, it is just barely there, it sounds like a whisper or something, ugh, ai’, it’s driving me crazy”

I turn the radio off and think how much further until we are at her house. I am fuming inside. Seriously, could it have been so hard to extend the forearm and push the radio off? Who is this person in my car and when is she getting out?

There is silence now, just the road noise. I am looking at the lights reflecting off the water while talking myself into a more submissive state of mind.

“Nikki, this exit…right here, ughhh, I thought you knew…be careful” she says with more enthusiasm than I want to hear.

That is it, I am officially untrained now.

“You should get in the backseat, this is ridiculous. You can’t bitch the entire way home when you wake me out of a dead sleep to come get you, give really bad directions and complain about the heat, the radio and my lack of direction. If you want to be a backseat driver then get in the backseat” I blurt out.

“Ok fine, it’s just…”

“NO, I have had more patience than a kindergarten teacher” I say as I look ahead of me and realize I don’t know which way to turn. SHIT!

Well fuck this I damn sure am not going to make a wrong turn so I sit for a minute and finally blurt out “Which way?”

Silence! I look over and her lips are pierced and her hand is extended pointing to the right while flipping me off.

Oh NOW she can extend her arm and do something with her finger! WOMEN!

Just one of the “single” experiences.

When I was 12 or so my Mom broke out the book Joy of Sex to have “the talk” with me and my sister. I don’t think she was anticipating me running out the front door, down the street and hiding in my friend’s garage until I thought it might be over. Hell, she only showed one picture and I pulled a Carl Lewis. My sister of course stayed. With that exception I learned about sex through experience, peers and porn. I love orgasms. I did not have one until the age of 27. Yes, I am sorry if you are an ex lover reading this but I did fake it. Many, many women do this and don’t act all shocked. Hell, sometimes you just get tired and don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. I wouldn’t do that now. I would not want to deprive myself of such a feeling. I was having a conversation with a 43 year old woman the other night. It was an intense conversation about lost loves, new loves and starting over sexually. She asked me what an orgasm felt like. After picking my mouth up off the ground I smiled at her and said “Really?” I seriously thought she was kidding. Her eyes began to tear and I immediately grabbed her and hugged her. I said “aww, baby I don’t know how to put it into words.” She said “will you please try?”

Umm, shit. It would be easier to just give her one than explain it I thought. However, this is not something you just say to someone. “Hey let’s go outside and I will just show you.” Not the appropriate answer so I tried to explain. I must mention she was not a person I found attractive. I didn’t quite feel at ease around her. I tried to explain, I really did. I realized while trying to explain it to her I didn’t come close to doing it justice.

“An orgasm is defined as the release of sexual tension built up during sexual stimulation such as masturbation (who does that?) or intercourse. It is a feeling of intense pleasure. Contractions of muscles in the vagina and uterus occur, although many women are not aware of them.” I don’t know who wrote that but orgasms are one of those things that are difficult to describe, but if you have one, you’ll be aware of it. TRUST ME! Of course I am sure everyone experiences it differently but you will definitely know! It’s nothing like ANYTHING. The closest I could possibly come to accurately describing the lack of control that comes with the sensation is a super powerful sneeze built up. I actually heard once a good sneeze is 1/8 of an orgasm. Now, I don’t know if some scientist mathematician sexologist PHD came up with this but I heard it. The point is that a nice sneeze can be satisfying. So imagine that multiplied by 8 times. Just saying…

An orgasm, like booze gives different feelings and strengths. It can be a flash of heat over your body or it could be that all your muscles tense up and then you just are entirely relaxed. Orgasm is also in part a psychological incident of pleasure and abandon. You must let go in order to achieve. I remember the look on the face of the first person I saw have an orgasm. I thought I had killed her. Truth is some people experience involuntary contractions of facial muscles resulting in what looks like they are angry or an expression of discomfort or displeasure, but it is actually an indication of sexual arousal. Shit, if I only knew then what I know now. Some people can’t climax from penetration, some can. I know plenty of girls who can only climax with “tools” and some who have never used a “tool.” Try different things, keep it fresh, and never be afraid to tell your partner what is and isn’t working for you. You are after all your master!

Ahh, to be multi-orgasmic! I hope for most, this can be achieved. For some women, one orgasm leads to another in succession. For others it means they can come over and over again in one session. For others, being multi-orgasmic means having a series of small orgasms, one large and several small or the intensity may increase from one to the next. For others a multiple orgasm can feel like one long extended orgasm. I would like to achieve the later of these. Wow, a long extended orgasm! Y-U-M!! Some are taught that sex is bad, and that it’s a sin to enjoy anything that’s bad, so lots of people have some pretty deep hang-ups about their own sexuality.

This is coming from me, who damn near went into hiding in Junior High School because Prince sang a song about a girl name Nikki masturbating. It was just so wrong to me. Hell, now my middle name starts with the letter M. Oh wait, it did then too. Never mind!

Long story short, I gave her my number. I told her I would try and define orgasm. She called me today to tell me this was just a pick up line she used on younger people. WHAT? Good thing I didn’t joke around with her and tell her I would show her. WOMEN!!