An effing repost. Because it still makes me LOL and this is my blog to express myself however I wish. If you don't like what I write, then get out of my grill.
When a new boy-friend shows up to my friend's house on a special occasion sporting sweat pants and rock hard abs with no sentimental gifts in tow my outwardly shy and super sweet friend texts me this message...
SWF: He wore effing sweatpants last night. Dawn! He was still hot but come on! Sweatpants?!
ME: Lol. He's a boy.
SWF: If u could c his body....ugh.
ME: Is he really everything you want and need?
SWF: He doesn't know what he doesn't know. And I haven't even shown him a quarter of what I know.
ME: Take it for what it is then. He's a good start. This is the beginning of the end of your divorce.
SWF: Ud think he'd want 2 increase his chances of continuing to get laid and; laid well cause my game's tight.
ME: Lmfao
And this is my shy, quiet friend. She tells me shit she'd never tell another soul. It doesn't startle me in the slightest to have this friend vent to me. I'm tickled she trusts me so much. Despite or because of my loss, I've become both an expert and a novice at being intimate. I learned so much in my marriage about physical and spiritual expression, or withholding expression, and I know for sure that although great abs are nice to look at, hopefully, you're looking in each others eyes more than rubbing your hands on the washboard. Good sex is more mental than physical. Without emotional intimacy, you may as well be using a toy. Just sayin'. Great abs in sweatpants or Ralph Lauren chinos, it doesn't really matter if you're brain isn't totally into it.
Then there's my outwardly vivacious, sexy friend who will drag you in the men's room if you have to pee at a concert (there's never a line for the stalls) who loves to fuck and recently admitted sexting pictures of her vagina to her younger man. I must LOL, not at her, but with her because that's beyond frisky and horny in my book. I've been known to send some emails I should have never hit send on, but that's one that causes me to pause and reflect on the other party involved when they receive said picture.
I honestly think there's no greater compliment than to hear a man say FUCK when he sees you naked, or when he groans FUCK when he feels you naked, but I want to be there, when the FUCK word comes out. I prefer to be all present for that word. FUCK!
Besides. I think all cursing should be saved for close friends and fucking.
