Posts Tagged ‘sex


“…the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.”*

Dear Katherine,

Despite all my Ben Roethlisberger ‘sexual predator/rapist’ themed tweets and jokes recently (and yes, I do believe karma served him an entrée dinner last night), I do not take those types of allegations lightly. So, I am not going to accuse you of sexually assaulting me, but I think it might have been as close to a Law & Order SVU type crime I’ve ever been a part of.

As per usual in my early 20′s, during a night off at summer camp, I was not sober/drunk/shitfaced/inebriated and probably a teeny bit stoned as well. As per usual, there were about twenty other kids my age (half male/half female) in more or less the same exact state. As per usual, we had rented out a 2 bedroom condo that could sleep about 25% of the attendees, so needless to say there was lots of forced spooning and floor sleeping…and since I’d rather spoon with anyone than sleep on the floor, you and I ended up in a twin bed together. It’s not as if you were bad-looking or anything like that, it’s just that when sober, I found you incredibly annoying and immature. Of course, you were 18 years old and had not yet spent a semester at college, so pretty much par for the course. Oh, and it’s not as if I was way older than you, I was not even 21 yet, but I’ve always been mature (as I’m sure my other letters portray).

Anyway, I had no interest in hooking up with you, which I thought I made clear by shifting my position in the bed so I was not facing you, and passed out. This has been, by the way, my biggest issue when it comes to making out (and by making out, I mean getting laid). I have standards, and those standards involve more than just a pretty face or a hot body. If your personality sucks, chances are I have no interest in hooking up with you, I just (un)fortunately missed out on that DNA (un = my ‘head’, fortunately = my head…get it?).

I thought I had accomplished my goal when I started to dream…only problem was my dream involved us making out and your hand slowly moving from my chest downwards. Then I came too (read: I woke up, get your mind out of the effing gutter), and guess what? We were making out and your hand was at my belly button. Well, I’m only human so I kind of got into it. Unfortunately for myself, and probably more for your ego, the other thing that started to happen was the tequila shots from a few hours before starting to resurrect themselves in my esophagus. I blustered out a, “one sec…I need to run to the bathroom,’ hoping you’d think I just needed to take a leak…but there is no way you didn’t hear my wretching.

Bottom line is this, I want to state for the record that A. I was not puking at the idea of hooking up with you B. While you didn’t sexually assault me, I feel like Benson & Stabler would’ve successfully forced a confession out of you on Law & Order: SVU, and finally, C. I totally understand why you didn’t let me back into the bed.

Even though I brushed my teeth after I was done vomiting.

*Law & Order: Special Victims Unit


You spend all your time preaching about waiting for love. Well here it is. *

Dear Katie,

Actually, eff that.

Dear All Female Readers of this Blog,

That second X chromosome employed by your kind always keeps me guessing, but perhaps never in a more confounded way than you, Katie. Now listen, I’m not claiming that you and I were meant to be in any way, shape or form (even though the header quote would imply I do believe that…I don’t rush to love, the quote just kind of fit. If I could substitute ‘like’ for ‘love’ it’d be more appropriate of our situation). After all, how could I, we never even hung out outside of the academic institution we met at. You deemed that impossible because you, “aren’t dating during grad school.” I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve gone through periods of my life where I’ve taken breaks and what not, but to swear it off for the better part of two years seems asinine to me.

I understand the whole ‘need to focus on my career’ and crap like that; but if undergrad is a good time to contract an STD because of all the random sex, which (un)fortunately I wouldn’t know about (allow me to explain, the ‘fortunately’ part was about the STD, the ‘(un)’ was in regards to the lack of sex I had in college)…where was I? Ah, graduate school seems like a perfect  time to meet someone who might play a significant role in your life, instead of just the next morning.

Think about it, at this age we are (for the most part), waaay more mature, know a little bit more about what we want out of life, and given we were in the same program, we obviously have something in common. Last but not least, given the flirtatious nature of our relationship, I’d say its safe to see we are attracted to each other on some level. Again, I’m not claiming either one of us wanted to have a single drink then play ‘just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels…’ But you see what I’m getting at, right?

Why not give it a try? You are so career driven that I can’t see a romantic relationship getting in your way so much that you fail out of grad school. Would it be that big of a deal if your GPA was a 3.87 instead of a 3.94? I guess you could have just been letting me down easy, but since I know for a fact you have not gone on a date, and have only had one drunken makeout in over a year and half since you started school, AND the aforementioned flirting that went on between us, I doubt that you were. Of course, I have been known to completely misread situations (more or less every one) in the past, so who the eff knows. What is it about females? It can’t be as simple as that extra X chromosome, can it?

Anyway, if you were letting me down easy, it’s cool, I understand. If not, we’ve got another few months before our door closes. I suggest attempting to take a step through it with me. Wow, after that horrificly cheesy metaphor, I guess I’d understand if you aren’t interested in a drink, or making out.

Good talk,

Your favorite TA

*Cruel Intentions


dear rene & brodie,

From the bottom of my heart, allow me to thank both of you for giving all teenage boys (well, maybe not all) a complex about the size of our, hmm family friendly, man parts.  When I first watched this movie, I was but an early teenager and let’s just say I only had first-hand knowledge of my endowment.  In addition, I tended to focus my stare downwards (still do) in lockers rooms and gyms and so forth, so I had very little (no pun intended) to compare myself too.  Then I watch the following scene,

and from that moment forth, I was scared to death about what future females would think of my ‘stuff.’ How was I to believe anything any females would say about it? I was smart enough to realize very few would be so mean as to say something along the lines of, “wow, that is really small…good luck with that thing.”  But now I started thinking no matter what a girl who saw it would always embellish by at least one size: average=tiny, decent=small, big=decent, huge=well, this one doesn’t really matter.

Now, in my ripe old age, I have become more than content with everything down there, but I think subconsciously in the back of my mind I still get nervous about someone new exploring, and chuckling at it (which, has yet to happen thank whichever lord you pray to).  Maybe deep down this is the reason I have intimacy issues, because I don’t want anyone laughing at me.  What’s the definition of insanity – something about repeating the same thing over and over expecting different results, right?  So if enough females have been privy to this kind of visual information, and not laughed, why do I keep expecting that to happen?

Eff you Kevin Smith.

PS – I actually don’t really care, at all…I mean as long as I get off, right? (calm down ladies, my Jewish guilt would preclude me from ever actually performing in this manner).


You know everybody’s staring? *

Dear Girl on the Beach Yesterday that Seemed Offended by my Staring,

First of all, I’m probably reading waaay too much into this, as it is only my Jewish sense of guilt and paranoia that made me nervous you could tell I was constantly glancing at you yesterday.  After all, with my sick-ass RayBans on, it’d be nearly impossible for you to actually tell my gaze was locked on you for a period of about two hours yesterday, off and on of course (more on, than off).  But I swear, at the end you made eye contact with me and gave me a bit of a stink eye…at least that’s how I’m rationalizing not trying to approach you.  Well, that, and the fact that my parents were sitting right next to me.

I don’t want to sound like a perv…but you have probably have the most incredible body on Grand Cayman, and quite possibly the entire Caribbean, right now.  And the bikini you wore left little to the imagination.  Ok ok, writing to some stranger about their body is not doing much for the non-perv thing, but would you really wear something like that if you didn’t want to be noticed?  I’m sure every guy below that age of 73 that saw you yesterday is thinking the same exact thing.  The only difference between me and them is that they are traveling with their significant others, not with their parents.

Let’s face it, we are all guilty of bird-dogging.  Guys are far more guilty of it, but you females do it too.  Granted, probably not too many of you stare at me while im toweling off, considering you’d need extra pairs of sunglasses to properly protect yourself from my pale skin.  But even then I’ve been asked at the beach how I’ve been blessed with these calves…which leads me to believe of course, you were staring.  In fact, eff the whole “guilty of bird-dogging ” thing.  I mean, there is certainly a line where staring becomes creepy (jaw open, drooling, tent pitched, etc), but I’ve never crossed it.  So, I’m heading back to the beach now, to find you…or gaze at someone else.

But first I’m gonna knock out some push ups.

* Twilight. Yup, you are damned straight I just quoted it. I swear I’ve never seen it though; google the following – movie quotes about staring.  See what comes up.

Letters sent…

December 2012
« Aug    

What Era of Letters do you want to read?

DearExGirlfriend Tweets

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

send a letter of your own (or just to say what’s up)

dearexgirlfriend at gmail

Join 102 other followers


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 102 other followers