My dearest girlfriend, Drea, asks me if vanilla with sprinkles and a waffle cone means something “good”. The short answer is maybe. I mean, it’s still vanilla, right? Just dressed up to make it spunkier…more interesting. I would have to say that the Cali/Utican dude was vanilla and his swagg was the sprinkles. It’s the sprinkles and all that extra shit that makes you want it. Vanilla by itself is just….vanilla. Ya dig?

I’m spontaneous. I make heartbeat decisions based on what I’m feeling like at the time. Sometimes it works in my favor and other times I want to jump off the Genesee Street Bridge. Case in point, I meet a guy from California (so he says…he knew way too much about Utica and the surrounding area to claim Cali. I don’t give a damn if someone left Utica and came back after 20 years…they’re still a Utican). He was great conversation and had a certain swagger I was attracted to. Now I didn’t say he was attractive….he was *vanilla in my eyes…swagger is a certain way a man carries himself…it’s not cocky or arrogant…but when you see someone with swagg you”ll know exactly what I’m talking about. He was a great dresser and wore these sexy dark rimmed glasses I often found myself fantasizing about…like him teaching me a math lesson…naked.

After countless flirty emails and text messeges I propositioned him….just sex, no strings, no spending the night, no dates, just stick and move. He gladly accepted and admitted that he was shocked I approached him…in a good way. We made plans for the weekend. He was a no call, no show. No big deal, I thought. When I spoke to him on the following Monday he stated that he lost his cell phone and didn’t find it until that morning. Of course, I didn’t believe him. I even stated to him that he doesn’t have to explain anything to me. I’m not your girlfriend, I politely reminded him. He then proceeded to try and make it up to me by suggesting we stay the night at The Turning Stone. He expected me to be uber impressed, but I wasn’t. Look, you’re trying to do all this extra shit and it just isn’t that serious, I told him. Plus, I didn’t want to spend the night with him…at all. But I let him talk me into it. Why? Because I was fucking bored to death.

So, I wait for him to pick me up that Friday…he never shows up! He is WACK! I call my cousin/bestie Giselle and vent. I vent because I nixed plans with my number ones (good friends) to hang out with this loser and he doesn’t even bother showing up. I meet my friends out and get bent (drunk) and meet another “boy” whom I will discuss at another time.

When I saw him on Monday he had a closet full of excuses that my mind will no longer allow me to remember. At the end of the day, he left an envelope on my desk. I opened it. A sloppy note read: This is not part of my apology. Excuses? I have none. I don’t know why I didn’t show up. Besides the obvious, this is all you missed….”. I looked back in the envelope to find five 20 dollar bills. I thought, “Did this motherfucker just play me?!?”  Wow! That was brand new. I felt worse when I realized that he thought my chocha was only worth $100!!!! I had to laugh that shit off. I was perplexed and like a woman mistakedly does, thought I did something wrong.

He called that night to explain that it was taken out of context. He said he would’ve given me $100 to gamble with at the casino…but something came up. I gave the money back to him the next day. I guess he expected me to be impressed. I’m the type of woman that isn’t easily impressed. Maybe if I was hulled-out that would’ve impressed me. That dude was weird and only that type of weirdness could only be born and raised in Utica. After a few weeks we occasionally spoke again. He admitted that he was intimidated by me and felt like he wouldn’t be able to meet my standards. And you wouldn’t have, I thought. Some men save themselves from the utter mortification of a woman telling them that thier sex is horrible. And I totally get that. As a matter of fact, I appreciate the fact that a man, knowing he would most likely not meet my standards, decided not to waste my fucking time. Kudos!!

But why go through all the hoopla of making and breaking appointments if that was the case? Men are clearly impossible. There is no method to their madness. They just do dumb shit to waste your time. I mean, it’s so simple….it’s either yes, Chloe, I would love to have sex with you…..or, no thanks, I don’t want to, and I won’t continue to waste your precious time. I know this has been said a million times by every woman on the planet but…..guys are fucking dumb.

 

*Vanilla: I often use this word to describe anything that’s average. There is nothing special about vanilla and I may not even want more of whatever I describe as such. For example; When my bestie asks, How was the sex with your new boo?  I shrug, make a face, and reply, Hmm, okay. It was…vanilla. I will most likely use this word to describe men and sex.

I’m backtracking here…to August 2007. I was introduced to this guy by a mutual friend who I have known for 10 years.  We were in the military together so I trusted his judgement.  I will call my friend Kevin. The guy whom I was introduced to is named Akim. We spoke on the phone every night for a month when he purchased a ticket for me to come visit him in New Orleans.  Oh yeah, I failed to mention that this was a long distance booty call. I was excited to see him after countless hours on MSNLive. He was very cute and young looking. I asked his age and he said with pride and air in his bird chest ” I just turned 24″.  Damn, I thought, he’s a fucking baby.  At the time, I was 29. Now there isn’t much of an age gap from 24 to 29.  But when the guy is the youngster it can lead to a disaster.  He asked my age and I told him. He replied, as he should have, “you look 24″. Since he stroked my ego I decided to give him a break. What? I do look 24.

I remember he picked me up from the airport a good 45 minutes after my flight arrived.  He apologized and took me to dinner.  I will say this, I had every intention on having sex with this guy.  I hadn’t had sex in almost two years and I was his for the taking.  When we got back to his place I was buzzed from the four glasses of Pinot Grigio I’d nervously downed at dinner. We pretty much attacked  like animals and he had the biggest man part I had seen outside of a porn.  The sex was awesome.  The next few months were spent in a haze of Delta flights, hot porn sex, airline ticketing counters, contemplating and piggy-backing pill packs so my cycle wouldn’t ruin my excursions, appointments to get buffed and polished so I would be perfect when he saw me.  I was getting worn out. I was ready for the mundane.

But the shit that killed me was his constatnt whining and complaining about the most menial shit.  One day, he damn near cried because his IPOD (the bulky 2004 version, which needed to be replaced anyway) was stolen out of his car.  I was like “well, you said you were thinking of getting a new one anyway, right?”.  He looked at me as if I had just asked him if I could stick a dildo up his ass.  He whined when he lost his coveted pea coat at a fundraiser we attended.  I mean, he whined.  And it was such a fucking turn-off.  I offered to buy him another one as a Christmas gift but he stated ” But it won’t be the same one”. I thought, Well, was it a magic pea coat that granted you wishes and gave you dynamic blow-jobs? No? Then shut the fuck up and get a new one.  Geeze.

He also played too many games.  You know, like Playstation 3.  After the third or fourth frequent flier booty call I guess he got bored.  He would play that damn thing for hours and then pout if he lost!!  Needless to say the relationship ended before he was locked up for a DWI and some other loser charges.  It was an experience.  I had racked up enough miles to purchase a ticket to visit one of my girlfriends in DC this past Spring.  I guess I will use the rest for the next adventure.

Hello cruel world! Welcome to the life and times of Chloe Austen. Join me as we journey through the world of dating, sex (or lack thereof), friends, stiff drinks, hanging out, and hooking up. I turned 30 earlier this year and realised that I wasn’t in a relationship. It was a startling discovery because I had sort of gotten used to the fact that I was never going to have sex or be in a solid realtionship ever again….and I was cool with that. I still don’t want a relationship. They suck and someone always gets hurt. But I’d like to at least have someone to vibe with, ya know? 

After consulting with several of my friends (who are single as well and I don’t know why I seek advice from any of them) I’ve decided to take a risk and try something new. I am well aware that I have been dating the same guy since I was 15….not the same guy per say…but you know, same shit, different toilet.  Anywho, I want to move away from the torture of dating the street thug (even though the sex is always the best with this type of guy no matter how much of a jerk he is) and try dating outside the box, ie…nerds, men with jobs, men with legal jobs, ect.  So far, it has been a hilarious and interesting experience to say the least. 

Random things pop up in my head day to day and I wanna talk about those too. I live my life conflicted…constantly struggling with forced religious views as a child and what I believe and feel now. I’m forced to come face to face with my own sexuality and the judgement it’s packaged with. Its something I think about everyday. Feel free to leave any comments…I want to hear it all….the good, the bad, the ugly, the realness….as long as it’s the truth.