BloggingDangerously

Dangerous Letters, Vol. 6

So what I learned this week is that while I MAY "be your hero," you are FAR, FAR less inclined to share your stories of youthful indiscretions under the name, FORNICATOR.

It's okay, I get it.  We'll get back to less judgmental topics next week.  Also, less creepy.  I realized tonight that 3 people tried to kill me at Blogging Dangerously this week.  Thank God I'm anonymous.

Before I forget, THANK YOU for your comments.  They keep me going during the craziness of the work week!

Here goes:

On the post, Single Sex Week & the Wasted Orgasm Theory:

I was a virgin until college and married the first man I did IT with, even though the sex was awful. (Catholic Guilt has nothing on it's lesser known cousin, Baptist Guilt.) I wish I had known about the wasted orgasm theory back then. It would have saved my father the cost of my first wedding.

signed, Just Another Mother

Kit: Since the average cost of a wedding these days is in the $16,000 range I am going to seriously consider marketing my theory as an alternative.  I dare say a few enthusiastic couples will jump at the opportunity and some fathers will, as you say, appreciate the savings garnered when the happy couple realizes that they are incompatible.

My boyfriend lived 2hrs away and went to a Christian college so when I'd come to visit I'd have to sneak in and out of his dorm window, luckily he was on the first floor. I crawled out the window one morning only to see a family across the street, in their yard getting ready to go to church, watching me. I waved politely and then ran to my car:) But trying to take a shower in the boys community shower room praying no one would come in was just plain crazy!

signed, Jillian

Kit: I still consider myself to be somewhat adventurous but when I think back on some of the things I did I am amazed/impressed/horrified by my courage/stupidity.

On the post, Love Letters:

Thank you actually for the tremendous support that this post received.  The letter writer was appreciative of my advice and the advice of all of the commenters.  I received a great question this week that I will publish on Monday.

Now for the comments:

I think from a man's point of view (but not this man!), many guys have trouble experimenting with certain things because they feel they are disrespecting their wife and/or the mother of their children. Some men feel certain acts/situations should not be shared with someone they love and respect.

I don't understand it because when it comes to me and my wife...it is whatever we feel at the time but I have had friends say they cannot do this or that with their wives because they respect them.

signed, Real Dads Hangout

Kit: I completely agree with this because it fits in perfectly with my BREAKUP sex theory which we'll discuss next week.

Vanilla? You? I was hanging out with friends last night & found out that one of the gals has a hyper-sensitivity to the word "pussy". It was like the word caused her physical pain! So no, vanilla you ain't!

Regarding the one trick pony's question: when he says those things have no place between a husband and wife, she should ask him who she should try them with!

signed, crazycajun in texas

Kit: There are a couple of "C" words that I am personally opposed to using.  One of them will be unveiled next week as well.  Words can have associations for people that make them offensive.  I think vanilla, or not is an attitude.

Better to try variety with the one you love than to try variety elsewhere... just sayin...

signed, Miss Ash

Kit: An excellent point!

On the post, The Time I Hooked Up with an Axe Murderer (Don't Judge):

Sooo...what happens next...???

signed, Deanna Hernandez

Kit: Since this was the resounding comment and I explained that NOTHING happened next in my following post I think we'll move right on past my first close encounter with DEATH.

On the post, Up and Down Like a Fiddler's Elbow:

Now that was a great story! I am so embarrassed to admit this, but I have a very vague memory of running around naked after hooking up with a guy in my dorm freshman year. Apparently I was ready to go back to my room... without my clothes?! But my door was locked b/c I didn't have my keys on me - surprise! I had to sneak back up to his room and pray to God no one saw me!! I still die of embarrassment every time I think about that one.

signed, Diane

Kit: There is nothing worse than Post Traumatic Stress Disorder on things that COULD HAVE HAPPENED but DIDN'T because you can't ever get past the WORST possible outcome.  I mean, even if you HAD been caught the consequences would be over by now, but since you weren't, it will NEVER be over.

You're my hero.

signed, Jennifer

Kit: Funny, because I would not have put this down as one of my proudest, most 'heroic' moments.

I used to work the night shift in hotel reception in the tropics. I saw more naked people in that job than I have had sex with. I'm not sure what it is that makes people sneak out to the pool to have sex naked (actually, no, I get that part) and leave the towels and clothes in their room. Along with their keys.
Or in the elevator. Apparently more people fantasize about having sex in an elevator than you would think. For future reference, hotel elevators are set to automatically return to the floor reception is on. The doors will automatically open. Generally you can see into the elevator from the reception desk. Hotel guests are more athletic than I had previously thought. Especially Dutch and German tourists. I don't know why the Dutch and German tourists especially.

signed, Sally Megan

Kit: Wow, I'm glad I don't have to clean hotels.  I know the CSI's always talk about what human petri dishes they are but good to know I shouldn't touch the elevator buttons - EVER.  Also, Dutch and Germans.  Interesting.

On the post, Criminal Minds:Single Sex Week:

It was hard for most people to get past Shemar Moore - and I completely agree.  In fact, Carmen Electra and I might have to take a break before I even finish this post.

Okay, back.

Dang. Creepy psycho dude. In my single days I nearly hooked up with a guy of questionable mental stability, only the girlfriends I was with knew what he was like and wouldn't let me leave with him. *whew*

signed, Buzzvibe

Kit: I wish I could say I learned from this but I'm pretty sure I didn't.  In fact, I'm almost positive that the Axe Murderer incident came after this.

Holy crap, that's like the opening sequence on "Cold Case" if only there was a shitty mid-90's Pearl Jam song playing too loudly in the background.

Once in college my roommate and I let some (semi-young but not definitely not cute enough) construction workers talk us into having a "party" with them on the roof of an unfinished hotel. After about 2 minutes we both realized all it would take is a quick knock on the head to kill us both and encase us in the drying concrete pool and we would NEVER BE FOUND. We practically threw ourselves down the stairs.

signed, Suzanne

Kit: Awesome story, only, of course, because you made it out alive.  You can never be too careful around wet cement.

Definitely a fan of not getting murdered.

Maybe he was attempting to be charming, ala So I Married an Axe Murderer. "How many people have you brutally murdered?" "Brutal is a very subjective word..." It's a thin line between charming and restraining order, truly.

Btw, finding your blog has been awesome! You added me to your Twitter, then I added you. However, it is abundantly clear that I am on the better end of this bargain after spending far too long last night reading a crapton your of posts out loud to my husband last night. While waiting for our kids to fall asleep. ;)

signed, Jessalee

Kit: Thank you.  Seriously, thank you because it's 1am and I am exhausted but I'm awake and blogging because you're awake and reading. So, you know, Thank you.

Okay, yeah, so I know this isn't really the point but...

I moved to Boston 5 months ago, and I've been hit by a car twice, TWICE! Yes, they were going slow enough that they didn't really hurt me, but TWICE!

The people here are very sweet, but they can't drive, and it scares me.

signed, Peggy Pigtails

Kit: Oh honey, you know those signs that say "Please Yield to Pedestrian Traffic"? DON'T BELIEVE THEM.  It's not true.  Not here.  No offense, but I would have thought that you would have learned that after the first time. ;)

Okay folks, that wraps it up.  Have a fantastic weekend and we'll be back next week with more sex.  I'm not sure what the theme will be but the overwhelming request was for SEX.  Happy to oblige.

Love,

Kit

Criminal Minds: Single Sex Week

On Wednesday I commute to work with my friend L-.  She's a bit of a princess but she's funny and she's always willing to drive and we live in the same town and we both only go into the office from 9-3 on Wednesdays.  Anyway, today when we were leaving we were stopped at a red light at a T intersection.  We were on the perpendicular street trying to make a left turn onto the through street. Does that make sense?  Here, if this is the intersection: T<--- we were on that street.

Anyway, after about 30 seconds she says, "I think the light is broken, I'm just going to go." And I say, "You can't go. It's a red light." and she says, "I can't wait here all day."  And I look at the cars and trucks WHIZZING past us and say, "We've only been here for thirty seconds and we aren't in a rush.  Don't go."  And she says, "I can make it." and starts to nose forward so that we are DEFINITELY past the stop line.  And so I say, "You probably went past the weight-thingy, wait for someone to come up behind us." And then she looks in the rear-view mirror as someone pulls up behind us and she says, "It didn't turn, I'm going to go." And I look at the TONS AND TONS AND TONS of cars FLYING BY us and I say, "It's probably because there are A LOT of cars on that street now.  You CAN'T go." And, looking up, I add, "besides,  I think the light just turned yellow for them" (I said this even though you could CLEARLY see the green shadow - BECAUSE I DID NOT WANT TO DIE) and she looked up and saw the green shadow and said, "No it's totally still green.  I'm going to go" and she nudges out until her entire ENORMOUS SUV is completely past the STOP line and I am clutching the door handle and case we get rammed from her side.

And then I remember all of my TRAINING, all 800+ hours of LAW AND ORDER and CRIMINAL MINDS that I've watched and I realize that I am PRACTICALLY a CERTIFIED crisis counselor.  So I fall back on my training and I say to her, "I have 4 children and I don't want to die."  This gives her pause because she is suddenly laughing so hard she can't drive with tears streaming down her face.  And because it seems to be working I say, "I love my husband.  I love my children.  My baby does not want to visit me in the graveyard.  My name is -," and then I pause BECAUSE I CANNOT REMEMBER MY NAME.  I'm so DAMN careful on this blog to protect my identity that the sound of my own name, the sight of it in writing makes me do a double take as if I've just done something horribly wrong.  And then I realize that I am in fact, at that moment, inhabiting my REAL LIFE and the use of my REAL NAME is acceptable and I go on.

THANK GOD that in that moment the light actually TURNED GREEN because she gunned it and we flew out of the side street like we'd been launched from a rocket.  And all I'm saying is DO YOU PEOPLE SEE WHAT I DO FOR YOU?  ANONYMITY IS HARD.

Okay then.

More Criminal Minds below (and yes, I am OBSESSED WITH SHEMAR MOORE CRIMINAL MINDS and YES you have to suffer because tonight's episode is a repeat.)

My friend EMILY used to date a guy named Bob.  Bob was a tool. Bob was also a super Boston townie who said things "Like let's go steal the cah that some idiot pahked in Hahvahd Yahd."  (I don't think he actually stole automobiles but he DEFINITELY did not hang out at Harvard either.)

Anyway, it was Emily's birthday and she invited us to hangout with her a yuppie bar in Charlestown.  It was super duper trendy and Bob was COMPLETELY uncomfortable.  We, however, were having a great time.  We WERE, except that the bar was on the waterfront and it was very windy and a little chilly.  We wanted to go inside but Bob refused so Emily stayed outside, so we stayed outside.

Just as I was considering leaving this group of guys wandered over to where we were.  One of the guys was GORGEOUS (Dark hair, blue eyes, very tall.)  It took a couple of minutes but eventually my group of girls was talking to his group of guys.  I'm not sure how it happened (but it could have been me.)  I found out that he actually lived on a boat at the nearby marina.

We flirted a bit and he asked me for my number which I gave to him.  We left shortly afterwards because it had gotten very cold.  He called me a few days later and we made plans to go out.

Now here's where I do something stupid.

For the date I suggest that we drive down to the town where my family's summer cottage is located (a 40 minute drive from Boston.)  I suggest this because the carnival is in town and I haven't had a serious summer boyfriend since college and have this romantic notion of hanging out at the carnival with a boy.  This romantic vision COMPLETELY blurs the fact in my mind that this is a FIRST DATE.

So he picks me up, we drive down and we park at my cottage.  My brother and sister and their significant others are there.  I tell them that we are walking over and they say that they're going to have dinner first and then go over.  We haven't had dinner yet but plan to get food there.  We leave his car at the house and walk over to town.  It'a half mile walk down a long causeway with a picture perfect little bridge in the middle that we used to jump off at high tide when I was a teenager.

We buy fried dough (funnel cake-ish.)  We don't go on any rides.  We don't walk around town.  It was actually kind of a bummer.  We decide to walk back to my house to see what my brother and sister and friends are up to.  It's dark now.  It was light when we walked over.  We get to the bridge and I climb up on the lowest rung of the bridge to look over at the water and that's when he says, "You know, if I threw you over the railing, no one would find your body for weeks."

And I say, cool as a cucumber but secretly with gushing adrenaline into my bloodstream, "Oh no, that's not true because the water level rises and falls 8 feet here with the tide so when the tide comes in it would definitely wash my body into the harbor." and he fires back, "Not if I pulled your body up high on the rocks above the tide line" - and he motions to the sediment line on the rocks.  And then I answer, "don't be silly(!) it's summer and people jump off this bridge all the time.  The first kid who jumps off in the morning will find me." and he says, "but they wouldn't know it's me." and I say, "OF COURSE they would.  You left your name on my machine the last time you called and I have caller id so the number's there too.  Also, my brother and sister just met you AND I emailed my friend Emily - remember Emily from the bar - and told her that we were going out tonight and she knows where you live."  The last part was a lie but I felt like I was arguing for my life.

Apparently I convinced him because we ended up walking back to my house.  Every step we took was a step closer to safety and I was so happy when I saw the house lights up ahead.  I WAS until I heard voices and saw my brother, sister, and their friends walking toward us.  "We're going to the carnival!" they said.  I have NEVER wished that I had the ability to telegraph my thoughts more than I did right then.  But I couldn't and they left and we went back to my EMPTY house.

We hung out for a bit.  He tried to kiss me but somehow I WASN'T in the mood.  We drove the 40 minutes back to Boston in relative silence.  I was HYPERVIGILANT that he was going to pull off the highway onto some side street where he could dispose of my body but apparently my arguments convinced him that he wouldn't get away with it.

I'm sorry for the length of this post and for the fact that there was no sex in it but sometimes there is nothing funny about dating an AXE MURDERER. 

P.S. We did not have a second date.

Up and Down Like a Fiddler's Elbow

Let's start with an update from yesterday.  The RESOUNDING complaint in the comments was that the post ended without the gory details.  People, you HAVE to TRUST ME.  If there were anything worth sharing I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU.

The truth is that he was obviously NOT a serial killer (or I would not be here to tell this story.)  It turns out that he was just a new graduate student at Harvard who didn't know many people in town but was tired of staying in the dorms.  He came home with me, we kissed a bit and fell asleep and I drove him home in the morning.  In the light of day, without the aura of a serial killer about him, he was pretty ho-hum and we did not continue to date.

Now aren't you sorry you asked?

Today's story involves some real MEAT, if you know what I mean.  Also, I should mention that even I am slightly horrified by this story so if some of my stories make you feel like you just witnessed a car accident you may want to skip this one.

Several years ago when I was (on-topic) SINGLE and VERY. VERY. YOUNG I had the opportunity to go on a business trip to New Jersey with a co-worker (with whom I was involved) and a Client.  The purpose of the trip was to give the client a tour of a corporate facility and then take him for a round of golf at a very posh country club.

The day went off without a hitch.  The presentation was spectacular and golf was amazing.  The weather was beautiful and the course was impeccable.  After the round we dropped our bags with the caddy and went inside for a drink.  A half hour later we came outside to pick up our bags, drive the client to the airport and then drive home.  The only problem was that one of our golf bags wasn't there - and it was the bag with the car keys.  We talked to the caddy.  There was a bag there matching the description of our bag - maroon with black trim but instead of my coworker's $150 clubs it had a complete set of Callaway Clubs with little booties on each one.  Whoever had traded these $1k+ set of clubs for our cheesy clubs and car keys was going to be one unhappy camper when he got home.

My coworker was very assertive.  The club vowed to find our clubs for us.  And they did.  Unfortunately the clubs belonged to a VERY wealthy club member who lived an hour away and he was NOT INCLINED to turn around and drive back to the club to give us our carkeys and clubs.

Fortunately the club doubled as a wedding reception venue and had a handful hotel rooms that they used for the wedding party.  They offered us 2 of these for the evening - one for me and one for the men - and in the morning they promised to send a courier to get our clubs for us.

We agreed.  And started drinking.  VERY EXPENSIVE SCOTCH.

We chased the scotch with MORE SCOTCH, wine and an AMAZING dinner.  At that point we were very, very intoxicated.  We had managed to get our bags from the car.  My coworker and I graciously gave the client his own room and retired to ours.

The two of us, VERY YOUNG (did I mention that) proceeded to ENJOY our good fortune and EACH OTHER - LOUDLY.  When we decided that we'd not had enough to drink we stole down to the bar area.  It was empty - thank goodness because we were both NAKED.  The bar itself was gated but there was a Gin and Tonic display, complete with limes and glasses that somehow ended up in our room.

We had a couple of shots that we CLEARLY DID NOT NEED, revisited our enjoyment of the PREDICAMENT (AND EACH OTHER) and fell asleep.

In the morning, I'm not sure who was more embarassed, us, the client or the club.

We had breakfast, grabbed our clubs and headed home.

Thankfully the dot.com bust happened shortly afterward because the client got a job in another part of the country and I never saw him again.

The Time I Hooked up with an Axe Murderer (Don't Judge)

Just a little clarification on "SINGLE SEX WEEK." Single sex is about the sex you had before you get married (or after if you are re-single)  You know, the sex where you are actually allowed to forget your partner's name.

Also, my husband would like me to tell everyone that he did not mean that 'no one reads my blog,' he meant that 'no one in LAW ENFORCEMENT reads my blog.'  It may make him less of an asshole but, um, no, it did not make me feel better.

Finally, I'm a guest "Sexy poster" over at Anonymous8.  It's vanilla'd up for primetime but potentially still useful.  Check it out.

Today's story is about the time I hooked up with an axe murderer (don't judge, he was hot.)  Also, NO I did not have SEX with him, what do you think I am SICK?  The man CHOPS PEOPLE UP INTO LITTLE PIECES!

I was in a bar in Boston.  Note about Boston: If you grow up in Boston you are legally required to still be best friends with your best friend from kindergarten - regardless of how annoying she is.  Also, you are not allowed to go anywhere alone, you are never allowed to try new things and cannot, under any circumstances move more than 20 miles from your parents.  This is a fact.  Ask anyone. 

So there I was at a bar in Boston with my friends and I was SHOCKED to see a very handsome man STANDING ALONE.  I watched him for a bit to see if he was waiting for someone to come back from the bar or the bathroom but no, it was clear that he wasn't.  Then I watched him a bit longer to see if he was checking his watch or the clock to see if he was waiting for someone to arrive but again, no.

You can't understand how UNUSUAL the sight of someone ALONE is in Boston.  He may as well have been stark naked.

So I gathered my courage, walked up to him and asked him above the INSANELY LOUD MUSIC, "Where's your axe?"

I had to ask him 3 or 4 times, screaming directly into his ear - both because the music was so loud and because he was probably sure he'd heard me wrong.

And then he finally screamed back, "My AXE?" the look on his face indicated that he was fairly CERTAIN he'd heard me wrong.

And I screamed into his ear, "Yes. No one goes out my themselves in Boston.  And you're OBVIOUSLY alone.  So I've concluded that you're an axe murderer.  And SO, I was wondering, where'd you leave your axe?" (TRUE STORY)

At which point he nodded like I suddenly made perfect sense and he understood COMPLETELY - which of course I DID and he said "I left it at home."

We spent the next couple of hours talking and when the bar closed it was clear that we were interested in spending more time together.  Now he totally didn't LOOK like an axe murderer, but neither did Jeffrey Dahmer so I decided at that point (because he WAS ridiculously cute) that we would be going to MY apartment where there was some lengthy cutlery but, I was certain, no axe.

 

Love Letters

Happy Monday.  Please note this is today's SECOND post and you should scroll down to make sure you don't miss the other one.  It's a doozy (if I do say so myself.)

Before I jump into exactly what's going on here I need to give you a little backstory.  When I was in college and it seemed like everyone was having sex like rabbits I thought that I was just like everyone else.  I thought that - until - I said something about my sex life being 'vanilla' and one of my MOST EXTREME gay friends LAUGHED OUT LOUD and said, "There is NOTHING VANILLA ABOUT YOU."

Hm.

Well I knew that I was comfortable talking about sex. And I knew that I was comfortable hearing about sex. And I knew that I was comfortable HAVING sex.  I guess I just didn't know that so many other people weren't.  But, to tell you the truth, I didn't think much about it at the time.

And then a couple of weeks ago I was contacted by a website that offers "Sexy Tips" and asked if I would guest post.  And I'm going to, and I'll link to it when I do, but the thing that I noticed most about the request was that I was told SEVERAL times that I would have to "tone it down" for their site.

And I thought, "Wow, REALLY? tone it down for a Sexy post?" because believe it or not, I think my posts are pretty vanilla.  I mean, I blog about sex, but I'm not all "HE THRUST HIS ROCK HARD... into her DRIPPING WET..." which I think would be kind of pornographic.

But then I recalled that "VANILLA" conversation from college and realized that maybe I'm not as vanilla as I think.  And then I got the letter below and decided that in addition to humor, maybe I could use my powers for good.

So here it is: LOVE LETTERS, where I take your serious love (and sex) questions and answer them seriously.  I will also ask for assistance via comments from our studio audience.  (FYI, I did contact the letter writer to see if she was comfortable with me doing this and she said yes.)  I don't know if this will be a weekly thing, a monthly thing or a daily thing, it really depends on the frequency of the letters.  But if you have a question and you'd like some advice, please send it in.  Also, if you're here for the humor and couldn't care less about the serious part, skip right along to the next post.

Dear Kit:

I can't really believe I'm writing to you since you're not really real, really - you're just some anonymous person I found on twitter with a blog but the truth is that in a lot of ways your realer than my real friends because I can't talk to them about anything real - and this isn't really making any sense, is it?

Anyway, I'm writing to you because I have a question that I'm hoping you can answer. 

My husband and I are high school sweethearts.  We live in a very small, very conservative town where everyone knows everyone else.  This is why I can't talk to my friends about this, because if I ask my friends and they tell their husbands then my husband is going to find out that I was talking about our sex life - which he considers very private.

My husband and I have a decent sex life.  It's very satisfying and the frequency is fine.  The problem is that when I want to try new things he refuses and says that those things have no place between a husband and wife.

I love my husband and enjoy our love life.  My question is do I have to live with the same thing for the rest of my life or is there a way for me to convince him to experiment and am I being unreasonable?

signed,

Tired of my One Trick Pony

Dear Tired of my One Trick Pony,

It's not unreasonable for you to want to try new things.  I'm sure your husband would get tired of eating the same thing for dinner every night - people's appetites crave variety.

On the other hand, people tend to be resistant to change.  It's possible that your husband is uncomfortable with the things you'd like to try because he's never done them before and doesn't want to appear clumsy.  It sounds like your husband is uncomfortable doing things he considers a little more adventurous with his wife.

I would start slowly - with a massage that leads back to the same old-same old so that he can see that "a little bit new" doesn't have to mean "completely unfamiliar territory."  Once you're more comfortable with this maybe you could try something new - something as crazy as leaving the lights on - or at least dimmed so that you can see each other. 

If he objects to these things you can tell him that the fact that you are HUSBAND and WIFE is precisely the reason you WANT to do these things - so that you can experience them together, and share your bodies with each other - so that you can LEARN them together.

If you start slowly, hopefully he'll see that there are benefits in it for him and he'll be more willing to adventure beyond his typical menu.

Love,

Kit

Readers, What do you think?  Am I right? Am I wrong?  What would you suggest?