A Blow-Dried Ass

I figured it out! NOBODY can fool me!

My Rockstar blow-dries his ass. (Technically, I guess you could say he blow-dries his entire nether-region.)

I will tell you how I came to figure this out.

My Rockstar gets up at the God-awful hour of 5:00 AM every morning. As I am one of those individuals who sleeps like the dead, I am unaware of his getting up, even when the alarm clock goes off. There have been rare occassions when his easing out of bed has awoken me. During these times, in my sleep-induced haze, I imagine what he does to get ready for the day. This is how I discovered the truth about the blow-dryer.

I hear him go into the bathroom and flip the light on, which includes a completely obnoxious fan that is reminiscent of blustering hurricane. (I DESPISE it.) He then turns the shower on to let it warm up, (because we live in an older than dirt apartment building with timeworn pipes.) He then takes his morning dump, (which I am glad does not include reading material.) and flushes before he gets in the shower.

In the shower, I imagine he uses only shampoo (as men are wont to do,) even though I have supplied minty scalp-tingling conditioner for him, he uses the razor I used on my bikini area on his face (which he has readily admitted) and then he jacks off . (while thinking of me, of course) I do not know that last part for a fact, but I have been told that ALL men masturbate, and the ones that deny it are lying, and unless he is doing it in the middle of the night while I am in my mummy-like state, this seems to be the probable time when he would do it. (As far as thinking of me- this is MY story, so if Megan Fox and her weird thumbs make any appearances, I will be very upset.)

After getting out of the shower, my Rockstar grabs a towel while his teeth chatter with cold and his balls shrink to the size of raisins. (I have seen him get out of the shower after we have….tussled, and he is always shivering with cold.)

After he dries off, he brushes his teeth with his turbo-charged toothbrush (which I suggested he buy) and then he uses the blow-dryer.

The blow-dryer has been a source of confusion for me since we began dating (and tussling) 2 years ago. It seemed odd to me that a single 39 yr old dad came complete with a blow-dryer. I wondered if this was God’s version of a Howard Johnson’s. (free sex and blow-dryer included!) Of course, I suppose it makes sense that a man having shoulder length amber tresses would have a blow-dryer, but when I asked him about it, he claimed he had one because it warmed him up when he got out of the shower. I did not think about it again, but then my imagination and the clues got the better of me.

Every morning, the blow dryer wakes me up. Not enough to merit getting out of bed, but enough for me to wonder why the hell he has it on for so long.

Clue #1 He has the blow-dryer running for so long, yet when he hugs me goodbye, his hair is still wet when it falls into my face.

Clue #2 He is thin, so unless he takes extra care in drying only his private areas, it shouldn’t take him THAT long to blow dry his self.

Clue # 3 He is incredibly fresh-smelling down there. This is the biggest clue that tipped me off. Not that I go around sniffing other people’s privates (because that’s just weird) but I have , on occasion, found my skullage in a few men’s privatal areas. (Stop your wild thinking- one at a time) My Rockstar happens to have no smell in his boxers that is reminiscent of  sweat, un-dried or un-washed junk, etc.

THEREFORE, it is my suspicion that my Rockstar blow-dries his pudenda and other assorted lower areas, including his ass.

 

 

Children are our future??

Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, all my dear bloggers! Imagine my surprise this morning when I checked my stats and saw that I had 14 views yesterday! I love you all! At least I’m not just talking to myself anymore. (Which I really don’t mind doing…) So. Today I shall delve into a subject that is very sensitive for me. It is something I think about every day but cannot talk about without tearing up. The subject of children.

Ever since I was very young, I told everybody I wanted to have 5 boys. Now, don’t ask, “Why boys?” because I’m not entirely sure myself. It seems odd since I love pink, and dressing up, and anything sparkly. Perhaps it is the idea of having my grown sons towering over my short self, (I’m 5’3″) being the Momma’s Boys I know they would be. Anyway, it did seem I was in the perfect situation when I married a man who was fine with having that many kids. Alas, it was not to be. I was with the man for 12 years, never using condoms or birth control, and came out the other side without even a miscarriage- all while everyone I know was popping out kids left and right. Perhaps it was me, maybe it was him, I guess I will never know for sure because we are now divorced and I have never been able to afford health insurance to go through the bullshit of fertility testing. If I am to be barren, I would rather NOT know for sure anyway, I think. I would guess that it IS me, though, since I have since had irresponsible unprotected sex with men who have fathered children.

Nearly everyone I know has said to me at one time or another that I would make an excellent mother. Now, I’m slightly perplexed about how they would know this, as I never baby-sat as a teenager, commented people on how lovely their children are, or even held my cousin’s babies without handing them back almost immediately. Nevertheless, I whole-heartedly agree with these Everyone. I would make a great mom. I know that Love is what a child needs, not toys; I know that discipline is a must, and not the belt on the ass kind; and I know that they need to be taught Respect. I would read to them every night, and tell them I love them always.

9 years ago, my best friend came to me and said, “The worst thing that could ever happen has happened.” She was pregnant. Now I have never been pregnant, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that if you have that kind of attitude when you find out you are having a child, it’s going to filter on down into your parenting a bit. Granted, and unexpected pregnancy is not usually the first thing every 21 year old wants, but you know, sometimes you have to go with the flow. Abortion for her (or me) was never an option, as we were raised very strictly Baptist, and all Life is sacred. I told her once that if she didn’t want to keep her baby, I would  adopt him. She ended up keeping him, and he’s turned out to be a pretty great kid, though it’s helped that he has had a bounty of familial support.  It seems to me the people who aren’t looking to have kids are the very ones who end up with them, and those couples that are trying so desperately have none. Is that God’s way of  showing who’s in charge, I wonder?

My boyfriend is a prime example. His child is a product of a Fuck-Buddy/ relationship that went awry. In his words: “She trapped me.” Fortuneately, he stepped up and refused to be a Bum father, ‘cuz he’s a Good Guy. Alas, it is still slightly apparent that fatherhood was not his ambition in life. His daughter who is now 9, truly is the apple of his eye, and she is more important to him than I will ever be. (Which is the way it should be.) But he definitely still likes his Alone Time. Let me just say, Yay to all you step-moms that are not coined Evil. First, helping to raise a child that is partially grown is tough when you weren’t there the first 7 years. Add in the fact that that child is a Girl, who is quite sassy, and you will understand my wanting to stab myself in the head some weekends. The agreeance on parenting is still being worked out…

Being as I love my Rockstar and have no intentions of looking for a new beau, I asked him what his thoughts were on trying to knock me up someday. The chances are slim, and I have heard that men don’t change their minds. He has stated that he is kinda old and hasn’t the energy. So, the question is, do I throw away the chances of ever holding a babe of my own in my arms, of training up a Child in the way he should go, of leaving a little piece of me when I die, for Love? I have to admit, the thought makes my eyesight blurry. However, I HAVE come to realize that I like my Alone Time, and not being “tied down” with a kid has it’s advantages , I suppose. So I ask, as I do not regret the things I’ve done, will I regret the things that I will NOT have done?