April 14, 2010

ELIZABETH ROSE

“Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.” – Douglas Adams

Darling Readers,

TMI or too much information – is a phrase I rarely utter. I am a “rubber necker” of the highest order. I enjoy watching people as not just a pastime, but as a vocation. So, when I am given the opportunity to draw back the curtain and peep into the boudoir I never resist.

You can tell me about his failings, your successes. You can expand on your exes’ taste, shape, technique or lack of it. I want to know, I need to know. I will listen avidly to you and draw out details you never meant to share. I don’t just accept that you are willing to give; I suck it from you like sweet nectar from an exotic fruit until you have no privacy left in your relationship.

So please – feel free to share! Elizabeth is here to listen…

“Really? – bends to the left you say? That is unusual, but do you enjoy it?”….

“Smells like paint thinner? How odd – is she an artist?”…

Of course, it does cut both ways. I wouldn’t say I have been holding back on you my dear readers. Knob cheese, genital fur, my brush with infamy after a homemade sex tape. I am happy to tell you all about it… but first, what was that you were saying about your fetish for being trampled on by high heels?

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SKYE BLUE

There are times when sharing definitely isn’t caring; when sharing is neither appropriate nor necessary. And sharing TMI about your sexual exploits is the type of sharing that falls into the aforementioned category.

No don’t get me wrong. I’m always game for listening to the highlights my friends offer up when they’re excited about a shiny, new bed mate or the love of the life after he/she put it on them real good.  But what I’m not into is hearing the GRAPHIC details about such exploits – especially when the person sharing with me is someone I hardly know.  You heard it here first folks.  Skye Blue never EVER wants to have so information about what went down in your bedroom that she feels like she was right there with you as it happened…

A few years back a co-worker of mine, who I’ll call Ms. TMI, invited me out to lunch with her. For the record we’d both been hired by the company we were at the month before and were just getting to know each other. So you can imagine my surprise when as I took the first sip of my soup, Ms. TMI launched into a tale about the action she’d had the night before.  At first I was as intrigued as I was shocked by her description of the pounding she got from her man.  But then, as she started in on the positions he had contorted her body into, the dirty things he’d whispered in her ear and how raw her vag felt when he was done I started to feel queasy. Readers, Ms. TMI stopped just short of telling me the colour, shape, smell and texture of her man’s dude. I started to feel like I had fucked him myself.

My good people, this type of sharing is not cool – at least not to me.  Keep the rawness of your vag and the taste of your man or woman’s gentalia to yourself.  PLEASE.

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SAM SHARPE

“Sam, I’ve never met anyone like you. I feel so comfortable with you. Talking with you is so easy. I feel like I can tell you anything”

Let’s be clear about this—you can’t. Ladies, I get it. I seem all open and shit. That’s actually not right. I don’t seem open. I am open. No topic is taboo. You’re a felcher. Cool. Whatever floats your boat. Feel the sudden urge to sleep with your best friend’s dad. Alrighty then. Have a used condom fetish? Want to have some of mine? That’s out of the question, but I’m not gonna judge you.

All I ask is that you consider the impact of your statements. I once had a very casual relationship with a very cute, and intelligent young lady who decided that our casual but vigorous sexual encounters were not enough. She wanted to become my wife. Problem was that I knew too much about her. Not in the “knowing your innermost thoughts and dreams” kind of way, but in the “I used to fuck the Toronto Raptors starting line up and I’d fuck your best friend in a heartbeat” kind of way. How did I know all of this? She told me.

Here’s a small sampling of things that I’ve been told by other women who’ve wanted to date me:

“Yeah, I was short of cash and desperately wanted some weed, so I gave head to my dealer and now we’re all square.”

“Thank God you’re nothing like my ex. He had such a small dick. Sucking him off was such a chore. I felt so bad for him that I would just let him cum on my face”

“I’m not a dyke or anything but I love eating pussy so much more than sucking dick”

“Yeah I dated (insert name of famous rapper). I didn’t really like him. But he bought me a lot of stuff. His dick was pretty big too.”

Just in case you were wondering, I did not date any of these women.

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