Oh, darling web dwellers. It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. The day of, “What did that mean?” and “Look at my ring.” The day of, “Shoulda Woulda Coulda,” and “Let’s take a cab; I’m too sore to walk.” Whichever kind of day it is for y’all, I raise my Diet Coke to you in salute. We made it through another Valentine’s Day, and I sort of got laid. Almost.
Wait? What?! No shit. I made you wait almost a whole paragraph before dropping that one on you, didn’t I? Yeah, I’m a bitch like that. I could write a few more lines of drivel before getting to the good stuff, but you know, then it would be all built up and nothing I said would sound awesome enough to merit the long buildup. See what I did there? I did it anyway. That’s what y’all get for overloading social media with pictures of your damn flowers yesterday, bitches.
Anyway, so as I wrote yesterday, my new BFF the FedEx man dropped off a box ‘o dirty sexies on my doorstep yesterday and I had some new toys to try out. Ladies, if you don’t own any sex toys, you are fucking missing out. Vibrators, dildos, and their many, many XXX brethren are not only outstanding for solo relaxation activities, but they also enhance couples’ activities too. Unless your particular brand of guy is needy and easily intimidated, in which case, what the fuck are you doing with him?
Plus, if you’re tormented by occasional insomnia like me but hate taking drugs to sleep and can’t drink enough hard alcohol to make you sleepy without first vomiting at length, I gotta tell ya, masturbation is the best fucking sleep aid out there. If you’re lucky enough to be able to get from A to OOOOooooo without any mechanical assistance, it’s actually free, and I hate you. If you’re like me and can only get from A to GeeeeeeThatCouldBeBetter without some batteries or a partner, then fine, it costs a little money, but damn, y’all. I’ll spend $50 on a new vibrator over the same amount in sleeping pills or liquor any day of the year. Any day.
So last weekend I told Northman my new toys were coming this Tuesday and we made a date to break them in last night. Before we got down to business, we chatted for easily an hour about life, family, minions, work, and friends. We showed one another what our minions made us for Valentine’s Day and discussed the merits of foam-sticker-based art projects with regard to both cuteness and longevity. And yes, we talked about the blog.
Web dwellers, Northman is fascinated by you. He loves being my writing muse (thank goodness) and I’m grateful he doesn’t mind being blog fodder. But he finds it fascinating when I tell him which articles are well received and which aren’t, which ones are shared the most via social media and which are largely ignored. And he is absolutely stunned that what I call “his” posts are by far the most popular. And therein lies exactly what I adore about Northman. He is unassuming with a self-deprecating humor and modesty I adore, all while being so insanely sexy that I am often rendered speechless (or at least incapable of comprehensible speech) at the sight of his naked body, and that’s quite something for me.
So last night, not because it was Valentine’s Day, but because it was FedEx Delivered My Toys Day, I had phenomenal Skype sex with Northman. He wanted me to um … how to put this one … give an oral report on the methods of stimulation I’d use on him if we were within licking distance, and with my recently acquired visual aids, I did. So, I wasn’t speechless, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to speak. Despite my inability to say anything dirty, or anything at all, he liked it. A lot. And he even gave me an extra credit point if I could demonstrate an ability to do different activities with each of my hands at once. This involved some contortion and further rendered me incapable of coherent speech, but damn if it didn’t push him over the edge, which I just fucking love to watch. Of course, he then reciprocated. I’d say his presentation was more of an oral report designed to facilitate a demonstration of how earthquakes can be followed by multiple aftershocks, and that sometimes the aftershocks are as powerful as the originating earthquake itself. In short, I thought my fucking head was going to spin around. And as if that weren’t good enough, the look on his face, watching me endure the last of those aftershocks, well, being satisfied is great. But being smug and satisfied is way better.
So, that was my non-Valentine’s-Day “date.” And it was great. But as I type this for you, I’m thinking, not about Quinn, who was in tip top form last night — sweet Jesus in Birks was he in top form — nor about how Northman himself stripped down to nothing but his ridiculously lick-able tattoos and a necklace, but about Northman’s questions regarding the blog. He wanted to know what y’all ask me. What you wonder about. Who you web dwellers are and what you like or think or say about all the craziness that is my life here on the blog. Because that’s him. That’s Northman. He’s inquisitive and involved in my life. And as much as I may occasionally portray him here as little more than a virtual sex toy, he is a man. And despite some web claims to the contrary, yes, a real, not-made-up, not-even-exaggerated-upon, actual man. He’s a truly wonderful man I completely adore and have for ages, and not just because I cannot possibly be within three counties of him without finding the closest semi-private spot to fuck him. No. I adore him because he’s always quick to laughter and listens instead of waiting to speak. I adore him because he’s a devoted father, my dear friend, a wholly decent person, my favorite muse, and because I can’t be within three counties of him without fucking him in any private space larger than a telephone booth. I miss telephone booths. Such potential. But I digress. So this one’s for Northman. He wants to know about you, web dwellers. So have at it, please. Email, Facebook, comment, go nuts. Northman is listening.