#2 What Everyone Came Here For

No use beating around the bush, time to air my dirty laundry and give you all what you came here for. Part II: Sex.

Let me just preface this entry by saying: I am not a whore! Contrary to what my doctor says, I am not a whore. BTW, my doctor actually called me that. Well, not in so many words. The last time I went in for a blood test, I was describing my sexual habits, and he was like, "If being a whore is causing you so much anxiety, maybe you should stop being a whore. Stop worrying so much about your health, all your test results are fine."

Sure, if you compare my activity level in SF with my activity level from college, I seem like a big ol' slut, but that's because I was a prude before. I was with a total of three people in college, so when I came to the City, it was like a whole new ballgame. I want to say that I've been with somewhere between 30 and 40 guys here. Some good, some not so much. That number may seem high, but does it count if I don't remember their names or if I was so drunk I don't remember going home with them? Ugh, that sounds bad, please don't follow my irresponsible lead. But, I have to say that I always practice safe sex, as you all should.

Through all the experimenting, I have emerged with two f-buddies. One, an executive at the SF satellite of a major television network. Two, a commissioner with the City and County of SF. My first encounter with The Exec is actually a pretty funny story.

After all the fuss I've made about not being a whore, I actually met The Exec when he picked me up off the street. Good Lord, no better than a common hooker. At least I didn't take any money from him. I was having a really bad week, and the day I had had at work was not helping. I polished off all the booze in my house and was on a quick run to the liquor store to buy another bottle of wine when we checked each other out on the corner. He asked if I wanted to get a drink with him, and I was like sure, why not I'm not drunk enough yet? He told me his car was parked just down the street.

OK time out, I realize now that my decision to go with him was one step shy of, "It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again." But hello, good judgment had left the room like four glasses of wine ago.

So this is how naive I was. When we got to his Mercedes (thank you very much), I asked him which bar he wanted to go to. He just chuckled. We started with a little making out in the front seat, cut to me with my pants around my ankles in his back seat with the automated sun shades covering the windows. It was the trashiest/classiest thing I'd experienced in a long time. All I have to say is thank goodness the cops didn't come by, because it was only 10:00 p.m. and the parking lot was far from empty. He had backed his car into the parking spot (no that is not some cheap double entendre), but speaking of cheap, at one point, I was bending over looking out the front windshield when I met eyes with this middle aged woman coming out of the neighboring grocery store. OMFG, can you say humiliated?

Man, I have a couple more pretty delicious hook up stories with The Exec and some others, but those will have to wait for another day.

Talk later.

-Yours Truly