Grieving

Grieving is a bitch.

Normally, I’m a very composed person. With my training in PR, I’ve handled all sorts of situations and to be graceful under pressure. I never crack. I can tell people anything, no matter how devastating or funny, with a straight face. I have to be detached from the situation and just tell it as it is. My take on grieving is to do it privately. Suck it in, live with it. I am the poster child of calm.

But this is dad. My own Tevye. I don’t feel like talking to all these people, repeating everything over and over again from the President to the lowly janitor. It’s completely draining whatever I have left inside me.

And to have him gone all too quickly, without having the chance to really tell him what I wanted to say, resolve all my daddy issues, I have become such a wreck. I took time for granted. He was such a magnanimous person that one would think he would live forever.

I just want to sit by the coffin and look at him, and please, allow me to bawl like a baby no matter how scandalous I think it is (and probably scold myself later on).

So, yeah. Fuck me senseless and let me bury my head under the sheets.

So, What’s Your Thing?

I had this conversation with a Greek guy friend, S, some time ago. And I think it helped me define who I am, what I want, or how raunchy (or not) I can be.

S: Have you had sex in public places? 

TBG: Erm, I’m not much of an exhibitionist, I think. Inside a car, probably. What about you?

S: Well, I had once, in the comfort room of a coffee shop.

TBG: Oh, that’s not so public. I mean, you’re still behind closed doors. If that’s the definition you go by, then yes, I’ve done it in a bar’s VIP CR a couple of times. But it’s not my thing, I guess.

S: Yeah? So what’s your thing then? Tell me.

TBG: Weeelllll, I believe in privacy. Doing it behind closed doors no matter how cramped. It’s your chance to connect with another person, nevermind that s/he’s just a one night stand. It gets distracting if you are mindful of getting caught or of people passing by. You lose your chance of making sex good for each other.

S: I had sex along the stairs of our apartment. It was exciting.

TBG: I guess it works for you. I mean, I understand the whole excitement bit, but I’m more concerned of making it really good. And I hate having to hurry because of fear of getting caught. I like to take my time. I like to tease. I love to talk and build up the anticipation. Talking and tracing my fingers across his body. Caressing. Mindfuck.

S: Is it worth it? What if the need is unbearable and you have to do it right then and there and it doesn’t matter where you are? Isn’t that exciting?

TBG: Well, you might as well be dogs.

So, what’s your thing?

The Pussy Search

I’ve been observing my stats for the last couple of weeks, curious on what kind of readers land on my site (apart from my loyal readers from my old blog, of course).

WordPress has this integrated Tag Surfer feature (exclusive to WordPress.com hosted blogs) which drove tons of readers to this site who used the “sex” tag.

So, the Tag Surfer feature + word search equals:
(and this has been on my dashboard consistently ever since I moved to WordPress)

screenshot

Interesting.

I muse over the fact there are indeed millions of people out there who are really in dire need of cunnilingus education.

I guess I should write more on the topic soon.