Month: January 2014

The origin story, or how I became a raging travel-craving maniac

The origin story, or how I became a raging travel-craving maniac

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I love origin stories and I especially love this one.

The Wife of Bath's avatarPicnic at the Cathedral

I was sixteen, living in a tiny Midwestern town and determined to go to Europe.  I didn’t have money and in that rural environment, received no encouragement from my friends or teachers.  Nonetheless, I researched relentlessly until I learned about the Rotary Club International’s Rotary Youth Exchange program, which funds and facilitates international student travel.   After making a (perhaps not entirely sincere) presentation to the Rotarians about how I wanted to be an ambassador of friendship to promote international peace, the Rotarians agreed to sponsor me and in short order a Dutch host family was found for me.  I was to spend the summer with an English-speaking family in Amsterdam.  Bliss!

And then, about two weeks before I was to leave, I received devastating news: my Dutch family had cancelled, and unfortunately my trip was cancelled too.  I feel sorry for those nice people at the Rotary club, because…

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coffee

coffee

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 10 Comments

I told you dirty jokes until you laughed.

“It’s been shitty,”  you told me.

So I told you the one about the Pope doing a crossword.

“Stop me if you know it. So, the Pope is doing a crossword,” I laugh,  “and then and then um,” I’m not very good at telling jokes, but you listen anyway,  “oh! And he goes ‘but there’s only four letters in cunt!'”

I messed that up. I always get to the punchline to soon, but you laugh. And that’s the point.

I do anything to make you laugh.

“Wanna hear another one?”

I tell him the one involving a doctor and the wife of a politician.

But halfway through I forgot the punchline.

“You’re not very good at telling jokes.” He tells me. “But I still like you.”

“Guess I’m not going to be a stand up comic like I wanted.” I tell him.

“So what are you going to do with your life now?”

“I think I’ll finally join the circus.”

“Lion tamer?”

“Exactly.”

We both laugh.

“So what happened?” I ask him. I put the tiny percolator on the stove and turn it on.

“When?” He goes to the fridge and pulls out a gallon of milk.

“Grab the small sauce pan from the cupboard.” I tell him. “And I dunno, you said it’s been shitty. I’m asking why?”

“Oh.” He set the pan on the stove and poured in enough milk for both of us. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

He smiles at me and turns the heat on and sets it on high.

“Are you feeling ‘not shitty’ now?” I hand him a whisk. “Make the milk extra frothy.”

“Of course. I’m with you.” He starts to whisk the milk as it heats up.

I groan. “Stop falling in love with me. You know I’m saving myself for Johnny Depp.” I stick my tongue out at him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but that ship has sailed.”

“Are you saying that Johnny Depp will never fall in love with me?”

“I’m saying I’ve already fallen in love with you.”

The espresso finishes percolating and I cannot bring myself to look at him.

The DJ Queues the Last Love Song

The DJ Queues the Last Love Song

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 7 Comments

I always judge a man by the way he lights my cigarette.

It took him a few tries.

I should’ve done it myself.

Post coital cigarettes are the ultimate cliché, but in that moment it just seemed right.

“So what do you like to do for fun?” I asked him. We were sitting naked on his futon with the window cracked. I could feel myself dripping on his slip cover.

“Oh nothing much really. I work a lot. I go to shows every once in a while. That’s pretty much it.”

I took a drag and studied his face as I blew the smoke out slowly.

“You also invite strange women over to your place on cold snowy nights.”

He laughed and ashed his cigarette on the window sill. “Are you a strange woman?”

“I don’t know. I might be. I’m certainly a little odd. I’m here at a stranger’s house for one thing. I mean, you could be a murderer for all I know.” I smiled and then immediately opened my eyes wide in mock fear.  “Are you a murderer?”

I leaned over him to tap the ash off before it fell onto his blanket. I could feel his eyes on my breasts as they dangled over his chest.

He ran his fingers softly down my back.

“I don’t know,” he said, “are you?”

I leaned back and arched an eyebrow at him. “Maybe. Maybe I’m gonna fuck you, kill you and head on my way.”

He smiled. “You don’t look like a murderer.”

“You never know.” I winked at him.

He was quiet for a moment and looked at me closely. “Just how old are you?”

I laughed. “Twenty-seven. You?”

“Oh.” He looked relieved. “I’m 27 too.”

“Why? How old do I look?” I finished my cigarette and put it out on his window sill.

“Really young. I thought you were at the most 21 or 22.” He took the last drag of his cigarette and put it out as well.

“I wish.”

He smiled. “So, you wanna go back in the other room?”

I nodded and he stood up.

I followed him into the other room, laid down on his mattress and watched as he played around with his laptop and changed the music. it had a nice beat. hip hop. something I’d never heard before.

But that’s not really saying much. I couldn’t tell you anything about the underground music scene.

And from the looks of it, I had bagged myself a hipster.

He looked at me and smiled.

I tapped the bed next to me. “come here already.”

he laid down next to me and I rested my head on his chest as he played with my hair. 

“So what do you think about when you touch yourself?” He asked me.

I laughed and propped myself up on my elbows. 

“Is that funny?” He asked.

“A little.” 

“Is it too personal?”

“What’s funny is that it feels like too personal a question for you to ask and at the same time it seems almost hypocritical not to answer when we’ve just had sex.” I looked at my underwear on the floor and my boots tossed by the door. “You’d think it wouldn’t get anymore personal than physically having sex with someone right? You’ve physically been inside of me, all bets are off.”

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”

I looked at him again. “I’m making this weird. I’m sorry. You want to know what I think about when I touch myself?”

He nodded and moved closer to me. I could feel his hand on my back moving slowly towards my ass.

I took a breath and sighed. “oh I don’t know. I think about the way I’d like to be fucked. About other people I’ve slept with. About coworkers I think are cute.” I could feel myself blushing.

He starts to position himself over me. “Oh yeah?” He asks. 

I nod. He brushes my hair to one side and whispers in my ear. “Put your legs together.”

I fix myself and I can feel him enter me. He asks me what I fantasize about and I answer. Every time he asks for more details, the less able I am to respond until I’m practically screaming every single dirty thought I’ve had while playing with myself in my bed.

He wrapped his arm around my neck and told me he was going to finish. I told him I wasn’t close yet.

I gripped the pillow underneath me as he tugged on my hair and told me how good I felt.

As soon as he was done he got up immediately, went to the bathroom and cleaned up. I laid there trying to come to terms with the speed in which everything had just occurred, when he came back and told me to move over.

“Is it okay if we just go to sleep now?” He asked me.

I stared at him and said nothing.

“Are you upset?”

I shook my head and turned over.

The song continued in the background and I tried to think of the fastest way out of there.

Some men are not worth the time it takes to get ready to see them.