My Somewhat Horrendous Valentine's Day

Fear not, Agent X, you don’t have to be married to be underwhelmed on Valentine’s.

Although in fairness to PVC, he wasn’t really to blame for the general horrendousness.

Now, I hate Valentine’s Day for the same reason I hate New Year’s Eve – because anything that hyped up is bound to be a disappointment. (There are other reasons why I hate VD, mostly to do with my utter disgust and contempt at capitalism’s attempt to sell ‘love’… or maybe I’m just bitter because no one ever paid for a singing telegram for me while I was in school and my disappointment at never getting the opportunity to hear ‘I’ll Make Love to You’ by Boys to Men screamed at me will now overshadow the rest of my romantic life…)

Anyway, I hate it. And flowers and all the crap make me cringe. A sentiment that PVC and I both share. Also any prospect of a hot date that evening was out of the question, as he had to be the demonstration partner for a beginners ceroc (a sort of jive-y ballroom dancing) class that night. The prospect of heckling him while he was up on the stage appealed to me, so I went along to the class.

Class was fun, and I got a good bit of heckling in. Afterwards there was some of social dancing, and then we had to decide whether we wanted to stay on for the intermediate class, or go home and eat cake. I was all for cake, but he insisted we stay, telling me that I was totally ready for intermediate (with my whole three lessons behind me). So we stayed.

Perhaps not surprisingly, I found the class kind of difficult. Which is a gentle way of saying I sucked. Oh how I sucked. (In fairness to me, I missed the beginning of the class because I had to go to the toilet, and my attention span was shot from the class that preceded it and another terrible day at work). But yeah, Lord of the Dance I was not. Even still, I couldn’t work out why PVC was acting really quite aggressive. He was being all “I said spin on THREE, not FOUR!” and I was all “dude chill out” until eventually he had to point out that his ex-girlfriend had joined the class with her new boyfriend and they had been dancing directly beside us for some time. Her new boyfriend was obviously at the same skill level as me, and she was doing a similar thing to PVC in that she was dragging the poor bugger all over the place.

I asked PVC if he wanted to go, but he was determined to stick the class out to the bitter end. So it then turned into this Strictly Ballroom-esk dance off, whereby we kept dancing into them and they kept dancing into us while the exes shot each other withering looks and I tried to check her out between demented spins. I thought it was funny, and I kept losing the plot and giggling, which only served to make PVC more annoyed at me.

An aside: PVC’s ex is freaking beautiful. You know that famous painting, with Venus emerging scantily clad from a clamshell? Well, like that. Long, flowing auburn hair, creamy skin, blue eyes, etc. I’ve seen photos of her, but she looks even better in real life. Although, by all accounts she’s a bit of a bitch, and while she’s got a nice rack, she has nothing on my ass. So, y’know. I wasn’t about to stick a diamante stiletto in her eye or anything, I was just kind of curious.

Finally admitting defeat, PVC and I sat down to watch the end of the class, while he gazed pensively in her direction. I asked him if he was going to say ‘hi’ which he decided he wasn’t, so we got up and skulked out before the final round of social dancing.

Now at this point, I’m expecting we’ll go to his place, eat cake and shag. But no, PVC has decided that the time was right for telling his parents that he’s planning to quit his ridiculously lucrative career in IT to become an impoverished photographer. This was not music to his highly-conservative parents’ ears. PVC proceeds to have a giant argument with his mum which lasts about two hours while I sit watching them awkwardly. I think a bit of blame might have ricoched in my direction, as the unwholesome artistic influence in his life, but I also might be paranoid. Anyway, not the most fun I’ve ever had, but in a perverse way kind of entertaining.

At the end of the night (into the early hours of Friday morning), we muster our last reserves of energy for cake consumption. Which unfortunately left zero energy for shagging. Bah.

Ah well. Shagged approximately five times this weekend, so I can’t really complain!

elaborate plan

Hub-bee and I are occassionally giant nanna's. This doesn't involve huge white cotton underpants and water glasses with dentures, but for example Sunday night just past, we were in bed at the super early hour of 9pm. We actually went to bed at 8.50, and I for one, revelled in the wonderful knowledge we would wake refreshed and feeling good. I personally ended up getting a full ten hours of sleep, it was fantastic.

The next day at work, Hub-bee reveals to me that he actually had a grand plan for the previous evening. See I'd been quite vocal in the fact that I didn't feel we'd gotten enough sleep, and I was really tired and looking forward to an early night. So he didn't like his sexy-time chances at the start of bedtime, he had a good feeling he would be rebuffed if he made a move (which was true).
So he had a really big glass of water right before he got into bed, thinking that his bladder would wake him in the middle of the night, and he could go for the midnight tap.

This venture is not without risk however, if he goes in too early, and I haven't rested enough, I will still likely rebuff him. Even though I do quite like sex in the middle of the night when you don't really talk and its all groping and groggy arousal. Alternatively, if he goes too late, I will also be annoyed if I can't get back to sleep.
So Sunday night there was a golden 4 hour window where he would be sweet. (most nights the window is only an hour, two max)

Unfortunately his bladder foiled him, and he didn't wake up. LOL

I felt sorry for the poor bugger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quick question for partnered ladies {sorry Dating-Agent :( }
How many times do you reckon you do it in a month,ie in a 30 day time frame?
I reckon we do it about 8-10 times a month.
[sometimes we'll do it almost every day for a week, but there's at least one week in a month where we don't do it at all, and one week where I've "got the painters in", leaving one week when we'll do it sporadically]
What about you guys?

My Somewhat Horrendous NYE

Well, I've had a lot of underwhelming and emotionally draining New Year's - and last night was no exception. Explaining the context of the whole thing is going to be tricky, so I have decided to present in play format:

"Oh, What a (Crappy) Night"
Cast of Characters:

BillyLou
PVC
Ms Cheeky (friend of BL)
Ms Purple Cats (friend of BL)
Ms Gender Studies (friend of PVC)
Ms Gender Studies' Boyfriend (friend of PVC)
PVC's X (who is quite lovely, and hangs out with us sometimes even tho that's a bit weird)
PVC's X's X (the ex boyfriend of PVC's ex girlfriend)
Ms Random Slut Bag (Who No One Invited Anyway)
Weird Boyfriend of Random Slut Bag
Weird Ex Boyfriend of Random Slut Bag

Setting:
Glebe Park

Scene 1:
After spending a nice afternoon in park getting slowly drunker, everyone gets their glow sticks, light sabres and plastic bottles of vodka ready for countdown. When it gets to midnight, fireworks are watched, vodka is skulled and BillyLou is grabbed by PVC and snogged violently. BillyLou's friends and PVC's friends have merged nicely and everyone is getting along. Only Ms Purple Cats is upset, because her boyfriend disappeared at midnight to go and talk to this girl who he is "only friends" with, leaving Purple Cats alone and annoyed. This sets the general tone of upset-ness that will continue through the rest of the evening.

BillyLou's friends have a scheduled 'chillax' party to go to at Ms Cheeky's house in Glebe. PVC's friends are kicking on in park, so we must say goodbye to them before we leave. PVC is saying extended goodbye to Gender Studies' Boyfriend, while I chat awkwardly with the outrageously drunk Gender Studies.

Gender Studies: "Have a really, really good 2008. I mean, I really, really mean it. Have a really, really, really good new year." (Gender Studies is embracing BL intimately.)

BillyLou: "Um, thanks! You too."

Gender Studies: "No, I really mean it. I want you to have a wonderful 2008."

BL: "Um, cool! Thanks again!"

Gender Studies: "I'm so drunk. We should kiss."

PVC: (Noticing the clinch) "Yeah, you guys should totally kiss."

BL: "Um... isn't that your boyfri...." Gender Studies pounces upon BL and kisses her smack on the lips. BL feels very awkward. Gender Studies is not unattractive, but her boyfriend is standing right there, and doesn't look quite so enthused as PVC does. Finally, BL wriggles out of kiss, and makes lame awkward jokey chit chat.

BL: (to PVC) "Um, honey, isn't it time we were heading off?"

PVC: "Oh, no. There's no hurry." BL notices that all of PVC's friends are now staring at BL and Gender Studies.

Gender Studies: (advancing towards BL again) "Have a really, really great..."

BL: (to PVC) "Honey! I think we really should go now. It's getting late!"

PVC: (reluctantly) "Oh, I guess so." PVC finally bids goodbye to Gender Studies' somewhat sour-looking Boyfriend, and finally we are able to walk away. Last I saw of Gender Studies she was walking woozily towards another lone female in the group, arms outstretched.


Scene 2:
Everyone is on a beanbag or futon at Cheeky's house in Glebe. All the ingredients are there for good time, but as mentioned that vibe of tension still prevails. Does not help that these weird random guests have seemingly invited themselves. Random guests include Random Slut Bag and her entourage of weird boyfriends and ex boyfriends. Random Slut Bag is really annoying. She has colourful hair and hippy clothing, but is one of those people who is trying really hard to be alternative to disguise the fact she has no personality, other than annoying. She keeps diverting the conversation (loudly) back to herself, inflicting us with stories about her depression, her (numerous) suicide attempts, her alcoholism, her restrictive Catholic upbringing, her violent fits of rage and her nymphomania. She flounces around room and bats her overly glittery eyes at any one who is male. At one point she makes out with her ex-boyfriend, while her current boyfriend sat at the other end of the room and looked morose. She keeps trying to flirt with and install herself next to PVC, which everyone else is trying really hard to prevent.

At this point, Purple Cats gets into a shit with everyone and pretty much storms off. Just as Purple Cats is leaving, PVC's X's X walks into the room. PVC's X's X sees PVC's X and plonks himself opposite her, so her can make her uncomfortable all night. PVC is livid, as PVC strongly dislikes his X's X, and thinks he should leave immediately. PVC's X assures him that she is ok, and everyone in the room looks on as the awkwardness unfolds. Even Random Slut Bag is momentarily quiet.

Finally, PVC's X's X seems to get the hint that he is not welcome, and after what feels like hours he finally leaves. Everyone is starting to settle down, and there is still a glimmer of hope that good times could potentially be had.

Having drunk about 80 litres of water to compensate for the zillion drinks she has consumed, BillyLou decides to get up and venture downstairs to the toilet, leaving PVC unsupervised on futon.

You can probably see where this is going, but anyway...

When BillyLou returns she finds Random Slut Bag draped all over PVC. They are not kissing or anything, but Slut Bag gives BillyLou the most victorious look of spiteful glee (BillyLou has not been overly polite to Slut Bag during the night) that BillyLou wants to kick her several times in the head. BillyLou resists urge to make giant scene (she is pretty shocked, actually) so she decides to go outside into the fresh air.

BillyLou goes for walk. Cheeky follows after her, and is supportive while BillyLou has small tantrum about how much of a stupid whore Slut Bag is.

When BillyLou returns she finds PVC is looking for her. PVC is apologetic. Is it lovely, and despite Slut Bag's energetic attempts, relationship between PVC and BL comes out stronger. PVC cheers BL up by wearing knitted hat with pom poms and singing to her.

PVC drives his X home (I really quite like his X, so this is ok) and then PVC and BL crash at his place at about 4am.

The End.

Postscript: BL and PVC have beautiful sex several times on New Year's Day. Awesome.

*GRUFF*

** WARNING! MAJOR RANT, ADULT THEMES AND OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE AHEAD**

It's times like this you need minties, or perspective or some shit... please send all minties c/o IATEYOURBEES.

Prologue;
Apprently I've missed informing you of a new Bee in the picture, it didn't really warrant earlier mentioning but had a brief conversation with Canadian Bee-eater and we decided that during singledom one takes the oppertunity.

Chapter one; The Party
A few weeks before I went off to Melbourne I went up the Central Coast for my friends partners 30th. During which time I met Brother In Law Bee. Brother in Law Bee is brother to my mates partner. Right got it.
He was alright looking... good arms... good smell. Someone at the party got wind I fancied him and then we were prompted into a walk and conversation, during which time myself (who was TOTALLY SQUIFFY) and Brother in Law Bee pashed, had a grope and went back home, drank more with the boys - INSERT ME BEING CAN ON GIRL - and then passed out.
The following day involved very little, except sleeping and cuddling on bed.

Chapter two; The follow up
We didn't exchange numbers after the party, I knew he lived in the central coast - remember we've been here before? - so it was all a bit silly, but nice to giggle with my girlfriend about being sister in laws *chuckle*
So BILB (haha BILB is good) askes my mate for my number, and a swarth of text messages and phone calls which Telstra obviously by now recognises as me having a bit of crumpet again.
So pre Melbourne I trek up early to Central Coast to loaf about up there, see BILB and start holiday wind down.
My temporary tag of BLIBS MRS (haha morons) I got an invite to a house warming party after which I told BILB we couldn't ever have anything that friendly cuddles because I did not want things to be weird when I visited incase something went weird... sure I understand is the reply.

Chapter Three; the fuck up.
Mate rings me and askes, 'Did you sleep with BILB?' -- NO I did not, well apprently BILB has told some thing named Ryan we had.
Its now times like there where I start batting for the all men are lying bastards, it's encoded in the Y strain of DNA and they should be jettisoned into space.
Just after I've been so good and optimistic!

THIS REALLY PISSES ME OFF! Because I don't want to get all whingy to my friend because this is what I wanted to avoid in the fucking first place!
And I can't give him attitude like I want to because I want to seem all better than him and not petty but I want to suffocate him truth be told!
So now if I see him Im going to take the disappointed and wronged woman act, tell anyone who asks if we slept together to fuck off and mind thier own businss and remember not to shit where you go for long weekends either.

Anniversary lovin

So had very romantic anniversary weekend away. We went to the Hunter Valley and HubBee had organised champagne in the room when we arrived, it looked gorgeous!
So we proceeded to open the champagne, get tipsy and have fun drunken hotel room shag.

Saturday shamefully I got too pissed for bedroom action which was a decided shame as I'd bought new set of sexy knickers in a pinky-red fishnet style and was organised to slip into said knickers when we got back from dinner.

As we were in the Hunter, we spent all day tasting, and then when we finished with that we had a quick dip in the pool and spa (spa was disgusting and I can imagine if we'd tried to have spa-action I would have contracted all manner of disgustingness)
Then we went to the hotel bar for a pre-dinner cocktail and play a little pool, and I ordered a huge pink extremely toxic cocktail, with something like 5 shots in it (not realising of course, I thought it would be normal sized).

We played pool, went out to dinner and proceeded to drink another few glasses of wine, so much so that I almost fell asleep half way through the main course.
Needless to say I was beyond drowsy when we got back, and said knickers went back into the bag, I am determined to wear them again and surprise him though. Hopefully this week.

So Sunday morning (actual anniversary) couldn't go past the morning sexy-sex, which was great, and we discovered why the bed was so high off the floor (it really was crazy-high). hehehe.
Good weekend, grotesque happiness at love of HubBee, a year on.
:)

Damn

Well, I had the conversation I'd been avoiding with PVC.

Told him I had been planning to move to Melbourne, but would stay if he wanted me to stay. (Implication: he would quantify what we have as a relationship and things would become more serious - as much as I hate those words).

He said what I'd been dreading he'd say - that things would continue the same way if I chose to stay in Sydney. Which are not bad - but certainly not enough to relocate my 'dreams' for.

I realised later that I chose a bad time to bring this up as I was suffering PMT at the time. I started crying, arggghhhh, I couldn't believe how much of a girl I was being. (You won't commit to me?? Wahahahaha!!!!) He was nice to me, but god it was embarrassing.

Then there was awkwardness - should we keep seeing each other even though I'll be moving away in three months? We didn't really address this so much as have sex. Which was amazing. And yes I know that's really dysfunctional, but I'm comfortable with that.

At the end of it the consensus was yes, we should keep seeing each other, but now I don't know if I can do it.

But the sex...!

Aw, fuck.

Also I know my username has changed - I'm in the process of fiddling with my accounts.

What's wrong with this picture?

(Not this picture. Nothing wrong with a scantily-clad cat girl.)

I think I've reached the bottom. Today I found myself trawling through the obituaries section of smh.com to try and determine whether a love interest of mine had died. When you find yourself doing this, perhaps it is time to stop and evaluate. One can't help but be reminded of that line from that song:

"Don't be no fool when
Love really don't love you."

This is D-Bee. (Myspace guy, the one with the drug history, the one who caused all that shit with my aunt and her somewhat doubtful choice in father of her child. If anyone is confused, don't worry. I think I'm mostly writing this to myself).

After everything happened with my aunt and uncle, D-Bee sent me an email apologising profusely and saying that he hoped I could forgive him. He said not to worry, he wouldn't be going anywhere. This meant everything to me - to know that even though things were shitty I could at least I could rely on D-Bee to talk to.

This was over two weeks ago.

Since then he hasn't been online at all and hasn't responded to my email that bluntly asked him to let me know "yes" or "no" if we were talking anymore.

I don't have his phone number. I don't know where he lives. I don't know his last name. And yet I spoke with this person about every third night for hours (online) since the beginning of the year. We told each other some big, personal things. I felt, in some strange disconnected way, that I knew him, or at least I knew I wanted to know him. The night that the crap happened with my uncle D-Bee was talking about the possibility of meeting - which was huge for him considering the drug past (and associated complications), etc.

And now he has disappeared off the face of the planet and there's nothing I can do but look through the obituaries. And this is, like, EVERY obituary as I don't have his last name.

Is it too much to ask for my prospective dates to be mentally sound, not addicted to something, in possession of a driver's lisence and ALIVE???

Fucking hell.

p.s. Agent Y please let us know how RSVP goes. (Hopefully well!) I've heard it can work but due to my freak-magnetism I've given up on the internet.

I'll let you know if D-Bee ever turns up again. Preferably not in a body bag.

Welcome to the future

Well theres my little avatar contribution.
Perhaps you might notice the sneaky (ok not so sneaky if you know what you're looking at) hint.

I think any kind of being together and not having sex is a bit of a drag,
I mean come home, cook dinner, have sex, have dinner, have sex, watch telly, have sex, have a shower go to sleep... surely?
Seems like not eh... well if I can have little more sex than what Im getting now why am I bothering?

I suppose if you're jilling off you know what to expect.

NOW on a serious note,
I'm looking at doing some travel this year. I know it's a bit of short notice. Please express intrest to me on the following if anyone is interested, (Hey V, let me know if you were still into Eygpt)
- Eygpt
- NZ (LOTR tour?)
- UK (possibly off the cards due to expense :-( ) Thankyou for your time.

Call me crazy

Firstly I commiserate with you Z, this plight you suffer is wide spread (haha spread, or not as the case may be)
Perhaps we can all scout candidates at our newly appointed Beeifaction??
Lets get this organized!

Now I gotta comment on my NYE action, a little late off the mark but I had to dedicate a bit of time for typing.
I went with a friend and her boyfriend, to a club in the city which was about three guys to one girl and consumed enough champagne and vodka to slow a rhino but to no effect (don’t you hate that!)
After dancing about for a while, I found someone suitable looking for NYE pash, we danced for a while, had afore mention snogging session we popped outside to get some air and a change of pashing scenery. After some unintelligible mumbling I worked out he was asking if I wanted to fuck him… there on bloody Hunter Street.
Call me crazy, perhaps all the Rob Zombie I’ve been listening to has softened my brain, but this isn’t my ideal locale, grimy city side street with someone who looked like a tall Eminem.

Well you get what you pay for I suppose lol.

I am Agent Z, Hear Me Whinge

I just read Agent V’s post from way back – only just noticed it. And dude, I hear you. Being single is supposed to be fun, naughty, promiscuous. But after 12 months of very irregular lovin, (in the last year I had approximately five halfway decent shags, and they were mostly with Bad Bee), I find myself going out of my freakin lovin-deprived little mind.

It’s just a freak show out there. An utter, utter freakshow. And the more cheesed off I become with the whole ‘dating’ thing, the hornier I get!

My year in Dating Wonderland (summary form):

* Broke up with the Hopeless Tortured Artist Bee (he was on anti-depressants which meant he never wanted to shag and when he did he couldn’t get it up)

* Had stupid affair with Bad Bee (we would see each other about once a month, have incredible sex and then he would pretend it didn’t happen for another month until he got drunk again…)

* Shagged a girl, which really meant I got her off and then she rolled over and went to sleep, and I’m not willing to repeat owing to the fact I’m not a lesbian

* Had a one night stand with some (albeit good looking) random after speed dating. We had sex twice, amount of orgasms I had= zero.

* Met Nice Bee, and we all know about Nice Bee. (Now that I have broken it off with him I have been accused of running away because he was sick, which really wasn’t true. I was running away because he couldn’t kiss and the sex was shite.)

* Pashed Fat IT Bee at office Christmas party. Went on date with Fat IT Bee, thought maybe it could work. Had abortive sexual experience with Fat IT Bee. Told Fat IT Bee just wanted to be friends and got abused by text messages and emails. Fat IT Bee quits his job and deletes me from his myspace. Mature.

I mean, MY GOD, people.

I think the only option left, is to fork out a bit of cash and buy myself a decent vibrator. Like one of those fancy rabbit ones.

A purple one.

Bees out.

Details!

Talk about a tease! You post about your middle of the night sexy sexness and then go on a tangent about horrible warts - *shudder*. That poor girl. If that happened to me I'd kill myself.

I haven't been 100% truthful about the complete lack of action in my life. Last Friday I went to see Nice Bee, and once we got past the bad kissing things were all right. (I've given up trying to kiss him back. He just overrides my attempts to make the kissing good so now I just stand there with what must look like a distracted grimace on my face quite literally doing nothing while he kisses me... hot! Not.) I'm not sure how many details people want on the whole kinkiness business... so I'll assume not many... but anyway he combined the sex with the kininess to make it halfway decent sex. (As in, lasted approx five minutes - a four minute improvement, and I didn't have to ask him to have sex with me - he took the initiative this time. Thank Christ).

So, pro: Five minutes worth of kinky sex.

Con: His phone rang right at the crucial moment which was really distracting and annoying, and what's worse he was getting me off the next day and the same thing happened again right at the crucial moment.

Bah.

But, can't complain.

(But is this blog really about political correctness? Or is it our blog and I can whinge if I want to?)

Well, maybe I'll unleash a tirade of whinging next post. Right now I'd better get back to work.

No Lovin'

I think it's cos you're the only one getting laid!

It's looking like the only way to get decent, reliable sex in this town is to get hitched. Dammit!

Sigh. I half-heartedly tried to suggest to Nice Bee last week that maybe he'd be better off pursuing a different Lady Bee (other than me). To which he started up with "Are you breaking up with me?" To which I was thinking: "Are we going out??"

No lovin' sucks!

Girls girls girls

What's going on! I go away for two and a half weeks and nothing!! I expected to come back and read many posts on varying topics! Instead I get nothing! Pah.
where have you all gone....????

Bee they good or bad

Geez, look what I missed!!! Go Agent V!!! I’d like to end the drought also, perhaps I missed my opportunity last night?

Ohh Z. That bee a truly shyte situation in which you are juxtaposed.
To cut a long story short, you’re on a bit of a sticky wicket… how sticky?
Well, we could wax poetic about this topic of what one SHOULD do, but I have in the past noticed that what one SHOULD do and what one DOES frequently do not correlate. So perhaps an observation;

Bad Bee can only be quite rightly named. The only thing we can see about Bad Bee moving himself into the positive column is that he is now disattached himself from bizarro pseudo-relationship (has it occured that this may not be true?).
He does seem to still be an alcoholic, workaholic, megalomaniac with fuckstick attached (but competency to using equipment CANNOT be overlooked.)

Having said this, I am afraid that Nice Bee isn’t the same Good Bee is it? Nice Bee, has a lovely cat and pancake making mother, and knows which way you like your knots tied. But there is also that illness business with which you must contend, which I think is very admirable you should be considering involving yourself.

So far I think Nice Bee is outweighing Bad Bee in good points.

I hate being disappointed. Like everyone, but I think the worst let down to have is when you are cockily expecting something to go REALLY well and it does not. When going down on a guy, I really like to finish the job. Like some sexual accomplishment you can tick off the list, but when the guy just annoyingly refuses to come be it deep inner strenght or whatever, I get dejected and frustrated.

yes yes yes....what you're done already?

And- bummer on the too-excited front. I often recall my encounter with Persian-who-got-offended-when-i-lied-about-my-age when we did it three times and each time lasted all of about 3 minutes before he was done. Yep. Thanks for that buddy. no no, i'm fine....just DANDY! The thing I most recall actully was that I put up with unsatisfying sex three times in an hour. Glutton for punishment.