Well, one sex blogger is coming, anyway.
She’s tall, she uses a butt plug for a doorstop, and she reveals all her dating travails to us without skipping one detail. Do you know of whom I speak??
Yep, Ann St. Vincent is coming to my fair city this Friday.
I’ll pick her up from the airport, take her to my favorite “first time in _____” restaurant for a really stiff drink then drag her out into the muggy night with me to fill ourselves with more liquid madness and tall tales we can’t share on our blogs. Ann, you better nap on the plane.
As you might recall from Noodle’s visits, my town is not a very friendly one in terms of male attention, so my focus will be on showing Ann the sites and the vibe of my home, not hooking her up. And alas, I no longer have two willing and able neighbors with whom to frolic, so there’s that.
Speaking of which, don’t get your hopes up that Ann will meet The Neighbor. I wish things were different between me and him, but they’re not. The battery has died and the clock is stuck. And Downstairs Neighbor is off the motherfucking grid ever since his exgirlfriend told him she never loved him (don’t ever do that to someone, ok? it’s just unnecessary). That exhausts my list of available men to drink with in my living room.
But you know us. Maybe we’ll find new ones. I never know what will happen when I open myself up to possibility. And martinis.