New Year, New Vagina?

Just a note to my readers: I am skipping ahead to now.

With 2016 only a little over two weeks in, I must confess that not only have I been busy in the bedroom, but I’ve turned a new leaf. It wasn’t that the minute it was 12:01am January 1, 2016 I decided to bring on a new me, it was back in November when I was left in Vegas for four nights by myself. Trust me, it’s blog worthy, but I’m so far behind that I’ll get there by 2020.

Just telling someone I want only a fuck buddy wasn’t working for me when I say I can never host; I had stopped using tinder since I got married (shocking, I know), and craigslist is full of total failure when you’re honest that you’re married or taken (because you get flagged as spam in a hot minute, and those replies are just…bad.) After some strategy talks with my vagina, I decided that I needed that tinder again. Before I went to Vegas, I made an account on there that explicitly said that I wasn’t looking for my next ex-husband, along with other fun statements.


My masterpiece of a tinder account

When I returned home–vagina happily used–I turned off the ability for people to discover me. I then traveled for thanksgiving, used that account, made some fun friends, then turned off discovery once I traveled home. I did this a couple more times before Christmas. However, the weekend before Christmas I had an epiphany after a failed fuck buddy meeting: why would I not make a fake Facebook account and go on tinder and just be honest about my situation? I made the most honest profile I could, added pictures of myself with only half my face, because my eyes are a dead giveaway, and picked a fake name.


Can I be your buddy?

It didn’t take long before I had 100 matches. I had a couple of people ask me why I would cheat. I tried to explain that it isn’t cheating when they know and support you as long as you’re being safe, or how they couldn’t grasp why anyone could be asexual or would want to be with an asexual. Dear readers, no relationship is perfect, and no two relationships are identical. I prefer to be with someone that lets me have variety in the bedroom while also being my designated driver. If the only thing I can complain about is that I have to get physically off from other men, I think I’m doing ok. At least I’m honest, unlike over half the profiles I saw. When someone that doesn’t want a hook up matches with me and messages me, we all know what they’re about.

The first match I actually met with was fairly normal in person. I did warn him that I was finishing my period (I swear I’m the horniest when my uterus is pissed I didn’t make a baby), and he didn’t take me up on a blow job. Sadness. Then, Christmas happened and he went to visit his family, causing us not to have any sort of sexual fun times. He came back, was sick, and then fell off the face of the planet. Then I received this:


How about no.

How about, no. Just a swing and a miss.

Granted, in that time period I slept with other men. Some deserving, some not so much, but overall they were better than I imagined them to be. Since January 1 I have magically had 5 penises hang out with Catherine, and I’ve taught my skills to other women. I’ve been passing on the torch in a sense.

The first lucky man of 2016 to have slept with me honestly had the night of his life leading up to sex with me. West Point is 19, tall, blonde hair with beautiful eyes, inexperienced like no one’s business, obviously he attends West Point, and drove an hour to meet up with me and my girlfriends for a night of drinking. For the first time in a long time, I got to wear my rings while with someone, and that is a remarkable achievement for me.

Until I write about West Point…which I did! Surprised, I’m sure.


The Daring Vagina