SG: You should get your little ass over here. I want to see you bend over.
Me: I wish. I have class in like 10.
SG: Where are you?
Me: The library.
SG: I think you should touch yourself. Because your cunt needs to be fucked and I can’t do it from here.
Me: Oh yeah?
SG: Get over here. I want to destroy you.
Me: I have class.
SG: If it were up to me, you’d just be tied to my bed all day, legs spread. And a couple of times a day I’d come over and use you.
Me: I like that.
SG: I bet you do, slut.
Me: Except for the part where my muscles atrophy from lack of movement but fuck science this is dirty talk.
SG: This is why you need more sex and less class.
southern gentleman
Textual wooing.
ChatSG: Hey, just thought of something.
Me: What’s that?
SG: Don’t date anyone who won’t let you suck my cock.
Me: Haha, okay.
SG: And if you do, I’ll make you suck it anyway.
Me: What made you think of that?
SG: Porn.
Me: How romantic.
“My girlfriend and I are Roger and Jane,” the Southern Gentleman commented as we watched Mad Men.
I blinked. “Please don’t tell me that. She’s a nice girl.”
Last week, he’d complained about her talking dirty not because she actually genuinely wanted to but to make him happy. It was unenthusiastic and a little sad. He’s always conflicted about her and he always comes to me about it.
“She’s so fun and beautiful and happy,” he continued, “but so…just…she doesn’t look beyond herself. She can’t look beyond herself.”
I sighed, “this is me saying this to you as a friend. But please promise me you won’t shack up with just another version of her. Because I know that’s going to be the easy and safe and fun option for you and it’s what a lot of the people around you are going to like. Please pick someone I can bear sitting around on a porch and smoking a joint with.” I realized how deep I’d just gotten and tacked on, “end of preaching, I promise.”
Somehow, he seemed all right with what I said and replied, “can we talk about this some more later?”
“Yeah, man,” I returned my attention to the tv, “woah. This is a really hip Viagra commercial.”
When we have these conversations, it’s when I realize I value him more as a close friend than as someone I mess around with. It’s strange to care so much about someone you’re physically involved with but to want to imagine being friends with them 20 years down the line than being with them. I know we’re not meant for each other and I don’t want to force it. But there’s a sensitivity there between the two of us. We really, honestly care about each other. We genuinely understand each other. And while we have really awesome sex, there’s something a lot deeper there that isn’t romantic so much as a really deep compassion between two very similar people. This blog tends to really capture only the silliness and sexuality which, while key to our relationship, is not its entirety at all.
Yikes, this was deeply personal post. Can we please end on a moment of silent appreciation for the pink towel on Roger’s head?
Great Moments in Freeze Frame #1696 – Mad Men
I’ve decided since you aren’t handling this situation appropriately, I will. I’m taking a shot for you.
SG, as I pour over my work.
No way, that’s terrible, I don’t know how you handle that, you should give me a blowjob.
– SG’s response to my complaints about my advisor.
I just had to talk SG down on the phone…
Standard…after the choking scene in this week’s episode of Mad Men.
Seriously, I gasped like five times.
This episode took years off of my life.
“What did you get on your SAT?” The Southern Gentleman asked me the other day.
I sighed, “let’s please not get into this. It’s so silly. It was like three years ago.”
After some badgering, he finally got it out of me.
“Fine,” he conceded, “you have the higher score. But I still control the sex.”
We’d struck a balance of sorts.
The Southern Gentleman decided to help me pick out my outfit for the night.
“It’s great,” he said as he leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “But what’s under the shirt?”
I shrugged, “a bra.”
He smiled, “and what’s under the bra?”
“My…” I rolled my eyes, “ugh, you’re such a child.” I pulled my shirt and bra up, showing him my breasts.
“Good girl,” he grinned.
“Do matching undergarments actually matter to men as much as we’re told?” I asked SG one morning with completely mismatched underwear on. It wasn’t entirely my fault, I couldn’t find a matching color for either item and figured they went well enough together to pull them off as a ‘set’. Satisfied, I went to pull my sweater over my head.
He watched me as I dressed. “Oh, yep, definitely.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I groaned and went to pull my sweater off.
“No, no,” he sat up when I had it halfway over my head, “it’s fine since I’ve already seen you and know what’s under there.” He reached out and pulled me closer to him by the hip.
I chuckled, “so, it’s all about being surprised, then?” I lowered my sweater back down over my stomach and straightened it out.
“Yeah, basically,” he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties.
I huffed. “Well, my bra and panties matched last night.”
“I know,” he confirmed as he pulled me closer, “and it was a nice surprise.”
Sunset undressing.
While I was out with some friends earlier, SG and I started texting. While I have decided to postpone any more physical stuff with him until certain things clear up, I’m not opposed to the occasional something in my texts.
He does this thing where he’s so condescendingly dominant. He’ll call me things like adorable in a mocking way when I try to playfully assert myself. It makes me blush and feel so positively turned on. He’ll just tease me and it’ll drive me right up the wall in the best way.
I was feeling kind of frisky so I kept egging him on. I have to learn, however, not to dish out more than I can take. When he threatens to follow through in that way he does, it tends to weaken my resolve.