Tuesday, 22 April 2014

Meeting Mister Gold

Have you ever heard of a guy so dreamy and perfect, too good to be true?

Meet Mister Gold.

He's 31. Accomplished in his field. Drives a reeeeeeeally expensive German car. Has two (!) boats. Speaks six languages. Oh, and did I mention that he's ridiculously good-looking? Tall, dark and handsome. He's into triathlon and goes to the gym five times a week. You can imagine what his body looks like. And feels... Just the way I like it.
I'm having trouble focusing.

So, that's the guy I'm meeting today. It's our first official date, and I'm freaking out. He's gonna pick me up from work with his freakishly nice cabriolet. I never knew I'd be so turned on by a guy with fancy cars, boats and stuff, but I amaze myself daily. I'm wearing torn jeans, a leather jacket and golden Ray-Bans, my hair is all messy and I have no makeup except for my bright red lipstick. Yeah, I look nice.

He's taking me out on his boat on Friday. He joked around about having me wear my bikini (just like last Monday), laying on the deck, sunbathing. It doesn't really sound that bad now that I think of it. A bit cold, but I can manage.

Why am I this excited? I don't normally feel this way.

I need to clear my calendar for Mister Gold. He needs some serious Kitty time this week.
Bye, random guys!

I tried to dump Mister Orange today. He disappointed me by "flying solo" - he did something by himself that we usually do together and I'm a bit hurt. I'm not talking about sex, haha. We have a sort of a hobby together and now he's way ahead of me... The dumping part didn't work out as I planned. He laughed in his cute manner and I couldn't be angry at him. He just gets away with anything. I hate when that happens.

Oh, and I'm planning to run away from Mister Turquoise. He's freaking me out. I'm not sure what to think of him anymore. Sometimes I think he's just trying to push me to be his wifey, although I've told him on several occasions that I'm not really into relationships at the moment. I need to plan a strategy.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

Girls' night out


Saturday night. My girlfriends and I went out to dance. We spent a fabulous night in the city, just the three of us. I was on a roll, I had just experienced a perfect week with my favourite boys.

As you've probably understood, I'm not a shy girl. I'm really good at picking up guys. It runs in the family, my brother and cousins are male versions of me. I just make weird chit-chat with guys I meet. Sometimes I'm the one to initiate the conversation... But mostly I'm being hit on.

So, Saturday. We all looked fine. I started talking with three guys at a club. I was really into this one guy in a black tee, he was my type. His friends were decent-looking as well, if you know what I mean. One of them was a pilot. Sold. He showed me his Tinder profile, but I can't find him. Mister Pilot from Saturday, if you recognize yourself, send me a message, please. My girlfriends joined soon and we all had a blast. That is, until I lost them. I don't recall what I did to lose them, probably went to the loo or to buy a drink...
I was looking for them, when this tall blonde guy turned around and asked me if I was okay - I said no, I just lost my besties. He promised to entertain me until I found them. Well, he entertained me just fine - I woke up at his place five hours later. Oh my god, his flat was the dirtiest little hole I've ever seen. You should have seen his bathroom. I really didn't want to be barefooted in his shower. I don't usually pack flip-flops in my clutch. Maybe I should.

He was the nicest guy in his thirties, funny and kind of cute (although blondes are not really my thing). Apparently he works like 80 hours a week, because he's never home. I was starving, went to the fridge and found nothing. Not even ketchup. That was just odd. He had made all these weird plans about spending the day together. Yeah, no thanks. I got dressed, said bye and took the bus home. I guess I made up a lie about having a meeting or something.

I guess I gave him my number earlier, because he texted me on Sunday, asking how my day went. I was with Mister Orange, curled up in his lap in my undies. Well, I'm juuuuuust fine. Mister Orange was the perfect hangover company. He stroked my hair, fed me, entertained me and well, you know. I really like his style, he's seriously improving, although he's never been bad. Not even middle-class. Right now Mister Orange is in the definite top five.

Perfect for now.

Oh, and the guy in the black tee was married, or engaged. So that was it, then.

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Freaking out, part II

Tuesday night. My place.

Mister Turquoise and I spent a night indoors. I served him dinner, he fixed my computer. Yeah, he fixes things around my flat, he wants to help me. He actually calls himself my janitor, haha.

We were relaxing on my bed. Mister Turquoise was laying next to me, talking about buying a flat for himself. He said something funny, like he wasn't sure if buying a flat right now was the right call to do. I looked at him, puzzled. I really had no idea what he was talking about, until he said something about being "old" (he's six years older than me) - he said he should probably want to have kids soon, within the next few years. Turning thirty changed something in him, he appreciates time and wants to make the best of it. Yeah, so do I, and I'm not thirty. I really didn't get his train of thought.

I don't like where this conversation is going. I could hear my heartbeat, my chest was going to implode. I could feel an Alien baby wanting to see the sunlight soon. Not cool. 
"Okay. So what's the hurry?", I said. He thinks that being an old dad is not very desirable. Old dad. What girl can honestly say that she doesn't consider her parents old?

Seriously freaking out right now. Questions going through my mind: Is it rude to ask him to leave and never call me again? How do I get out of this conversation without being rude or falling apart? Do we really need to talk about this? Can't we like, just talk about the weather or movies or politics or atheism or the summer or dogs or or or or or anything besides this?

Thing is, I don't trust people. AT ALL. That's why I'm in like eight "relationships" at the moment. I don't trust guys to love me enough not to fuck around - trust me, I've done that already. Didn't work out the way I thought. The least I need is a few kids running on my lawn.

I don't remember my exact words, but I remember having a wet face all of the sudden. Why am I crying? At first I tried to hide it, failing miserably. I explained something about my past, saying that I really don't trust guys. Not even if they say they love me. I can't remember the last time I heard a guy saying he loves me and mean it. I don't think I've healed enough to say those words in the near future.
So, I was rattling on about my traumas and he just hugged me until I stopped crying.

Fuck, I really need to dump him.

Monday, 14 April 2014

All tied up

Some of my most faithful readers already know that I like to experience stuff. I like to have loads of stories to tell, although these stories aren't ones you'll tell your Mum - or any person who still thinks you're a good girl. I apologize in advance - if you consider yourself unspoiled, you're reading the wrong blog.

I want to remind you that I haven't always been this way, I don't usually fuck around. This is a reaction to all the shit that has happened to me before, a phase that will pass some day (or not). 

Monday night.
Mister Yellow's tiny apartment.

I came to his flat a few hours after work, looking amazing (as always). Heels, a cute dress, flawless make up, gorgeous new underwear. He was cooking something that took ages to be done. I got bored, texted a few "friends" (Misters whose colours I don't remember right now) told him that I really want to do something fun right now or I'll leave. He asked me what I was into, I tried to be funny and answered "bondage" (sorry, Mum!). His reaction was priceless. He shrugged, said nothing, went to his cupboard and drew forth a few cable ties. Who has cable ties just lying around?!
I was silent, amused and interested to see where all this was headed.

Mister Yellow bought a piece of fancy design furniture a few weeks back. He stood there in his white dress shirt and pressed pants, winked at me, told me to get undressed (to my new crystal white undies, that is), smiled slyly and bound me to his newly purchased design chair. I need to develop new fantasies, he and Mister Red are doing their best to make sure that I have none left by June. :D
So, if you heard an explosion last Monday, that was my freaking brain on his living-room wall. I've never been tied down to anything before, so I had no real expectations... But my oh my, that man is talented.

When we were done he cut me loose instantly. I was sort of afraid that he'd leave me there, or even take a few pictures for his friends. But no, he was really kind, asked me if my wrists hurt, kissed me and cut me loose.

Not bored anymore, and dinner was served.

Just another Monday night.

Schedules, schedules, schedules

I'm not sure if you've ever had this problem, but bare with me.

Essentially it boils down to this:
Too many men, too little time. 

I find myself in the situation where my calendar is bursting. Every day of the week has at least one name on it. I'd love to show you my real calendar, since it looks kind of funny, but that would reveal names and that is not my style. I'm keeping things anonymous.

For example, last week looked like this:



A mysterious Mister Someone for lunch (I haven't named him yet)
Mister Yellow in the evening


Mister Turquoise

Girls' night out, met a few guys. 
I left the bar with a tall, blonde guy. This particular one has to be named, but I haven't picked a colour yet.

Mister Orange

So, you see, I'm getting a looooot of love. The guys I'm seeing right now don't really have to do any real work anymore, they just show up and I'm sold. No romantic dates, no flowers (except from Mister Yellow), no need to fuss about first impressions and ridiculous games. This goes for me as well, I don't have to curl my hair, wear flawless make up or 5 in heels every time we meet. Most of the time I do it anyway, since I love to look nice.

All of these Misters (Yellow, Turquoise and Orange) have seen me in sweat pants. Mister Turquoise has seen me in my ultimate moving outfit (i.e. ripped tights and an oversize tee, messy hair and no make up) and he didn't mind. Mister Orange is an athlete, so he likes to wear soft and comfy clothes. I usually wear a tank top and panties and curl up in his lap.

But yeah, back to my problem... I guess I should make some serious choices at some point. Which ones should I keep, which ones should I let go? Is there any need for me to go out and meet new people anymore? I like all my Misters. Some more than others, but I don't really want to let anyone go.. Damn.

I actually uninstalled Tinder a while back, because I didn't have the time to meet anyone new. And I'm not sure if I have the energy to meet anyone new either.

I need an assistant to fix my schedules. Interested?

I'd really like to meet the perfect guy, the one that would make everyone else trivial. My prince in shining armour, the father of my future children. Did I make you laugh? I couldn't keep a straight face. :D

"Kitty doesn't need a boyfriend. Kitty wants a tiger, meow!"

Thursday, 10 April 2014

Tindering away - Kitty's secrets revealed!

My friends ask me frequently about my sudden success on Tinder.

As I've said earlier, I have around 700 Tinder matches. All of them extremely hot, I would date any one of them.  I'm really picky, I don't do unattractive men.

Obviously, I won't show you my Tinder profile. I won't show you any pictures of me or tell you the exact details on my profile text, but I will tell you what makes me tick and how I make guys hot for me. Honestly, it's not that hard.

Tips for pictures:
  • Have at least three pictures. A good picture quality would be nice - make sure your pictures aren't all out of focus. Blurry pictures are a no-no. 
  • Smile. I only meet nice, smiling guys.
  • Look normal. I bet you're really funny, but guys in weird Halloween costumes aren't my thing. That goes for weird hand gestures as well.  
  • Make sure you're not lost in the crowd. Don't use only group photos, that is. It's really hard to know what guy I'm checking out if there are 10 of them in every single picture.
  • Show off your interests: if you play hockey or football, show it by having a picture of yourself playing. Some occupations are really hot, too. Guys in uniforms make me purr (so if you're a policeman/fireman/pilot, show it, thank you!). 
  • If you own a dog or cat, show it as well.
  • If your body is covered in tattoos, please let guys know about it. Some men don't like their girls inked, some love it. For me that's a deal breaker.

Tips for a good profile text:
  • Keep it simple, stupid. Just a few words will do. Everyone focuses on pictures anyway.
  • Make sure you share enough info for guys to be interested. My profile text has just a few words, describing my hobbies. If there's something that you want people to know, say it.
  • If you're a guy, puh-leeeeease let me know how tall you are. 
  • If you have nothing to say, please don't write anything. I've seen loads of stupid-ass profile texts. Quotes aren't that hot, either.

Things that turn me off:
  • Shirtless guys - I know you're hot, but I'd like to find that out myself, thank you very much.
  • "Hi." Open a conversation by saying something real, ask me how my day or weekend is going, where my pictures were taken (I travel a lot). 
  • Don't be creepy. Don't call me sexy - you can call me Kitty or Kitten, but please. Don't make any weird assumptions, like I'll be making out with you instantly. Oh trust me, I won't.
  • Don't text me for weeks before asking me out. And girls, you can ask him out as well. I've initiated quite a few dates and you know what? They turned out just fine.
  • Boring conversations about weather. I ask you how you're doing, you answer by saying "Oh I'm well now that the sun is out! Too many rainy days make me drowsy." Kitty won't reply, I have nothing to say.
  • Married guys. I don't care if your wife is "cool with it" - please don't have any pictures of you and your wife. That's an instant no. Don't use photos with you kissing another girl, photos with a baby (unless the baby is yours). I don't usually do daddies either.

I've had some weird discussions with guys on Tinder. There was Mike (name edited), for example. I asked Mike what he likes to do on his free time, and he said "drugs". Cool. Nothing in common, delete from contacts. 

In conclusion, be smart, sexy and funny. Use humour in conversations, make sure you're remembered, so ask your matches something different. I usually ask mine for secrets ;)

Sunday, 6 April 2014

The adventurous Mister Red

So far we know that for some reason, men are attracted to me. We also know that it takes a maximum of 14 seconds for me to establish a weird connection with gorgeous men. Mister Red is one of them.

I call Mister Red my "Sunday man" - even to his face. I met him on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. I was wearing running tights and an ugly jacket, but so was he. I won't reveal the exact location of our encounter, since it would totally give me away. But let's say that I picked him up by saying something idiotic that resulted in a "Who's ya daddy"-kind of discussion, laughter and exchange of phone numbers. Kah-ching.

Mister Red is the boldest guy I've met so far. He spent a few years travelling in Central Asia and Kaukasus, doing odd jobs and even spent a few days in jail somewhere in Kazakstan. His stories stopped surprising me after a while, but they're still really funny. He tells me stories, I do my best to distract him (I play with his hair, kiss his neck and rub his shoulders) when he's talking. I disturb him because his stories are ridiculous (yet true) and simply because I have the power to do so. He's so easily distracted.

Mister Red is the male version of me. He has no interest in finding a relationship, he just wants to experience stuff with different people. I'm so lucky to be one of his girls. He's not really my type - even though he's dark, tall and gorgeous - but he sends out a weird vibe and I just have to have him. He's a bad boy, I'm a good girl. What's not to love?

Our WhatsApp discussions are soooo entertaining - we mostly send pictures of tigers and kittens to each other; he usually sends me a picture of his bed, captioned "I need you here. When do you get off work?"; make growling noises to each other on the phone (true story) and joke about next Sunday.

Oh yeah, I call him Tiger, he calls me Kitty. Surprise.

I know that he, too, has a blog somewhere, where he shares his adventures with women. He meets a lot of people in his job and sometimes women pick him up at work. I just find that fascinating. I'm not jealous, not one bit. I have my arsenal of Tinder men and random guys from bars, I can keep myself entertained if he misses a Sunday date.

Last Sunday he stated that he and I have something in common: people fall in love with us although we try to push them away. He said that he dumps a different girl almost once a week, mostly because she's fallen for him.
"Does that sound familiar?" -"Yeah."

We agreed that if either one has the slightest feeling of having a crush, we'd talk about it. That would result in not seeing each other again, which would be a total bummer. I really like this guy, so let's hope that no deeper feelings arise.

Kitty wants to play!

I like lists. But for some reason I have serious difficulties with placing Mister Red on my "Favourite guys" top10-list. We laugh a lot when we're together, have sex at least three times a night, he never stays over (I never sleep over at his place either) and everything is cool. There's just something about him that makes him "unlistable". I can't place him in a box.
But he's definitely in the top three of my favourite guys list when it comes to sex. I'm having serious trouble describing it. He just really knows what to do with me. He asked me about my fantasies, I shared them with him, and five minutes later he did exactly what I described (plus a little extra to surprise me). There's a mutual bond of trust between us.

He shared one of his secret fantasies with me.
Easter Sunday, please be here soon.

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Freaking out

To this date Mister Yellow and I have been seeing each other for six or seven weeks.

He knows some of my stories, but no real details. I just don't want to bother him with them. And it's not really my style, sharing loads of personal information, especially regarding my past, with guys I date. So this is what he knows: I've been in two shitty relationships, don't really trust guys, I love being fondled and that I date about five guys simultaneously.

Mister Yellow and I meet 3-4 times a week. We always spend the night together. That means that we meet almost every day, at least for a morning coffee before we rush to work. As I told you earlier, Mister Yellow is astonishing in bed. I feel like we have a connection. His green eyes won't look away from mine during sex. And we do it a lot. I let him do things to me that I don't usually do outside relationships and for some reason I find myself totally aroused from doing stuff that I don't usually do. I guess I'm utterly turned on by the fact that I bring him pleasure. Little miss Kitty ain't that selfish no more. Uh-oh.

Tuesday night at his bijou studio flat. We had been seeing each other for 2-3 weeks. We enjoyed a dinner that he cooked, simple yet oh-so delicious. I was lounging on the bed in my Victoria's Secret underwear, he was laying next to me with his laptop beside him, trying to get some work done. Three minutes later we were having sex, him on top of me, looking at me with his deep green eyes, saying "I'm extremely happy".
Noooooooo don't do this! 
I replied: "Say what?", he answered "I'm so happy I found you. I just don't want this to end".
No comeback. I had absolutely no idea how to respond.
This is where I usually run, I don't want guys to tell me that I make them happy. I hurt people as a response to being hurt. So, I freaked out a bit. After sex, that is. I would never stop him, I just love it.
I stayed the night, but I guess I didn't sleep a bit. Wednesday at work sucked ass, zombie Kitty was way too tired to do anything productive.

I've tried to push Mister Yellow away by telling him that I date multiple guys simultaneously, but he doesn't mind. He once said that he knows that I'll come running back to him, our connection is really deep and the sex we share is amazing. Damn, he knows his shit. It's funny because it's true. I do come running back to him, even after breaking up with other people. Is Mister Yellow my rebound guy, although I swore I wouldn't do that anymore?

Mister Yellow and Mister Turquoise are the only two guys that I see regularly. Well, more than once a week, that is. I have a toothbrush and towel at Mister Yellow's place, since I visit his home almost as often as my own. I hardly ever sleep alone anymore, now that I have the chance to sleep beside a guy who just happens to be 6 ft 4 in (190 cm) tall. And smart. And muscular. And handsome in every possible way. And and and and and please kill me. I think that my sick little mind has developed some sort of crush on him. He makes shit happen, I find myself being a better girl simply by being with him. Please someone, find my Katana and chop me in symmetrical cubes.

A few weeks ago he tried to make me jealous. He left his phone on the table (not in his jacket pocket on silent as he normally does), and he'd been playing Tinder before I got to his place, because his phone just wouldn't stop plinging, buzzing and making all kinds of odd sounds. I really don't mind that he uses Tinder (I play Tinder when I'm alone, too), but the fact that he does it while I'm in the room makes me really sad. He responded to his Tinder messages while I sat on the bed, waiting for him to join me. Not cool. I asked him to stop being an asshole. He put down his phone, slid beside me in bed and kissed me all over. Apology accepted!

His behaviour was a clear response to something that happened the night before, when I had left my phone on the table (on silent) while I brushed my teeth. Mister Turquoise sent me his regular good night text with a few hearts and xo's, and Mister Yellow freaked out when he read those texts. My fault, I simply don't know how to switch the preview off, but still.
He asked me who Mister Turquoise is, I told him that he's a friend of a friend and he simply replied "Oh, that makes it all better."
Would it have been easier if I told him I found him on Tinder? Why didn't I do that? Oh, because I'm a shitty liar. My face gives me away in a nanosecond. Lying about Mister Turquoise would have been worse.
What the fuck just happened? 
I went to bed, hugging a pillow. He brushed his teeth and laid down beside me, not touching me. "Good night", I said. No answer.

Ice cold.

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

"I've met you somewhere, right?"


I was out on a jog. I was running past a cute, tall and blonde guy. He waved at me, bid me to stop.

He said: "Hi. I've met you somewhere, right?"
I replied: "I've heard that one before. You're cute, want to go again?"
He laughed at me. We started talking. Turns out that I do know him from before. He plays football with my friends from high school. I've seen him play a dozen times, but I've never really paid him any attention. Why? He's chin-dropping gorgeous! Athletic build, a blonde beard (again with the beard!), light blue-green eyes and beautiful, wavy blonde hair.

I wiped the excess drool from my chin (metaphorically, I don't drool in real life) when he asked me to join him for dinner. We had so much fun. I didn't finish my plate before it got cold, I was talking so much.

He's my boy next door. He's sweet, polite, kind and always smiling when he's with me. I feel 16 years old when I'm with him. I can almost hear my Dad yelling at me when I'm kissing Mister Orange on my sofa. Oh yeah, I named him Mister Orange because he was wearing orange and brown striped socks when he came by. Sexy, I know.

I like him, but I find him a bit too polite sometimes. Feels like he has to ask permission to touch me. But when he does, it's just pure magic. He has big hands and he knows how to use them. My girlfriends keep asking me if we've done it already. Yeah, we have. Twice. He's extremely good at what he does. Brains-splattered-on-the-wall kind of good.

He's also definite boyfriend material, although I do know that he's dating a lot of other girls. But who am I to judge? I'm seeing 5-6 guys every week, a few of them twice a week.
Sorry, Mum.

My Mum doesn't know about all my adventures, thankfully. I've told her about Mister Orange and Mister Yellow. Mum is excited about Mister Orange, I guess she thinks I'm seeing him almost every day. I could, since he lives next door, but I'm a busy Kitty ;)