The Thursday Night Booty Text

The Thursday Night Booty Text

Dear Diary,

I swear I was minding my own business.  It was a Thursday night and I was home alone doing something admirably responsible like multi-tasking laundry, dishes, cleaning, bills, car maintenance, organic meal planning and yoga.  Something like that.

It was 6:30 PM.  The dog had eaten, I’d changed into PJs because I wasn’t going anywhere.  I mean, come on, it was Thursday and a girl needs a night off from all this dating.  It’s exhausting!  I meet these wonderful men (and not so wonderful men) and we get to know each other a little and it’s just so easy to see that it will not work.  Timing, personality or that gut feeling that he’s going to put me in the bang zone and I bolt.  And so many of these men are just drained from their own baggage or too afraid of getting hurt to have anything to offer.  They want minimal effort, minimal responsibility, maximum fun.  They want the bang zone.  My heart is too weary for the bang zone. I’ve just had it.  I need some stability. I need some security.  I need a good man to listen to me, hold my hand, reassure me that it will be okay.  I need someone to share not-awkward silence with.  I need a relationship. I am too old for that bangzone bull crap.

So I’m home minding my own business and I get a text from Alex.  You know Alex, with the bedroom eyes, the muscular back, the delicious kisses, and the sensual voice.  Yes, that one. “What are you doing?” He asked. I told him nothing.  Not because I wasn’t doing anything. Obviously, I was home being a good, responsible girl and doing everything just shy of saving the world, duh.  But I didn’t have time to type that out.  “Come on over,” he said.

Well, I don’t need a translator to understand what that text was all about! As soon as I read it I knew what it was!  A booty call.

I know a booty call when I get one.  And this was a straight up booty call on a Thursday night.  He didn’t even want to take me out.  No dinner, no drinks, just a get-your-sexy-little-ass-in-my-bed kind of booty call.

Can you believe it?  What does he take me for! Does he REALLY think I’m the kind of woman who would accept a text invitation for a poorly disguised booty call on a Thursday night?  Does he REALLY think I’m the kind of woman who would change out of my comfortable PJs, abandoning my laundry, dishes, cleaning, bills, car maintenance, organic meal planning and yoga just to engage in a couple hours of sweaty, sheet ripping, body twisting, mind-blowing sex?  Does he REALLY think I’m the kind of woman who will drive herself right into center of the bangzone?

I stared at my phone with annoyance and disbelief, like come on! REALLY!? Who the hell does he think he is?

Then I threw my phone onto my bed, took the fastest shower of my life, shimmied into a sexy dress and drove my horny little ass down to his house as fast as I could get there.

A good girl can only be good for so long.  That itch can’t go too long without getting scratched. The crazy builds up and needs to be released somehow.  I need a little excitement, spontaneity, adventure and fun.  I need a few bad decisions, a racing heart and some wholesome cardio to break up the routine.  I just need a little reminder what I’m doing all this work for!   I’m too young for all that routine and stability all the time.

God bless the bad boys and the girls who can’t live without them.

It’s a Kitten Holiday!



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