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One Night Extravaganza

“Abi, ur like a calculus problem. U look easy – but ur hard to do.”~The bff El Nino OK 1) I don’t know about u but calculus problems DO NOT LOOK EASY TO ME.

and 2) FUCK YOU NINO! But thanks … I think?

See, the thing is … yah, I may have been a go-go dancer, and I may have dressed and posed provocatively in photoshoots. And I may also think I fuck like a porn star and have a dirtier mouth (not to mention mind) than most of my boys. But when it really comes down to it? For lack of better words – I’m a pussy.

I was reading a post on The Boobs a while back regarding ONS (One Night Stands) and they said the following, “We’ve all had the pleasure of enduring a one night stand. To those of you shaking your head “NO”, you’re either lying or a prude.” I swear I never wanted to be a liar so bad in my life. It’s not that I’m a prude either – no really, I SWEAR (Nino shut that shit up, I can hear u talkin head all the way over here). Honestly, I’ve just never met someone that I was soooooo attracted to on the spot that I wanted to fuck ’em in the back closet right then and there. Alas, I’ve never had fuck at first sight. *Le sigh* And even if I did, I’d probably be too scared to so much as breathe in the same sexy direction as them.

Now I know having a ONS isn’t exactly something to brag about … nor be proud of, but … dammit to hell it makes a nice story to tell the grandkids! I mean shit, can I live a little? While nothing maybe more exhilirating than jumping out of an airplane from hundreds of feet in the air, stealing and then flooring a SSC Ultimate Aero, going buckwild on a M249 in the dessert, or tippy-toeing on the edge of the Devil’s Pool at Victoria Falls, a ONS is my make-believe sexual equivalent. It’s quick (errr but let’s hope not that quick), painless (errr but let’s hope it hurts so good), and best of all there’s no room for error. No time to catch feelins. No time to so much as learn a name.

Sounds promising doesn’t it? So why again haven’t I partook in this popular American past time yet?

‘Cuz I’m paranoid: Sure, the dude ur dancing with that has a hard on looks like Pooch Hall but who knows how many ugly friends he got at the hotel room waiting to gang-bang ur ass.

‘Cuz u never meet dudes that look like Pooch Hall in real life: Especially not in Vegas, only douchebag Gotti Boy lookalikes.

And lastly,

‘Cuz I’m a pussy: DUHHH.

So I guess I’ll just day-dream about taking bird baths in strange hotel bathrooms and walks of shame down the Venetian hallway, and continue to live vicariously through my whore-friends (or READERS! lol. Seriously, feel free to drop ur best (or worst) ONS story here or email me if u scary. I’d lurrrve to hear em :).

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