Cuba Conundrum

So when I went to Cuba, I went with a girlfriend and her friend, plus her son and some of his friends. It was a great, super fun group of people. But, I had a lot weighing on my mind at the time so I was not the usual vacation Amy. The girls I was with, however, stepped off the plane and fired up their dick radar like their lives depended on it! If I’d been in a different state of mind, Cuba would have really been in trouble 😉

I mean, obviously I still made some boyfriends, duh. There was one bartender who was about 50 and was in love with me. He was so sweet. He would hook us up with beer even after the bar was closed and flat out deny anyone else who came along looking for some. He also liked to try to grab my ass every time he was within reaching distance. Maybe that wasn’t so sweet, but I didn’t mind.

We ended up at some clubs in town one night and I wasn’t really feeling it so I left and walked back to the hotel. A cab pulls up and asks if I need a ride. I say no thank you because I’m literally just across the street from our resort. The driver says ok, watches me cross the street and then pulls a u-turn to follow me. I don’t think he spoke much English, but I was also drunk so I probably had trouble understanding English anyways lol He was handsome and sweet talking me and I leaned into his car and kissed him. He tried to convince me to get in and go for a drive. I said no, he got out and slid his hands over my hips. He was really hot. I told him I was going to bed and he asked when he could see me again. I said something like, How about tomorrow night? Midnight. I had to say it a few times a few different ways because of the language barrier. He agreed and kissed me goodbye. I did not go to meet him the next night and he’s probably still pining after me to this day 😉

Now, why didn’t I go to meet him or hookup with anyone else? (There was also a cute 20 year old saying very inappropriate, dirty things about what he was going to do to me haha) I didn’t feel guilty, I wasn’t in a relationship. But I did feel like I was starting to really like this man from Chamberlain and there would need to be something really special to attract me enough to fuck anyone besides him at this point. I was in trouble.


The Man From Chamberlain, Part 3

On to date number 4! He invited me over for supper for our next date. I arrived about 630/7 in the evening. He works until 6 and it’s about an hour from my apartment in Regina to his house in Chamberlain. It was pretty easy to find. If you’ve ever driven past Chamberlain, you know how small it is, and you also know about the Twisted Sister’s.  Everyone knows where Twisted Sister’s is! They are a little roadside ice cream/burger shop, and the man from Chamberlain lives within spitting distance. (And in two years of living there, had never been there for ice cream! I know, crazy.)

He told me he’s not a very good cook, but he put together a pretty decent stirfry for us. I think we maybe watched a movie after supper, I don’t really remember. It was either a movie or some educational TV shows. He really enjoys Discovery, History, National Geographic, PBS…he likes comedies too, but when it comes to tv shows, he is most often watching something educational. I guess we probably won’t be watching any Real Housewives together.

I don’t know what his thought process was exactly, but he was obviously thinking/hoping that I was going to stay over. Especially since I didn’t start stretching and giving him the “time to hit the ol dusty trail” line. He looked at me and asked if I was ready for bed. Uh yeah, I was ready like 10 days before yesterday!

He’s a great kisser, I really enjoy his lips on mine. As far as the sex goes, I don’t have a super exciting story for you. He had gone a looooot longer without sex than I had. It was nice. That probably doesn’t sound like a good word to use when describing sex, but it was. It was nice. And spending the night together was nice too. He’s a cuddler, and I didn’t mind that about him at all. In the morning, his alarm went off around 5 and I got up at the same time. He said I could stay and sleep, but I had to get home to Walter, so I left at the same time.

Over the next few weeks, we managed to see each other once or twice a week. I liked him, but it felt like things were moving slower than they would have if we had regular schedules and lived in the same place. We texted every day though. And actually, the slow moving was fine by me. I’m kind of a slow mover when it comes to romantic relationships and I only do things when I’m ready to.

And then at the end of March, I went to Cuba for a week…

The Man From Chamberlain, Part 2

Ok you vultures, here’s part deux!

Our second date quickly followed the first. No real surprise since before we’d even gone on our first date and I told him about my upcoming trip to Cuba, he said maybe we could take a trip together sometime. I laughed and told him let’s wait and see how our first date goes before we run away together. Every time I saw him, he talked about things we could do in the future. I didn’t really think too hard about it, but definitely noticed how he brought it up with ease.

So for date number 2, we went to the movies. It’s worth mentioning that he paid for date one, and date 2 (you know how I like that). I don’t really like going to the movies, but when it’s a quiet night, I can get down with that. The theatre was pretty empty, but there was a woman who had brought her grandchildren and they were giving her just enough sass for us to be laughing at them. We went to see Jumanji 2 (Better than I expected and we laughed a lot). Oh, and it was in one of the theatres with the big chairs and foot rests, so I enjoyed that as well. I took my boots off and curled right up in that chair! After the movie we stopped at a pub near my place for a late supper where we flirted and got to know each other some more. He’s a small town, redneck, rig-pig, with a really big “old man” streak. And nothing about him was putting me off. Highly unusual. When he pulled up to my apartment, I thanked him for a great evening and asked if we can kiss good night this time. Obviously he said yes, and it was good. And then I went inside. Alone.

If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, you know that waiting for sex isn’t exactly a strong suit of mine. I’m all about the casual. Except when I like/kinda like someone. Then I wait. It’s not even a conscious decision, it’s just a natural reaction. But my patience only goes so far.

For our third date, I invited him over for supper at my apartment. My plan was to give him ample opportunities to make a move. I was ready to give myself to him, mind AND body. Just kidding! I’m not that corny. I wanted to get fucked. But I also didn’t want to make the first move, so I left it up to him. There was just one medium-sized, black and white, furry cockblock  that I had to worry about. My dog, Walter. He immediately loooooved the man from Chamberlain and was all up on him. He was making way more moves than I was! Thankfully he’s a dog lover and has one of his own, so having Walter all over him did not faze him in the least. So, we had supper, watched a movie, cuddled the dog, and then he kissed me and went home. Without putting his P anywhere near my V. But, after getting to know him over the week and a half or so before this, it was not the surprising. He doesn’t have a lot of game, he’s a gentleman, and sex isn’t his main agenda. Add that to pros like, he’s younger than me, financially responsible, and owns real estate. My 36 year old self was getting turned on just thinking about all that stability. All I needed now was a glimpse at his retirement plan….

My Adoption Part 3

Since my last post about my adoption, I haven’t really done much. I did a bunch of online searching for a few days and then sort of stopped because I didn’t feel ready to pursue it more than I had at that time. I found some good leads on my birth mother and felt confident that when I was ready, I would be able to reach out and connect.

Her name isn’t a very common one, which is good. That makes it a bit easier to narrow down the search results. Unfortunately, I could not find her on any social media sites. But, after some googling, I found an obituary of her mother where she and all her siblings and their children were listed. And some of them are on facebook. And I did find a woman matching her name on LinkdIn living in BC. From what my adoption records indicated, my birth mother was taking some sort of cooking course at the time of her pregnancy with me, and this woman is linked to a restaurant and catering business. Sounds promising. But that’s about where I left it.

In the last few weeks, I decided to look into it some more and actually sent this woman a message, as well as a message to one of her sisters. I did not indicate in either message who I was, just that I was looking for a woman with this name. I told the sister I was an old friend. Neither have responded. So now I’m considering my next move.

And while I’ve been considering what I want to do next, I received a call from the post adoption registry with news of my birth father. Well, not exactly news. We haven’t found him yet. But the woman who was searching for me called me to fill me in on what she had found so far. She is a lovely woman and wanted to speak with me on the phone as a personal touch instead of just firing me off a generalized letter. She did some digging into the name that was listed on my birth record by my birth mother. She didn’t find anyone matching exactly the name given with the spelling, but did find some others with a slightly different spelling of the last name. The first man she contacted spoke to her on the phone and was very nice about it, wasn’t defensive about anything, just told her he wasn’t the one. He had been married since 1976 (5 years before I was born) and had never stepped out of his marriage and did not recognize the name of my birth mother. Completely believable given that the information my birth mother had provided was that my birth father was about 25 when they met. He said he had a nephew with a similar name, but he would have been too young. There was another man she found who lived in New York, but none of his information matched. Another she found had died before I was conceived. Every path she went down hit a dead end. After a search has been conducted and no matches found, or the birth parent is found to be deceased, the name can be released. So yesterday I received a letter in the mail giving me his name. The first place I looked was Facebook, and a man in Saskatchewan with a slightly different spelling than the one listed was the first to pop up. I don’t think he’s the same one that was already reached out to, so I might send him a message. I studied his pictures to see if I recognize any of myself in him, but nothing obvious stands out.

So, at this moment, I’m deciding what my next moves are going to be on both birth parents. I feel a lot of anxiety over this. Both about finding them, and about not finding them. If I never connect with either of them, that would be easiest. Because if I do, there are so many possible outcomes, both good and bad. I prefer optimism, so I’m going to keep searching and roll the dice with their reactions.

The Man From Chamberlain, Part 1

So I’ve been trying this new dating app called Bumble. It’s like Tinder, except when you match with someone, only the woman can message first and she only has 24 hours to do so and then the man has another 24 hours to respond. If the message is not sent or responded to, the match expires. My initial foray into Bumbling was pretty similar to every other dating app and didn’t seem that promising for finding anything or anyone special. Until I matched with the man from Chamberlain. He seemed pretty nice and normal and didn’t say anything gross or inappropriate to me, so I gave him my number. Our initial conversation happened on a weekend while I was on a little road trip with a friend to a small town to visit some other friends. Chamberlain seemed even better after my friend drunkenly swiped right and matched with all the local Tinder users. On my Tinder. One of them (an unattractive man in his 50s) even tracked me down on facebook after I didn’t respond to his messages and tried to engage me there. I engaged in blocking him.

Anyways, Chamberlain and I set up a date for the next night. But, after you throw up in a sink and then have to pull over on the side of the highway to puke up honeydew and water because your body is still mad at you for filling it with vodka, tequila, and special candies, plans change. I chose to lay perfectly still for hours and hours instead of going on a date. It was the right choice. But the night after, that night was a go.

He took me to Red Lobster because he was watching tv and it was lobster days or something. It had been awhile since I’d gone on a proper date, so it was pretty nice to have someone come and pick me up and take me out for supper. We had pretty good conversation, he made me laugh and asked me lots of questions. His truck doesn’t have command start and takes a long time to warm up. It was February and pretty cold outside. It wasn’t exactly environmentally friendly, but he left it running the entire time we were inside so that I wouldn’t be cold when we left. He drove me home and was already talking about things we could do on our next date and future dates. I think my responses were something like, mmhmm, yeah sure, sounds good. There was no kiss on the first date, but there was something about him, and so I did agree to see him again.

The Ontario Hammer

This is a story I never got around to telling you from sometime last year. It was the same time as this guy. The same week actually. I had matched with this cutie on Tinder and we went back and forth casually and then one day he was gone. Whatever, it happens. But a few days later, I received a facebook messenger request from an unfamiliar name. I take a look and it’s Tinder boy. “So you stalked me all the way to fb, hey?” “haha Yep”.

This is an instance where stalking/tracking someone down on social media is acceptable. Because we had several conversations and I had expressed interest and hadn’t unmatched him, I didn’t find it out of line for him to find me there. He told me he had recently broken up with his girlfriend and her friends had told her about his profile and drama ensued. So he deleted it altogether. Has someone ever tracked you down on social media after you rejected them on another platform? Last month one of my friend’s was drunk swiping my Tinder so I ended up with some…let’s call them interesting…matches. One older man messaged me. I think I responded with a drunk hello and that was it. He continued to message me the next day, even with no other responses. And the day after. When I still didn’t respond, he decided to track me down on FB and send me some messages there. Even after I didn’t accept his message request, the messages just kept coming. I ended up blocking him.

So back to my original story. He was young, 24 or 25, a PLT, and worked on a contract crew doing work for the company I work for. Obviously the first thing to come to my mind was that we should have a pole climbing competition 😉 We chatted on messenger a few times, and each time he tried to charm his way over to my apartment. The only reason I didn’t give in right away was my schedule. I wasn’t really playing hard to get.

The night that I did let him come over, I realized as he was on his way that I hadn’t even properly creeped his FB profile! Fucking amateur hour over here! We had two mutual friends. Another PLT and one of my girlfriends. Obviously I messaged her to find out how she knew him exactly. It turns out she met him a few years ago on a night that we were out together. It’s possible I even met him that night. I know my friends pretty well, and I would have been surprised if she hadn’t slept with him. You can go ahead and assume I wasn’t surprised after talking to her. It didn’t bother me #eskimosisters. Plus, he was already on his way. What was I supposed to do? NOT have sex?

This guy was fun to fuck. He was way into giving and receiving ALL the rim jobs. At first he asked me to put a finger in, but I have long gel nails, and, well, it wouldn’t be a good situation for anyone to have those poking around. And they’re already such a bitch to clean underneath without worrying about doing it after my finger has been in someone’s asshole. Maybe I’ll do it sometime though, just in the hopes that I’ll lose a nail…

As I said, he was also generous with his own mouth and I enjoyed his thoroughness. And once we started fucking…holy jesus. Kid could hammer! If I’d been up against the wall, I would have been through the wall. I think he moved back to Ontario shortly after we hooked up for a job offer. I hope he’s putting that hammer to good use and rupturing all the eastern cervixes.

The Meathead

Hello and Happy New Year!

The last 6 months or so of 2017 were a little slow for me, sexually speaking. I just wasn’t speaking to or meeting anyone that I wanted to connect with on any level. I had deleted all my dating apps and most of the “black book” numbers in my phone. I’ll write more on what was going on in my life during the last half of the year later. And no, I didn’t spend it masturbating. Well, not ALL of it anyways.

Towards the end of the year, I joined Pof, Bumble, and Tinder. I decided it was time to start exploring again, and right before the new year, there were a couple of men who peaked my interest. I have met one so far and he is the subject of this post. The Meathead.

He messaged me on Pof asking if I was looking for discreet fun. For anyone who doesn’t know, “discreet fun” is code for married. Of course I played dumb though and asked why it would need to be discreet. He was up front about it and told me about his relationship and how it’s missing something. I’ll give you a second to try and guess what that was.

Men in relationships aren’t something I look for, but as far as casual sex goes, it’s relatively simple (And it had been about 6 months since I’d had sex). You know it’s not going anywhere which makes it easy to keep things casual and just enjoy the sex. Hopefully. He obviously did not have a picture on his profile so I gave him my number to send me one and told him I couldn’t really say if I was interested or not when I didn’t even know if I found him attractive. He sent one and he’s definitely not someone I would normally go for. Total meathead, all neck, all shoulders, basically a bull in man form, and all his pictures were gym selfies. But he was cute in a steroid-y kind of way.

When I asked what exactly was missing from his sex life, he said passion. The more we talked, the more I became convinced what he meant by “passion” was actually intimacy. He wasn’t looking for a bunch of partners, he just wanted one that he could have a physical relationship with. He told me how he loved to kiss and go down. He loved to please. Several times he told me how he loves eating pussy and how much I was going to like it and I’d never want him to leave and I’d want him to be mine. Ok, great. Sounds like it could be fun as long as he doesn’t show up and try to make love to me. Buuut…I had a small fear that’s exactly what he was going to do.

I set up a dickpointment for one morning this past week and he came over before work. He was better looking in person, he had a purty mouth. Now, body hair doesn’t bother me too much, I enjoy a little hair on my men. But this was not a little hair. His winter coat had come in nicely and was actually more of a snowsuit. Sort of how I imagine a bear’s coat comes in just before winter hibernation. But, he was in my apartment now so might as well see what he’s got for skills.

Let’s start with the kissing. It was nice, but…short? For a man who claimed he wanted passion, all of his kisses were soft and kind of delicate and only for a couple of seconds. I soon realized this was because he is a hardcore mouth breather and if his mouth was on mine for too long, he probably would have just passed out. And then I’d be laying there with a winterized bear on top of me.

He skipped over most of my body, including my breasts. Weird, because I have a pretty sweet rack. But, just a quick hello and it was down to the honey pot. I’m going to guess my high moisture levels had more to do with the recent drought and less to do with his skills. Men, read this carefully. Do not claim to love eating pussy and then spend 3 minutes or less doing it before asking if she’s going to cum. If she hasn’t verbally told you it’s happening or she has stopped moved and appeared to have passed out from pleasure, keep going. (He did this a couple of times, so he WAS trying.) But if this isn’t you, you haven’t been there long enough.

On to the fucking. It was ok. Except remember the mouth breathing? Imagine a bear on top of you, tryng to gaze into your eyes, and breathing onto your face as if it had just run an Olympic sprint. His breath is how hurricanes start. The silver lining was that his breath did not stink. Small win. The arthritis was in my knees so we stuck with him on top, which was fine once I got him to move around a little more so it wasn’t just boring old missionary with a couple sweet little kisses.  Like most people, I turn the temperature down when I go to bed, maybe even lower than most and keep it pretty cool. Even so, the meathead’s sweater was keeping him pretty warm. And because he didn’t want to cum until he absolutely had to, he kept moving. Which made him sweaty. Which meant I had a hot breath hurricane complete with his head sweat dripping all over me. And every time I touched him, I was touching sweaty fur. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I wasn’t started to find him less attractive. He kept asking questions too. Stupid questions like, So are you going to let me come over again? Am I supposed to say no while he’s inside me? I told him to shut up and stop talking instead. It was around this time I told him to stop and lay down so I could go down on him. When he rolled off me, my body was glistening with his sweat. He had a decent dick though.

There’s not much more after that. It was getting time for him to get to work so we had more sex. He laid beside me in the bed for a bit and chatted about our previous conversations and how he thinks I misunderstood something. He had kept asking the same question in the same way and I had finally been like, dude, yes you can come over, I’ve already said that, stop asking. I’ll let you know if something changes. He wanted to clarify that and I said I didn’t care and we didn’t need to talk about it. He said ok and then got up and headed to work. I wanted to go back to sleep, but was left with the decision, Do I lay in the wet spot or the sweat spot? I chose to change my sheets.

I don’t think I’m going to be what he’s looking for and he’s definitely not what I’m looking for. He did text me later that day, but my responses were pretty brief and I thankfully haven’t heard from him since.

The LBD Project

In April, I decided to join a program at a local gym called The Little Black Dress Project. A couple girls at work had done it a couple of times, and it looked like something I might be interested in. I had already done a month of Whole30 and I was walking with my dog every day and was feeling pretty good and I was looking for a fun way to get more physical activity in. And since I’m single and the perfect casual sex partner has not yet graced my vagina with his presence, I had to find something else. The gym is called Readiness Fitness and it’s very unique. It is not your typical stop by after work and beat up the treadmill for 45 minutes. It is all women (except for the Spartan training), and it is all classes. It is essentially a big warehouse with a padded floor. The floor is my favourite part. No shoes required! The LBD project is a 6 week program with fitness classes, a meal plan, 3D body scan, daily emails/encouragement, weekly check-ins, challenges, and a celebration at the end of it all. I enjoyed most of the classes I took. Surprisingly, my favourite class happened at 530am, and I dragged my ass out of bed more mornings that I would have guessed to go to that class! Within the first couple of weeks, I could feel my workout clothes getting bigger. It became a problem in some classes where you were constantly moving around on your feet. Since my clothes were getting bigger, that meant ALL my clothes were getting bigger. Including my underwear. I don’t consider this and go into a dance based class where I’m on my feet and bouncing around for an hour, and believe me, things did bounce. And not only are my pants falling down, but so is my underwear. I’m already “dancing” like a newborn giraffe that came out head first a little too fast, and now I have to start sticking my hands down my pants, pull up my panties, and hope the wedgie holds for the rest of the class.

I went to a class during a lunch hour once that was changed last minute from a class that I love to a class that I loathe. It’s called I Hate You and I’m Going to Kill You, but for short, they call it Wave. It’s 4 of the worst moves ever and you do them in increasing and decreasing time frames until your soul leaves your body to take you away from the trauma. This particular day it was burpees, squats, pushups, and planks. I’m not very strong yet and can’t physically do all the moves, so I do modifications. Let me tell you though, modifications don’t mean shit in this class. My body still died, one muscle at a time. So what we started with was 30 seconds of burpees. Then rest. Then 45 seconds of burpees and 30 seconds of squats, then rest. Then 60 seconds, 45 seconds, and 30 seconds of pushups. Then 75, 60, 45, and 30 seconds of planks. Then you finally get to start decreasing the first exercises while increasing the latter. Like a wave. I was angry the entire class and it took me 4 days to be able to walk properly. I couldn’t sit down on the toilet without supporting myself. I broke my towel rack. My thighs burned with the fire of a thousand suns and a mere drawing of a staircase could make me cry.

But besides that one, I enjoyed all the classes I tried out. It’s a very comfortable, welcoming vibe in the gym. I didn’t talk to a lot of people, I just went and did my thing, leaving a pool of sweat wherever I went. I have been to other gyms before. Even all female gyms, and this one was just different. I liked that there were only classes. It made me work harder. There’s very much a cheerleader vibe about the place, rah rah, warrior women. If that’s your thing, you can be right in the thick of it. If you’re more like me, you can watch it at arm’s length and take in the amount you need to aide in your success.

Every week with the email checkins, my answers about my struggles were always the same. Even if I didn’t make it to a class, I still went on a walk for at least an hour. Food was not as easy. I did ok, but if I hadn’t already done Whole30, I don’t think I would have been as successful. There were definitely more committed women there than I was, but the great part is that for the entire 6 weeks, you only work against yourself. There are no “stats” or weigh-ins for the entire time. Using the scale is discouraged because your body is changing in so many ways that the scale doesn’t measure.

So at the end, I lost 19 pounds of fat and gained 6 pounds of lean muscle (About 30 lbs total since February). My body composition improved, I lost 16 inches, and my BMI went down a few points. We get all this information from our 3D scan at Neurofitness. You stand on this rotating disc and a laser records your body. Then you can sign into your account and look at this suuuper flattering 3D picture of your mostly naked body 🙄 They really capture the magic of every bump, roll, and divet. Overall, I was pretty happy with the results. I’ve decided to join the next round in the fall to see how much I can improve. Seeing all the women at the end celebration and their victories was encouraging.

Since it ended, I have been slacking. I haven’t been using the gym at my apartment, I’ve been walking less frequently, and my food choices have been poor. My food prep has been non-existent for the last couple of weeks. I eat bad, then I feel bad. I get so tired and all the energy is sucked out of me. Which makes it hard to prepare healthy meals when all I want to do is sleep and eat whatever is fast and makes me feel good in that moment. It’s a shitty cycle to get trapped in. I’m going to start another round of Whole30 right away and get back on track. When I think I can relax, I get too relaxed. If I cheat once, I’ll cheat twice. Fuuuuuck.

My Adoption Part 2

I had half forgotten about my request for information on my birth record. The non-identifying information is sent out fairly quickly with a letter saying the birth record is handled by Post Adoption Services. And that took longer to arrive.

You know, I always get a little kick out of people’s reactions when they find out I’m adopted. It’s almost always the same. Either “me too!” or “I didn’t know you were adopted.” Well duh. How could you have possibly known? You mean you didn’t notice the ‘adopted’ look about me? (It’s not like I just revealed that I’m missing my left arm and you’re surprised you didn’t know that.) Are you sure I didn’t casually slip it into conversation somewhere along the lines? “Hey Amy, how was your weekend at the farm?” “Oh, it was really good! I drove my adopted ass out there after work and then spent the whole time with my adopted family who adopted me when I was a baby. I’m adopted.” I suppose that although it’s normal to me, it’s interesting/awkward for other people because they don’t know how to react to that information. And just like any other situation in life, it’s ok to ask questions. If a person reveals something about themselves, they probably don’t mind talking about it. But if they do seem uncomfortable, then stop asking questions.

So, I get this letter. I wasn’t sure what it was when I opened it. It had been several months since my initial request, so I wasn’t really considering what it could have been when I opened it. It was my record of birth. With my birth mother’s name, her date of birth, and where she was born. I couldn’t believe I had this information now. I was a little shaky and sat down to consider this information. I’d always been interested in learning more about her and meeting her “someday”, and now I have the piece I need to find her. But, it also means that now I have the piece of information I need to find her and someday could be now. I knew from previous records that at the time of my birth, she did not have any desire to have contact with me in the future. But I feel like she already got to make enough decisions about our lives and this one is mine to make.

I did some quick online searches. Social media was a bust, but google did lead me to an obituary of the woman I believe to be my birth mother’s mother. The family members listed match my birth mother’s name, and the number of and genders of siblings I know her to have. Side note: I’d love to shorten birth mother, but I can’t start calling her my bm, right? No. How about bmo? That’s what I’ll use. Anyways, so I know her mother and father have both passed. And I know the names of her brother and sisters and their spouses and children. My bmo did not have any children listed. I searched her siblings names as well and not much came up. A couple of leads I could follow. But, I want to be very respectful here. Her family may still have no idea, and I don’t want to be the one to “out” her secret. So at this point, I won’t be using her name, I won’t be contacting her family and revealing who I am, and you won’t see me holding up a sign on a FB post asking for help. I told my mom everything I found out so far and I know she is dying to know everything and to meet this woman and thank her and cry about it because I’m so damn awesome and made all her baby dreams come true. She has a very sweet story about her and my dad driving to Saskatoon the night before picking me up. Just before the city, there is a phone tower or something and there is a flashing red light at the top. And when my mom saw it that night, she knew her baby was close. She somehow keeps it together and lets me go on this journey in my own time.

I know people who have found their birth parents. And I know birth parents who have found the children they gave up for adoption. Every journey is different, and there are challenges. There was no information listed about my birth father on the record of birth, but post adoption does give you an option to indicate if you are interested in performing a search for him as well. I don’t know how they plan on doing that. I assume they’ll have to try to make contact with my bmo and go from there. I’m not sure what will come of that. I think I have a plan of how I am going to contact my bmo, but I’m not quite ready to execute said plan yet. I am gathering my courage. I mean, I’m not looking for another family, I don’t need another mother all up in my business, I just want to know her story. I’m not putting a lot of expectations on it. That being said, I’m not sure how I’m going to react if she just flat out rejects any meaningful contact at all. Even typing this out makes me a little emotional. It’s hard to explain how I feel about this. If I never go any further than I have right now, I will be fine. I will wonder every now and again, but it will not affect my life in any way. But if I keep going, whatever the outcome, it will leave a mark on my heart forever.

The Soft Launch

As you know, I am a part of the online dating world. I haven’t been too active with it over the last 6 months or so, but I recently created a new POF profile, as well as started swiping on Tinder again. (If you don’t already, you can check out my screenshot adventures on my Instagram @soupsworld) I decided I should be having more sex because only having sex with one guy since September that I’m not even dating wasn’t doing it for me. This lead to me swiping right on The Soft Launch. TSL had a shirtless torso picture as his main picture. And his secondary picture. Not normally someone I would consider, but I was looking to get laid. He messaged me after we matched and I found out he didn’t have a face picture because he was trying to be discrete. Because of his girlfriend, who would not be involved in knowing about his extracurricular activities. I asked him why he was looking for something more on the side and he said he has a much higher sex drive and that he only gets to see her about 3 times a week because she lives out of town. Slight eyeroll, but whatever. I reserve my judgement on this one, especially since I’m about to be a willing participant.
We texted for about a week and a half or so and he seemed like a nice enough guy. The sexting was decent, he was really excited to meet. Our schedules finally lined up and I invited him over. I was initially going to meet him for coffee first, but meh. By this point, I felt good enough inviting him over.
So he shows up, and I’m immediately a little turned off by his energy. He’s sort of nervous and I don’t really like his voice and he’s just not someone I would spend real time with. But quality time wasn’t really what I was meeting him for, so let’s get naked. I was already in lingerie, so I was mostly there anyways. He kissed me. Not bad. We made out for a bit before laying down on the bed. Once we got there, he went to work with him mouth and hands all over my body. The handwork was great! The mouth work, well let’s just say I’m still waiting for my own personal tongue of ecstasy J When I was ready to return the favour, he wasn’t even hard yet. No problem, I can help with that. And help I did. My mouth work is usually pretty on point. When he couldn’t take it anymore and wanted to fuck, he put on the condom and we got to it. He didn’t last too long before he went soft. It happens. We took a little break and then I went down on him some more and we tried sex again. Except now, my original turn off at meeting him had snowballed and I was quickly becoming less of a rainforest and more of desert. Especially when he once again couldn’t stay hard. He made some excuses about going to the gym before he got there, blah blah. Now, to be clear, I don’t fault him for not staying hard. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the gym. Maybe it was his conscience. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was just biology and it just fucking happens sometimes. I don’t know. But what I do know is that he talked himself up the whole week and made it clear how high his sex drive was, and considering he was only 34, I was expecting a little bit more.

After he realized we weren’t going to be able to have sex, he asked if I would consider sucking him off. That’s a hard no. hahahahaha So he got dressed and talked the whole time and commented how I didn’t have air conditioning and he was soo hot and sweaty. I do, but I didn’t have it on because it wasn’t that hot out, and frankly, if I’m not hot, no one else should be. My temperature runs high. Plus, the guy who came over two nights before didn’t complain 😉 He did not kiss me goodbye. And he did not text me again and I did not message him. 

I was fine with it ending that way. But a few days later, I got a Snapchat notification that he had added me. I added him back and he immediately sent me a message asking if I had randomly added him. Uh, no. He said a few more things and I realized he didn’t even know who he added. He even asked me how old I was and when I told him and asked why, he said he wanted to make sure I wasn’t 14 or something because that would be weird, “especially what he uses the app for”. Ok, creep. I still didn’t tell him who I was. Even after he said my name showed up as Amy Campbell and he doesn’t know anyone by that name. Granted, he doesn’t know my last name, but his dick was JUST inside of me a couple of days before. Surely he could put that together. Unless he erased the embarrassment from his memory with some sort of men in black device. That’s probably it. I felt like maybe he figured it soon after because then he was no longer my friend. But then he re-added me. So I don’t know if he remembered or if he was still really curious about who I was. I didn’t care, I blocked him. And that was The Soft Launch.