As I hinted in my last post, I met Slutty Blonde recently.  She was the latest of almost a dozen bloggers who have had the pleasure of meeting and discovering the identity of the Unfortunate Virgin Male.  We’d been talking for a while, and then stars and schedules finally aligned one day.

I didn’t plan it this way, but it turned out to be one of the most hectic and exhausting days.  I woke up with a massive headache, compounded by the thought of my impending afternoon dance show.  Then I got a phone call with some unpleasant news: Our director had fallen ill, so I was left with the task of picking up the sound equipment, setting it up at the gig, and essentially running the entire show in addition to dancing in it.  No pressure, though.  However that meant I had to leave immediately in order to accomplish everything extra I had to do, and I left my half-eaten breakfast behind.

By the time I was finished with the gig I was quite hungry.  And running late.  When I got home I only had time to shower and change and swallow a couple of aspirins before racing out the door again.  I missed my original train into the city, so I had to drive twenty minutes away to take a train on a different branch.  I made it with just minutes to spare.  I’d briefly considered texting Slutty Blonde to take a rain check (because what I really felt like doing was crawling into bed with a plate of sandwiches), but there was no way I was going to miss this opportunity. I was very excited to meet her, and the thought of doing so cheered me greatly as the train pulled out of the station.

Thankfully the trip to and from the city went without incident.  I’d had my fill of craziness and whack-jobs during my last couple of stints in NYC, so the quiet and calm was a welcome respite.  We’d decided to meet at a coffee shop in Brooklyn, and I had no trouble finding her when I got there.  I didn’t even have to go inside; I spotted her from out on the sidewalk.  She really was that blonde.  Super blonde.  A light shining in the darkness.  Wow.

I was a bit nervous as I entered the shop and approached her.  She sat with her back to me and debated how to introduce myself.  I considered various options.  I could sneak up and yell “Boo!”  I could playfully cover her eyes with my hands and whisper a greeting into her ear. Instead I settled on introducing myself like a normal person would.  She stood up and hugged me excitedly, and what I wanted to do was put my hands on her hips and say, “I was right… you are indeed as hot in person as I thought you’d be.”  Because she was.  But I chickened out. No matter.

Once I discovered that the kitchen was closed, I suggested we bounce and head over to the pizza place across the street.  I was positively starving and in danger of becoming seriously hangry.  After a few slices of pizza I started to feel human again, and I did my best to focus on her instead of my food.  Not only was she as hot, but she was just as snarky and hilarious in person too.  She cracked me up several times and I nearly choked at one point.  We had a good time swapping stories and whatnot, but the entire time I just couldn’t reconcile her image with her blog stories.  When I told her so she said, “No, I definitely don’t look the type.”  No, she didn’t.  But it wasn’t just her, either…

After an hour and a half we parted ways.  I hugged her and gave her a smooch on the cheek, and she did the same.  Then I grinned at her figure as she sashayed down the sidewalk.  On the way home I started thinking about some of the other bloggers I’d met, and I’d had similar problems picturing them doing all the sexual things they wrote about.  Then I was horror-struck when I remembered some of the girls I’d gone on dates with.  My god… some of them could have been like Slutty Blonde and I didn’t even know it!

Maybe this is one of my problems – an inability to see girls as sexual beings.  The thing is, my introduction to girls as a teenager found them very skittish and prudish when it came to sex.  That view of them persisted through adulthood.  Until a couple of years ago I didn’t even think girls gave blowjobs.  By now I’ve read plenty of blogs to know that yes, Virginia, they do in fact get on their knees to please a man (and by golly some even enjoy it!). Except that’s just it – I’ve only heard and read about it.  I have yet to experience first-hand proof that girls engage in all sorts of kinky sex and have appetites either equal to or even surpassing that of the male gender.  It now has me questioning how I approach girls, especially after another blogger recently told me that I come off as a friend, rather than someone who’s sexually interested.

Speaking of which, coming up next is yet another story of how I met one of my fellow bloggers!

Stay tuned.


I happened past Teacher’s dance studio the other night, and what I saw took me aback and left my mouth agape.  I parked and got out for a closer look.  Were my eyes deceiving me?

They weren’t.  The studio had been stripped bare and there was a For Rent sign in the window.

What the fuck.

Not at all what I was expecting to see.  If anything, I was expecting to see construction work.  Teacher emailed us a few weeks prior, informing us that classes were suspended for the time being.  The town found problems with the building, the landlord had been fined for violations, and work was starting right away.  She said she’d keep us updated on the progress.

Well, this was something worth updating us about.  But we heard nothing.  Then again, I wasn’t surprised.  Teacher is a notoriously lousy communicator.  My niece used to go to this dance school and her parents remarked about what a flake Teacher is.  I’ve consulted with the other girls in the class and they’ve noted the same thing.  Sometimes we’d show up for class and find out it was canceled at the last minute.  Other times we’d show up for class and find the studio dark and locked up, with no notice given at all.  I don’t understand that.  This is your livelihood; how can you be so lackadaisical about communicating with your students?

It pissed me off even further because we were supposed to dance at a gig the weekend after she emailed us about the building problems.  I wrote back asking whether we were still doing the show, even offering to borrow my other dance group’s practice space so we’d have a place to rehearse.  No response.  Another girl in the class reached out to Teacher about the show, and she got no response either.  So we talked among ourselves and decided to just go ahead and do the show without her, but it ended up being canceled due to a surprise snowstorm.

But the abandoned studio takes the cake.  I sent her another email three days ago:  “So I just happened past the studio and noticed a For Rent sign in the window…??”  No response.  I finally shared my discovery with the other girls in the class, and they were shocked too.

However, when I left the empty studio that night, I drove past her building and noticed a “Now Leasing” sign on it.  Yes, I know what building she lives in.  I even know which apartment.  Not because I’m a crazy stalker (although I am crazy good at discovering that kind of information – as some of you can attest 😉 ).  No, she told me exactly where she lived, but I don’t believe that it was a hint of any kind.

Anyway, if I had to guess I’d say she had further problems with the landlord so she’s looking for a new location, and she gave up her apartment to save money in the meantime.  Hopefully we’ll finally hear some news from her in the next week or two.  I hope there’s nothing seriously wrong.  And I hope I won’t be kicking myself for not making a move when I had the chance.  I’m still confident that I could have pulled it off.

When I told Slutty Blonde the story, she said that Teacher probably skipped town because of me.  Har har.

And speaking of whom – coming up next is the story of how I met another one of my fellow bloggers!

Stay tuned.