PWNED!

The Lieutenant and I have been dating for over a year now. This process is made a slightly more difficult by the fact that he is spending six months on deployment. As a result, our relationship works a little differently to when we were living in the same country. It's no good dressing up as a naughty nurse, ready to minx it up when he walks thru the door - 6 months is a long time to spend in high heels and stockings - if you want any action in the next 24 hours. We need to be creative, and attempt to break the blacklist filter of his server.

Dirty e-mail, thy name is MelWuv.

MelWuv

Sweetheart, I miss you. But, we're almost at the halfway mark - YAYS! As a mid-deployment present, I'm writing you a little story. Let's just say, this nurse is gonna give a whole other kind of physical...

The Lieutenant

Oh baby, I can't wait for the nurse!!!

MelWuv

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!

The Lieutenant

I walked right into that

MelWuv

You did, but I still enjoyed it. It's the mid-deployment gift that keeps on giving

I Wanna Have Your Babies - Pick Up Lines that Shock and Amuse #3

Lads, lads, listen up. I'm prepared to share with you, with some considerable measure of personal risk, one of the Great Secrets of wooing women. I have been told by the Sisterhood that sharing such secrets is strictly verboten, but I'm prepared to go out on a limb.

I will state it simply. DO NOT SCREAM AT ME FROM YOUR CAR.

This sounds simple - My God! Yes! The mysteries of the Universe have coalesced! Perhaps women would be more open to my admiration and charming advances if I didn't broadcast my lewd fantasies down Northbourne Avenue - but apparently not. It still happens with a nauseating frequency, to me anyway (of course, I'm nauseated every time it happens, so it mightn't really happen al that often, if you catch my time-relative drift). But no one seems to have told you! You poor little things - I am not berating you, merely sharing with you my perspective. After all, you can't expect anyone to do (or not do) something which hasn't been communicated to them. Nobody here's a mindreader, rite? (Although I have my supicions about TLD - he seems to be pretty in step with my ramblings...)

But back to the matter at hand - it's offensive, it's threatening, and frankly, I'd rather shave my pubic hair off and smoke it than continue a conversation started in this manner. No woman I know thinks, Gosh, what an inventive ice breaker! Perhaps I should start discussing the possiblity of moving in with such a illustrious fellow. Rather, we think you're a tool for doing it. And usually, a tool in a stupid car.

P.S. You'll never win: below is an EXACT recount of a conversation had last weekend.

Him (a young man in a hotted-up Holden with 3 of his mates, sitting at a red light, waiting to cross Northbourne Ave): Hey baby! Looking good! I'll fuck ya tonite!

Her (a Uni student heading home fm a Saturday nite, wearing a modest, below-the-knee dress, crossing Northbourne Ave on foot): Get your hand off it!

Him (now with an even cockier air of posturing, if such a thing is possible): My hands are on the steering wheel! /much laughter from the car/

Her (realising a brilliant straight line when one's offered): Oh, so it's your mate's hand in your pocket, is it?

Him: /thick, 'the Apocalypse is coming!' silence/

Job done. If only he'd read this memo!

I Wanna Have Your Babies - Pick Up Lines that Shock and Amuse #2

Where have all the good men gone? I, like most of my female friends, was bought up with the implicit understanding that men were Only After One Thing. This One Thing, it was suggested, would be our downfall and ruin if we didn't guard against it.

But then I left home, and thought 'AWESOME! We're both after the same One Thing! Just imagine - no guilt, no 'Where is our relationship going?' conversations, just a lot of fun between consenting adults. w00t!'

BUT NO. Men went and changed all the rules. Now they want to 'connect emotionally', and pursue 'a future together' (someone more cynical than I might suggest that what they're actually after is lulling you into a false sense of security, before dumping you for some chick who puts out, anyway. Has someone told them that women in relationships are better lays, or something?) Bastards.

In touch with their feminine sides, they turn into blushing Victorians when propositioned. It's a sad state of affairs when you can't find a man for a one night stand.

SUBJECT: Yesterday

Hi Jane,

I am sorry about the way things were left yesterday - I certainly had no intention of things going the way they did, and would most certainly have preferred a different outcome.

My main concern at this point is of the possibility that we may continue the personal relationship that was being developed until things went as they did. I like you on a personal level very much, and although I am sure we could have been electric together on another level, if it interests you at all, I would like for us to continue our friendship.

Certainly, venue not being the obstacle it is, I would have had no hesitation in extending to you my best efforts. Nevertheless, if you wish to, I propose coffee on Thursday at the cafe at the library; I shall be studying out there most of the day, and should you wish to do so, I do believe it is my turn to subsidise YOUR caffeine intake!

Best wishes,
John

Oh you dirty, rotten prick. HOW DOES THIS BECOME OUR PROBLEM?! So, we're forced to reply.

SUBJECT: You have the right to remain silent... I'm begging you, please exercise it!

Dear John,

I'm slowly but surely starting to understand why you currently have no room for a lover in your life - obviously, your ego masturbation is fulfilling all your needs. Why find someone else to make you feel good, when you're obviously managing to do that just fine by yourself?

Obviously, I didn't make myself clear when I said I was making a booty call, not a tell me about your secret pain call. Let me put it clearly and simply: I really don't care! You didn't fancy a shag - not a problem. Please, please just shut up now - this exploration of your feelings is EVERYTHING I WAS TRYING TO AVOID BY ENGAGING IN MEANINGLESS SEX WITH YOU. That's the brilliant thing about secret pain, babe - it's a big ole secret that I don't have to give a flying fig leaf about.

Certainly, there is the possibility of remaining friends, provided that you recognise I'M STILL NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SECRET PAIN, you dunce. Let's shoot the shit, and leave it there - I promise to keep my hands to myself, as anything else seems to make you all crazy like.

Blah blah blah - no sex, just coffee. I get that. I respect that. Can we all just sit quietly now?

Best wishes,
Jane

p.s. Notice how I didn't even MENTION your 'best efforts'? Have I got the moral highground or what?!

Of course, this was the story that was never told. The real reply?

SUBJECT: Coffee on Thursday

Dear John,

I'd love a coffee on Thursday - I'll catch up with you at the library.

Cheers,
Jane

Christ. We deserve everything we get.

I Wanna Have Your Babies - Pick Up Lines that Shock and Amuse #1

There is context to this story. While I could broaden that to exploring notions of the place of the individual in society, and throw in a quick examination of the human condition, I'll get my hand off it, and bring you up to speed v. quickly.

I work as an artist's model. That is, ppl pay me to take off my clothes and stand/sit/lounge around in poses that are about as natural and 'still life' as a birthday party of toddlers on the red cordial. Notice my rictus of pain? Not for my own amusement. I do this in front of groups, for private sittings, and 21st birthdays. Just kidding! I get almost no private sitting work.

Anyway, I occasionally get work at the Uni. This has its advantages - a fairly hefty hourly whack - but unfortunately, it means I must deal with students. Now, students are awesome, God love 'em - I am one, I wish to remain one as long as possible, I believe they should be fed/protected from hunters/nurtured by the State - but Christ in the marketplace they can shit me sideways.

The course I worked for was made up of technical drawing and Architecture students. F*ck me. You show me a group of ppl less interested in drawing the human form - and with a pencil! Not a computer program! What Luddites these artists are! Have they not been made aware of the technological advances, etc etc - and I'll show you a mostly dead pot plant. They do not care. They are in it for the requisite credits so they can continue on to design such monstrosities as this - yes yes, they put the pipes on the OUTSIDE! Truly it is a breakthru of design, etc etc, blow me - rather than as an expression of a deep passion for documenting the human body as an artistic endeavor. If they had any of that, they'd be at a real art school. But I digress.

While they might have hated the drawing, it appears that some of the fellas at least enjoyed the looking. Let's face it - it's a situation where she whips her tits out, and they're required to look closely. What's not to love?

Funnily enough, I still pretend to maintain some level of professional detachment, and ask others to do the same. However, I can understand that there may be some mixed signals - I stand around in my nude for three hours, looking bored and not allowed to talk (apparently, recognising me as a human is superfluous to the artistic pursuit), sleep or even breathe deeply, and expect no one to comment on the nudiness itself. Perfectly reasonable mistake.

On this cherished occasion, I was finishing my shift when a young gentleman strode over to me, and announced in tones rich with piss and vinegar, 'I like what I've seen so far! Can I buy you a drink?'

Like all good clangers, it was dropped in a moment of inadvertent silence, creating a deep unnatural silence (There is a difference in the types of silence - if you don't believe me, loudly announce you're wearing your partner's underwear and they 'make my down-theres TINGLE!' next time you're in a conference, and make your own judgments). We'd arrived at the extremely-quiet-and-still-ohmigod-impending-doom-rides-amongst-us place.

But really, the best clangers are the ones that fight back - it was probably for the best that it was so quiet, for it allowed me to sing out, in a proud and happy voice, 'F*ck you, I'd rather have the cash.'

A case of the exotic dancer offended when a punter asks for a more intimate, 'full body' dance? Or an actual crossing of professional boundaries?

Discuss.