It started out as an innocent blog. I just wanted to tell the world about my life. That was harmless right?
I didn’t realise just what I did, how many lives I destroyed and how many people I lost because of my own need to vent about my issues with men. I didn’t realise what my judgement of other’s caused. I didn’t realise watch a selfish, terrible and evil person I was.
Not until I finally had something to lose.
He came into my life like a whirlwind. He showed me passion like I’ve never known. He challenged me at every step and broke down my defences. He took a selfish girl and made her feel. But then our secrets got in the way. My inability to see him as anything different than every other guy that I had met. His aversion to giving all of him without the guarantee of receiving all of me. It was all leading up to one life altering night. One life altering moment that would make or break our future. The problem was whether or not we could find our forever.
Two years earlier…
“You’ve had so many partners, you should probably start a blog or something. Tell women all about your experiences.”
I stared at my best friend with a frown on my face and ideas running through my head. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and her blue eyes were trained on me. She knew she had created a monster the minute I didn’t react to her suggestion.
“That is freaking brilliant!” I grinned. “Now I know why I kept you around all these years.”
I knew she saw the twinkle in my amber eyes and the mischievous twist to my plump lips. Yep, I was so going to look into this.
“Zara, you cannot possibly document all your sexcapades!” Carrie’s eyes were large with worry.
“And why not?” I pouted, adjusting the strap on my tank top that insisted it needed to fall for all the patrons in the small diner. “Besides I won’t just talk about that, I’m not a complete slut contrary to popular belief. I’ll tell the stories of how I grew up or whatever.”
“That is just wrong! I mean it’s not fair to these unsuspecting guys who had no idea that they sucked so bad!” she gasped while tearing her poor defenseless blueberry muffin to pieces. “And the stories of how you grew up actually revolve around these guys and their influence on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ermahgawd, you really don’t have that much faith in me, do you?”
Carrie shrugged. “Not that I don’t have faith in you but I know you well enough to know that you don’t hold back when you have something to say. No matter whom it hurts.”
“I wouldn’t be insensitive. Obviously I won’t put either their names or mine.”
“So what’s the point then?” Carrie frowned.
“Just something fun to pass time with,” I shrugged.
We fell silent, my thoughts were plagued by this idea while her thoughts were—I have no idea where. After twenty more minutes of idle chit-chat and more tea and muffins, we said our goodbyes and continued on our way.
The heat hit me full in the face and I sighed as I made my way down the deck of Wilson’s Warf. I lived in South Africa for two years now, and out of all the places I visited, Durban was definitely my favorite. Sometimes I would visit the Warf just to watch the various boats, yachts and cargo ships roll in. Once in a while I was lucky enough to witness a cruise ship docking at the harbor.
My apartment was just across the street from the Warf. I walked up the four flights of stairs—my version of exercise—and finally reached my apartment. I walked in, stripped out of my clothes and glanced at my body in the mirror. I was physically weird. I was thin yet I had a butt that actually jiggled when I walked, and breasts that were soft and full. My eyes were large and lips full, I had a beauty spot in the left corner of my upper lip. My hair was sandy blonde and fell around my face in loose curls. I looked good. I had to have looked good if I managed to attract so many guys over the years.
Now don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t some super slut, although I’m sure the guys would beg to differ. I deducted over the years that the only time a guy would trash talk a girl is when his ego is bruised. Getting dumped? Probably the biggest ego killer ever.
So like I was saying, I wasn’t a super slut, I just enjoyed sex and enjoyed a variety of it. It wasn’t like I had a different partner every single day. More like every second day. Hey! Sometimes I managed to go a week without it!
Like tonight for example, I didn’t have anyone lined up.
I walked over to my nightstand and pressed the voice-message button.
“Hey there, Zara,” a masculine voice said. “Are we still on for tonight?”
Okay so apparently I did have someone lined up. Guess who wasn’t getting a call back?
Carrie’s comment struck me as wonderful. I had no intention of exposing these guys or even putting my name or image on this blog mostly because I know what it’s like to have someone recount your time in bed, in fact the douche that did that me happened to exaggerate and basically made me seem like a threesome indulging whore.
I slipped on a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt that I got from some guy at some point in my life. I had a lot of t-shirts from guys, those where my mementos—so to speak. I poured myself a glass of red wine and walked over to my desk that sat directly against my window so I could look out at the harbor before me. I logged into the GOOGLE forum and followed the instructions. Once I had all the information down pat—except for my real name and surname—I went about deciding what name to use.
“Confessions of a not-slut,” I mused out loud. “Nah.”
“Sexposed?” I wondered.
Argh, no that sounds like a porn site. Although this is similar. It was going to be a blog where I posted all about my sexcapades. But what if at some later stage I decided I wanted to post about other random stuff? Maybe ramble about my day or something?
“That’s it!” I shouted with a fist pump. I typed in the URL; Zee’s Random Rambles.
Immediately I began setting up the look and feel of it by downloading random sexy images of couples and sex positions. Honestly? I felt a bit moist looking at most of the images. I shifted a bit in my swivel chair and found a cute image of a teenage couple kissing. Perfect.
After I set it up with random gifs and icons, I deliberated on whether to keep the real names but realized there was a chance one of these guys may or may not end up reading this someday. Not all of them had happy-endings and I’m pretty sure with the amount of views I got from a certain ex on my LinkedIn profile, at least one of them would catch on that it was my blog.
I reached for the cordless and dialed my sister in Seattle.
“Do you know what time it is?” Kitty grumbled from the other end of the phone.
“My darling sister, we’re nine hours ahead, the day has almost passed for me,” I laughed.
“You are such a bitch, what do you want?”
Kitty wasn’t her real name, it was just a nickname I had for her since I couldn’t say Katrina when I was younger. Naturally everyone started calling her that.
“Well, Carrie came up with this idea that I should write a blog on all my—uh—relationships,” I said.
I pulled the phone away from my ear while my sister chortled on the phone. Really?
“Shut up! Anyway, I’m doing it. But just so you know, I’m mentioning you and Mimi in the blog. So any calls come through if this manages to get to one of my exes or our parents, you pretend you know nothing!”
“How do I do that if you’re putting your name and their names there?” Kitty sobered.
“I’m not putting names,” I said slowly.
“Wait, if you’re not putting names, what’s the point?” I could picture Kitty frowning. She’d look a lot like our mother doing that with her light brown hair in a bird’s nest and brown eyes full of sleep.
“Do you seriously want me to put their real names or mine and let them feel betrayed and maybe slap with a lawsuit?” I asked incredulously.
“Put names just not their surnames, and not our home town.”
Kitty sighed. “Because Zee, if you’re gonna write about this stuff it’s not going to sound as legit in your head when you have other names, you’ll be more focused on remembering to put this fake name instead of the real name. Just let it flow.”
Did I mention my sister wants to be a writer but instead at twenty-five she owns a book store? Let’s not forget that she is part of one of the world’s most famous all girl band. She’s hiding out here in Seattle since there are some issues with the band and their manager in Miami. Never bothered to find out.
“Call yourself Miss Thing,” Kitty giggled from her side.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, because telling a story and having the man erotically shout out Miss. Thing during sex is the ultimate form of sexy.”
Again I pulled the phone away while Kitty chortled on the phone. “Shit, I’m going barf. Yeah, I’ll pretend I don’t know you’re Madame Thing, and all the best. I look forward to reading Jimmy’s story.”
After a hasty goodbye, followed by Kitty dropping the phone to run to the bathroom, I pulled up the blog page and began typing; Welcome to Zee’s Random Ramblings; a place where you can read all about my experiences with the male species, my daily ramblings about the world, and maybe share some of your own ramblings.
I grinned, clicked on the “new post” tab and began typing…