Porn Pitch

Him: “You should be in movies.”

Me: “Yea right.”

Him: “I’m serious. You have a very sensual side to you. It’s hot.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Him: “Besides curvy MILFs are a big hit right now.”

This was my conversation over a glass of house chardonnay. The man was an English porn financier. Our date went from small talk to pitching me to be in his latest movie. Basically telling me I could easily clear $12,000 a week.

Tempting. Very tempting but no.

Rogue Rose

Jazz Voyeur

Typically I like to meet a man in public. Occassionally, I will meet in a more private setting if I feel entirely comfortable. It takes a lot of wooing to get me to that level of comfort. This man did just that. I met him at his house for hummus and wine. Great combo.

This attorney had by far the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen. Not so much as the grand scale but the design and decorative touches. It was like he went into Z Gallerie and said “I’ll take one of each”. Impeccable style. Far better than my own. I was straight up impressed.

He opened a bottle of wine and brought out a plate of crackers and Sabra hummus. Not the garlic kind, mind you.

We take the food and wine outside to the backyard. The fire pit is on and there is smooth jazz playing on the outdoor speakers. We chat for a little bit. I notice his neighbors behind him have bedroom windows that stare right down into his backyard.

And he starts kissing me and his hands instantly gravitate to my breasts. He has large hands, ones that could cup a basketball, so he can easily handle my boobs.

Then his cock comes out of his shorts. Don’t know when that happened but all of a sudden it’s just there staring at me.

him: “Blow me baby.”

And the light comes on in the neighbors bedroom…

Rogue Rose

Say Ahh

It’s never a fun experience going to the dentist. You are laying back on a chair with a bright annoying light shining in your eyes. Your mouth is clamped open in a unusual manner and there are fingers and tools all up in there. Drilling, spraying and spitting. It’s a truly romantic experience. Makes you want to go back for seconds, says no man ever.

And what is worst, is when your dentist wants to talk and expects you to answer. You make a poor attempt of mumbling some nonsense that they seem to understand.

So there I am, laying in the dentist chair, getting a cleaning. I have okay teeth but I also have a sweet tooth. So that usually gets an eye roll, a stern lecture and lines my dentist’s pockets. It’s a catch-22, I suppose.

I’m drooling and trying to think of a happy place when he decides to talk.

him: “You have a pretty mouth.”

me: “Wha?”

him: “The shape, it’s really pretty. You could work on your brushing though.”

me: “Thanks”

him: “Are you single?”

me: I just nod at this point.

him: “Try to stay still, please.”

me: I nod again and then apologize. Now I’m an idiot.

him: “Do you like pho?”

me: I shrug.

him: “Want to go sometime?”

So I can’t go anywhere because his hands are in my mouth….but I think he just hit on me. If I say yes, do I get a complimentary cleaning?

What else is he going to shove in my mouth?

Rogue Rose

Paint It Red

I was running late for a lunch date with someone new. He was an older Jewish man, who had a fascination of Catholic women. I was raised Catholic, but I don’t go to Mass as much as I should. So I pull into the parking lot of Mimi’s Cafe, a cute New Orleans inspired chain.

He recognized me before I even got out of my car. As I open my car door, he goes in for the kiss. Granted, we are just meeting so this is forward.

This wasn’t a little peck on the lips. No, this was a full on inspired suck face. Ooh la la. Holy shit. Excuse my french.

I’m stunned but manage to walk into the restaurant. We are seated towards the front in a booth. I noticed the hostess is giving me a funny look. I shrug it off.

Our waiter comes around and takes our order. I’ll have the brie, apple turkey sandwich on a croissant. It’s delicious with an apricot chutney. Again, the waiter gives me a look as well.

What is up with these people?

Lunch is served and the conversation goes well. When the bill comes, my date breaks out a two-for-one coupon and proceeds to argue with the waiter who won’t accept it because he had to order a drink, not just water. So grudgingly, he pays the full amount.

I thank him for lunch as he walks me back to my car. As I go to leave, I check myself in the mirror and Holy Paint My Face Red Batman. When he kissed me at the beginning of the date, my red lipstick smeared all over my lower face. I’m talking clown-like. No wonder the staff was looking at me funny. He didnt have red lipstick on his face. They were probably wondering where it was on him.

I banned myself from that restaurant location. Time to go to confession.

Rogue Rose

Lackluster Love

Being a single mom today is not easy especially dating. Let me tell you, I am an attractive broad with a body somewhere between Kim Kardashian and Mama June before she dropped 34 dress sizes. A natural redhead and a classic Dita Von Teese look, I’m quite the catch.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the typical South Orange County twit that graces your televisions on some bogus housewife show. I’m a real, homegrown, barely educated, blow-job giving woman with tits for days. Natural tits.

And I’ve dated everyone. Well, maybe not your husband, but certainly your brother and possibly your father. And maybe your sister too.

You see, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned my life at forever 39. I was married with three kids. Good kids. Beautiful kids. Lousy husband. So-called lousy husband decided he wanted an online social life and joined twitter. He fell in love in 140 characters or less. To her, whom shall forever be nameless, but lovingly referred to as Mrs Fugly. Yes, I used the title Mrs. She was married too, with children no less. They now live a miserable life together and he complains about her children. Ha! Good riddance.

So here I am dating again and what a trip it is. From an award-winning director to a twenty-one year old who still has spots on his face. I’ve been there and done that. Well, maybe not “done” that. I’m not easy….okay, maybe a little bit. I like sex. There I said it. Sex. Its fun, especially when I’m on top. On top of the situation and on top of the man.

So to kick-start this blog, I’ll tell you one of my dating adventures. Stop me if you have heard this one: a woman walks into a restaurant, meets a handsome man with a good reputable standing career (which I will not state because I’m not one to air dirty laundry), who use to play college ball. Tall, broad shoulders, pouty lips to boot. Small talk is going well, flirty hair tousle and he is staring at my breasts because they are practically grazing the table and it begins.

him: “I have a certain lifestyle.”

me: “Oh…”

him: “Yes, so from now on you are going to call me Master and I’m going to call you Slave. Got that?”

me: “Yea, that’s cute. You serious?”

him: “Slave, I’m thirsty. Hand me my glass of water.”

me: “Your water is right in front of you.”

him: “You didn’t call me Master. You will be punished next time.”

me: “Okay, Master, your glass of water is in front of you. Since you invited me to dinner, you are paying for dinner. Waiter, check please. I’m out.”

 

Rogue Rose