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The Moment I Realized My Flirting Skills Sucked (A Personal Story From A Comic Book Store)

In my experience, those who say flirting is an art, not a science, either look like a celebrity, are insanely rich, or have giant dicks/tits. They think they understand flirting. They don’t realize that a lot of what they do is showing off and being inherently luckier than most.

I don’t claim to be an expert on flirting. In fact, for most of my adult life, I barely qualified as a novice. My idea of flirting involved a few compliments, lots of stammering, and the kind of goofy laughing that that even the Joker would find awkward. Eventually, I did learn to have meaningful conversations with the opposite sex. I kind of had to in order to write sexy novels. However, it was an arduous process, to say the least.

I had a lot of weird problems talking to people growing up, but not in the way you might think. Talk to any one of my family members, siblings, or relatives and they’ll tell you the same thing. As a kid, I could talk for hours with other adults, even if I wasn’t related to them. When it came to talking to people my own age, though, especially women, I might as well have been a brain damaged horse.

I don’t entirely understand the forces behind that awkwardness. Even some of my old teachers found it strange. All I know is that once puberty did its thing and I felt the urge to do more than just talk to women, things got even stranger. I’m pretty sure I came off as a socially inept alien from another planet. Maybe some girls thought that was cute, but not enough to respond to my pitiful attempts at flirting.

I know the art of flirting with women is a full-fledged industry these days, but I doubt it would’ve helped make my teenage years less awkward. I’ve shared some fairly dark moments in that life, most of them taking place in high school. I’ve also shared some fun, sexy moments, most of which took place in college.

Well, I’d like to share another personal story that perfectly depicts my complete inability to flirt in a way that doesn’t make someone uncomfortable/annoyed. It involves a comic book store so it’s a story that has some added weight too. Given my documented love of comics, I think it’s fitting that I realized how inept I am at flirting at one of my favorite places to be that doesn’t serve donuts and beer.

This particular incident took place early in my sophomore year of college. At the time, I’d adjusted fairly well to college life. I thought my social skills were also improving. I think I grossly overestimated some of my improvements, but in my defense, I was still healing from the scars left by high school.

It began like most Wednesdays do for me, restless and eager. For those of you who don’t know, new comic books are released on Wednesdays so that means this is basically every comic fan’s favorite day of the week. It’s like Christmas comes every week and you don’t have to put up any decorations.

The college I went to had a comic book store right in the downtown area and every Wednesday afternoon after my final class, I made it a point to run down there as fast as I could without looking like a dog was chasing me. It was often the highlight of my week, provided I didn’t have a mid-term.

Since I didn’t have a mid-term on this week, I made my way to the comic book store feeling as giddy as dog in a asshole factory. When I got there, the guy working there, with whom I was on a first-name basis, already had my comics pulled for me. I was ready to spend the rest of my Wednesday in a state of comic book bliss. That’s when I saw her.

Out of respect for her privacy, I won’t use her real name. For now, I’ll just call her Sandra. Picture Wonder Woman with shorter hair and more eye-liner. That’s how this woman looked. Naturally, my hormones nearly short-circuited my brain and butterflies were doing nude oil wrestling in my stomach. Yes, it was that intense a moment.

While I know it sounds like a bad stereotype that inspires bad milkshake-themed internet memes, there is some truth to it. A cute girl in a comic book store, even today, isn’t just a rarity. It’s a spectacle. This girl might as well have been a unicorn riding a white rhino. Her being in that store felt like a gift from the comic gods or whatever god just thought I finally deserved some luck in my love life.

I usually spend a few minutes browsing the comics anyways so I walked up to the girl, saw what she was reading, and started talking to her. Unlike my previous efforts to communicate with women, it wasn’t that awkward and for good reason. She was reading comics. That’s something I know. That’s something I can talk about for hours without stuttering.

I think I spent a good half-hour just talking to her about the comics she was reading. She actually talked back. She even smiled at me a few times. I’m not going to lie. My heart skipped several beats and my pants felt at least two sizes tighter. If ever there was a time when I was going to get a woman interested in me, this was it.

Then, I found a way to screw it up. I’m sorry, but this story doesn’t have a happy or sexy ending.

I knew from the get-go that I was going to try and ask this girl out. Talking about comics for hours on end is one thing, though. Actually taking that step towards asking her out is another. After I sense she’s ready to leave, I try to make my move. This is where the stuttering and awkwardness returns with a vengeance. Not even Batman could’ve helped me here.

I don’t remember exactly how I worded it. I might have started speaking Greek, for all I know. She looked like Wonder Woman so maybe that helped. I do remember, though, that she gave me her number so I must have said something right. It was actually a huge milestone because that was the first time a woman had ever given me her number.

Again, this story doesn’t have a happy or sexy ending. Getting that number was the high point of this story. It all went downhill after that because I basically handled this accomplishment in all the wrong ways.

It started with me trying to call her the next day and leaving her an awkward, stammering voicemail. I’m pretty sure that voicemail alone made her change the combination lock on her panties. I then tried to call her again that evening and left another horribly awkward voicemail.

I know they were horrible because as soon as I hung up my phone, I realized how pathetic they sounded. They were not the words of someone who had the confidence to be anyone’s lover. They sounded like someone who just didn’t know how to react to a situation where he had to be articulate and flirty with a woman.

I know women well enough to understand that they have a variety of tastes when it comes to prospective lovers, but few are attracted to anyone who sounds that inept. Needless to say, I never saw Sandra again. I tried calling her erratically over the next several weeks. I think she might have answered just once, if only because she felt sorry for me. That wasn’t enough for her to give me a chance, though.

Eventually, I stopped calling her and deleted her from my phone. When I noticed her not showing up at the comic book store anymore, I took that as a sign that I’d probably made a less-than-flattering impression. I can’t say I blamed her for avoiding me. I was needy, awkward, and inept in talking about anything that didn’t relate to comics. That just doesn’t check a lot of boxes for women looking for prospective lovers.

It counts as a low-light in my love life, but one that I learned from. It was that incident with Sandra that made me realize just how much I needed to improve my flirting skills and my communication skills, in general. It seemed so daunting at the time, but it was a catalyst, of sorts. It helped me realize that these skills with women aren’t just going to come to me. I have to actually work at it.

I’m still no expert. I barely qualify as an amateur when it comes to flirting. However, I am confident in saying that I’m much better than I was on that fateful day I encountered Sandra. If she were to show up again, even if it isn’t in a comic book store, I’m confident I could do more than just talk comics with her. I’m not saying I’d get her number again, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be that pathetic.

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Another Sexy College Story (Kind Of In The Way You Think)

By now, I imagine most college freshmen are settling into their new life of exams, late-night studying, and awful cafeteria food. I understand it’s a transition. It takes some getting used to, living on your own for the first time and having to be responsible for your own laundry. It can be jarring at first, but you come to appreciate it quickly.

College is a strange, but amazing experience. It’s like the last rest stop on the road to adulthood and you’re not entirely sure if your bladder is up to task. However, once you go through and do your business, you’re off on your own and ready to be an adult. It’s scare, but you really come to appreciate being able to buy beer without a fake ID.

Compared to the prison sentence/nightmare that was high school, college was breath of fresh air and a mouth full of chocolate fudge. I learned more in those four years than I did the last ten of public school. I actually got to forge my own path, make my own decisions, and carry myself like an adult and not some brooding teenager. It might have been the best therapy I could’ve gotten at that point in my life.

As part of that process, college had its share of sexy experiences for me, but not entirely in the way you think. There were a number of events in college that really made clear to me that I was an adult now and being horny wasn’t something my health teachers would treat like a goddamn chronic illness.

I’ve already shared one of those sexy college experiences on this blog. To date, that still ranks as one of the sexiest. It involved a party, a lot of drinking, and a couple showing off their sex appeal in front of a cheering crowd that I was proud to be part of. You can’t get much more college than that without a John Belushi look-a-like crashing the party.

While that night might have been one of the most memorable experiences I had in college, it definitely wasn’t the only one. Since the last one I shared went over so well with readers, I’d like to share another. This one isn’t quite the spectacle, but it’s still sexy in a more direct sort of way. It doesn’t involve a party or anything. However, it definitely helped inspire the young erotica/romance writer in me.

This particular incident happened in my sophomore year of college. It also happened to be the first year I stayed in a co-ed dorm. It was an upgrade compared to my freshmen year when I stayed in an all-male dorm. Believe it or not, when you put a bunch of young, hormonal men in a confined building who have never been without parental supervision before, it tends to get messy.

Living in a co-ed dorm did help balance things out, somewhat. There weren’t as many fire drills at two in the morning and not as much of the building smelled like sweaty socks. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. Contrary to what “Animal House” rip-offs would have you believe, it’s not as sexy as it sounds.

You learn quickly that putting young men and women in a confined building who aren’t used to being on their own can be just as messy, but with a few twists. When the sexes mix, it changes the dynamics and not always for the better.

It’s not just that young, hormonal men do stupid things when in the presence of women they’re trying to sleep with. Sometimes, the presence of both genders just means both have more chances to do all the crazy stuff they hesitated to do when they were still living at home. This story is a nice reflection of that.

Unlike my previous story, this one doesn’t take place at night or during the weekend. This takes place in the middle of the day, on a weekday, and right around mid-terms no less. It’s a stressful time, to say the least. There aren’t as many parties going on and some of the dorms, mine included, mandate certain “quiet hours” so residents can study.

In terms of timing, it may very well be the least sexy time of year. My roommate, who had a girlfriend, seemed to understand that. I remember him being a lot less energetic during that time, even when his girlfriend was around. However, other couples on my floor didn’t get the memo.

One of those couples, fittingly enough, lived right next door to me. Now, I knew my neighbors pretty well. I often went over there and watched TV with them when my roommate needed some “alone time” with his girlfriend, of which I totally respected. On this day, though, it wasn’t my roommate who was the issue.

It starts at around two in the afternoon. I’m in my dorm, my roommate is in class, and I’ve got my last mid-term of the week in about an hour-and-a-half. Naturally, I’m eager to get it over with and take a breath. Then, just as I’m trying to study, I hear something in the dorm next to mine.

It’s moaning. Namely, it’s the very sexual kind of moaning.

At first, I thought my neighbor accidentally left his speakers on while watching porn. It was kind of an unofficial rule. If you’re going to watch porn, you wear headphones. It’s just common courtesy. Then, as I listen closer, I realize this is not coming from a speaker.

I soon recognize one of the moans as belonging to my neighbor, the same guy who was nice enough to let me watch TV with him and his friends every weekend. I don’t recognize the girl, but I do recognize real, sexy moaning. It doesn’t take a porno connoisseur to know the difference.

Needless to say, I’m a little taken aback here, but I’m also very much intrigued. Remember, these are midterms. These might be the most stressful parts of the semester for some people and yet here’s my neighbor, dealing with it by having sex with his girlfriend. I’m not saying it’s a bad way to deal with stress. I’m just saying it’s a bit surprising, given the circumstance.

I quickly find myself listening a little closer. At one point, I think I stood close to the wall, right next to my closet, to make sure my ears aren’t playing tricks on me. I determine my senses were in perfect working order. This was really happening. A couple was having sex just a few feet from me, separated only by a cinder-block wall.

They weren’t very tactful either. I heard a bed rocking. I heard gasping, grunting, and moaning. It didn’t sound like a gentle, romantic kind of sex. This was the rough stuff and they seemed to really like it. I know because the girl was pretty vocal. I heard a few things from her that would probably get her fined by the FCC, but I doubt she minded.

It created this powerful scene in my head. I could vividly picture my neighbor and his girlfriend in the bed, going at it and loving every second of it. It might not have been romantic, given the setting, but they still made it sweet in their own special way. I like to think it helped lay the foundation for my future efforts as an erotica/romance writer.

I don’t remember exactly how long it lasted. I just know that the moaning and grunting stopped. Maybe they still went at it for a bit longer, but it was hard to hear at that point. That didn’t stop me from listening a bit longer, trying to pick up on the details. Eventually, though, it got quiet again and I surmised they had finished.

All this happened and I still had a mid-term in less than two hours. I’m not going to lie, that was quite a distraction, but one I didn’t mind. If anything, I found it to be kind of refreshing, given how stressful everything had been all week. I remember eventually going to my class, taking my mid-term, and not feeling as overwhelmed as usual. I guess my neighbor and his girlfriend deserve some of the credit for that.

I saw my neighbor again a few times after that. I didn’t mention what had happened that day. Neither he nor his girlfriend brought it up either. Every time I looked at them, though, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. During a stressful time in college, in a less-than-romantic moment, these two found a way to get sexy and intimate. For an erotica/romance writer, that’s nothing short of inspirational.

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A Sexy Story From My College Years (But Not In The Way You Think)

I know this post may be a little late. I would’ve posted it sooner, but I wanted to capture the sexier elements in just the right way because those elements are worth capturing. If I’m going to be a successful erotica/romance writer, then I need to make those details count. Like love, sex, and the stories I write, there needs to be an equal balance of quality and quantity.

With summer ending, most kids and college students are already back in class, grinding away at textbooks, tests, and homework. It’s not a pleasant transition, going from sleeping in on a Tuesday to having to get up at six in the morning just to catch a bus full of half-asleep kids.

I’ve made no secret about my poor experience with school. I’ve even shared a few stories that highlight just how miserable and socially awkward I was. I’d like to change things up a bit and add a little sex appeal, as I often try to do. Believe it or not, there were parts of my education that were actually enjoyable. I’ll give everyone a moment to stop gasping.

Most of those moments, however, didn’t come in high school. They came in college. Yes, those were truly enlightening years and not just because I lived away from home, had a high-speed internet connection, and could eat dinner whenever I damn well felt like it.

They were also the years where I had my first steady girlfriend. They were the years where my ambitions to become an erotica/romance writer really picked up, thanks to some of the friends I made and the teachers I met. It was also the time my acne problem finally cleared up. By any measure, it was a huge step up from high school. It was my first true taste of adulthood and I liked it.

Beyond the improved living situation and a steady decline in misery, college exposed me to more than a few sexy situations. Some of them involved me as a participant. Others involved my friends and random strangers who were overly friendly. I’ve been debating just how much or how little of those experience I should share on this blog.

Then, I remembered this site can never have too much sex appeal so I’d like to share one of the more colorful experience I had during my college years. For those who are returning to college, just starting college, or just a few years away from college, I can’t say your experience will be the same. I’m just saying the potential is there.

For this particular story, I need to establish a bit of context. It occurred in the early parts of my senior year and it involves a party, as is often the case with many sexy college stories.

The year before, I had a roommate that I became good friends with. Of all the roommates I had, I probably got along with him the most. He returned the favor by inviting me to this big birthday party of his at a house he and three other guys now shared. They basically cleared the entire first floor to throw this party. It wasn’t quite on the level of “Animal House,” but it had a few similar themes.

I arrived after the music started playing and the drinks started flowing. It was already pretty damn hectic, but I quickly found my roommate and we caught up. There was plenty of food, beer, and pretty much everything you’d expect at a party. My roommate, being real tech-savvy, even built this elaborate stereo system that blared music at a level that felt just like a club.

As I got comfortable, I started dancing a little. At the same time, I began admiring the ladies that had attended the party. There were definitely more than a few. In terms of raw numbers, there was about an equal amount of women and men at this party. Apparently, loud music, free food, and beer attracts both genders. What a concept, right?

I talk to a few of them. I even flirt a little. Keep in mind, though, I’m still more socially awkward than most. On top of that, I had broken up with my girlfriend the year before and found out she’s with someone else. I’m not exactly in the best state of mind to hook up with someone. That, however, isn’t part of the spectacle.

That only happens towards the end of the party, which is past midnight and well after plenty have exceeded the legal limit for alcohol intake. While I didn’t see anyone throw up, I could easily pick out which among them would be badly hung over the next morning. That didn’t stop one particular couple from going for broke.

For the sake of this person’s privacy and dignity, which I’m pretty sure he surrendered that night, I won’t say his name. For now, I’ll just call him Brad. He and his girlfriend helped plan my roommate’s party. I actually knew the guy somewhat because he dropped by my dorm to visit me and my roommate fairly often.

Brad never struck me as much of a party animal. If you saw him in a crowd, he would be the last guy you’d think would cut loose and do something crazy or sexy at a party. He’s no John Belushi or Sean William Scott. He basically looked like a thinner version of Leonard Hofstadter from “The Big Bang Theory.”

At this party, though, I’m pretty sure Brad could kick Leonard’s ass, sleep with Penny, and get Howard to lick dog shit off his boots. What Brad lacked in size and muscle mass, he more than made up for in other areas and I’m not just talking about his endowment. The fact his girlfriend was pretty hot was already proof of that.

He put all of these traits on full display in what became the finale of this party. Just as people are about to leave and get a head start on their hangover, Brad plays one last round of music. Keep in mind, he’s had five beers and several jello shots. He’s more than a little inebriated and so his his girlfriend.

To take full advantage of this intoxication, he decides to do something special for his girlfriend and everyone else watching. He sits her down on the small, but dirty couch that already has a number of food and beers stains on it. Then, he channels his inner Chippendale dancer, and gives his girlfriend the kind of lap dance reserved for an uncut version of “Magic Mike.”

Picture, for a moment, someone who you would never expect of having much sex appeal suddenly becoming Channing Tatum. He’s thin, he’s pale, and his lanky, but that doesn’t matter. In this moment on this night, he’s the sexiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet and his girlfriend knows it.

I’m not going to apologize for putting that mental image in your head, a lanky guy giving his girlfriend a lap dance. Believe me when I say it a lot sexier than you think. This guy went all out, licking his girlfriend’s neck, shaking his ass in her face, and even doing a handstand right there on the spot. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would’ve believed it.

It worked too. I remember his girlfriend’s face lighting up like a kid who just saw a pool full of chocolate fudge. Sure, she too was pretty drunk, but she had that look on her face that said, “Every man on campus is going to envy your dick after tonight. I promise!”

Now, I don’t claim to know the intimate workings of their relationship. Maybe this was their thing and it was how they kept things hot. Maybe it was just a one-time thing they did under the influence of alcohol. Whatever the dynamics, it captured a moment and a feeling perfectly. It was sexy, affectionate, and loving, all at the same time. I honestly can’t think of a more beautiful spectacle at a party.

Brad’s performance earned him the biggest applause of the night. Even my roommate, the birthday boy, gave him props. After that, I don’t remember seeing where Brad and his girlfriend went. They kind of disappeared after the crowd dispersed and the music stopped. I can only imagine that they had the kind of sex that put all the novels I’ve written to shame.

That night was a memorable night, albeit for reasons I didn’t expect. That happened a lot in college. It was so different from high school, which was so regimented and structured. I actually got a chance to explore things in college. That proved both enlightening and sexy.

I hope those returning to college, or just starting college, have similar experiences. It’s a wonderful time in your life and it’s something worth cherishing. I certainly cherished that party. I don’t know what came of Brad or his girlfriend, but I like to think they cherished that night as well for the best possible reasons.

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