The Recycling They Don’t Teach You in School

In the past I read somewhere (can’t remember whose blog) about recycling.

Duh, Ashley, you can read about that ANYWHERE.

I don’t mean your plastic bottles or the AA batteries for your vibrator, I mean recycling men.

How does one do this? Let me explain…

Say its a Saturday night, you’ve been out drinking and the bar scene is lacking any sort of manly appeal. You are yet again going home to an empty bed, not only because of the  lack of guys but because you just don’t like having one night stands with strangers. You pull out your phone and see you’ve gotten a text message from a guy you used to date/have relations with.

What are you up to?

Seeing that I–I mean, you–got a text from him the night before asking if you could fuck, you know exactly what he wants. And you know what? You want it too.

So after a brief conversation consisting of giving out your apartment’s address, you hop in a cab and go up to your apartment to await a night of drunken sex. Not only do you get sex, but its with someone you’re already somewhat familiar with (and your number doesn’t get any higher! Score!).

Until they take off their pants and you nearly blurt out “did you always have just one ball?”.

You hope you’re not too obvious in your investigatory analysis over whether he really has just one ball or if one is just much small than the other.

You then come to the conclusion that you must be right, he has only one ball.

So you have a lot of sex and then in the morning, you have even more. Luckily, you’re not too hung over otherwise that gag reflex might act up but it doesn’t and you are pretty damn thankful. You may have wished you had some lube right about then but thats a different story.

I kind of like this recycling, there aren’t many surprises (unless you didnt’ notice he was a uniballer, then that may come as a surprise) and you don’t care if he calls you again because all it was was a booty call. There’s no strings, no nothing attached to it. It is what it is.

I don’t do this often, actually this is the first time i’ve officially recycled a past boytoy and I have a feeling it won’t be the last time I hear from him on a drunken weekend night. (not that the story above was about me or anything, it was all hypothetical… )

Now if only I could get boys I’m interested in to call me back  that actually live in the country and don’t live in AUSTRALIA. (I’m referring to the irish boy who i stayed up late last night talking to) One of these days….