Last of the Good Straight Girls

She is riding on the bus
And she winces when the people cuss
She is reading from a book
That she needed for a class she took
She puts a marker in the spine
As we're crossing over city line
As she steps down on the street
There's a man she never planned to meet

Hey gone the days of the corduroy jumpers
And your very first string of pearls
Say a prayer for the souls of the fallen
And the last of the good straight girls

(song is by Susan Werner, you can preview it here. Or listen to all of it here, if you have a Rhapsody account.)

I think my co-workers think I'm a slut.  And I'm pretty sure it's my fault.

Anyone who knows me well knows I like to make jokes, innuendos and double-entendres that can hint at a more sexually experienced nature than one I really have.

I've always been like this.  Even when I was in junior high and high school.   I blame my father whose idea of "sex education" was to give my brother and me free reign to his Playboys, Hustlers and "dirty movies."  I saw my first porn (keep in mind, this was 70s/80s porn) when I was in high school.  I was reading "bodice rippers" when I was 12.  I read Judy Blume's FOREVER so many times in junior high that the pages fell out.

Had I been more self-confident with my appearance and less of the girl most likely to be every guy's friend, I probably would have been quite the vixen.  Maybe I could have given the girls in Sex in the City a run for their money.

However, that did not happen.  So my jokes and alluded sexuality were my way of trying to fit in... to be cool... to let people know I have the same needs and desires as the next person, despite the fact that I'm not a size 2.  Somewhere along the line, people made the assumption that because I'm a large person, I don't have the desire to be desired.  I can't tell you how many times I've gotten in the past "You just never seem to be interested in that kind of stuff" -- with "that kind of stuff" being dating, falling in love and having sex (in that order.).  I guess I figured why express an interest in something I couldn't have.  So, I overcompensated.  Started being one of those people who raise an eyebrow at anything that could be suggestive... flirt with men, even men I'm not interested in.. channel my inner 14 year old boy and find amusement in words like "hard", "wet", "sticky", etc.

The reality is that I am practically the complete opposite of this image I've created. 

I would never have a one-night stand.  

I am not going to Vegas to get laid.

I am not really trying to entice stalkers and peeping toms into my boudoir.

I could probably join the local convent with no pushback whatsoever, except that I'm not Catholic.

So, it hurts a little when I say I'm going to Vegas for a long weekend with a male friend and get a "oooooh". (Nevermind that I'm staying with a man who likes other men.)  When I say I have a dream (an innocent dream) about a male co-worker, I get a "ooooooh".   Then, when I try to explain the reality of the situation, no one believes me.  It hurts a little.  And I'm mad at myself for getting myself in this situation.

But, how do I go back and change that?  I'd hoped that people would be able to distinguish the real me from the outrageous me.  

I guess I was wrong. :(

I really enjoy being outrageous, but I don't want people to think I'm some sort of ho.  I feel like I should wear a sign that has a disclaimer:

"The opinions expressed do not necessarily represent my true character.  Thanks for playing along.  Have a nice day."