Gina Wings

Playing someone_ the concept of pulling strings at all times, without the other party knowing, or even suspecting anything. Why do we do it?Because we can.

Getting even_ Why do we want it in the first place? Is it a question of honor, nothing but an attempt to teach other people not to mess with us, or something else?Or_ maybe it is just our way to make everything right when the Universe fails to do so.Our way to make the world right itself.

It was said that the world is a stage, and if that's true_ the show must go on no matter what happens. With that being true, we're all actors playing our parts_ and what is acting in its core, but reacting_ perceiving and reacting to what's been served?

Why does it seem more difficult to heal a wounded ego than a wounded heart?Is it because the heart accepts the cold hard reality of rejection and tries to move on, while the ego has no capacity to act likewise?And while the heart weeps, the ego desires revenge: an eye for an eye, no matter what it takes?

In a perfect scenario, we'd all know our opponents_ but the thing is_ maybe it is even more important to know yourself_ because, you shall pull it through, as long as you're well aware of what is it you're capable of pulling through in the first place.

I admitted it was tempting to wish for cosmic, mind-blowing, I-could-die-right-now orgasms, but the truth is, sometimes we do have to settle for light, that-was-fun type, and explore additional features.Ian made me feel good. Sexy. Powerful. Wasn't that what was sex really about? Or was I just fooling myself?

Scientists have been trying to find an answer to the ancient question: What is it that makes a woman decide whether or not she's gonna roll in the hay with a guy she's met. And I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you all on this one, since although being a woman, it's been a mystery to me as well.Yet one thing I know: the decision is made within the very first minute a girl meets a boy. No exemptions.

It was an instant-fix afternoon quickie, and the Architect was a master of the kind. After I locked my front door after him, still radiant from recent orgasmic thrill, I had it all figured out: love yourself. Take care of yourself. Nurture yourself. Have your needs met; and everything will fit in its space. Eventually, if not earlier. Yet, there was one thing I was unable to grasp:How come men can do the nasty with their shoes on (how do they take their pants off?), yet they never fail to take off their handwatches?

At times even the best are not good enough.

If it seems perfect, you're being played with.

If, one day, you find yourself involved in a dirty game, keep in mind that you end up screwed unless you screw your opponent over.

it is funny how things are always perfect as long as you keep quiet. And then, what's the point in having an awesome lover when you do not let yourself admit it, even to your closest friends? And, if you do not kiss and tell, are your affairs real, or nothing more than bedroom distractions; check-in before midnight, check-out before 9 AM?