There's only one song I can write this post to ...

"This is what you came for."

Thanks to everyone who read the last post - it sounds corny, but I've never had such a lightning bolt jolt of, BOOM, "this is that, and if you can do this, you can do that."

I flipped a switch in real time, or in the key of Oprah, had an "ah-ha moment."

... my a-ha moments typically have more of a "take on me" vibe, but to each their own a-ha.

Anywho, last week, I went to St. Louis for work (Chicago this week, but more on that later), and as I sat down waiting for my flight, I got a pop up on FB messenger from my potential STBFB (soon-to-be fuck buddy ... that almost rhymes).

We've been friends for the last couple of years, and even though we don't see a lot of each other, he's one of the first people I turn to when I need the "guy perspective."

(He's been with his "lady friend" since high school, and a couple of weeks back, made mention of the fact that they're in an open relationship.)

"If you ever want a true fuck buddy, I'm happy to help. I've always liked and respected you," he typed.

Maybe this is the answer, I thought.

While I am unsure if any of us ever really know "what we want," I do know one thing that my body needs:

El problemo with the situation of my uh, situation is that I have lots of guy friends, and lots of guy friends that have openly admitted to wanting more.

Friel's first world problem: Too many great guys *ACTUALLY* want to have sex with her.

If I had sex with them, I'd be leading them on (and hurting their heart); I can't intentionally do that to someone.

What's the only clear option?

Commission a true fuck buddy (which I previously compared to finding Nessy, but again, considering he was already in a committed relationship, it seemed more likely than not that we could keep it all strictly physical).

We started planning everything out, but after over a week (scheduling conflicts), I had a change of heart.

I then caught him up on some work projects ...

Referencing to date, not to just have sex with.

I then did the math, and realized I have slept with five people in three years.

(One, was two boyfriends ago, two, was the guy I used to get over two boyfriends ago, three, was my last boyfriend, four was the guy I used to get over the last boyfriend, and five was the guy I just dated. Number two, btw was a fucking hilarious story that I'll tell one day.)

While I've never kept count of exactly how many people I've slept with, it seemed shockingly low considering during the 103 dates in 9 months I slept with six.

Six months versus THREE YEARS of sexual activity!!

<tangent> I wrote about this on Talk Nerdy, but I lost my virginity at 16 to a guy who was built like Ron Jeremy. It was so painful that I didn't want to have sex again for two years. Then, when I did, I was 18 and living in NYC. While I couldn't go to bars, I did end up meeting guys off of AOL's local dating chats (shockingly, it wasn't as sketchy as it sounds). I had a handful of dates periodically, and when I did have sex I kept a little journal of each one with their names. By the time I was 19 and living in Los Angeles, I looked down one day thought, "how many is too many?" Guys have said I was "too virginal" before, so what's the flip side? When does one become a "slut?" I then ripped up the book as best as I could, and said, "I never want to know." What I share with a guy in that moment, is between the two of us. If I have a one night stand (which I have) - awesome! If not, and I wait to have sex - awesome!

Sex is GREAT, and I am not going to shame myself for enjoying it.

My last boyfriend did ask me once what my number was, and I admitted that I truly didn't know. He then started counting, and based upon my age, guessed I had slept with seven people.

I laughed saying no, but quickly realized he was going to get upset until I told him (which again wasn't a lie that I didn't know).

I let him believe what he wanted to believe.

</tangent>

Overall, the St. Louis trip was awesome! I got to talk about life and love with my dear friend's cousin ...

... and locals on Instagram were impressed that we wound up having a weirdly random evening in downtown sans a ball game:

It was also a Wednesday. Who has a bachelorette party on a Wednesday?

If you can't tell, I'm a strong believer that you create your own fun.

Then, late Thursday night (technically Friday morning), I arrived back in LA udderly exhausted.

<tangent> It's funny, on Talk Nerdy, the execution of goals was mostly physical. I know my hard stop/ breaking point is 11 miles with 40 lbs on my back, and I can drive up to 17 hours before my depth perception becomes too skewed to drive safely.

Now, I'm in a position where the necessary emotional clarity outweighs the physical demand. My brain has to strategize ten steps ahead, all while cautiously being aware of everything in front of my face.

To quote the great Stefani this shit is ...

And I love it because I'm learning SO MUCH!!

</tangent>

Friday afternoon, I got hit up by a friend I hadn't friended yet, asking to meet for coffee. (He works in digital and stumbled upon either this site or Talk Nerdy somewhere in the web-o-sphere.)

"I have so many questions I want to ask you, he said excited."

"Ask away, I said, I'm an open book."

I wanted to excuse myself for being exhausted, but figured the caffeine jolt would take care of that part.

"I don't know what it is about your writing, he said. I read it, and then realize I've spent fourteen minutes on the same post."

"That's intentional, I said. I relive the experiences as I write them, and (hopefully) create a vicarious feeling for the reader.

At the end of the day though, I really only write for myself. I can't stop laughing at how WEIRD of a shit show life in LA is, so not only does it feel great to write, but I look back remembering, yep that actually happened!"

He was then telling me about his (impressive) background in a myriad of professionals that seemingly weaved together, as we talked shop.

"Oh, that's Gabrielle Union, I blurted out mid conversation."

I excused myself for interrupting, as he laughed saying, "you really can't help it can you."

"Nope," I said laughing.

I then explained that I had to get back to the office, and as I wrapped up my day, I texted the Modern Day Shaman asking one, if we could meet downtown, (he had messaged earlier in the week asking if I had plans on Friday, and if not he had a +1 for a podcast) and two if he had any friends in the pin-up world.

<tangent> I got hit up on Instagram by a guy who used to be involved in the Fiesta Movement, asking if I would model as a pin-up, and go on Facebook live for this car show he is involved with in Chicago.

YES! I messaged back. My new startup is in the autotech/ insurtech space, so while yes, it's not exactly a "traditional way to announce said startup" - it sure as shit made sense to me, and I was game.

In my old age, I've learned to trust the "random opportunities" that come my way. By saying yes to things, I 9/10 meet someone who then makes an introduction to someone else, or someone sees the content online and then it clicks (no pun intended) that I'm involved in that particular space, and they will reach out wanting to talk.

It works like a charm and that's how one gets ...

</tangent>

En route home from work, I stopped off on Melrose to hit up American Vintage to see if there were any styles that could work for the shoot.

While the suggestions the Shaman gave were awesome, their price points were way out of what I was willing to spend. I didn't have time to negotiate a sponsorship, and frankly, I like going to vintage places and creatively figuring out ways to make shit work.

I parked my car, and as I locked the door, I looked to my left and saw these big silver balloons.

As a lover of shiny things, I walked closer and spotted another familiar face ...

I then lucked out purchasing four outfits for under $100, and as I was checking out I looked up and noticed a shirt for a familiar band:

STFU, I said laughing. I need that shirt, please.

He took it down with one of those long poles with a hook, and without looking at the price, I laughed explaining, Toto is an ongoing theme in my life right now.

"It was meant to be," he said.

"You have no idea," I said still smiling.

Decked out in my new threads ...

... I then grabbed an Uber and headed down to the Orpheum.

It occurred to me as I sat down (greeting the Shaman) that I never even asked what we were seeing, or what was happening; I just said yes.

I can count on one hand the people I will blindly say yes to, and the Shaman is one of them.

He then explained that we were at the Night Vale Radio podcast, as the "opening act" of sorts took the stage.

She began her routine, and the Shaman turned and said "if this entire event was just her, I'd be fine."

100%, I agreed intensely listening.

She then intro-ed and performed a song called, "You, Sailor." In reading the lyrics (listed here), I interpret the song one way ... listening to it live? I heard something different.

Listen ...

As she sang, I started tearing up.

I side eyed the Shaman with a smile knowing how insanely weird this journey has been, but in this moment, I was so incredibly happy being next to this human being ... while wearing a Toto shirt.

I really am ready, I thought. Now, more than ever I'm not exactly sure what I'm "ready" for, but I'm "there."

Shut up Celine, I'm having a fucking moment.

As the actors took the stage, I immediately noticed the female characters wardrobe:

"They're all in pin up, I whispered to the shaman, I had no idea."

After the show (which had UNBELIEVABLE storytelling - seriously listen to it. Two hours of your life will be instantly gone), I laughed saying I was so glad I came. (I wish that was an intended pun.)

"I love it that you had no idea what you were walking into, he said. It makes it even better."

I then confessed that I did try to look it up, but my brain got sidetracked.

See ... I googled "shows at Orpheum," clicked on a LiveNation link, and saw that Tegan and Sara are playing a September 29th show:

I then got Jesse Spano-level excited ...

searched for tickets ...

saw none ... freaked out ...

got sad ...

and completely forgot what I was doing in the first place.

Bee tee dubs, this is one of my all time fav songs:

He laughed and as we then walked around downtown, I made a declaration:

"You can tell when you're in a "groove" for lack of a better word. Everything just falls into place, and suddenly things come to you vs you forcing them. It's literally like flipping a switch."

He smiled agreeing.

We had a great time Irish pub hopping, and sometime after the consumption of a very delicious street dog ...

... I hit the hay with my own dog (the non-edible kind).

The next day, I ran some errands and went to spin class. There was a substitute for the regular instructor and the entire time I kept staring at him thinking ...

Fuck, he's hot I thought (but also has a "presence" about him ... that intangible x factor that makes you want to solve for y).

He approached my bike during a 75% incline, checking the knob (wishing I was checking his).

"Great job," he said touching my hand realizing that I was riding at the expected capacity.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to block my inner Samantha after being reminded of my own patience and Color Me Badd style frustration:

After class, I took said frustration out on the windy streets of LA ...

... which reminded me how much I actually enjoy driving for sport.

<tangent> Back in the days of the Fiesta Movement, I not only got to learn how to drive stick on the Ford Test track, but I also got to drive a cop car (sirens and all) ....

And even (unintentionally) went airborne in the Ford Raptor ...

We got stuck on an incline and as the driver floored it, the car propelled into the air.

I mean my station wagon is pretty awesome, but there's something about driving stick on a track and feeling that POWER in the engine ... it's total turn on.

</tangent>

Later that evening, I began researching places to rent cars on a track, or learn and race off roading vehicles.

An hour into it, I got sidetracked, and popped on Tinder.

Unbeknownst to me, who was one of my matches?

A real life race car driver.

I messaged back ...

He then sent over a panoramic photo of his vehicles (including the off roading vehicles he had ridden that day), and texted back (in a non-douchey way) asking to "pick one" to take for a spin.

Look at that, I thought, after all this talk about sticks, I might end up killing two birds with one bone.

Oh, and next up, I'm in Chicago this Wednesday and Thursday.

If you're in the area, shoot me a message (somewhere in the social web) if you want to hang out, and stay tuned to Facebook for info on the live stream.

Will make sure it's not douchey, as we all hate those notifications.

Thanks for reading!!

xoxo - J