Coy Vey

Published April 28, 2015 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

You know what’s more embarrassing than getting a bladder infection from banging around with a too young too hot male model who only speaks French and thinks you’re really 40 and a very powerful television executive who can make or break careers? Getting a bladder infection because your pee is too concentrated because you don’t drink enough water and the only male model in sight is the one staring at you from the ad for the drugs that you have to take to get rid of said infection because you’re one hundred years old. Yes, I said it. My pee is too concentrated because I don’t drink enough water. I also don’t drink enough young male models but I think that ship has probably sailed. It was a good ship. It was a fun ship. But it’s hit an iceberg called – “I need liquor to take my clothes off in front of you and I’m an alcoholic.” Apparently the average pee is a 10-10 ratio of something to something and mine is 10-30. I don’t know what it means but it’s three times as confusing as it needs to be. The whole ordeal got me thinking about sex. Mostly because I had to say to the gynecologist – how can I have a bladder infection when I’m not even having sex? And then I had to deal with her judgy looks and trust me – she’s judgy as fuck. She’s Asian Judgy – which, ask any Asian – is judgy plus – or judgy prime.
Here’s the thing about sex – I might be interested in having it – but I’m currently not interested in any of the annoying shit that comes with it – like conversations and caring and trips to the gym together and hikes – no hikes – I’m not hiking with you. I really do want to be that older wild woman flinging herself around the city with men half my age. I like younger men. They’re not dead inside – yet. They don’t have ex wives who ruined it for me. They’re not on Tinder with these weird half shots where you can only see a ladies elbow or shoulder. I get it – you were married. And you both hiked together. Did she not let you ever take a picture by yourself? Lots of women my age tell me I’m missing something by not being “out there.” They love to tell me how I should be shacking up with a younger man. I mean look at all of the Real Housewives of New York. They seem to be having a grand old time with their grand old vaginas but I just don’t think I find the whole concept interesting enough to get out there and do the work. Plus – are younger men really interested in a 54 year old woman who isn’t on television and can help their careers? Me thinks not. And me is pretty smart. Is there an app I can use? Or a website? Who’s running “I’m young and cool and won’t kill you in your sleep dot com?” Cause that’s a website I need. And don’t tell me to go on Cougar Life dot com because even those sick fucks have an age limit and I’m actually too old to be a cougar. Every day of my life someone asks me if I’m dating – or married – or interested in being married – or interested in dating – or did I have kids or will I have kids or blah blah quit asking me about shit I can’t answer. Here’s the cold hard truth. I’m the problem. I know this. I’ve always known this. If you’re a man and you seem interested in me, my first thought is – what do you want? What’s your end game? If you’re a young man and you’re interested in me my first thought is – do you need glasses and then – what do you want. And here’s a newsflash people – I AM DONE BEING COY. If you’re looking for someone to giggle and flirt and bat her fake eyelashes at your adorableness – well you’ve come to the wrong place. Coy has left the building. In fact – Coy moved out of town. She’s living on a farm – with her sixteen dogs and she’s starting an all girl dude ranch like the one in the movie “The Women.” I’m more of a – “Just tell me what you want and lets see if we can strike a deal” kind of a girl. Don’t waste all the cutesy talk on me because I’m not falling for it anyway. Like I said – I’m the problem. It turns out I’m looking for someone just to have sex with but I don’t want to have sex with anyone I don’t like. This is what we call a conundrum. I realize I may have wasted all of my good sex years being terrified of being judged and it turns out the person judging me the harshest is me. I wish I realized this back when I had my banging around body because I would have just gotten over it but now I have to get over it and get over my less than perfect body – the 54 year old one – with the cellulite – and the stuff you can grab in places I can’t reach. I have handles… and there’s nothing to love about them. It turns out – if I want to start having a fun life filled with fun sexual encounters – I have to stop judging myself. I bought condoms. Wish me luck. And watch out young fuckers – I’m coming for you. Maybe twice.

18 comments on “Coy Vey


    Sent from my iPhone


  • Leave a Reply

    Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

    You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

    Google photo

    You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

    Twitter picture

    You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

    Facebook photo

    You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

    Connecting to %s

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

    %d bloggers like this: