I’ll meet you in the middle


It was a weekend for the books to say the least. My liver pretty much hates actually I’m sure it has just decided to quit on me. But on a better note Mr. Off Limits is so off limits any more!

Saturday was spent drinking and dancing the night away for Blakley’s birthday. By 2:30 me and another friend we in a cab heading back to my apartment. Some how we ended up in Mr. Off Limits apartment instead of mine, go figure.

I can’t even begin to tell you what we all talked about but his room mate watched him and I go into his room together and its not like it matter much because he was in the process of taking my friend into his room. Yep thats right she had sex with someone she knew I slept with this summer. I’m not even mad about it because thanks to her now he knows that Mr. (not so) Off Limits and I have a thing. Sex from what I remember was amazing like always.

The next morning I wake up and check my phone and see like 5 messages from my friend in the other room saying she needed to go, my only response was “I’ll meet you in the middle”. I got up and searched for my clothes yes I had to search they were everywhere and then went to sit on the couch to wait for her to come out of the other room. We got a good laugh out this.

The best part of the morning though was when we were getting in the car to get brunch, this girl and guy walk out of the building and past our car. She was wearing his shirt, his shorts and had her leopard print heels on from the night before. And they didn’t get in a car they were walking towards the light rail! Hahahaha talk about the best walk of shame outfit everrrr! It would have been better if she would have worn her outfit from last night or just borrowed  flip flops from him. Regardless  if was the best way to start off one hell of a Sunday Funday.




IT’S MY BEST FRIENDS BIRTHDAYYYYYY. I can’t wait to see what the weekend holds for us! Happy Birthday Blakley I love you cupcake 🙂 I’m so glad we are best friends!

What a Girl’s Outfit at the Bar Says About Her

What a Girl’s Outfit at the Bar Says About Her.

by Ariana Basseri on February 20, 2014


This is the definition of judging a book by its cover, so hear me out.

I’ve worn all these ensembles and had the correlating personas to back it up. As a girl, you can be the babe looking like you belongs at “da club” on Friday and be dressed like a kindergarten teacher Saturday. It all goes back to when you were rifling through your closet earlier that night.

Here is a guide to help you read how she’s feeling- all based on what she left her pregame wearing.

Skin-Tight American Apparel


What It Means: I’m a confident badass. I’ve worked my ass off at the gym and resisted Chipotle for the last forty-eight hours. I’m going to be a lightweight tonight because I ate a piece of toast for dinner six hours ago. You can see when I inhale and I have nothing to hide. If I’m wearing underwear, it’s hiked up to my waist and I literally look like a silhouette of my naked self. You have a good chance to later discover my stick-on bra if I don’t leave the bar early to eat some street meat.

Cultural reference: 2007 Paris Hilton

Flowy top over jeans with major cleavage


What It Means:  I have my period. I’d like to distract from the 5 pounds of water weight being distributed randomly on my body by showing major chest action. I’m overcompensating with heavy makeup and my highest heels. I probably cried earlier that day about an incorrect sandwich order, so please be sensitive. You won’t completely score with me tonight, but you’ll get me at my best breasts.

Cultural reference: Mindy Lahiri from The Mindy Project

Hipster – Dark


What It Means:  I’m bored and DGAF chic. I’m wearing a floppy hat, thick-rimmed glasses and caplet thing. My hair may also be in a high bun. I think I’m too good for this shit. I’m going to talk authors, gallery openings and the most expensive fair-trade coffee I’ve ever had to scare you off. I will completely lose interest in you unless you pull up a seat and offer me your American Spirits. Negative points for Camel Crushes, who do you think I am?

Cultural reference: Daria (Daria. Obvi.)

Hipster- Light


What It Means: I’m high. I’m wearing a loose ethereal flowing dress with sandals. I’d love to talk about the energy of this place and drink your beer without permission. I will say yes to join you on the d-floor and tell you 100% more than you ever wanted to know about your zodiac sign. I’d love to leave this place to go meet your bong named Klaus.

Cultural reference: Jessa from Girls

Daytime Outfit

What It Means:  I was pressured into this. I have no fucks to give. My shirt is some cotton blend and I’ve been wearing it since breakfast. My friends forced me to leave my apartment and I have a cab waiting for me outside. I can be swayed to have a good time but my un-styled ponytail and faded makeup is cramping my confidence. I won’t believe your compliments so don’t try. Actually, just don’t try at all.

Cultural reference: Lindsay Lohan

Future Politician’s Wife


What It Means:  I’m secret sexy. I’m all done up and my hair is perfectly quaffed. Don’t take my high neckline and pearls as a deterrent. You think I’m going to be no fun, and you are so wrong. Even drunk I keep total composure through the night and never skip a beat when whipping out that sorority pose for pictures. I’ll take you up on your drink offer and will eventually unleash my wild side if you are worthy. I’m your librarian/secretary fantasy realized.

Cultural reference: Claire Underwood (House of Cards)

Basic Bitch


What It Means:  It’s not a bad thing. I>’m on point with the rest of the female population in here. My outfit can be summed up as “cute!!” I’m wearing jeans or a bandage skirt, party top and heels. So are all my friends. This is an average night out and I can see it going anywhere. After all, I can easily pull this outfit off tomorrow morning at Starbucks with little judgment from thebaristas.

Cultural reference: Anyone ever cast as “hot club girl.”

Top pic via The Chive


Dating Stories

So lately you have been reading about our dates the good, the bad and the sexual, now we want to hear about some of yours! Go to our Between The Sheets page and send us your best or worst dating stories! We will then take all of your stories and post them anonymously so don’t worry no one will ever know it was you that it happened to 🙂 This is open to anyone it can be your story a friends story we just want to hear about some of the crazy things that y’all have gotten yourselves into!

Mr. West Coast


Okay my tag lines aren’t great but holy fuck I had one of the best nights! So I’m not proud but I swiped right on Tinder and was chatting with this guy. He wasn’t from Charlotte and made clear he was just in town for a couple of days but wanted to hangout. I was off work so I debated all day. When my boredom struck I said fuck it. As I got ready I thought to myself…what does one wear on a “Tinder date”? I decided black shiny jeans, heels, tank top with cleavage out and this super hot motto style jacket = too cool for school.

He texted me his address, as I put it in my maps and it popped up as the Ritz Carlton, wow. He said: “just valet your car and I’ll take care of it.” Done. I walked into the Ritz which is in the city and there stood this tall, dark, handsome stud of a guy = mind blown. Thank you Tinder. He said: “what should we do? Dinner or drinks?” The bartender in me said drinks. So we walked across the street to the epicenter (which is this arena of bars and clubs) and went to the first bar we came to. I ordered a red bull and vodka and his eyes got big. I pretty sure he thought, “wow this girl is intense or party girl” for sure. Fuck it. But he interrupted the bartender and said: “belvedere and red bull for her please”..aww.

The conversation flowed just as easy as the drinks and I was totally feeling this guy’s vibe. So mysterious all I knew was that he was in town on work and from San Francisco. Hot. At our third bar visit and umpteenth shot I blurted “lets go to the strip club!” Only me. I could tell he was pumped so off we went.  In the cab over he stared at me the whole time and finally after compliment after compliment grabbed me in his lap and kissed me. Theres just something so hot about a guy that grabs you without permission and rocks your world. We were at the strip club getting drinks when this guy came up and shoved him. Caught off guard we turned around and right as I was about to open my mouth they shook hands and hugged. It was his friend, what a small world. His friend took us upstairs to VIP (which VIP in a strip club is were all the fine girls are). I looked around and noticed that all of these guys were muscular. I finally leaned over and said: “what do you do again?”

No big deal, just an assistant coach for… (I can’t say which NBA team) and the guys in VIP were all of his players. Damn. After many “couple” lap dances and make out sessions later we took a cab back to the Ritz and upstairs I went to his room. He took control immediately. I loved it. He stopped before he took my patties off and said: “I know your a good girl and I don’t think you’re a slut, our connection right now is out of control. Do you want me to stop?” Thankful for some recognition I gave the green light.

We fucked all night, it was amazing.

We still text almost every day and he is itching to get back to Charlotte. I guess guys on the West Coast are decent.


Just Some Random Number


THIS ONE IS TO THE GUYS… Get the hint already…

Ok so this random guy keeps texting me and I have to call him a random guy because I honestly don’t remember his name. I’m guessing Blakely and I met him at some bar one night and I gave him my number for one of two reasons I thought he was hot or I was trying to bail quickly. Normally though if I am trying to bail on a guy for whatever reason I give him the wrong number or play the I’m to drunk card and pretend to giggle and stumble off with the promise that I will find him later (I never do). I’m guessing though since he has my real number that I found him somewhat attractive. To bad I don’t even know his name though! We have texted back and forth a little but I haven’t responded in over a week now. The last thing he asked before I stopped responding was could he call me so that we could get to know one another better… umm… I think stabbing myself in the eye with scissors would be less painful then trying to carry on a conversation with a guy I’ve never really talked over the phone. I mean why can’t we just text and then met up for drinks or something?

Needless to say I stopped responding its not the classiest thing to do but oh well. Anyway so I haven’t said a word, not one word, since January 17 and in that time he has sent not one not two but 13 different messages! 13 MESSAGES! Look guys we think its cute when you want to talk to us and make an effort with us but don’t be that guy, don’t be an over text-er. All you are doing when you text that much is driving us straight up a wall and straight out of your life. Besides if she hasn’t responded in two weeks the odds are she is never going to respond. As I scroll back through the conversation I see that he was sending paragraphs while I was only answering in one or two lines. Clearly he still hasn’t gotten the picture because I got another text this morning which is what prompted this little rant.

Guys don’t like pushy/clingy girls anymore then girls like pushy/clingy guys. GET THE FUCKING PICTURE ALREADY if we wanted to see you I promise we would make an effort ands come hell or high water we would meet up with you but if we go days without responding the odds are you were nothing but “that hot guy from the bar” at the bar  and we never wanted or expected it to be more. At this point dude you have crossed the line and whatever shot you originally had is gone and now you’re just some random number..

End rant.

Road Dome


You know how you go through those phases when your always out with your girlfriends getting “too drunk”? Fact: while going through a drunken stupor do NOT call/text the guy you like. We all do it, send that drunken text or leave that voicemail then embarrassingly go crawl under a rock when they don’t respond or answer.

One night Alex and I were out (again), we got hammered aka: it was a fun night. My American bad boy texted me and invited us to his VIP table at this new club right around the corner. We went. I remember walking in and just loved looking at him. He has this infectious smile with a devious smirk. We partied all night and when it came time to leave Alex went her way and I went his way. Probably one of my drunkest nights ever. Lets just say when I drink = I get super horny.

On the way to his house in his fancy car I decided to make a bold move. I took my seatbelt off leaned over and started kissing his neck. He moaned as I moved my hands down south in his pants. I unzipped and moved my mouth to his penis. It was so hot how excited he was because he was clearly not expecting this. Personally, I love to give head, I think its so hot but only if you make it hot. Does that make sense? Anyways I continued to gee him road head until we pulled up to his house. He yanked me out of his car and we were stumbling into his house. He ripped my dress off and pinned me up against the wall. We literally started fucking up against the wall. But he would stop and move to different places right before I would cum. The couch, kitchen counter, stairs, we had sex everywhere and it was so hot.

I woke up in his bed the next morning thinking…am I a whore? This guy is not even my boyfriend and this is our second time hanging out ever. Two for two…am I a slut?