Before I get into the story behind “Heartbreaker“, I wanted to explain why these designs are coming out now. A little over 3 years ago I had a bit of a creative streak. I came out with a lot of designs. What I do is I make a collage for each design using Photoshop to make it easier for the artist to understand what I want. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of paying my former business partner in advance to draw them out for me. Which of course he didn't do. Since October of 2018, a Romanian artist named Sonia Tibacov, has been drawing them out for me. OK, now for the story....

A few years back, I was having an online conversation with an old friend I've known since I was a teenager. I can't remember exactly how we got into talking about online dating. I mentioned to her where the guy I was seeing at the time was from. I was already divorced after being married for almost 11 years. She asked me what countries did the guys I recently dated came from. I began to list them, UK, France, Italy, Spain and of course Germany. She responds with, “Oooh, I see, you have an international vagina!“, and starts laughing. I was like, “Wait! What!? No Bitch! I didn't say I slept with them. They were just dates.” I couldn't stop laughing afterwards. I liked how those two words sounded, in-ter-na-tional va-gi-na.

I had a flashback to my teenage years. Back then I was rather quiet and prudish. Naturally, I attracted friends that were rather loud and outgoing. Boarding on the side of crazy. Total opposite of what I was. During that time I was still a virgin and loved hearing the sex stories from my friends. I admired their sexual freedom. Thanks to an alcoholic, conservative grandmother that influence my childhood (4-7 years old), I had an internal battle with sexuality for decades. That's another story for another design. A few of my friends were rather promiscuous, including the friend I had the online conversation with. There was one former friend in particular that took promiscuity to a whole other level. I first met her in 6th grade in La Puente, California. A ghetto city close to Los Angeles with a predominantly Hispanic population. A city I still look fondly upon. It wasn't as ghetto as East Los Angeles or Boyle Heights. It was more middle class. She was a pretty girl with dark hair, her bangs looking like a bird build a nest. Feathered bangs with tons of hairspray. It was the chola hairstyle of the late eighties, early nineties. Chola is the Spanish name for a Hispanic gang member. She was tall, skinny with thin lips. White skin and brown eyes. Large silver hoop earrings adorning her ears. Her feet were rather large. She was born in prison and raised by a foster family. She loved the cholos. (Latino gang members) At age 15 she was with a cholo that she introduced to me. A few weeks after meeting him, she came to my house crying because he was shot and killed coming out of a gas station store that was close to my area by a rival gang. He was 15 years old. When I was growing up in La Puente there were two rival gangs, Bassett Grande and Puente 13. The 13 pronounced in Spanish, trece. He was from Bassett Grande. Shortly afterwards she started changing guys like underwear.

One time I was visiting her and she was going on about her latest conquest. A long hair, white metal guy with a big cock. She pulls out a notebook, this was before cellphones, social media, etc, in the notebook she had a list of names in numerical order. It had the names and ages of the guys she had slept with. Each name had different symbols. I can't remember what they looked like anymore. I asked her, “What do they mean?” She starts to laugh and begins to tell me, “This one is the dick size and girth, this one is on his performance, this one is if he was a good kisser, this one is if he has a special talent.” She was at number 79 at 17 years of age. She was proud of her conquests. Was not embarrassed at all. Not at all. Another time I had picked her up along with her current boyfriend. By then I had my first boyfriend so he was riding on the passenger side. My friend and her boyfriend in the back seat. I had to go pick something up from another friend. My boyfriend and I went inside for less than 20 minutes. When we got in the car there was a strong foul smell. That undeniable smell of sex. Seems she hadn't clean her coochie (vagina) as she was having sex in the back seat of my car. It smelled so bad that my boyfriend and I couldn't roll down the windows fast enough. We both wanted to gag. My friend and her boyfriend were just laughing hysterically in the back seat. I had to drive with my head practically hanging out of the window. The next morning I was scrubbing my back seat. Muttering dirty skank (slut) and laughing to myself. She didn't care the names people would call her. Hoochie, skank, slut, whore. The girls in high school were vicious towards her, probably because she passed on their territory, their guys. Some chola girls wanted to fight her. I had to get in between and be peacemaker. She ended up going to another high school. I sometimes wonder what became of her. As for my other slutty friends they converted to being “born again Christians.“ Go figure. Here's a tribute to all the women that are proud of their conquests. :)

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