The Virginity Monologues

Holy shit. Hungover for the second day in a row. Yesterday was bearable. This morning required the official hungover breakfast- Jamba Juice and a breakfast sandwich from the deli next door. But it is so worth. Went to Cafeteria in Chelsea with 4 of the most adorable gay men, ever. We were at the bar for at least an hour before we sat down. Dinner included more cocktails, the coolest waitress in New York City and more gay information than a straight girl can stomach. There's only so much that I want to know about their sex lives. Really. But I love them all tremendously and could have stayed at that dinner until the end of time and been perfectly content, well, as long as I could leave occasionally to have sex. Then we just sauntered down 7th until we came onto a bar to keep us in alcohol.

In this bar, I got to have one of my most favorite conversations ever. The music conversation, with someone else as passionate about music as me. Some people listen to music purely for entertainment purposes. Some people feel music in their soul. I fall into the latter category. We talked and talked about the songs we love and why we love them, and how they define every era of our lives. Damn, that's good stuff.

It's a busy, crazy, full weekend coming up. Be prepared for some good stories on Monday.

Here's a little something I found out last night

Guess what went on at 40/40 on Monday night?
Alex Rodriguez's birthday party

Guess who got a call inviting her to said party by a certain 40/40 bouncer, but ignored it because she was playing hard to get?
That's right, ME

Guess who I missed out on an opportunity to meet because of my foolish shenanigans?
DEREK JETER

Dammit all to hell! Words cannot express how much I currently hate myself.

Went to a Yankees/Twins game last night. All in all in was a crazy night. I'll give you a recap of the highlights.

As Michelle and I were walking in, she asked me if this game was important. I was explaining to her why it was important- Wildcard standings, AL East Division and what not, and the man in front of me turned around, started clapping and said, "Damn baby, that is impressive!" Ha, ha! I love it!

During the game, this girl kept walking past me and Michelle, she wore gym shorts that said, 'Gopher' across her ass, a Minnesota Twins T-shirt and this is not a lie- red ribbons in her hair and red ribbons on her shirt, tying her sleeves up. The ridiculousness of it! One time, as she walked past, she said to her, clearly brain-dead, date- "I don't see ANY Twins fans!" Uh, that's cause you're in New York, Ribbons. Now get the fuck out. Ugh.

As a high note to end the evening, as we were walking out of the stadium the large, beautiful man that I had noticed earlier was standing around right where we walked out. He smiled at me and I decided, what the hell? I went up and talked to him, I was charming and cute and funny and maybe the boldest that I've ever been. He reciprocated right up to the point where he told me he had a girlfriend. Ouch. But not before he told me that he had also noticed me. That's right! This man was WAY out of my league. He was 10 times more beautiful than me. He noticed me.

In keeping with the exorcism of men-that-are-bad-for-me, I did something pretty big today. I deleted all of my emails from my ex-boyfriend. Considering that we emailed 3-5 times a day during our relationship, it was a substantial amount of emails, chronicling the highs and lows and the eventual demise of us. I saved two. The two emails where he says things that no one has ever said to me. In the days after our break-up, reading them reminded me that the pain I was going through was worth it for what I had experienced. I will hold on to these, if only to remind myself that I am worthy of love from a really amazing person. I would be lying if I said it wasn't hard and it didn't make me a little bit sad. But, as my best friend just told me, it's okay to let go.

A friend has been requesting that I do lists. I generally am not a fan. But just to satisfy her, here goes.

Top 5 Things That I am Obsessed With
5. Plucking my eyebrows. One of these days I'm going to pluck them clean off.
4. Men of a different ethnicity than my white ass, and having sex with them
3. Derek Jeter/Yankees
2. Cheesecake/French fries- equally
1. My ipod and the music on it

Labels: The Ex

Dear god in heaven, my left calf muscle is going to be the death of me before this day is over. It's totally my own fault, for running pretty hard when I hadn't run in a long time. But I forgot about how much I love running and I didn't want to stop. Around a mile and a half, I started to get a cramp in my left calf muscle, but I ignored it and just kept going. I recently read an essay by Kristin Armstrong, about how running helped her to get past her divorce with a certain famous biker, and she talked about how we are defined by our ability endure pain. I decided that I want to be the kind of person who can endure it and endure it well. I don't want to stop when it gets too hard, and not just in running, but in every aspect of my life.

See how good running is for me? I need to do it more.

Day 2 of the new me. So far, so good.

After a minor break and a trip to the shoe repair man, I have my 3 inch, pink, croc skin heels back and just wearing them makes me happy.

I just got off the phone with the person whose opinion probably matters most to me. He'll die when he finds that out, but there you have it. He told me that he's worried about me. He thinks that I sound very sad. He thinks that I need to write down everything that I'm feeling, decide what I want to do with my life, figure out a plan and stick to it. I agreed. First things first. If I'm going to clean up my ridiculous behavior, it starts with one person- and his phone number just got deleted out of my phone. He no longer evens get mentioned here.

So here it is.

My Manifesto

No one, and I mean NO ONE, gets to treat me like shit. Pardon my french, but if someone even remotely fucks me over, they get the boot. I don't care how HOT they are, or how horny I am. This is non-negotiable. I will no longer tolerate you if you- lie to me, have a girlfriend, don't call when you say you're going to, are outrageously late and can't provide a good excuse, have tried to get me naked within the first few hours of knowing me, think that having sex with someone and then pretending like it didn't happen is acceptable behavior, hurt my feelings in any way, shape or form, have to have me define any words that I say.

I am an amazing person. I have an ability to love that surpasses most and if you earn it, I will fight for us with all that I've got. I volunteer. I go to church every Sunday. I have an above-average knowledge of baseball. I am a fantastic sex life just waiting to happen. Music is my greatest passion. I can hold intelligent conversation. From here on out- I withhold my love and my phone number to only those most worthy.

The End

** I am not cocky, arrogant or snobby. I'm just trying to make myself aware of my own self-worth. **

Well, it turns out that I didn't need to worry about being funny or cute, as the Jamaican was almost 2 hours late, so I told him to screw off. If someone's going to be that blase about punctuality on the first date, they are setting themselves up to be nothing but a disappointment for the rest of the relationship. Needless to say, he doesn't get another chance.

After I got off the phone with Mr. Bouncer, I realized that the stress and trauma of the last month had just caught up to me and I found myself on the corner of 34th and 7th, trying to hold back a tidal wave of tears. I called my best friend, told her I was meeting her at her place, ASAP, and hopped into a cab before I had the chance to publicly make a fool of myself. She made me homemade ice cream with my favorite candy bar in it and just let me cry and cry. I wasn't upset about the date. I wasn't that emotionally invested in him. I was upset about the stupid decisions that I have been making and the things about myself that are the motivations behind the stupid decisions. The best part? That I had R to go to. I didn't even go home, I spent the night at her place, needing to just spend as much time as I could with someone who saw the best in me.

So, I've got a date tonight. He's adorable and Jamaican and has called me almost everyday since we met. Dates always make me so nervous. I worry about being relaxed and funny. I don't worry nearly so much about being cute as I do about being funny. Clearly my priorities are a little out of wack. Mail-Room Guy has gotten wind of the date and barrages me with questions about it. More questions than he has the right to ask, that's for sure.

There's a new guy who sits right next to me at work. He's cute and he loves baseball. He PLAYS baseball. This could potentially spell trouble. I've already sweet-talked him into taking me to a Jets game later this year with his season tickets. Maybe we'll just be sports buddies. Boys and girls can keep relationships platonic, right?

BTW- I was just riding in the elevator with a very famous person (male), and we both got off at the same floor and he totally squished me out of the way to get out of the elevator first. Apparently, when you are famous, the rules of chivalry don't apply.

Can we please have a conversation about what an ass my ex-boyfriend is? Our breakup was amicable and mostly mutual. We both knew we couldn't make it work long term, but we knew that our friendship was something pretty amazing and we wanted to maintain it. It sucked, royally, at first. Every time I saw him, it was like we were breaking up all over again. But I pushed on, determined to make it work, steadfast in my efforts to remain friends. We had no reason to hate each other and in all honesty, I couldn't stop loving him! Obviously, I've been getting past that whole loving-him business but I still really care about him as a person, and would really like to stay friends. Out of nowhere, he totally dropped off the face of the earth. He no longer returns emails at all. When I found out that things in his life were going badly, I sent him an email, extending a hand of friendship, and received nothing back. Nothing. Who does that to a friend. Here's what I have to say- he can HOSE OFF. I'm not trying to get back together with him! I don't want to get back together! I just want to be friends! He makes NO sense. Boo to him.

Flirting with Mr. Wrong. He heard of my Saturday night exploits and wanted details, including who I was with. I told him to stay away from me, that he's trouble with a capital T, but I think he thought I was kidding.

Labels: The Ex

In the words of Keanu Reeves- woah. What a weekend.

Friday was nice and mellow, Pomme Frites and the Wedding Crashers. French fries and lots of laughter is always a good recipe in my book.

Saturday was a trip to Ikea in the morning, where is was surprisingly not out-of-control packed like it usually is on a Saturday and we were able to make our purchases without incident. Saturday night- I went out. That's out- with a capital O. I went over to my friend's house beforehand and she convinced me to ditch the camisole which then left me displaying the most amount of cleavage that I have ever gone out with. It was pure insanity. It took me hours before I was even remotely comfortable. But now that I am aware of the power that such a display holds, I may be convinced to do it more often. All dressed up and ready to go, we made our way to 40/40, a club owned by Jay-Z (who we saw while we were there, very exciting!). I will admit to a little naivete, but I thought I knew what to expect at this place. Nothing could have prepared me for the sheer meat-market that I encountered there. Karen and I were really just there to do some booty-shaking, not get laid. Apparently, everyone else was there for the latter purpose. I've never been propositioned more in the entirety of my life. None of the offers were tempting. I mean just because I'm not a virgin anymore doesn't mean that I'll start having sex with people that I've only known for an hour. Sheesh! But I did go home with the bouncer's phone number (he was the only one not creepily accosting me!). He told me to call him, so that my number would be stored in his phone, so I did. Then he called me 4 times yesterday! We're going out on Thursday. My rule- NO expectations.

Last night- I went sailing- in the New York City harbor. It was gorgeous and slightly rainy, but we had a really good time. Apparently, this is weird behavior for a New Yorker. Who cares? My new basic motto is that if I'm going to enjoy it, I'm going to do it. End of story.

I laughed this morning. A good hearty laugh. The first time in days. Never mind that it was because my next-door-coworker had been waiting anxiously for the clock to strike 9:00 so that he could buy tickets to Dolly Parton (which he did, at exactly 9:04). I am laughing again. It also helped that I had a great night last night. Michelle and I barhopped all over the Village and ended up at this great beer garden on Avenue B, where they were showing the Yankees-Red Sox game.

I forget how much I love baseball until I'm watching it again, and the tension has me digging my fingernails into my palms and the crack of bat has my heart soaring. I love baseball. I love the way the batters lift up their outer leg to get more power in their swing, or the sure aim of an infielder getting someone out at first. It's poetry to me. I love it when the Yankees beat the Red Sox and give Curt Schilling the what-for after he showed us no mercy last October.

And so. I'm happy again. I'm seeing the Wedding Crashers tonight, which I'm certain will provide me with a great deal of amusement and possibly a party tomorrow night, which has the potential to make all of my wildest dreams come true. More on that if it actually happens. Don't want to get all your expectations up.

I've been having some very bad days. I feel perpetually one wrong look away from bursting into tears, and kindness recently being shown to me by a certain very wrong individual has me near emotional collapse. In the midst of the drama that is my life, I had an unexpectedly amazing evening with a remarkable person.

I've been friends with her for a while, but we were never really close friends. We ran into each other at a party last Saturday and decided to meet up for dinner, last night being the chosen night. She's someone that I've always admired for her faithfulness and dedication to our mutual religion. Last night, during dinner, I found myself telling her that I had recently lost my virginity, and despite all of the moral implications involved, I found her to be the most understanding and empathetic person yet. We talked for hours and hours about everything and nothing. I think we could have talked all night. For the first time since the event took place, I felt like I finally found someone who understood everything that I was thinking and going through and who didn't judge me for my actions. I don't think she'll ever understand how much her oasis of friendship meant to me.

The really crazy thing is that this girl is beautiful. Seriously beautiful. I have always been in awe of her classiness and has-it-together presence. Guess what she asked me? She asked me if I would teach her how to pick up on men! Hahahahahaha! Oh, the irony of that request.

This morning on the subway, I was standing and there was a man sitting directly in front of me. He very blatantly let his eyes rove up and down my body. As his eyes made the ascent, lingering way too long at the breast level, I met his stare head on. I gave him the not-even-if-my-life-depended-on-it look. It completely didn't register. He just went right back to unabashedly ogling. Yuck.

I've decided that if I knew them personally, Kate and So Midwestern, would totally become BFF with me. I read their blogs and find coincidences that are startle even a jaded New Yorker such as myself. They are witty, smart, intelligent and although miles and backgrounds make us as different as could be, I feel a kinship to them and the struggles we all face. Why are there so many amazing women out there who feel so alone? Do men ever feel the same anxieties that we do?

I found a gray hair this morning. I plucked it out and kicked it's ass just for thinking it had the right to exist.

Running into co-workers at the drugstore on your lunchbreak is not my idea of a good time. There are 20 million Duane Reade's in this city! Go find another one and stop bothering me and my box of tampons. Fuck!

My gay-other-half, Randy, and I have officially declared it the Saddest Day Ever. I am still in Sad Mode after going to a viewing last night for the loved one of someone that I love, today is the funeral. Randy has a loved one who recently suffered from a terrible, discriminatory injustice. I am a woman, and as such, can be beset with random ailments at any day of the month (today being no exception) and Randy is suffering from mild indigestion. A co-worker/friend just came to me and told me that she broke up with her boyfriend of 4 years last night. The cherry on top of this pervading melancholy? It's raining. I'm not in tears yet, but give me another encounter with Mr. Wrong and it's sure to happen.

Chin up, Kids. We'll get through it.

It's official, I am the biggest goober on the planet. I have come a long way from who I was in high school/junior high, where I was the self-esteem equivalent of pond-scum. I am much more confident in who I am and my worth as a human being. I still have a strong need to make people like me, but it doesn't bother me as much when they don't and I no longer buy into the cool kids concept that some people seem stuck in for the entirety of their lives.

Something about Mr. Wrong sends me careening back into high school days. He is the star of the basketball and the football team and I am, once-again, the Vice-President of the Math Club (don't laugh, I really was). I just saw him, after a week and a half drought of each other's company, and I said NOTHING. Not one word. I just stood there tongue-tied, feeling like I was 15 all over again, and I had just tripped going up the stairs and sent all my books scattering across the hall.

What is it about this man that does this to me? I should have been able to get something out along the lines of- How was your trip? Miss me much? But no, I just stared, at the face and the arms and the eyes and felt as though my whole soul had exposed itself to him, transmitting how much I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how much I missed him. Then the elevator door closed, leaving me bereft of his presence and my hands shaking slightly.

Labels: Mr. Wrong

If you've been paying attention, you would have noticed the conspicuous absence of a certain Mr. Wrong recently, mainly because he has been conspicuously absent from my life, vacationing somewhere and having sex with lots of people that aren't me.

He's back.

I haven't even seen him and my stomach is flippy-flopping. That can't be good.

I really need a new hobby. Anyone want to teach me how to knit?

Labels: Mr. Wrong

Last Thursday, Michelle and I were cruising down 1st ave in a cab that had gone off duty, but we sweet-talked the driver into one more fair, hauling our hot asses down to the Bowery Ballroom. I was telling her about my recent sex-capade (that's being liberal, it was really more of a romp) and how it may have finally rid me of those final vestiges of emotion for my ex.

"Clearly, I should have had sex with someone else sooner!" I said.
"Yeah," the cabbie chimed in, "Fuck 'em!"

He repeated this particular sentiment multiple times before dropping us off and Michelle was so enamored with his logic that she tipped him an extra buck. I don't know if he was referring to the literal or figurative meaning of the F-bomb, but either one sounds like a good idea.

But I've been thinking about those little pearls of wisdom everyday since. And I decided that I'm ready to open myself up to the possibility of a relationship again. The thought of giving my heart again doesn't fill me with dread, but more with a little bit of hope. Obviously, I won't be actively looking for it. That's the most sure-fire way to make sure that it doesn't happen. But instead I will merely be open to the possibility.

Effing Joe! Had to go and tag me. I am under the assumption that this means that I must fill out the survey that he posted on his blog today and then subject others to the same treatment.

Here goes.

10 Years Ago Today: It was the summer before my senior year of high school. It was the busiest summer of my life. In-between trips, Girls' State (I was such a geek!) and summer school I was spending every possible second with an adorable boy named Mike, who was the first boy that I ever told him that I loved him. My 2 best friends and I went swimming every afternoon in Mike's neighborhood pool, then did some Jane Fonda exercise tape and "Felt the Burn!" It was EASILY the best summer of my whole life.

Five Years Ago Today: I was still in college, working full time at a job that I hated, having a weekend of the HOTTEST action that I've ever had in my whole entire life with a boy named A.J., getting hip and hot on the music scene with some new wonderful friends who I still love to this day, and trying to spend as much time as humanly possible with my best friend, Josh. Our friendship eventually went up in a ball of flames, but while it lasted it was amazing and wonderful and I doubt that I'll ever love anyone with the intensity and ferocity that I loved Josh.

1 Year Ago Today: I was in the throes of the begining of a relationship that scared me to death! I had crazy roommates who were the most social people ever and every second of my life was filled to the gills with parties and beach time and trying to make out with the new boyfriend as much as humanly possible. I was drinking after 4 years of no alcohol, and learning the fine art of hand-jobs. L was a constant companion and playing in the water fountains at the park just down the street from our office was my absolute favorite lunch-time activity.

Yesterday I woke up to the news of the terrorist bombings in London. Went to work. Went to a concert at the Bowery Ballroom after work. Hauled my ass home in the rain round midnight, to find my elevator broken and cursed my way up 5 flights of stairs to my 6th floor penthouse! Word to your motha.

Today: I am anxious and sick to my stomach for some unknown reason and am not eating anything for fear of the havoc that it will wreak on my digestive system. Tonight I am playing it low-key and doing dinner and a movie with a really good friend of mine who I will tell lots of gory details about having sex to, because she is still a good-little girl virgin.

Tomorrow: Fresh Direct delivery between 9 and 11, then brunch with a friend. I hope to get in a good long run, then tomorrow night I am going to a party and will be actively not checking my phone to see if a certain someone has called so that I can beg him to fuck me.

5 Snacks I enjoy: Doritos!, Twix, Cheez-Its, french fries, gummy bears, Starbursts, basically anything that's bad for me. Except Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I don't like them.

5 Bands That I Know the Lyrics to Most of Their Songs: U2, Beastie Boys, Jimmy Eat World, Erasure, Damien Rice

5 Things I Would Do with a $100,000,000: Obviously, I would get rid of all my debt and set my mother up in GRAND style. Then I would give lots o' cash to Derek Jeter's foundation in the hopes of it allowing me to meet him. And then I would go shopping on Madison and 5th Ave and hope that the shopkeepers don't treat me like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Those bitches.

5 Locations I Would Like to Run Away to: some coastal town in Maine- doesn't that sound divine?; Greek islands; Perm, Russia (I once lived there for 6 months); Venice; Jamaica

5 Bad Habits I Have: spectacularly bad financial management, very bad eating habits, spending too much time writing on my blog, thinking about sex too much, being attracted to very bad men.

5 Things I Like Doing: Kissing!!, having drinks with good friends resulting in laughing until the sun comes up, shaking my booty to some dirty hip-hop, cozying up in Barnes and Noble with a good book and a hot chocolate, running

5 Things I would Never Wear: a belt made up of ammunition for a semi-automatic, Daisy Dukes, a piercing in my nose, lips or eyebrows, a strap-on dildo, anything completely covered in sequins or rhinestones

5 TV Shows I Like: Arrested Development, Family Ties, Felicity, Seinfeld, Six Feet Under

5 Movies I Like: Snatch, Shawshank Redemption, The Usual Suspects, Billy Elliott, Sixteen Candles, Bend it Like Beckham, etc, etc, etc

5 Famous People I would Like to Meet: Derek Jeter!, Jason Bateman, Will Ferrell, Scott Speedman, Joaquin Phoenix, Jeremy Piven, and Alexander the Great (if we could meet people who were dead)

5 Biggest Joys at the Moment: My sister-in-law currently in labor with a new niece/nephew, that I have recently had sex!, my new jean-jacket that I am literally obsessed with, that Wedding Crashers comes out next Friday, the prospect of more sex!

5 favorite toys: iPod and that's pretty much it.

5 People to Tag: I don't have that many blogging friends that haven't already been tagged so I am just going to go with the Mysterious Phyllis Gabor!

Chloe's Recipe for an Ego Boost:

-Make Plans to go out with a friend
-Go home after work, change out of work clothes into going-out clothes
-Add a little eyebrow shading and some lipstick
-Walk out of building, turn right and head for the subway

Yields: Various shouts of "Hey Beautiful!" and "Damn baby, you look SEXY!" (That is a direct quote.)

Seriously. I love my neighborhood.

Last night I went to a concert with Michelle. We were stuck on the floor behind Tragically-Hip-Young-Love. It was all I could do not to vomit. I don't know if it was the too tight plaid pants with the string of bullets as a belt, or the constant and incessant kissing and touching in all sort of inappropriate places for public viewing. Ugh. I'm sure that they found me, in my black capris, white tank and jean jacket with my Kate Spade slung over my shoulder, equally as repulsive but at least I wasn't vomit-inducing. Seriously blegh.

Also, I made progess in my journey towards jaded and cynical last night. Michelle introduced me to some of her friends. One of them paid particular attention to me, buying me drinks, kissing my hand and whatnot. A month ago, I would have completely bought it. I would have thought, 'He likes me!' With my newfound knowledge due to The Asshole Parade that has been my life for the last few months, I was able to understand that he was only saying these things because he wanted to see me naked and moaning. Ya, not gonna happen. I let him continue to buy me drinks and then left him with just a kiss on the cheek. I'm learning the game! Joe, you'd be so proud of me!

Living in New York City, when bad things happen other places, it tends to make you paranoid about your own subway commute. This morning, on the D train, between 125th street and 59th street (I LOVE the express train), I contemplated death. Should something happen to me and I go to meet my Maker, what would he say to me? How do I explain to him my actions of the last week? Would I even be allowed into Heaven? The problem with religion is that it forces a person to be accountable for their actions. How can I account for giving up my virginity to someone that I didn't even love?

I knew that self-recrimination would be inevitable. There was no way around it. I hoped to get by with just a twinge and then move on and have lots more sex. I mean seriously, who wants to be hampered with guilt? It's a waste of time.

Twinge? Check. Tidal wave? Not yet.

I'm so tired I can barely lift my head to stare blankly at my computer screen. We drove back from DC after the fireworks last night and arrived at my friend's place at 5 am. He let me crash on his floor for the few hours before I had to haul my tired ass into work, after having the weirdest dreams ever. I am coming down from the high of the most action-packed weekend of my entire life. The rundown of what we did- camping in Gettysburg, watching a battle re-enactment at Gettysburg, inter-tubing down the Potomac, a 3 hour dinner at a crab restaurant- complete with mallets and bibs, approximately 6 barbeques, about 10 games of volleyball, an afternoon in a pool, some ping-pong, fireworks in front of THE White House and a long drive home in the wee hours of the morning. I'm exhausted just writing about it. Not to mention, every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the scene of me having sex and I just wanted to do it again and again. No such luck.

Seriously. I'm never going to make it through this day. Mr. Wrong is in Puerto Rico, so I don't even have him to help keep me awake. Although, now that I'm no longer a virgin, I need to stay away from him extra. The temptation is even stronger now.

Are there words to describe how weird it is to NOT be a virgin anymore? I've had a week to digest, but I am still struggling with the reality. No longer do I have to worry about dying a virgin, or the awkward conversation with someone new that I might be interested in where I have to explain why I want to fool around but not have sex. Although that might still happen, I don't want to turn into a having-sex-maniac.

Here's the conversation that I will have for the rest of my life-

Q: How old were you when you lost your virginity?
A: 27

I'm so happy!

I apologize for the lack of posts. Between the monumental events of last week and a weekend in Washington DC, I've been sadly neglecting my lovely blog.

Thanks to everyone for the congratulations! My darlingest friend, L, said to me, "My little girl is all grown up!" And that's pretty much how I feel, like I'm finally in on the big secret.

So here's the story. I'm just going to tell you now that I won't be revealing The De-Virginator's identity. He's someone that I adore and trust and I've wanted for a while but didn't think that I stood a chance, until I took one.

I was house-sitting for a friend last week while she was on vacation. Basically I was just living it up in the East Village and feeding her cat twice a day. It was an ideal opportunity for me to get some action, although I wasn't consciously making the decision to have sex that week. Wednesday I got back to the apartment around 10ish, and discovered that staying by oneself tends to make one bored, especially when the apartment doesn't have cable! So, I was scrolling through my phone book trying to find someone to talk to, and his name sort of popped out at me. I'd wanted to have something happen with him for a while, but the time and place had never been right. I sent him a text message. Told him to come over and 'entertain me'. I was NOT planning on going the whole nine yards. I really just wanted to fool around with him and he knew where I stand on everything, so he knew better than to expect sex. He arrived fairly quickly, he had left a party to come be with me. How cute! We sat around and talked for a while, then we were wrestling around a little bit on the bed (that seems to happen to me a lot, that's weird!) then he was kissing my neck and I was losing all ability to think clearly. The next thing I knew I completely unclothed and he was going for the condoms that he had picked up on his way over (what a boyscout!). Panic overtook me and I stopped him. I told him I didn't think that I could go through with it. He said that was fine, and that we could just go to sleep. Then we talked about my virginity and what was holding me back, yada, yada, yada. I told him how much I wanted to just be done with it, but I couldn't get past this wall in my head. Then we were kissing again and he was doing a very good job of relaxing me and then he was going for the condom again and I wasn't stopping him this time. It felt- right. I can't put it into words. It was more than just lust. I knew a relationship wasn't in the cards, but I was okay with that. I was willing to have it just be one night. He was perfect. I don't want to get graphic, but the pain was minimal and I know it could have been a lot worse in less experienced hands. If it tells you anything, I wanted to wake him up about 5 times to do it again. Ha, ha! I'm already addicted!

So there you have it.

L was telling me how sad she was that she wouldn't get to hear stories anymore. But rest assured, there will still be stories. So- the blog stays. It may be a bit of a misnomer, but I can't change it now!

Stay tuned! Now we'll get to follow my journey of actually getting good at it!

Labels: Mr. Wrong

Wow. I have so much going on in my head right now, and I'm very conflicted about how much to say, and if I should even say anything at all.

Here goes.

As of 12:30 am Wednesday night, I am no longer a virgin.

It was spectacular.

Absolutely no regrets.

When I have a little more space and time away from the blessed event, I'll tell you the full story. But for right now, it's a little too close.