The Virginity Monologues

FREEDOM!!!!!

Houseguests: GONE
Retail Job: FINISHED

I have all weekend in front of me and NOT ONE SINGLE OBLIGATION.

Plus, my friend is out of town so I am house/cat-sitting for her and get to stay in her apartment in the East Village, just a few short steps away from Pomme Frites for the next couple of days.

I barely even remember what it's like to feel this free.

A day off!

I can't hardly stand the excitement. If I weren't so tired and sick, I'd be jumping up and down.

Everyone can know look forward to much less whining.

Abby, my beloved roommate, is leaving on Sunday, but she is determined to go out with a bang.

Last night, I had just crawled into bed (11:30ish) when my phone rang .

Abby: (Loud background noise) Where are you?
Me: Home in bed. I work 2 jobs, remember? Where are you?
Abby: Midtown, I want to get out of here.
Me: Are you drunk? Just come home!
Abby: I need you to come and get me!
Me: Abby, just get into a cab and come home.

She puts her drunk cousin who is visiting on the phone-

Sophie: How do I get home from here?
Me: Walk one block east. Take the subway. (giving her directions to the subway was treacherous enough, if she'd taken a cab, she would have managed to end up in the Bronx, I know it)
Sophie: I don't know which way is East.
Me: Ask someone on the street to point you in the direction of 7th ave.
Sophie: I don't trust people on the street, can you come and get us?

And this is why, at 11:45 on a Wednesday night, I was barreling down the West Side highway in a cab, and then 10 minutes later, barreling back up that same highway in the back of the same cab with 2 incredibly drunk girls, stuffing Twinkies in my mouth and flashing everyone. Which has been documented, because they made me take a picture of it.

I am officially, The Roommate of the Year.

I'd like to thank the New York Housing commission for making this possible and the Blarney Stone on 8th ave, for providing the means for my roommate to get stupendously drunk.

3 days of houseguest down, 4 more to go.

Saturday night was Abby's going away party. I spent most of the evening talking to Email Boy and his friend. We actually ignored the friend enough, that he went and talked to some other people and it was just me and Email Boy, wrapped up in our own world. We talked about everything, sex, dating, text messaging and how funny he thinks I am. He made multiple mentions over the course of the evening regarding the fact that I am the funniest girl he knows. He asked me about why I only have sex with black men and I was explaining the different factors involved. Then he spent 20 minutes trying to convince me to give a white guy a try. Why do white guys always do this? Are they threatened by the idea of losing all their women to black men? And was he volunteering or just referring to white men in general? And why did he frequently talk about how much he likes making out?

This man makes NO sense.

Yesterday at The Store, I rang up Derek Jeter's sister. I'm getting closer..... It's only a matter of time before I am face to face with him and he falls madly in love with me. I hope he's funny. Otherwise I may have to nix this whole plan.

Labels: Email Boy

After the store closes next Friday, I will never, ever again work retail for as long as I live. I fucking hate every single minute of it. Tonight is my first night off from that hell-hole in six days and I will treasure every single minute of not working there. Unfortunately, tonight is also the night that my friend arrives with her husband in tow for seven LONG days. I am almost grateful to be scheduled almost every single night next week because it means I don't have to spend time with her mooching ass.

Next Saturday will be my first full day off in over a month. The mooching friend will leave on Friday and on Saturday, I will sleep, sleep, sleep all day long and then cry a little because Abby is leaving on Sunday. One more week. I can make it.....

Tomorrow night is a going away party for my roommate, Abby. She is moving to California. Email Boy and his roommate were invited, as his roommate and my roommate might have some feelings for each other and they have said that they will definitely be there. But after some interesting behavior by Email Boy's roommate this last week, I have reached two conclusions-
1. They might not be coming after all, which means I am losing an opportunity to be with Email Boy
2. MEN ARE PIGS

The second conclusion is only being compounded by the continued silence from Marc, The Asshole. I have reached Angry phase. He's lost his window of opportunity to try and make things right and I'm now so pissed off that it's unlikely that we'll ever be friends again.

So, the last couple of days have not been the best, obviously. On top of the emotional stress, I've been working an insane amount of hours and words can't accurately depict the depth of my exhaustion.

But I've been doing some thinking.

I cared about Marc. A lot. There was just something about him. I can't put it into words, I can't define it, I just wanted to be with him. I loved the way that I felt when I was with him. I wanted to cook for him, and take care of him and protect him from anything bad happening to him. But when all is said and done, I don't know that we really 'got' each other. I mean, look at how badly we've managed to muck this whole relationship up because of miscommunication. We have no ability to read each other and when we think we know what the other person is thinking, we're spectacularly wrong.

This does not bode well for any kind of future. I don't want to have to be constantly explaining myself and apologizing for things I said.

And while a romance is not in the cards for us, the barrage of communication with Email Boy has proven that he 'gets' me. We never have misunderstandings that need to be cleared up. He never takes my sarcasm the wrong way and never gets his feelings hurt. When I send him an email or a text message with a bite to it, he'll turn around, give it right back to me and make it funnier. I'd post one of phenomenally long back and forth email communicados here, but they're 90% inside jokes and explaining would take away from the hilarity.

Why can't I find someone who 'gets' me like him, who makes me laugh like him, but also has desperate need to be naked with me?

Labels: Marc

In the words of Annie- Yesterday was plain awful. On my lunch break I made a dash to Duane Reade for emergency purchases of aspirin (crying gives me headaches) and chocolate. I managed to compose myself by the end of the day and even managed to hear about my roommate's fabulous date without even a twinge of jealousy. She deserves absolute happiness and I don't begrudge her a moment of it.

Still no word from Marc.

But Karen ran into him on the way home from the subway (cause they live right next door to each other). They were just chatting (she wasn't going to bring anything up) and he said to her, "So, your girl, Chloe, really hurt my feelings."

EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?

A little explanation- I posted what his initial text message to me said, which I will post again to refresh your memory-
Marc: Um.... hello? Are you there? Where have you been? I guess you don't like me anymore.

What I didn't post was my response,
Me: Whatever, you're the one not talking to me.... Let me guess, you want some cookies?

Apparently, Marc was a little offended by this. And made it very clear to Karen. A little sampling of what he said from Karen, taken from a 30 minute conversation all about moi (imagine being said in a bit of a rant)-

"Karen, I can't believe she thinks that I just want her for cookies! I haven't seen her in months. MONTHS. I just wanted to say hi, and she thinks I'm just looking for COOKIES! Doesn't she know me better than that?"

I have to confess, I laughed a little when I heard this. I mean, seriously, could he be any more sensitive? But the impression that I got is that his feelings were genuinely hurt by my response, which prompted the text messages from him, accusing me of being cold-hearted, mean, rude and heartless. Which then, dominoed into hurting my feelings and then, the email.

Ah, the JOYS of miscommunication.

So, what do to now? According to Karen, he was stumped as to how to proceed from here. (Uh, hello? It's called a phone. Use it!) He asked her what she thought he should do, but she wanted him to figure it out on his own (yay for Karen!) and just kind of played it ignorant.

He thinks I'm pretty upset with him (keen observation, Marc) and could be a little afraid to contact me.

Quite frankly, I almost don't care anymore. I'm SO done with this situation. I'm tired of his fucking games. I'm all cried out over him. If he doesn't want to contact me, fine, then we can just leave things as they are and he can just FUCK off.

And, now I've got closure!

No regrets.

Labels: Marc

He never called again.

I haven't heard anything from him.

Why does it hurt so much to lose something you didn't ever have?

That'll teach me to risk it all.

Labels: Marc

The plot thickens!!!

Texting with Marc this morning. I get a text message from him telling me that he thinks that I'm cold-blooded and mean. We go back and forth a little bit and I'm getting a clear picture of what he's thinking of me. It's not pretty. And I have no idea where it's coming from.

And so, with absolutely nothing left to lose, I send him this email:

Marc-

I think maybe we need to clear something up. Cold-blooded and mean? That's what you think of me? Do you remember when we were first friends and we sometimes sat on the stoop and talked for hours? Did you know that during that time, I liked you? And I mean, REALLY liked you? I kept hoping and hoping that the flirting would develop into something more.

And eventually it did, but not in the form that I had planned on. I'm sure I don't need to elaborate.

Totally understandably, things got awkward. I ended up hurt. I didn't ever hear from you anymore and I tried communication a few times and didn't get anything back. I figured the spark that I had thought was there was one-sided and moved on.

Then after 3 months of silence, you pop up out of nowhere and you're mad at me? You think I'm rude? Marc, it's called protecting myself. I'm confused about where we stand and I don't want to end up hurting again.

I'm not trying to be all dramatic and soap opera-y. I just wanted to let you know where I'm coming from. I have no problem being friends with you, I would love to be friends with you. I think you're a really, really great guy. But please make it clear what it is you want from me, so I can react accordingly.

Sincerely-
Chloe

I step away from my desk because I'm so horrified at what I have just done. I get back to my desk and there is a missed call on my cell phone. It's a Manhattan number that I don't recognize. I do the Reverse Phone Number Lookup.

It's from his place of employment. He called me almost immediately after having read my email.

He didn't leave a message.

My hands are SHAKING.

How do I make him call me back?

Labels: Marc

Two things to remember while you are reading this:
1. I am PMSing, hardcore.
2. I've just finished watching the last 2 episodes of Sex and the City.
So, I'm mildly emotionally unstable...

It's 4 am (3:52 to be exact) and I've just walked in my front door, I'm the most awake that I've been in weeks. I was with Abby and our friend, George. Abby and George were drinking heavily and I was the voice of reason, which is never any fun. Plus I knew that the melancholy produced by the thoughts in my head would only be exacerbated by alcohol and trust me, it's bad enough without it.

These thoughts in my head. Try as I might, I can't escape them and they keep coming back in hypercolor to the front of my brain. I long for a lobotomy. I want out of my cuckoo's nest.

Reason for state of confusion:

4:53 p.m.

Text Message Received:

Ummmm....hello? Are you there? Where have you been? I guess you don't like me anymore

From:

Marc

I was fine! I was totally, totally fine. Until this week. When all of a sudden, I missed him with the intensity of a mack truck. If was as if he sensed my moment of weakness, he knew how my fingers were itching to text him, to reach out and convey how much I've missed him, and he had to pounce while that fucking iron was hot, just to fuck with my mind a little more.

I was talking to my roommate the other night about relationships. And how I only put my heart on the line when I know that it is safe. I wait and I wait and I wait for that opportunity or that person that is safe. But the reality is, that when it comes to relationships, safe is impossible. Safe doesn't exist. I'm never going to get what I want if I'm not willing to risk. I can't expect someone to put their heart out for me, if I'm not putting it out there for him. I want to know that they love me and that they'll never leave me before I take down my walls, even a smidge.

Only the bravest and most confident men would be so foolish as to love without any form of reciprocation, and trust me, these men are not pursuing me. And the reality is, that I don't want to someone to love me who doesn't know me with my walls down. I want someone to love me because they've seen any number of my funky dances, because they love the way that a song can completely overwhelm me, because I get riled up at baseball games, because they've witnessed my ability to turn any conversation or situation into something sexually related, or because they can tell me anything, knowing that I will understand and never judge. These are the things behind my walls.

Is this my opportunity? Is fate telling me something?

Out of nowhere, I missed him something pretty fierce.

Out of nowhere, I get a text message from him.

What I really must ask myself now is, do I risk it all?

Labels: Marc

Remember the butterflies? The giddiness? The feeling of being sucker-punched right in the gut when you unexpectedly happen on the object of your affection? I used to feel those all the time. Potentially too much. I was constantly finding a new love to obsess about. Once after a first date, I spent the entire next day belting out 'Endless Love' to anyone within hearing range. Clearly a few of my synapses were not firing correctly and I was a little over-eager.

Now, I very rarely feel those things. Very few people inspire those reactions in me. How does that happen? Is it maturity that makes me more cautious? Or the walls that I've put up? Does being jaded help us or hurt us? Do we not find the one that we're looking for because we've closed our doors to the possibilities?

I'm so afraid of letting people in and giving them the ability to hurt me, that I'm worried that I've lost the ability to allow myself to get really excited about someone of the male persuasion. And I tend to get hung up on the ones that I can't have (ie- Marc!), which could be a sub-conscious defense mechanism, an avoidance of having to give of myself.

I want the butterflies.

A text message on my phone. I hold it in my hand and ask myself, who do I most want this to be from?

Answer: Marc.

The answer is fucking always Marc.

But it's never from Marc.

Sometimes it's from Email Boy.

This time its from First Date. It's almost always from First Date.

Maybe this means there shouldn't be a second date?

Why can't I just forget Him?

Labels: Marc

I'm so exhausted I could probably slip into a coma for about a week and come out of it still needing a few more hours of sleep. Fiascos and trauma at my day job, coupled with weeknight shifts at my second job are putting enough of a strain on my over-worked body and mind to automatically point my feet in the direction of Starbucks when I get off the subway to order myself a significantly oversized coffee. And I don't even drink coffee.

Email Boy? Who's he?

The boy I went on a date with last week? He sent me multiple text messages in the first few days, showing a lot of interest in going out again. I could barely summon the energy to respond. Needless to say, attention from him in the ensuing days has dwindled. Why? Because the thought of trying to start a relationship right now causes my head to immediately explode.

I just told a friend to count me out on a party Friday night because I just want to go home and watch Brown Sugar, cause I recently discovered it has Mos Def in it and I love him. Although, I can't really ever show my face in Blockbuster again because the last time I rented movies I turned them a few days (read: over a week) late. Are they still doing that No Late Fees business? I can't remember.

Last night I had a business dinner at The Mesa Grill. At the table sitting next to us was Dee Snider, in all his mullet glory. After relaying this piece of information to my sister this morning (all celebrity sightings must be reported to her), I was informed that I was under strict orders from my brother-in-law, a serious hair band fan in his youth, that I was never again to be in the same room as such an icon and not get his autograph.

But, the only person that I have ever asked for their autograph was Bono. And that was because it was a situation where it was completely socially acceptable. He wasn't trying to have a private dinner with his family, he was outside a concert surrounded by screaming girls. If that's not the right opportunity to get mine, then I don't know what is.

Generally, I like to play it cool. I didn't ask for an autograph when I was at the movies and sitting directly in front of Kevin Bacon with his daughter, or when I was in an elevator with Owen Wilson (it was just the 2 of us), although I considered asking for his brother's phone number, and I somehow managed to refrain from accosting Jeremy Piven when I stood next to him at a stoplight, waiting to cross the street, although that one was tough. I like to say that I avoid assailing celebrities because they deserve their times of anonymity and I am a jaded New Yorker who doesn't get excited about those things. But it could really be that I am just a gigantic chicken.

I can't honestly say I could keep it together if ever confronted with my man, Jeter. Not that he ever would, no matter how suave I would be, but I doubt that acting like a sniveling 14 year old isn't the most conducive path to seeing the inside of his bedroom, naked (him too). Unless I resort to breaking and entering, which is not necessarily the worst idea, but again, not going to win me a place in his heart.....

Despite having worked every single day for the last 2 weeks straight (and sometimes 2 jobs in one day), I am in suprisingly good spirits today. It could be that I'm wearing my new 3 inch heels and they are smokin'! Or it could be that in all my busy-ness, I haven't had spare time to obsess about men calling or not calling and I really don't give a rats at the end of the day. Damn, now THAT feels good.

Not caring.

It's so liberating isn't it? I got a text message from Email Boy on Saturday, I read it, I texted him back and put my phone away and didn't think about it for the rest of the day. I was busy as hell, and I don't have time for foolish men. Anyone not making a move is going to get booted. Text messages and emails just aren't going to cut it for me.

I continue in my nun-like life of celibacy. It's okay really. The idea of casual sex is so unappealing to me these days that getting into bed alone every night isn't such a bad thing. Another few months of this and I might start climbing the walls, but I will have learned a little more self-control in the meantime.

First dates suck, don't they? I've only had one really phenomenal first date, with my ex-boyfriend. Even now when I think about it, I fall mildly in love with him all over again, remembering how powerful the emotions that I felt for him that night were.

I had a first date last night. And while it wasn't anything like the Best First Date Ever, it was pretty good, which is pretty amazing considering he was a half an hour late and that is difficult to recover from where I'm concerned. I was so pissed that I had left and was walking into the subway entrance when he called and gave me the 'train trouble' excuse and apologized profusely. So I gave him another chance, and he redeemed himself.

He can talk me under the table though. It was weird to be out with someone and have the pressure to be lively and funny totally taken away because they are way more dominant in the conversation than me. It's never happened to me before. It was kind of nice! But also a little unnerving, as I felt like my powers had been taken away! How can I make someone fall in love with me if I can't wow them with my wit?

Anyway. I liked him enough to let him kiss me briefly at the end of the night and say yes to a second date.

P.S. I had this shrimp pasta for dinner that had lots of garlic in the sauce and for the rest of the night, I could not stop these horrible shrimpy-garlic burps from erupting constantly. I would try to drown them in my beer, but I know that a few of them escaped. Either this man has semi-numbed olfactory senses or he can totally look past my regurgitated shrimpy-garlic breath and see my inner beauty.... (this was the main reason the kisses were brief and completely close-mouthed!)

So, True Life on MTV last night was about 4 people moving to New York City. It was a laugh riot for me and my roomates, all of whom moved here from someplace else and have struggled and fought like demons to make it here.

Every single person on the show had absolutely, completely unrealistic expectations about moving to this city. They all expected jobs immediately (within a week). They expected apartments to be big and spacious and affordable. They expected doormen and an immediate and thorough knowledge of the subway system through osmosis. Easily, the funniest part of the show was when the spoiled little rich girl was on her way to a job interview and asked someone else on the train if it would be stopping at her stop, and they informed her that she was on her way to Brooklyn and that she needed the F train going in the opposite direction. She said (in a Valley-girl type voice, imagine Cher from Clueless), "There's an F train, that goes in another direction?"

God, that's hysterical shit. It's called Uptown and Downtown, sweetie. Read the fucking signs!!

It was an interesting hour of television and reminded me so much of my first days here and how absolutely terrified I was and determined that I would not be heading back home with my tail between my legs in resignation. Most of the cliches about living here are true. The people are rude. The sidewalks are crowded. We wear a lot of black. The cost of living is extremely high, even McDonalds is more here.

But making it? It's the best damn feeling in the world.

Labels: New York

I love:

1. Have such a productive day that once I get into bed, I fall asleep almost immediately
2. First Kisses
3. Riesling
4. Finding my stride when I'm running, with the perfect beat pounding in my ear
5. That first bite of food when I've been absolutely starving
6. The freshly showered/teeth brushed feeling
7. Slow-dancing
8. Miami Ink on TLC
9. Laughing with my roommate, Abby
10. A really good book that I can get lost in

Dear R-

You left yesterday. You moved many, many miles away. Chances are slim that we will see each other ever again. I went to your going away party on Sunday night, even though I wanted nothing more than to just go home and watch the Oscars. I even brought food, because your roommate asked me to. I didn't want to. I didn't want to do anything for you.

Why? Because you judged me, and found me lacking. You expect others to be just like you, but I don't want to be just like you. I don't want to resign myself to a life of loneliness and quiet desperation because 'that's God's will'. I want a full life, lived how I want to live it. I don't want to live on other's peoples terms and especially not yours.

You meant everything to me. And you dissolved our friendship. You were my rock in a time in my life when I was going through the most turmoil. You took your friendship away. To me that means that you were never a true friend to begin with.

The saddest thing about you leaving, is that I'm not really sad at all.

Sincerely-
Chloe

Last night was my favorite night of the year- THE OSCARS! Due to the fact that I recently got a second job (only for a month) working at Hold Everything on weekends, I missed the arrivals. Oh well, I got to see Jon Stewart's opening monologue, which I loved. Who doesn't love Jon Stewart? He's fantastic! Anyway. I haven't seen Brokeback Mountain, but I absolutely expected it to win Best Picture. I have seen Crash and wanted it to win, but Brokeback seemed like a shoo-in. I am so pleased that Crash ended up winning.

Working retail- even for just this one month, may kill me. My feet are permanently swollen and my back is aching from going up and down to the stockroom all day long. I have never been more grateful for my desk job.

Continued communication from Email Boy. Emails. Text messages. One at 8:00 this morning- it read, "Good morning, white chocolate." I told him that's what the boys on my street call me and he's spectacularly amused by it. I don't know what to do with this boy. Everyone is telling me to just ask him out. I don't know how I feel about that. I'm opposed to it, but mostly only cause I'm a chicken.

I started to write a post about Email Boy and how confused he makes me, which after the 10-20 text messages today is mildly understandable, but I'm boring the shit out of myself with this business and I'm sure everyone around me is tired of hearing about it If he really liked me, he would do something about it, am I right, or am I right? Since he is not making any sly let's-get-naked-remarks or offering to go on any outings that require him to spend money on me, I'm on We're-Just-Friends assumption and leaving it at that.

I also started to write about the tears that have been seeping out all day long for the people in my life going through something outrageously horrific and the sanctity of life and how important it is to not let it get away from us, but this isn't really the right forum for the seriousness of the issues that I stared down today.

But really I don't want to write at all, which is weird for me, cause I always want to write. I just want to get lost in my bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and call everyone in my family and tell them how much I love them.

Labels: Email Boy

So, I'm on that devil's tool of a website- www.myspace.com. My roommate created my account and even entered in all the information for me, and I would occasionally (maybe once a month)log in and approve friend requests- how they found me, I'll never know.

Anyway- Email Boy is mildly obsessed with it and is on, approximately 24/7. How do I know this? Because he added me as a friend yesterday and sent me a couple of messages. I got a comment on my profile from him at 5 am this morning and another email from him at 7 am. Who is on myspace at 5 am? Crazy people, that's who!

Interesting thing to note- another man-friend of mine, James, left a comment on my page, something along the lines of 'hey sexy, I haven't seen you in forever, where've you been?' Whatever, not a big deal.

Email from Email Boy: Who's James? he's kinda hunky.....

What is that all about?

Labels: Email Boy