The Virginity Monologues

The ICING on the fucking cake- I just heard from Scott. He instant-messaged me (I had deleted him from my IM, not realizing he could still see me on his). I wanted to see if he had anything of significance to say, but after about 10 minutes of just shooting the breeze, I'd had enough, here's what happened:

Me: You realize you're just torturing me here, right?
Scott: How am I torturing you?
Me: Babe- you checked your email lately?
Scott: Yea. I got your email. You don't want to see or speak to me ever again?
Me: I just want to get over you.
Scott: I know.
Me: What do you want?

Then the total piece of chickenshit signed off.

Isn't he grand?

Well, now that I'm keenly aware of his lack of desire to fight for whatever it was that we had, I won't be answering any phone calls, texts, or IM's.

God, please make him go away.

Labels: Scott

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I've got a whole lot of pent up anger and frustration right now and I'm sorry, but y'all are going to have to hear about it.

Marc- The Love of My Fucking Life Marc- is dating someone. That's right- the man that I have been patiently waiting for to grow the fuck up already and realize that I am the woman of his dreams, is dating someone.

Which means that the problem was NEVER that Marc wasn't ready, the problem was the I JUST WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH.

GOD-DAMN MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH.

Then, on Saturday night, as we arrived home, drunk off our asses, Abby starts talking to me about Email Boy, and all the truths that she's never told me before come out. She tells me that she would give anything for her boyfriend to look at her the way Email Boy looks at me when I walk into the room; that she's never seen 2 people more perfect for each other and that she's never had, with anyone what him and I have.

These things might be true. But why don't people get it?!?!? He's NEVER going to date me!!!! He only dates women who weigh 130 pounds. I will never, in my whole life, weigh 130 pounds. I will wholeheartedly acknowledge that him and I have someone special, something that you don't find every day. But, for the love of all that is holy, PLEASE do not allow me to have hope for our dating future! It's not going to happen.

Also, what's with people asking me why I don't have a boyfriend? Don't they realize that if I knew the answer to that, I could probably do something about it? Besides, who's going to admit that the reason for their lack of companionship is because they are a total and complete freak show with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I DON'T KNOW why I don't have a boyfriend! It may be because I don't like to let people get close to me and tend to use nasty sarcasm as a defense mechanism. It may be because I'm hideously unattractive. It may be that men may not find my penchant for brutal honesty endearing. Maybe I'm too forward. Maybe I'm not forward enough. Maybe it's because I like sex too damn much and men think that I'm means I'm a dirty slut.

Whatever it is, I can't quite put my fucking finger on it, so stop fucking asking already.

Just to add to my present I-Feel-Like-the-Worlds-Biggest-Loser mood, my mom told me about the annual family camping trip scheduled for next summer last night and suggested how great it would be if I brought a boyfriend with me.

That's just fucking awesome.

Labels: Email Boy, Marc

I'm sick. Sinus infection. Sore throat. Hacking cough. It could be that it's going around. Or it could be that I didn't go to bed before 4 am for 4 straight nights. Who's to say?

Needless to say, Abby (former roommate, current very, very good friend) and I have been having a VERY good time together.

She arrived at the perfect time, only a few short hours after I ended everything with the man who has made me feel the most complete I have ever felt. I needed to go out that night. I needed to feel numb. I couldn't stand to focus on what I had just obliterated.

3 cranberry vodkas and 3 shots of SoCo and Lime certainly did the trick. And when a handsome man came and sat next to me, telling me that I was the most beautiful girl in the room, I let myself believe that he really meant it. We stayed very late. We danced. We drank. I kissed Mr. Smooth-Talker and discovered that Scott is not the only man who can kiss really well. I was not stupid though, and left with Abby. Mr. Smooth-Talker asked for my number, but if experience has taught me anything, its that men in bars cannot be trusted.

So, it was a bit of a surprise to find Abby and I meeting up with Mr. Smooth-Talker and his friend on Friday night, and having a really, really good time. We played pool, they paid for all the beer and Mr. Smooth-Talker didn't pressure me too much to go home with him. He said all the right things, I suppose. But there were enough little red flags for me to know that this one isn't Long-Term-Relationship Material (ie- he wears more jewelry than me). Fine by me. I'm not exactly emotionally stable right now anyway.

Saturday night, Abby and I went to a party at a loft in SoHo complete with the most scantily clad women I have ever seen and enormous amounts of drugs. I just stayed in a corner with Abby most of the evening dancing with some people that we had met and trying to stay out of the path of the girls hopped up on coke. Never have I been more glad that I will never be that kind of girl.

In the cab, on the way home from the party, I left Email Boy a drunken, rambling message- as is my custom and something that I know he greatly enjoys. As I walked in the front door I received a text message:

Yo. Longest msg ever. Hilarious... miss u.

From: Email Boy

How cute is he?

Yesterday was dedicated to nothing more than recovering from the previous 4 days. Abby and I did nothing but sit around and watch TV and it's never felt better.

Abby leaves tomorrow, and I don't know what I'll do without her. Her presence has kept me in a busy enough state that I haven't had the time or energy to think about Scott and the fact that I haven't heard from him since I ended us. I didn't really expect to, I mean, I dropped the L-Bomb for crying out loud. If that didn't scare him to death, then I've completely misjudged him. Hopefully this time I've scared him enough that he'll stay away forever.

After some ill-fated communication last night that reminded me of all the reasons why its never going to work with Scott, I just wrote and sent the following email:

Hey babe.

I don't think we should see each other anymore.

Why? Well, I'm sure that you don't really care, but because I'm a big fan of honesty, I'm gonna tell you.

I tried, Scott, I really, really tried to keep myself detached and my emotions in check. But I failed miserably. (For future refence- staying detached after being danced around the living room to John Legend is virtually impossible. Just letting you know.) The truth is- I'm falling in love with you. And it's becoming abundantly clear just how one-sided those feelings are. I can't and I don't want to deal with it anymore. I can only handle so much of your indifference.

Please, please believe me when I say that I don't want to hear from you anymore.

Thank you for some of the most perfect moments I have ever experienced.

Love-
Chloe

Things I am feeling:
Unbelievable relief- it's over and he can't hurt me anymore.
Unbelievable sadness- I've lost something that was occasionally pretty damn amazing.

But I'll never trust him, and he'll never be the man I want him to be. It's either hurt now, or hurt more later. I decided to finally be an adult and make the right fucking decision for once.

I just wish it didn't hurt so goddamn much.

Labels: Scott

Man alive, I am absolutely driving myself bonkers these days. Things with Scott are getting so frigging confusing, its really all I am even remotely capable of thinking about. I'm boring myself and everyone around me. Even my blog posts are boring me.

At least I'm not thinking so much about that fucker, Marc, anymore.

People have started commenting that they've noticed that I've lost weight. Half of me hates it and half of me loves it. It means that my efforts aren't for nothing. But when people say, "You look great!", it makes me wonder if I didn't look great before and no one had the courage to tell me? Have I been walking around all this time thinking that I'm relatively attractive and been completely wrong?

Man, that would really suck, wouldn't it?

I just bought my ticket to go home for Christmas. Plane tickets are outrageously expensive these days, so to avoid having to pay over $500 for a round trip ticket, I will be returning to New York City on Christmas Day. I'll be there the whole week before though, so it's not too bad. Plus, I've ALWAYS wanted to see Christmas in the city and maybe if I'm here that week in between Christmas and New Years, I can see Rockefeller Center without the millions of tourists milling about. It really gets on my nerves, that there are so many great things to see in this city at Christmastime and the natives don't get to enjoy them much, because of the enormous tourist presence. I'm going to stop right now, because I can go on forever about this.

Abby is coming TOMORROW. It's going to be a crazy weekend, I'm sure. Filled with large quantities of booze and potentially some flashing.

AWESOME!

Here's how totally fucking awesome it is to be me, are you ready?

So, last week I was in San Francisco at a conference. I went to a lot of parties and out to eat A LOT. Parties where there tables upon tables loaded with desserts and chinese food and mexican food and lots of yummy and delicious things to eat. What did I eat off these tables? Virtually nothing. What did I order at restaurants? Wacked out things like poached tuna and some sort of leek soup. I tried my hardest to keep meals at a lean protein and vegetables. When I could have had anything for breakfast (and expensed it!), I just stocked up on yogurts and bananas and ate those every day. The one time we did go out for breakfast, I had a vegetable omelette and asked the server to replace the home fries (oh, potatoes, how I love thee!) with fresh fruit. Upon returning home, I went back to the provided foods and working out with a vengeance.

I stepped on the scale yesterday morning and.... GAINED TWO POUNDS. I've never wanted to punch my fist into a wall more.

All in all, I'm getting really tired of this diet program. The people in charge keep adding more elements to it, to the point that it feels like it has taken over my life. I never, ever have free time anymore and it takes every ounce of willpower that I possess to stay out of Wendy's and McDonald's. Not to mention, every single meal on this program incorporates red fucking peppers into it. I HATE red peppers. I spend more time picking the red peppers out of my meal than I do eating my meal. And since I'm getting sick of the meals, I don't often finish them, and I figure that I'm probably topping out at around 800-1000 calories a day, which is not enough. Which means that my body is probably in starvation mode, which means that my metabolism is slowing down, which means that I'm not losing as much weight.

And apparently, once the program is over and I go back to eating like a normal person, even if I'm careful, I'm going to put all the weight back on, because that's how awesome my genetics are.

I am exhausted, to the very marrow of my bones. Last night I attended Game 7 of the NLCS. I jumped, I pumped my fist, I danced and I yelled. To no avail. My team lost. Then I had to endure the ultimate in unpleasant experiences of 50,000 people all trying to leave the stadium and get home at the same time. 50,000 people depressed beyond belief because a punk named Yardier Molina stole their dream. It took forever. When I finally walked through my front door around 1:15 am, my legs were about 10 steps away from giving out on me completely. My large, lovely, soft bed had never been more welcoming.

It's a long, full weekend in front of me. Next week, my old roommate and one of my very best friends, Abby, is coming into town for about a week. Then the weekend after that I have committed the whole frickin weekend to Scott (which, let's not kid ourselves, is not really going to happen). I am DYING for a day off. A full day, just to do whatever the heck I want to do. No obligations. I can sleep in as much as I want. I can get laundry done, for the love of Pete!

I'm a little tired and stressed right now. Maybe I should just end this before I start foaming at the mouth.

Have a great weekend!

I'm back from San Francisco! And I'm also suffering from some serious jet-lag.

Tonight I will be in attendance at Game 7 of the National League Championship Series. Because he is a heck of a baseball fan, I invited Marc. He initially declined, he already had plans for tonight and I did let him know very last minute. Then he called back and changed his mind. Then changed his mind again. Half an hour later, he called again. He wanted to go to the game. By the end of the 3rd phone call, he had changed his mind again and decided he couldn't go after all. As we hung up, I forbade him from calling me any more. I revoked the offer, so he would be unable to change his mind anymore.

Sheesh. He's like a fucking woman.

Scott and I spoke several times while I was out of town. He wants me to come and spend an entire weekend at his place. But, I've been so busy with various activities that it's impossible for me to give anyone that much of my time. So we scheduled it in advance for the weekend of November 4th. The possibility of this actually happening? Probably about 5%.

I also find myself in a very interesting position. I am no longer interested in sharing the very personal details of my sex life with Scott with other people. I know it sounds ridiculous and cheesy, I just want them to be moments that only the 2 of us share. I don't know if its because the moments themselves have become so personal and emotionally charged (instead of just being about physical) or because my feelings for him are changing. Either way, I'm scared out of my mind and almost assuredly am going to end up sobbing and broken-hearted.

I really look forward to that.

Labels: Scott

As I walked to the subway from Scott's house this morning, a few tears trickled down my cheek (which, incidentally was not enough of a deterrent to stop several men from wishing me a very good morning. Gotta love Queens!). It may have been due to lack of sleep.

Or it might have been due to the sheer frustration of being in a relationship that I can't control. A relationship strung together by disappointments and achingly perfect moments. A relationship filled with passion and comfort but plagued with distrust. A relationship that has left me feeling overflowing with love and out-of-control with rage.

Perfect Moment #1
Scott: You haven't even started packing for your trip yet have you?
Me: I threw a few things in, but it's tough to pack for a trip two days in advance, because half the things I need to pack, I'm going to use between now and Saturday. Like toiletries.
Scott: Toiletries?
Me: You know- shampoo, conditioner, makeup...
Scott: You know, babe, you don't need makeup. (He leans over and kisses me) I've seen you first thing in the morning, so I have the right to say, you're perfect just the way you are.

Perfect Moment #2
We had been in his room, each wearing one ear piece on his mp3 player, him wanting me to hear a song that always reminded him of me. Then we start talking about the new Justin Timberlake song, My Love, and Scott is talking about how he made up this dance to it. So we go into the living room so he can plug the mp3 player into his stereo and show me his dance. Keep in mind, it's 2 am, and I'm just wearing a skimpy little cotton nightgown and he has on only basketball shorts. After the song by JT is over, John Legend comes on. Scott pulls me close and sings in my ear as he dances me around the room. With my head buried in his neck and his arms wrapped oh so tightly around me, I worry that for as long as I live, I will never experience a moment more heartbreaking in its flawlessness.

Perfect Moment #3
Falling asleep in his arms. Waking up in his arms. Being in his arms every moment in between. Sleeping so tightly pressed against him, I can feel his breath against my forehead.

Perfect Moment #4
As I was leaving this morning, he stumbled out of bed and walked me to the door. He kissed me and told me to call him as soon as I got to work (just like always) and as I started to walk away, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, nuzzling his nose in my neck and kissing me one last time with surprising intensity.

"Bye babe," he says as I walk out the door. Watching me until I'm down the stairs and out of sight.

Labels: Scott

Have I mentioned how much I absolutely love to travel? I'm sure that I have. Well, on Saturday I am traveling to San Francisco for 5 days, all on the company dime. Granted, that means that I have to actually go to the conference and attend a bunch of schmoozy business lunches and dinner, but it also means that I get my own room in a swanky boutique hotel, and lovely car service to and from JFK. Plus, since it was so much cheaper to fly out a day earlier, I get a whole day in San Francisco to do whatever the hell I want to do and can hopefully get away with expensing a lot of those activities.

Scott called again last night. We duked it out for a while, with really no resolution. Our arrangement was so perfect, then he had to go and fuck everything up. I don't really know what to do with him. I like having him around, when he's not pissing me the hell off.

Whatever.

Last night at dance class, I got stuck behind this woman who dances as if she's being stung by a large swarm of bees. I feared that I was going to get kicked out because I couldn't stop laughing. Here's hoping she keeps her and her lack of rhthym home tonight.

When I walked out of the James Blunt concert last night, I had a missed call on my phone.

From Scott.

No message. Just a missed call.

I really genuinely didn't care that much about his absence in the last few weeks, until I saw that. I didn't call him back, as much as I was dying to. I wanted desperately, to call him and beg him to please, just be a good guy for once in your fucking life, so I can come over there and you can make the heaven and the earth move for me again, like you always do. I wanted to call him back and scream at him for being such an asshole who can't have the decency to be responsible for any of his actions.

I wanted to kiss him until we couldn't breathe. I want to again experience the absolute comfort and safety that I've only ever found when wrapped up in his arms.

I wanted him to tell me that he was sorry and that he would never do it again and mean it.

But mostly, I wanted to feel numb. I wanted to rid myself of all the longing that just seeing his number produces in me. I wanted to not want to call him back. I wanted to stop fucking hoping already that he's going to be the man I want him to be.

Labels: Scott

Well, I'm on Week 4 of man-less, fried food-less life. The food- I'm getting used to. The lack of sex? Not so much. I thought that maybe the insane amounts of working out would help to curb that specific appetite, but it seems that it just increases it. Who knew?

Today, I have to take my brand-new boots to the shoe repair guy (one of my best friends these days), because on Saturday night, as I walked from Union Square to Webster Hall for a KT Tunstall concert, the stiletto heel slipped in between a sidewalk crack and broke. At first, I could kind of walk on it if I was careful. After the concert we went to a movie only a few short blocks away and I managed. By the time we left the movie, the heel was broken enough that I couldn't even walk in the shoe. I had to remove the shoe and then walk the streets of New York in just my stockinged foot trying to catch a fucking cab, which it turns out is quite difficult at 1:00 am on a Saturday night in Union Square. It was not one of my finer moments.

Did I also mention that I was recently hit by a bike messenger? I walked in between 2 cars to cross the street and as I stepped into the street- POW- he ran right into me, the basket on the front slamming directly into my stomach. Luckily there is plenty of padding there.

There's always a debate about when a person becomes a 'New Yorker'. My friend, Andy, says you have to live here at least 5 years before you can call yourself that. But I think it's the experiences that you have here that make you a 'New Yorker'. You can live here 10 years, but never really experience the city (i.e. never ride the subway), thus never truly becoming a 'New Yorker'.

I feel that I can safely call myself a New Yorker.

Labels: New York

Major Changes in Me in the last 3 Weeks

1. I used to sometimes feel freakishly lethargic in the mornings. Getting to work seemed an insurmountable task. This doesn't happen anymore. I seem to have boundless amounts of energy, until around 11, when I crash like a mack truck.

2. I get the hiccups all the time. It's truly bizarre. I hiccuped all through my shower this morning.

3. I used to be constantly plagued with digestive issues (I have a very sensitive stomach). I'd get stomach cramps after meals and all sorts of fun things. This has stopped completely. It's like I've been given a stomach transplant.

4. I'm horny all the damn time. I know this doesn't seem different than normal, but now its with a ferocity unlike anything I've ever experienced before in my life. Not having an outlet for it is a source of constant turmoil for me.

5. I sleep better. I used to wake up almost every night at around 4 am. This doesn't happen anymore.

6. I honestly don't give a shit about men as a general rule. I don't want to call Scott. I rarely even catch myself thinking about Dave. And I ran into Marc last night, on my way to Karen's and rode the subway with him and even went over to his house briefly while waiting for Karen to get home and I walked away thinking, 'Eh, maybe I don't like him so much after all.' He bored me last night. Well, until I was walking away and he reached out for a guick grab of my ass. But I still don't really care that much and have been wondering if I just obsessed over him for the last year out of habit. I don't need love and affection anymore, I just want to get laid. Every day.

7. I've become a little obsessed with working out. I don't even like taking a day off anymore.

8. I don't crave foods anymore. I occasionally crave chocolate just after I've finished eating, but other than that, unless its right in front of me, food is not much of a temptation for me. It's truly bizarre.

So there you have it. I'm a happier, healthier, hornier person.

Things that I Have Not Had in At Least 3 Weeks:

• white flour
• anything fried (including french fries)
• Doritos
• Sex
• Kisses
• Soda- of any kind
• A day without any soreness
• Cheese
• A Hershey's Nugget with Toffee and Almonds (or any other candy/chocolate bar/gummy foods)

Who's impressed? For the most part, I've adjusted okay and I'm not having major breakdowns over lack of sugar anymore. Although my roommate made a grilled cheese sandwich last night and the smell alone was enough to make me want to rip her head off, so maybe I'm not as even keel as I was thinking.

I am, however, getting frustrated at the lack of progress. The first week was great. The second was okay. This week fucking sucks. I haven't lost an ounce in about 4-5 days. What the hell am I starving myself and working out like a bandit for, to stay at the same damn weight? And my clothes aren't really fitting any looser, which makes me want to shoot myself in the head with a nail gun.

So I cut out the hot chocolate that comes with my breakfast everyday. And the snacks. And I think I'm going to start running in the morning about 2-3 times a week.

Cause this Lack-of-Results business SUCKS DONKEYS.

So, you wanna know how Dave and I ended? He called me last Saturday (a week ago) night at around 12. I never called back. I never heard from him again. He clearly takes the me-not-calling-him-back hint very well. He was obviously also not head over heels in love with me, so I'm not losing any sleep over this one. I care freakishly little about the situation in its entirety.

I'm afraid that the constant stream of drama has actually made me numb (or it could be the hunger). I don't really care that much about the demise of the relationship with Scott. And the thought of trying to date someone new seems exhausting. I don't have the energy or the time to try and find another loser to treat me like shit, so I'm currently in a Fuck-Em-All phase.

Except I would really like someone to have sex with on a regular basis. That's the only part that really sucks. A phenomenal sex life is being wasted! It's a crime against humanity, really. Except now that I've had such phenomenal sex, I'm hesitant to have sex with anybody else, because there's no way it can live up to my expectations now. I'm just going to be disappointed, so what's the friggin point?

I'm giving up on men for a while. And I think that's okay.