The Virginity Monologues

I'm in a good place today. For several reasons.

1. I just picked up my new perfect black blazer, which was originally $198 and I got it on sale for $35, from Banana Republic (I had to have the arms shortened) and I now have a complete beautiful, professional black suit. I am officially an adult. My new Isaac Mizrahi shoes will look fabulous with the suit. It will be lovely all around.

2. To promote the release of a new DVD, they showed Dane Cook's Vicious Circle in a theater here last night and I went to it and fell in love. Seriously. I've always liked Dane Cook- as I have a 'thing' for stand up comedians (my favorite is Eddie Izzard, if you don't know who he is- look him up. I love him). But after watching this taping of his show in Boston, I am officially a FAN- that's right with a capital F. I'm trying hard to deny the rumors about him and Jessica Simpson in my head (I hate her. I find her repulsive on ALL levels. She is on my List of People Who if They Are In a Movie I Will Not See It, Period. Also on that list is Mariah Carey, Britney Spears and Jennifer Lopez. I'm just saying.) Anyway. He was phenomenal and I haven't stopped laughing since.

3. Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt. I fucking love it.

4. A hair appointment in a week. I LOVE getting my hair done. A facial appointment at Mario Badescu in about 2 weeks. I've never had a facial, so I'm super excited.

5. Going home to the bosom of my family in about 3 weeks. SO excited. I wonder if I can keep the tattoo hidden from my mom the whole 9 days that I'll be there.

Today's Title from: You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol

Thanksgiving weekend. Last year it was all sorts of eventful for me, as Marc and I were in the throes of liking each other at the time and still trying to find our bearings about our relationship (which, by the way, we never actually did find our bearings, and a year later, we have gotten absolutely nowhere, except maybe a little more bitter towards each other). This year, I was still battling ridiculous and irrational emotions for Scott, just hoping that at no point over the weekend would I lose my control and end up back in his bed.

Labels: Cam

I don't really understand why Scott just won't go away? Why does he keep communicating with someone who has told him that she doesn't want to hear from him anymore? Is he a glutten for punishment? Is there more of an emotional attachment than I thought? Or does he just want to get freaky again?

There was a brief instant messaging conversation yesterday. Apparently he misses me and wanted to know if I was sleeping with anyone else. I refused to answer. Not any of his business anymore, really.

I laid in bed last night, contemplating the situation. Trying to reinforce to my heart all the things that my head knows.

My phone dinged with a text message. It read:

I do miss you.
From: Scott

That's nice, motherfucker. Thank for continuing to make me cry. I really appreciate it.

Have a happy Thanksgiving!

Todays Title from: The Thanksgiving Song by Adam Sandler

Labels: Scott

If you had pulled me aside at 18 and shown me a montage of clips from my life 10 years down the road, I don't know that I would have been pleased at how my life had turned out. Sure, I probably would have been impressed with the perceived glamour. The life in New York City. The Corporate America job at a revered company. The increasingly improving hair/makeup/clothing. The gorgeous and absolutely fantastic friends. The swanky vendor dinners. But I would have been disappointed that at 28, I would still be boyfriend/husband-less.

I never, EVER, imagined that at just a hop, skip and a jump away from 30, I would not be married and procreating. My entire life goal was to be deeply imbedded in the institution, mainly because I've always been a very horny individual and back then I believed in waiting until marriage to have sex, so I wanted to be married as soon as possible!

Fast forward 10 years, and while I'll admit that there are times when I HATE my single status (i.e. when I had moved into my new apartment and had forgotten to have the power switched over to my name and ended up without power for 4 days because THAT's how long it takes Con Ed to turn on power), but for the most part- I genuinely don't want to be married.

I like my freedom and my independence. I like it that I don't have to divide holidays between people that I love and people that I tolerate. I don't ever have to check in with anyone regarding my activities for the evening- I can booze it up as late as I want! I like the idea that there are possibilities everywhere for love. I like that I will still get to feel butterflies and experience first kisses. I like that I can walk into Banana Republic and buy a new skirt and not have to ask permission from anyone before plunking down my credit card. I like that I can spend an entire weekend with my best friend and not worry about neglecting someone else.

They say that the grass is always greener, but I think the grass is pretty green right where I'm standing. I wish I could tell that to my 18 year old self.

Today's Title from: The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice

There is a lack of space in Manhattan. This conclusion asserts itself in many ways- the kitchen in my apartment, the scant few inches of space for my body at a table in my favorite Mexican restaurant, sidewalks in mid-town during rush hour, Rockefeller Center during the Holidays and Fairway.

Fairway is a semi-gourmet grocery store with teeny tiny aisles and masses of customers. On a normal Saturday/Sunday it is unbearable (my best friend, Karen, has yelled at more than one person during her weekly shopping expeditions here). The Sunday before Thanksgiving was a previously unexperienced level of pure, undiluted hell that should be reserved only for inmates on Death Row. At one point it literally took me 10 minutes to navigate 10 feet and resulted in not one but TWO screaming matches with other patrons. One of those screaming matches was with a seriously fashion-challenged bitch (she was wearing a hat! I have a very strong opinion on hats and it's that no one should wear them except for my best friend who is the ONLY person I know that can pull off a hat as a fashion statement. All the rest of us should wear them only as a means to keep warm and then remove them as soon as they are no longer necessary), so I don't feel one iota of regret about that. I had planned to buy some fruit and various other nutritional and healthy snack items. I walked out of the store with ONE item- lite havarti with dill. And that's only because the cheese section was not filled to overflowing with people. I spent the rest of the time banging my cart into the backs of other people (its very difficult to gauge the distance between the person in front of you and the metal bar at the front of the cart. The result is a LOT of bruised ankles) trying to just get to the checkout and then standing in line while Karen finished her shopping.

It was UNPLEASANT. To say the least.

I will be finishing my thanksgiving shopping at Fresh Direct. Thank you very much.

Despite the holy terror that was grocery shopping yesterday, it was a very therapeutic weekend for me. I spent a lot of time with my bestest of friends, I went shopping and fit into a size that I haven't fit into in a LONG time and I got a makeover at Sephora that made me feel beautiful again.

Todays Title from: Angel by Sarah McLachlan

Labels: New York

Slow down
There's gonna be trouble
You're gonna forget
What you're doing

One false move, baby
Suddenly everything's ruined

Hold on
You're gonna be sorry
You're gonna regret
What you're doing

One false move, baby
Suddenly everything's ruined

And you ought to know
You ought to know
There's only one way this can go
You ought to know
You ought to know
All of the ups and downs, the highs and lows

Slow down
There's gonna be trouble
You're gonna forget
What you're doing

One false move, baby
Suddenly everything's ruined

One false move, baby
Suddenly everything's ruined

-Fountains of Wayne

Labels: Mr. Wrong

I can't believe I'm actually going to admit to the events of last night. Because quite frankly, I feel that I should be blindfolded and shot by a firing range for making such poor, poor decisions.

I got home earlier than I expected last night and was ecstatic because that meant that I could go to Cam's. I'd had a nagging voice in the back of my head all day that he was going to blow me off, but I just chalked it up to residual issues thanks to Scott the Magnificent (read: sarcasm). So, I called him when I got home at 8:30, and he informs me that he has to be at work really early the next morning, so he was planning to go to bed sometime within the next hour. Which in my opinion is a total bullshit excuse and I have to fight myself not to call him back after we get off the phone and scream at him to stop jerking me around. Somehow, I refrain.

I'm hanging out with my roommate, taking advantage of our brand-new DVR and eating pizza (because I'm an emotional eater and when a boy upsets me, I want pizza). 11:00 pm- my phone rings. It's Mr. Wrong.

Weird, huh?

Sure, we've become friends (through necessity, we see each other every day). But he hasn't called me late at night in a very, very long time. Him and a bunch of friends (I'm good friends with all of them) are hanging out a friend's place near me and they have alcohol. My presence is requested (with an additional request to arrive without panties and a bra).

I tell him I'll be there in a half hour (but I go with all my undergarments on).

We all actually have a really good time, watching The Family Guy and just hanging out.

Then, Mr. Wrong takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. And the next 5 minutes are the most unsatisfying of my life. Friends barge in on us, not realizing that- thanks to Mr. One-Minute Wonder- we were finished, and chaos ensues.

Mr. Wrong and I start arguing (it may be related to a remark made by me regarding his stamina or lack thereof).

The word "whore" is said.

I gather my clothes and leave in a very angry hurry.

Times he has called me since- approximately 10.

Times I have answered- 0.

I swear to God- I'm never going to learn.

Just shoot me now. Take me out of my fucking misery.

Today's title from: Creep by Radiohead

Labels: Mr. Wrong

Have I ever mentioned my love affair with Cocoa Puffs? I love them. I love them so much that in high school, my friends gave me boxes of them for my birthday every year. I've curbed the habit a little since growing older (I ate them like CRAZY when I was in college), but I just found a box that I had hidden at my desk when I started the new diet (which doesn't allow Cocoa Puffs) and now they are taunting me.

Evil, evil Cocoa Puffs.

My dance classes are getting harder. We have to have our 'after' shots and final weigh-ins in about a month, so we've really stepped up the intensity. I didn't even KNOW I could sweat that much. But it's been fun to watch the ab and leg workouts get easier and easier. Exercises that used to practically knock me out with pain, are now done with a semblance of ease.

Two people today commented on how 'skinny' I've gotten. People. Please. I am not, nor will I ever be 'skinny'.

Cam wants me to come over tonight. But I promised a friend I would go shopping with her. Since I have never and will never dump on a friend for a guy, I told him no, despite the fact that I am DYING to see him again (well, mostly just one part of him in particular). I may make it home in time, but it's not looking good for a late night rendezvous. Damn.

Today's Title from: My Love by Justin Timerlake with T.I.

The truth is, I still believe in love. Real love. The kind that lasts forever. I see it often. I see it when my friend Shaun talks to me about his wife. Or in the eyes of couples that I see on the subway some days.

I’ve just stopped believing that it will happen to me.

This isn’t a cry for pity or reassurances that SOMEDAY it will happen for me. Really, it’s just an attempt to be honest with myself.

I’m not the kind of girl who inspires that level of real love in men, or really in other people. I'm 28 years old (almost 29) and no man has ever really loved me. I don’t think one ever will. Once a man wanted to marry me. But he just wanted to get married. Less than a year after I ended our relationship, he was married to another woman. Once I had a REAL boyfriend. After 3 months, he was done with me, not willing to fight for something that I thought was pretty damn special.

I could go on and on about all the people that haven’t loved me. My father. My brothers. Marshall. Mike. Dave. Steve. Wes. John. Patrick. Paul. Jeremy. Brian. Etc. Etc.

It all boils down to one universal truth.

Men want to fuck me.

But they don’t want to love me.

They don’t want to sleep next to me every night.

They don’t want me to be the mother of their children.

They don’t want to know the total comfort of being with me- without any pretenses or facades.

They don’t think I’m beautiful, no matter what.

They don’t want to go to baseball games with me. (I had tickets to Game 7 of the NLCS for Christ’s sake and I had to beg my best friend to go with me so I didn’t have to go alone)

They don’t want to be there for me when I’ve had a bad day and vice versa.

They don’t remember the little things that I love (orchids, French fries, mojitos, U2, shoes, books, maps) and find ways to give them to me.

They just don’t.

Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay. Don’t tell me I’ll eventually find someone. Don’t tell me it’ll just happen when I’m not looking/where I least expect it.

I don’t want to hear that bullshit anymore.

I want to be happy with myself, exactly how I am, and never expect anything more.

Today's Title from: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill by Lauryn Hill (obviously)

There's an old adage that says:

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.

I always thought that line was bullshit. But I'm discovering there's a certain degree of truth to it. (I'm also discovering that swallowing kind of grows on a girl).

Cam and I saw each other twice last week. The second time (Friday night), I spent the night sleeping wrapped in his (large) arms, after we had spent hours talking, playing a ridiculous game involving TV theme songs from the 80's and then having the best sex of my life. I did not for a second believe that sex could ever get better than it was with Scott. I honest-to-God thought that I would spend the rest of my life having to suffer with Less-Than-the-Best-Sex with other men.

NOT SO, my friends. As it turns out, Cam is proving himself superior to Scott in many, many ways. It's still VERY early though, so I'm not letting myself read too much into anything at this point.

And I have to confess, I'm having a love affair with his Johnson unlike anything I've ever experienced before. I THINK about it. I can't WAIT to get my hands/mouth on it. It's all very new to me, as I've never seen that particular apparatus as anything more than a means to an end before. It's all very interesting.

Today's Title from: Let's Get it On by Marvin Gaye

Labels: Cam

Unfortunate side effect of losing weight? My boobs are shrinking! I'm very upset about it. If I have to rely on my personality alone to attract men, I am in big trouble! (That was totally a joke)

So, there is a definite theme to my life. It's that no one ever really goes away. Apparently. I dated a guy a few times last February, his name is Cam. After a few dates, he mysteriously disappeared, like they do, and I went nine months without hearing from him. Last week, he started instant messaging me out of nowhere. We went out last night (after he pestered me, daily, for a week). He's tall, super cute, a damn good kisser, thinks I'm hilariously funny and declared me "sexy as hell".

We went out. Then he showed me his new apartment (ridiculously close to mine), then I did something that I've never done before in the entirety of my life.

I swallowed (in return for an equal service performed fantastically).

Then I almost threw up.

He's been instant messaging me all day today and told me that he "wants to be the guy that I call when I'm having a bad day". Weird. Do I believe him? Don't know. Am I holding my breath and hoping this turns into Real Love? Nah.

Do I worry that I've become a bitter, jaded and cynical slut?

Maybe.

Todays Title from: Running to Stand Still by U2

Labels: Cam

Dear Scott-

I think about you every day. Isn't that ridiculous! I sincerely doubt that you are thinking about me every day, or that you are having trouble sleeping at night because you are laying awake- thinking about me, like I do about you. I hate sleeping alone, and knowing that I'll never sleep in your arms again, makes me feel the aloneness that much more acutely.

I cried the day that I sent you the email, telling you I didn't want to see you anymore. I went into a bathroom stall, and sobbed. I cried the day that you instant messaged me, when you proved again what a total ass you are, and that's all the emotion I've allowed myself over you. But last night I cried myself to sleep. I missed you desperately. I would have given anything to have felt your arm wrap around me and pull me close, in that place where we both sleep bettter.

You're not a nice guy. You'll never be a nice guy.

But, dear god, I miss your face.

And I hate myself for it everyday.

Love-
Chloe

P.S. All of my blog post titles are song lyrics, and per request, I am going to start telling you where they all come from.

Today's Title from: Miss You by The Rolling Stones.

Labels: Scott

Last night I got on the treadmill and just started running. I ran until I got kicked off (there's a time limit on cardio machines during peak hours). It was an interesting experience. I haven't run in a while, so I expected to get winded after the first mile and then alternate walking and running. 2.5 miles later (I'm not, by any stretch of the imagination FAST), I was still going strong and could have kept going if not for other people with a need to run. Where did the endurance come from? I'm stupefied!

Then this morning, I put on a pair of pants that, a month ago, I couldn't even button.

I miss Scott.

It's been harder than I thought it would be. I figured, that since I know in my head all of the reasons why he is not good for me, that walking away would be easy.

Wrong again.

This last weekend was supposed to be OUR weekend. I was going to arrive on Friday night and not leave until I had to go to work this morning. In my moments of weakness, I fantasized about how great this weekend could have been, knowing his ability to be so great in the moment. I imagined a lot of laughter, a lot of comfort, the security in sleeping in his arms for 3 nights in a row, and a whole lot of sex.

It took every ounce of willpower that I possess to not call him last night. I don't even know why I wanted to call him. I didn't have any good reason at all.

I just have to keep reminding myself that someone else will slow-dance me around the living room and mean it to the depths of their heart.

P.S. As of yesterday- I have officially lost 22 pounds in the last month and a half.

Labels: Scott

You would think, that since I have been looking forward to this day for the last year (approximately), that I would have planned ahead with the ticket-buying to the opening day of Borat. Unfortunately, I thought that 11:00 a.m. on the day of would be sufficiently early enough to purchase tickets.

But here I sit, ticketless and despaired and every single showing on the island of Manhattan between 7:00 and 11:00 p.m. SOLD OUT.

How I curse thee, Fandango!!!!

I went on a first date on Wednesday night with a guy that I met during The Going-Out Craze that was last weekend (not Mr. Smooth-Talker). We'll call him Wade. Wade is probably one of the nicest guys that I've met in a very long time. He has a good job. He has a normal family life. He doesn't live with his parents. He treated me like a friggin queen. He could not have said more nice things to/about me. We met at 6:30 and talked until 11:30. He actually needed to go back to the office to finish some work, and because he stayed with me so long, he ended up being at the office all night after we parted ways. We talked about everything and nothing. And found that we have a whole freaking lot in common. Even about the important stuff, like spiritual and religious beliefs.

I could go on and on about how great this guy was. But I'll spare you.

The kicker is that- at the end of the night, he went to kiss me, and I kid you not- was a TERRIBLE kisser. Maybe the worst ever. I don't really know what to do about this situation. Kissing is a pretty big deal to me and I don't know if I could be together with someone long term who's kisses do absolutely nothing for me. I figure I'll give it a little bit longer, maybe a few more dates and make a decision after I know more.

But still! What a disappointment!