The Virginity Monologues

I don't really have any right to be upset. I learned, when we went to Ireland that she is the kind of friend who will ALWAYS put men over friends. But, when Christine came into town, after not seeing her for 2 years, I expected that I would get at least a few hours of her undivided attention. Not so. When she wasn't texting the boy that she was out here to see, she was texting his best friend to talk about the relationship. Did I mention, that she has only hung out with this boy ONCE? For a few hours. They exchanged numbers and when he came back to New Jersey, they began a rampant text messaging relationship. She came out here to see him, and deigned to give me one day of her trip, which I took a day off work for, only to have her spend the entire day texting HIM. I was furious. Then when she used me as a power play move last night (i.e. he wasn't paying attention to her, so she called and made plans with me, then when he came around, she cancelled her plans with me) I resolved to not answer any more of her calls or her texts.

Argh.

She didn't get to ruin my weekend though. I still went to brunch on Saturday morning with Spatch and her friend, Ana and had an absolutely fabulous time. I love to be with people who I can show every aspect of my personality to and never have to worry about censoring anything I say. As we planned future outings and stopped in at restaurants we want to try, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude for friends such as these. I still went out with my girls and had a BITCHIN time with them in Park Slope on Saturday night. And even though we couldn't have been more ignored by the men-folk there, we still laughed our asses off. I still went and had a facial at Mario Badescu yesterday with Karen, which was one of the most exquisite experiences of my life.

You know what was really interesting? After our facials, Karen and I met up with Shannon, walked around Saks a little, then went over to Fairway for some grocery shopping. Having just come from facials, Karen and I were completely makeup free. And I'm okay being completely makeup free, but I generally acknowledge that makeup is an essential component to my being even remotely attractive. The interesting part, is that I got almost more attention in my au natural state than I do when completely made up. I'm confused by this, but Karen claims its completely normal. She says I'm 'less threatening'. Any men out there want to shed any more light on this anomally?

And I am happy. Personally, professionally, in basically every aspect of my life- I am happy. But happy isn't really the right word. I am at peace... content. A summer of being single lays before me, and it doesn't terrify me. I don't obsess about what's wrong me. I am invigorated. I am excited. I am eager.

Today's Title from: Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae

Just started Round 2 of antibiotics for the sharp, needle-like pain in my left tonsil. I've done a lot of reading on adult tonsillectomy, and the reviews aren't good. But it's almost worth it to stop being sick already. I've essentially been sick for about 2 months now. I'm not really enjoying it. Especially since I used to laugh in the face of people who got sick all the time. I threw my superb immune system around like a badge of honor. They're all like- 'who's laughing now, bitch!'

I'm wearing a pair of high, relatively unsteady heels to work today. I have fallen, on my ass, TWICE. The first time, I was walking out of the kitchen and had a paper cup filled with maple and brown sugar oatmeal. As my heel slid out from under me, the cup of oatmeal went flying, with several particles/lumps landing in my hair. It was really fabulous moment for me. I felt every inch the glamorous New York City girl that I aspire to be. The second time was essentially in front of my entire department. Those dastardly heels just couldn't stay under me and down I went, this time emerging with bruises and scrapes, and some severely dinged pride. Needless to say, the shoes have been DISCARDED and I will be wearing flip flops for the rest of the evening. The next time, I'd probably break something.

I just heard from Patrick. So weird. I answered the phone because it was a number I didn't know, and I was expecting a call. I hadn't really expected to hear from him after The Date Where I Was Shushed (oh also, he talked A LOT about ex-girlfriends. Generally, I am not a fan.) He wanted to know my plans for the next few days and luckily, my best friend from college is coming into town, so my availability is very, very limited for the next 5 days. I told him I would call him this weekend. Even though my sister thinks I am just coming up with trumped up excuses to avoid a relationship with the only really decent prospect that I've met in 2 years (This is semi-valid, I have done this in the past), I think I can pretty safely say that when a man is kissing me goodnight and the ONLY thing I am thinking is, 'Please don't stick your tongue in my mouth! Please don't stick your tongue in my mouth!', that this relationship really doesn't have a future and I should probably not call. Can I get a HELLS YEAH.

Today's Title from: Hard Time by Ray Charles

I've started approximately 5 blog posts today because I can't decide what I want to write about. So maybe, I'll just do a brief synopsis of all the shit in my brain.

1. Friday night. Literally one of the most perfect nights of my life. Email Boy and I met at Shea Stadium around 6:30. We loaded up with hot dogs, burgers, fries, beer and peanuts. And laughed our asses off as the Mets lost big time to Atlanta- we weren't laughing at the Mets, we love the Mets, we were laughing at each other. After the game (or really, after we left the game in the 7th inning because we were losing badly and it was FREEZING cold), we went to a movie. Then around 2 am, he drove me home and I made fun of his techno music the entire ride. Because it is super lame. It's essentially the same song over and over again, plus or minus some drums. Seriously, the lamest music ever. Can I please find a version of Email Boy who is sexually attracted to me and marry him? I think that would be ideal.

2. It's BOILING hot here today. That's right- 85 degrees. Friday night it was 42, today it's 85. And it reminds me that I'm not quite yet ready for summer weather yet. I would like to have a spring first. Since winter just ended last week for us, could I please have at least a few weeks of jacket weather before I have to start worrying about the profuse sweating on my way to the subway? Muchas gracias.

3. Dr's appointment this morning in my continuing Tonsil Saga. I got another round of antibiotics for my second bout in as many weeks. One more bout and he's sending me to a throat doctor. HOT.

4. It's been a full month of absolutely no contact with Scott at all. It's been harder than I would like to admit. I have completely removed all traces of him from my life. Comments and emails on Myspace, all deleted. All text messages deleted. By all rights, he should also be gone from my head, yes? I am frustrated at his continued lingering presence. I am frustrated that I have to talk myself out of calling him and resolving things. I want to genuinely hate him.

Today's Title from: You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette

Labels: Email Boy, Scott, tonsils

How To Insult Me Grievously: Take me on a date, to an expensive Italian restaurant. Then, while I am telling a story of how my half-panamanian/half-white roommate in a drunken stupor got on my case one night about being the 'pretty, innocent white girl', make a shushing motion with your hand at me, then give an apologetic smile/nod to the distinguished black couple at the table next to us, as if to say, "Excuse my racist date."

Let me make a few points here
A. I am 29 years and have, surprisingly, learned a few things about behaving in polite society. I know how to keep my voice at an appropriate level. I do not need instructions in this arena.

B. It was a story about me getting shit about being white by my PANAMANIAN roommate/one of my very best friends. I doubt that the couple of a race that I am not even remotely discussing is going to be offended by this. Well, no more offended then they may have been after your story about the drug dealer and the escort at your apartment.

How to Embarrass Me: Answer the phone when I call you. Proceed to have a long conversation with me regarding business stuff that we are involved in together, talk to me about my date that night at length, then advise me to not get so drunk I end up going home and getting freaky with some random guy over the weekend. THEN, at the end of the conversation, tell me that AT THAT VERY MOMENT, you are with Marc, thus telling me that he has just heard your side of our entire conversation. Granted, you don't know about my history with Marc, you think we're 'just friends', so you don't know how awkward I will feel about him listening to you advise me on not being a slut.

Today's Title from: Better Off Alone by Katherine McPhee

Labels: Marc, Patrick

So, I even before I read all of the lovely comments about yesterday's post, I had my eyebrows threaded. $6 for minimum pain and lovely shaped eyebrows was totally worth it for me. Yet another procedure to add to my regular beauty maintenance.

Karen and I have managed to plan a getaway for Memorial Day weekend that will not cost us an arm and a leg. It involves a beach and will be close enough to, but also far away enough from Atlantic City to make me extremely happy. I need some time out of the city. I love New York, I really, really do. But sometimes you just need to sit and relax and not take the subway for a few days. It works wonders on stress levels. And mine are presently through the roof.

I have Date #2 with Patrick, A.K.A The Nicest-Guy-I've-Met-In-Two-Years, tonight. He's not great with the communication, but he takes me to great restaurants, and he doesn't forget his credit card, so that's also a big plus. I'm curious to see how I feel after tonight. If the lack of chemistry is still an issue for me. I don't remember there being a lot of chemistry with The Ex at the beginning, but once it did start to happen, I was turned on for an entire month straight. So much so, that I was regularly soaking through my pants. Really. But I do remember being giddy and full of butterflies and possibilities at the beginning of that relationship. So much so, that the morning after our first date, I was so off in La-La Land that I tripped and sprained my ankle badly enough to have to cancel our next set of plans. Then when his reply was to "get better, kitten" I thought I would explode at the adorableness.

So far no real giddy-ness or exploding with Patrick. We'll see, I guess.

Speaking of The Ex. I might see him in a few weeks. A mutual friend forwarded me an invitation to a Benefit that I'm about 90% certain that he will be at. I normally would have avoided a situation where I could potentially appear to be stalking a boyfriend whom I haven't seen or spoken to in 2 years, but one of my favorite comedians will be there (Mike Birbiglia) and I must go. And I'm excited to see his roommates. One of whom used to counsel on me on All Things Penis Related, as it was something that I was terrified of at the time, but clearly am no longer. (Wouldn't my mother be so proud at how I've grown in the last 2 years?).

Is it weird that I still have days where I miss him a little? The Ex, that is.

Today's Title from: Comfortable by John Mayer

Labels: Patrick, The Ex

So, I'm considering getting my eyebrows waxed. I don't know why I've avoided it before now, it just seemed easier to pluck them I guess. And it's certainly not that I'm afraid of waxing, as there is a much more sensitive part of my body that receives this special treatment on a regular basis (it's the only way to go.....).

Did I mention that I've had 2, that's right 2, bouts of tonsillitis in the last 2 months? It's been... unpleasant to say the least. This most recent occurance sent me to the doctor for some antibiotics that worked beautifully. I was so, so happy for days as the phlegm and the pain in my throat subsided. Now, only 3 days after I finished the antibiotics, I am starting to feel it again in my left tonsil. I am not happy about this. Especially since my doctor is threatening to take them out and did I also mention that I don't have a very high pain tolerance? Don't make me tell you the story of when I had my wisdom teeth out. Although in my defense, I was only 14 and the teeth were completely impacted, which meant I had VERY large holes in the back of my mouth for a good long time (which, by the way, smelled TERRIBLE during the healing process). There was a point where I was finishing off entire bottles of advil in one day. This is a large part of the reason that I am a little anti-medicine now, I feel I got my lifetime's supply during that 2 week period and shouldn't push it.

Oh, and I've got a rash. As I'm getting older, I'm turning more and more into my father, A.K.A Mr. I-Claim-To-Be-Allergic-To-Everything. He doesn't even wear cashmere because his skin is so sensitive (THE HORROR!). I recently switched shampoo/conditioner and my skin decided to reward me by breaking out into a terrible rash all over my neck and chest. It's SO hot. I can't even tell you. Patrick is taking me out to dinner tomorrow night and I am hoping and praying that the lighting will illuminate me just so that he can get the full treatment of the glory that is currently my neck. That would be so rad. Hopefully I don't develop an allergy to cats, as that would totally destroy my plan of becoming The Crazy Cat Lady.

Today's Title From: The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson

Labels: tonsils

I am presently ecstatically happy. Why? You ask? Well, let me lay it down for you (have you noticed that I love lists?)

1. I received not one but TWO packages today. And I LOVE packages. The first contained the skirt that I ordered from Banana Republic that I have been anxiously awaiting. The second contained books. Lots and lots of lovely books from my beloved Spatch (one of which is about a women who LOVES shoes. Is there a more appropriate book for me anywhere on this planet? I think not!) Of course, my boss immediately began rifling through and I, in turn, immediately became embarrassed and turned bright red as she picked up something with a very risque cover. Oh well. I'm a single girl. I've gotta have some distractions! Please!

2. I just finished a hot fudge sundae from McDonalds. The consistency of the hot fudge is decidedly different from when I was a kid- I remember it being smoother? But it's still a delicious treat for less than $2. Yummy.

3. Cam tapped into my 'dirty' side last night (previously he has only been shown bits and pieces) and I got a fabulous orgasm as a result. Finally! Unfortunately, I also have a crick in my neck from the extended-length blow-job. C'est la vie!

4. I was also gifted today tickets to the Mets/Braves games on Friday night. Email Boy will be my date and we will eat hot dogs and drink beer and have a FABULOUS time. Go Jose!

5. It's spa week. This means a facial for me and my girl, Karen, on Saturday for a mere $50.


6. I'm single. I'm beautiful. And I live in New York Fucking City. Take that, bitches.

Today's Title from: Rock Superstar by Cypress Hill

Labels: Cam, Spatch

Dear Marc-

2 months ago, we created more memories for me to forget. It was an interesting night. Not at all like I expected. I didn't expect you to be so cold. And I didn't expect for it to hurt so much when I never heard from you again.

I wasn't expecting regular sex-fests. But I also wasn't expecting deafening silence.

Everytime I get a text message, a little part of me still hopes that it'll be from you. I don't even necessarily hope for another invitation to your place in the wee hours of the morning. I just hope for the slightest indication that you are reaching out to me, and letting me know that we're still friends, and that you don't hate me.

So seriously, what can I do to put this whole sex-debacle behind us? Is the first communication going to have to be from me? Cause quite honestly, that terrifies me! But I don't want to play The Silent Treatment game anymore. I don't imagine that there will ever be a time when I'm in your presence when I won't remember that I've seen you naked or what it felt like to have your dick in my mouth, but that doesn't mean that we have to avoid each other like the plague for the rest of our natural born lives. Does it?

Today's Title from: Spoon by Dave Matthews Band

Labels: Marc

I walked in the door to Sobaya, a traditional japanese restaurant in the East Village at 8:43, a few minutes before our scheduled meeting time, and Spatch was already there waiting for me. I had come from having drinks with co-workers so I was already 3 glasses of wine ahead of her and feeling pretty damn good.

We sit at the bar and Spatch teaches me what all the different dishes are and which ones she recommends. I opt for the shrimp tempura soba and she gets a vegetable soba. We ask for help with our sake selection, then we chat like long lost 15 year old BFF's while we wait for our meal.

To date, I have not been in The Redhead Fan Club. I have found Spatch's boyfriend to be emotionally immature and have tried convincing her on multiple occasions that she deserves better. It didn't help that at her birthday party he made little effort to talk to the rest of us and was visibly uncomfortable with the large group of people. But I judge people by my own standards, and group situations are what I do best. I can easily converse with most anyone and generally don't have trouble fitting into most situations. Not everyone adapts as easily. I have a hard time remembering this.

As she told me about recent interactions with The Redhead, I found myself more willing to accept that he is not The Bad Guy. I'm not ready yet to believe that he is The Good Guy, but I am willing to admit that he doesn't fit as neatly into The Box of People to Hate as neatly as I thought he originally did. And quite frankly, compared to some DECIDEDLY Bad Guys (Scott? Anyone?) The Redhead is a veritable saint.

As always, my time with Spatch ended too soon. I can't believe we wasted a year of our lives just reading each other's blogs, when we could've been friends the whole time! Argh!
________________________________________________________________

I got an email from Patrick, The Blind Date, yesterday. He had to go out of town for a work emergency and wants to go out early next week. I'm excited. But I wish I was more excited. I wish that life experiences hadn't taught me to be guarded.

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It's literally taken me two fucking days to finish writing this post. Sorry for the delay folks.

Happy Friday the 13th everyone!

Today's Title from: Dirt Off Your Shoulder by Jay-Z

Labels: Patrick, Spatch

I couldn't write about it at the time, but there is a story to The Demise of Scott. It's not pretty. It's even worse because it happened the same night as The Italian. Which is why it was deemed officially- The Second Worse Night of My Life.

I left The Italian in a drunk haze in Tribeca that night. We'd had 2 bottles of wine and I should have gone home and crashed. But Scott and I had planned to meet up and after what I had just gone through with The Italian, I ached for Scott, for his arms and his lips and his ability to make me forget that there is anyone else in the world but the 2 of us.

I directed the cab to the fastest route to meet Scott at the subway station near his work. I was late and I was feeling terrible about it. The subway was all sorts of fucked up and traffic was horribly backed up on the Queensborough bridge so that by the time I finally got to him, we agreed to just cab it back to his place. Totally unrelated, but as I got out of the cab, one of my 4 inch heels caught in a pothole and I totally wiped out on the sidewalk. Hard enough that I had bruises, in a lot of places. It was hot.

We got inside his house and immediately jumped in the shower, where things definitely got hot. Very, very hot. We moved to the bedroom. It was the standard earth-shaking sex that it always is, when he stood up to switch it up a bit and while standing up- reached over and PICKED UP HIS PHONE TO CHECK HIS MISSED CALLS. I'm not even kidding.

I was FURIOUS. The last time I had been at his house, he'd ignored me for the first hour that I was there while he texted back and forth with someone. I hadn't seen him in A MONTH! So, to again come in second to his fucking phone, when I needed his undivided attention more than anything, was unbearable. He left the room for a second to do something, and by the time he came back, I was under the covers facing the wall. I would have gone home, but it would have taken hours at that time of the night.

He came over and put his hand on me, saying he knew I was mad, etc, etc when his phone beeped that he had a voice message. He left the bed to pick it up and then went into the living room and proceeded to talk for about 45 minutes. The first offense I could have worked through, but the second was unforgivable.

I didn't let him touch me the rest of the night. We never talked about it and when I left the next morning, no words were spoken.

When I got to work, I found that he had deleted me as a 'friend' on Myspace. While I was at his house, in his bed. Not unlike how the last time I stayed the night, I found a blog post the next morning that he wrote while I was at his house, asleep in his bed, about a girl, a girl that definitely wasn't me.

I re-read the the entire last year of my blog, trying to find absolution in our demise. It was frightening for me to read how from the very beginning, he had let me know exactly how badly he was going to treat me. He repeatedly made plans that he didn't follow through on, he told me stories of friends getting shot, only to have pictures of him and his ex show up on his myspace page at a party that he had gone to that night. He never introduced me to friends, he never met any of mine. Although he claimed differently, he never saw me as more than a vehicle for sex. For an entire year, he consistently made me feel like shit.

And I put up with it. For good sex. For validation. And in the hopes that someday I would be enough, never really realizing that the whole time, I was more than enough, and that it was him that wasn't.

Part of me feels like an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I will never again have to suffer through another day of wondering if he will do what he says he's going to do. He can't ever disappoint me again. He can't ever hurt me again. He can't ever lie to me again.

And another part of me just feels empty. He told me once how a girl had told him that he was a worthless excuse of a human being. I should have known then, that one day, I would want to scream these exact same words at him.

I should have run.

Today's Title from: The End by The Doors

Labels: Scott

While he may have been a fabulous date, it turns out Patrick isn't so great on the follow-through. I haven't heard a word from him since last Thursday night. Oh well! You win some, you lose some. It's probably for the best, as I was already stressing about the lack of sexual chemistry on my part.

And so, I find myself on a new train- Ambivalence.

I just don't care. I'm not really interested in meeting anyone new. My sex drive is almost completely non-existent (TRAGEDY, I know), which I think is a direct result of having gone so unbearably long without good sex. I'd rather fill my time with concerts and dinners and going out with good friends than deal with the drama of completely unworthy men.

While the hiatus hasn't been as complete as I originally intended, it's worked in my quest to rid my life of the Unmentionables and making my life less drama-filled. I don't remember the last time I cried because I had allowed yet another guy treat me badly. Other than a few weekends ago when I was so sick I wanted to die, I don't remember the last time I cried at all. And it used to be a weekly occurance.

And now that I am FINALLY getting over this sickness that has made my life 100% hell for the last 2 weeks, I can go back to the gym with full force again. I miss the endorphins.

Today's Title from: Tell Me What We're Gonna Do Now by Joss Stone

Karma has repaid me for the biggest disgrace to men everywhere, otherwise known as The Italian.

Patrick, The Blind Date, and I met at a steak house around 7:30 last night. An expensive steak house. I was surprised by his choice for a first and blind date. I had expected to only meet for drinks, then maybe grab some food if things went well. He was more optimistic than me. And I'm glad.

The food was delicious. We had jumbo shrimp as an appetizer. He ordered an insanely expensive bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. I had filet mignon. He had grilled ribeye. I had some major internal freak-outs at the possibility that I might end up paying for the meal, even though I had no absolutely no reason to suspect that this would be the outcome.

Patrick was fabulous. Educated, and intelligent (2 completely separate distinctions in my opinion). Respectful and genuine. He was funny and sarcastic, which means that he took my sarcasm well. Talk over dinner never seemed to stop, switching from subject to subject seamlessly. Although there was a moment where he had to pause and fully take in how absolutely fabulous I am after I had told him that I think Will Ferrell is a comedic genius.

He liked me. This I know.

After we left the steak house around 10, he wasn't ready for the night to be over and suggested we go to a wine bar nearby. We sat and talked over glasses of wine for a few more hours, arguing only once over exactly how many studio albums John Mayer has released. He mentioned that this was the best first date he had ever been on.

When it was time for me to go home, he waited with me while I hailed a cab, and kissed me gently once as I got in.

Then he called me to make sure I got home okay.

As far as first dates go, it registers about a 9 1/2 (on a scale of 1-10). On my List of Things That I Want in a Man in a Committed Relationship, he's at least 90% there.

The sexual chemistry isn't really there yet, but I have to give that more time, so I'm not terribly concerned just yet. I'm so used to sexual chemistry being THE ONLY element in the relationship, I've forgotten what it's like to actually let a relationship develop.

I like him. I'm excited to see if all this potential could actually lead to something.

Stay tuned.

Today's Title from: Sex, Love and Money by Mos Def

Labels: Patrick

Okay, so this is the look I'm going to stick with for a while. I quite like it.

So I have a date tonight. A blind date. We've never met, although we've emailed and spoken on the phone quite a bit. He's funny, like makes-me-laugh-out-loud funny. He's the most-grown-up guy I've gone out with in a long, long time. So far, he has seemed sincere and genuine and hasn't been even remotely disrespectful and hasn't talked about anything inappropriate. He hasn't sent me naked pictures of himself (this really has happened in the past). He's educated- graduate degree educated. Etc. Etc. Etc.

I'm still freaked out that I'm going to end up paying for dinner.

Wouldn't that be so awesome?

Today's Title from: Ready to Take a Chance Again by Barry Manilow

Labels: Patrick

I'm trying out some new looks. So, it may look like a completely different blog everyday. Bear with me folks.

I keep thinking of things I want to write about!

So, I've lived in New York 3 1/2 years now. And I have come a really long way. In a lot of ways, but most noticeably in the area of fashion. This point is driven home every time I look at my photo on my work ID (which I use about 20 times a day).

Let me paint a picture for you.

Outfit I was wearing the day my photo was taken for work- 3 years and 4 months ago, an outfit that I remember wearing often my first winter here.
-long sleeved red t-shirt from Gap
-ankle length denim skirt that can only be described as- voluminous
-BLACK POLAR FLEECE VEST, I am totally not kidding here. I wore this vest A LOT. Oh god, that is so sad.
-the killer is the shoes- black, loaferish, rounded toe, huge chunky heel, the kind of shoe that Stacey and Clinton on What Not to Wear hate with a passion unbridled.
-a fake Kate Spade handbag

Outfit that I am wearing today:
-cropped, glen-plaid, cuffed trousers from Ann Taylor
-pale pink corduroy jacket that I bought in Montreal
-white cami with lace trim- I think also Ann Taylor
-knee-high black boots with a suitable 2-inch, non-chunky heel and a pointy toe.
-multi-strand funky necklace of pinks and lavendars from BCBG
-a real Kate Spade handbag

Some of you may be thinking- short pants and knee length boots? WTF? Trust me on this one, this is a very New York look (it might be a look that is big in other places, but I don't know, because I haven't left New York in about 5 months, and when I was last home in Smalltown, USA, it definitely hadn't caught on there QUITE yet). Approximately 50% of the women in this city leave their house dressed in this fashion every day.

Do you see the difference people? My reminiscent horror is directed almost exclusively at my shoe choices, but it was all very, very bad.

Thank god for fashion magazines and very fashionable best friends.

Today's Title from: The Good Life by Weezer

Dear Jay-

We've known each other for about 2 years now, ever since I moved in next door to you. And dear god, do I adore you. We were friends first, then we went through that phase where we would have really hot sex at the hotel that you work at- that time in the conference room was especially hot. YOWSA. That didn't end well and we didn't speak for a while, but we've been back to being friends for about 6-7 months now.

I love how you always yell hilarious things at me when you see me on the street. You're never afraid to let anyone know how good of friends we are. I love it that you tell me what all the other guys on the street say about me and that they always come to you when they want to know about me. I love that if you see me coming home late, you'll walk me all the way to my door and even come in for a while and totally not put the moves on me, even though I have occasionally pleaded with you to (those nights when I was drunk and obviously not thinking clearly...).

I love it that you came over last night and just hung out. I love it that we were in my room just laying on my bed talking and you made me laugh and laugh and laugh (especially when you tripped on my rug while you were preening in front of my full-length mirror and almost fell on your ass). Then you threw me over your shoulder and walked me around the apartment while my roommates howled with laughter. I love it that we were just talking and you looked at me and completely out of nowhere, said, "God, you have beautiful eyes."

I love it that we're friends. I love your completely random, but always absolutely entertaining friendship.

Today's Title from: You Give Me Something by James Morrison (everyone go buy this album- Undiscovered- immediately. IT ROCKS.)

Labels: Jay

Dear Cam-

You haven't ever been the best I've ever had, but you've had your moments where you've left me a very happy woman. More than once a night would have often been preferable, but I learned not to ask for too much where you're concerned. I told you I wanted to end whatever it was that we had, and you've been good at staying friends, especially when you needed something from me. You've also been gunning the entire time for us to add some 'benefits' to our friendship.

Last night, I relented and agreed to give it a try, mostly cause I was hoping to borrow your xbox for a few days and I thought a good blow job might swing you (I was wrong). Let me give you a few pointers on things you might want to consider when you are trying to convince a woman that she should continue sleeping with you.

1. When she spends a lot of time going down on you- just the way you like it- it means that she wants some reciprocation, and she hates having to ask for it EVERY FUCKING TIME. Is it so much to ask that you take some initiative? She didn't take a shower right before she came over for nothing. Ahem. BE THERE FOR HER.

2. Make it last longer than 5 minutes. Or, if it's been a while and you've got a hairpin trigger, after throughly disappointing her, let her know that you will make it up to her. This is not the appropriate time to turn on the NCAA basketball championship.

3. Stop being so fucking selfish already. Doggie position is YOUR favorite position. Not necessarily hers.

4. When she doesn't have an orgasm, she's not likely to come back. Especially when getting her to have one is generally not difficult.

Smooches-
Chloe

Today's Title from: Never Gonna Get It by En Vogue

Labels: Cam

I wish

1. That I wasn't sick anymore. I wish that I could walk 10 feet without getting winded and that I could sleep through the night without the aid of strong medications. I wish that I could just feel normal again.

2. That, even though it's probably, no definitely, for the best, that things hadn't ended so badly with Scott that we now hate each other.

3. That Marc would at least talk to me so I know that we're still friends. Surely sex doesn't have to ruin everything does it?

4. That I would stop having really vivid sex dreams, because it makes the fact that I'm not having sex that much more difficult to bear.

5. That my management company would fix the frigging elevator already because I live on the 6th floor and I'm getting tired of climbing the stairs.


Lessons I Wish I Hadn't Had to Learn in the Last Year

1. That beautiful and perfect moments with a person does not equal a beautiful person. It just means that person is good in the moments, even though he might inherently be an asshole.

2. That sex really and honestly can mean absolutely nothing.

3. That most men are not to be trusted. Some of them have absolutely no problem whatsoever telling you something, even though there is not an ounce of truth in it, just to get in your pants.

4. That I am naturally attracted to men who are not even remotely worthy of me.

Today's Title from: Wake Up by Arcade Fire