The Virginity Monologues

So, I've started about 3 blog posts and haven't finished any of them because I keep getting distracted.

One was about my passport debacle. Which is now resolved. $400 later. OUCH. But at least I won't have any trouble getting into Canada now.

One was about my new food program, thanks to The Great Stomach Shrinkage that happened when I got so insanely sick a few weeks ago. But I'm tired of obsessing about food and lets just say the 7 pound drop this month speaks for itself.

None of them were about Oscar. I'm becoming more and more disillusioned everyday and I absolutely cannot talk about it anymore.

All I really care about is that I am leaving for Montreal for about 5 days tomorrow. I initially worried that we wouldn't have enough to do for those 5 days, but a little research and advance planning later, we've got the whole trip filled. Day trip to Quebec City. Brunch cruise. Bike-riding along the river.

Don't miss me too much, kids.

Today's Title from: Big Shit Poppin by T.I.

The thing is, I still believe in you.

After a lifetime of unrequited love and missteps, I still believe that you are out there somewhere- that someone who really, geniunely 'gets' me and truly defines the idea of 'soul mate'.

I believe in the future of lazy Sunday mornings in bed together. Or gloomy, rainy afternoons. I believe in learning and adoring all of your idiosyncracies and being touched when you remember and cater to mine. I don't believe that we will fall in love at first sight, because I don't believe that's real love. But I believe that we will fall in love with each other a little more each day, until we reach that point where we know that we will want to spend the rest of our lives together.

I believe in your ability to stand up to me and not let me walk all over you as I am wont to do if I can. I believe that you will be strong and reliable, and understand that sometimes I have days where I just need to cry and you can't fix it. I believe that you will do what you say you're going to do and always follow through.

I believe that you will make me believe I am beautiful.

I believe that you will understand who I am inherently. I believe you will see me- for all the wonderful things about me- my independence, my brilliance, my sense of humor, my insatiable sex drive, my ambition and for my flaws- my impatience, my selfishness, my independence and my mean defense mechanism streak; and still love me.

I believe that we will laugh together, often. I believe that you will hold me while I sleep. I believe that we will go through hard times and that I will want to run, more than once, but that we will get through them, and we will be stronger for them.

I believe that you will be the love of my life.

And I believe that I haven't met you yet.

Today's Title from: Belief by Gavin DeGraw

I'm a complete basket case. I've cried no less than 10 times today. And I can't make it stop.

It could be the friend, who is like a brother to me, who only told me yesterday that he is moving to Atlanta next week.

It could be the new birth control pill.

It could be the boyfriend, who has serious issues with picking up the phone and just FUCKING COMMUNICATING.

It could be that this year has just sucked all around- between being sick, apartment legal battles, troublesome boyfriends and family issues, I feel constantly in the middle of some major drama and I would really just like some personal peace.

Today's Title from: What if You by Joshua Radin

I've recently discovered a new phenomenon, that apparently plagues every female and I guess it's just my turn.

Now that I am firmly rooted in a relationship, it's as if every other man that I've ever been involved with can smell my inaccessability and want to challenge me on my ability to resist them. I've said 'no' to sex more in the last 2 weeks than maybe the rest of my life combined (I don't often say 'no' to sex. I am the ideal girlfriend, no?)

Men who have weirdly come out of the woodwork recently:
Jay (my super-hot next door neighbor, that was the toughest one by far)
Cam (and he's been TENACIOUS, even after I told him I have a boyfriend)
Scott (NO LIE, his nerve knows no bounds)
Mr. Wrong (it was just a sort of random passing comment, but it threw me)

I never really imagined that cheating would be a real temptation for me. I also never imagined that it would even be an option, especially from men I have previously been wildly attracted to. I've lived my life for so long without even having to think about 'being committed' that it's actually been hard for me to change my way of thinking and recognize that really, my options are no longer limitless.

Mostly I just think of Oscar. I think of him holding me while I cried last week, of his cute random text messages, of his late night phone calls because he wants to talk to me and he can't wait, and of how much it would destroy me if the situation were reversed.

P.S. I am going to Montreal (again) next week and would love any restaurant/club recommendations if anyone has some. I've thoughtfully provided an email on my profile and will take you out to dinner here in NYC if you give me some good info.....

Today's Title from: Nice to Meet You Anyway by Gavin DeGraw

Labels: Oscar

When I went to bed on Friday night, I knew I was getting sick. I could feel it in the back of my throat, the place where it always starts.


I'm pissed, but I'm not surprised. I've been out-of-my-mind stressed over the last couple of weeks, then just as that stress was ending, I had a night of almost no sleep at all, a night when I needed a full nights sleep more than anything.


Saturday morning I wake up to the same inflamed tonsils that have been plaguing me all year. This will be my 5th struggle with them since February. I expect it to be annoying and painful to swallow, but I imagine that it will be a little like the last few times where I am still functioning, just at a lower capacity. As the day progresses and I find myself having slept most of it on the couch, I realize that this is no wussy bout of tonsilitis. Later I make Karen reaffirm my suspicions that I have a fever. Then I huddle back under my blankets to sleep some more.


I drift back into consciousness and call Spatch to let her know I won't be able to make brunch the next morning. I fall back asleep. The events of the evening come in waves to me. Karen has stayed home with me, and I thank her by sleeping all night. She makes cookies, does some cleaning, occasionally attempts to talk to me. And I just keep sleeping.


Sunday morning I wake up at 6 am. I deliriously make my way to the kitchen, make myself some TheraFlu, pop some Aleve to make the pain bearable and lay down on the couch to spend the rest of the day sleeping again.


I'm not eating. I'm barely drinking. All I want to do is sleep. Later that night when one of our roommates has a guest over, Karen and I retire to my bedroom and she reads to me while I lay on my bed, praying for death. Even later, as I sweat off my fever, my roommates let me open windows and turn on a fan even though they are freezing.


Monday morning, I feel moderately better, but the pain in my throat is still unbearable. I call in sick. I call my doctor and cry my way into an appointment later that afternoon.


After she looks down my throat, she confirms what I already know she is going to tell me.


Its time to take my tonsils out.


I am half-elation and half-dread.

Today's Title from: I Want to Break Free by Queen

Labels: tonsils

I am only a minute or so late to meet Email Boy in the West Village and as I hurry up the steps of the Christopher-Sheridan stop. His back is to me and he doesn't see me, so I sneak up behind him and grab his ass as hard as I can. He whips around at lightning speed, fist raised and clenched- ready to do battle.

I laugh myself silly.

We saunter down West 4th street to one of my most favorite restaurants, Smorgas Chef, for an evening of shit-talking, and meatballs. I am telling him the story of having stayed at Oscar's the previous night and the conversation that changed everything for me with Oscar that morning.

Oscar and I had a misunderstanding, and in my typical fashion, I overreacted. I tell Email Boy about the statement that came out of my mouth in the midst of this understanding with Oscar-

"I'm sorry, but I'm terrible in relationships."

As this statement is coming out of my mouth, my mind kicks into high gear. I've been a little worried that I have been reading more into this situation with Oscar than intended. I've been afraid that I have been committing and he has is still thinking this is just casually dating. So, as the word 'relationship' comes bursting forth from my lips, I wonder how he will react. I expect him to say something to the tune of, "whoa nelly, lets not get ahead of ourselves here with this relationship business."

Oscar doesn't sugarcoat. And he doesn't say things just because he thinks it what I want to hear. He has no qualms about giving the straight-up honest truth.

He does not dissuade me of my ridiculous notions. Instead he says, "you're telling me!"

And I am not deluding myself. We are, in fact, in a relationship.

Email Boy listens to my story, stunned. By this time we are sitting at our table and have already ordered.

"Is this your first committed, sexually active relationship?" he asks.

I blush. I am embarrassed that this is the truth at 29.

I change the subject. We spend the rest of dinner discussing his horrific taste in women and what it is about him that makes every female he spends more than 2 minutes with turn into a raving psychotic stalker. While I am with him, one girl in particular calls twice. And texts. Its loony to watch. I am so careful with my actions towards men, especially in a new dating situation, that I cannot understand these women literally throwing themselves at him. If I wasn't watching it firsthand, I don't know that I would believe it.

After dinner he suggests a movie. We wander over to Union Square, load up on some candy at Duane Reade and get ourselves some tickets to Bourne Ultimatum. I am still going off of very little sleep for weeks, and having only gotten 2 hours worth the night before. Full of good food in a very dark theater, my body gives up the fight and I sleep through half of the movie. Email Boy nudges me constantly, but I'm too warm and cozy and absolutely content.

A contentment that reaches all the way to the deep, dark corners of my soul.

I have a great apartment that I get to keep living in- in New York City.

I have THE VERY BEST friends.

I have a boyfriend that in my unguarded moments will admit to being absolutely bat-shit nuts about.

Today's Title from: Someone Else's Life by Joshua Radin

Labels: Email Boy, Oscar

As I set here at my desk, having successfully survived court this morning and still in possession of an apartment to live in, I can actually feel my stress levels decreasing.

And it's a beautiful thing.

For the first time in 2 weeks, I don't have a nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me of my impending court date.

For the first time in 2 weeks, I am not compelled to look at rooms available for rent on Craigslist.
And for the first time in 2 weeks, I can breathe deep and feel that everything really is right in my world.

I haven't talked about it much, but this whole saga began because I filed a complaint against my management company when the president of our tenant's housing association told me I was paying too much rent based on the laws of rent stabilization and the amount that the previous tenant was paying. Lots of legal mumbo jumbo.

I said- a chance to pay lower rent? HELLS YEAH.

They warned me of retalitory tactics by the management company. Because if I win with my complaint, then the management company not only has to lower my rent, but also has to pay me back all retroactive overpayments.

And I've lived there for over 2 years.

It adds up.

I wasn't prepared for the nastiness that would ensue. And the tears that would follow. And how familiar I would become with New York State Housing Court.

The icing on the cake is that my lawyer told me this morning that DHCR (a division of housing here in The Big Apple) has been awarding people in my building who have filed similar complaints with treble damages. If you were too lazy to follow my wikipedia link to what treble damages are, it means that I get back TRIPLE what they actually owe me. If they rule in my favor. This is still undecided. DHCR is not exactly speedy.

I've been playing the numbers game with this 'treble damages' information all morning.

And here's what I've mentally spent my money on.

1. A car. A Jeep Liberty to exact. Pre-owned. Manual transmission.
2. A trip to Greece. Email Boy would have to come, since he speaks Greek fluently. And Ana wants to come too.
3. A trip to Paris. For me and Karen.
4. A book on how to communicate in relationships for Oscar.
5. A healthy investment portfolio
6. A new living room furniture set
7. A new bed.
8. Sessions with a personal trainer
9. A kick ass laptop
10. A pair of Christian Louboutin shoes

I'm thinking its time to get my passport renewed!

And take a nap. After all the lost sleep over the last 2 weeks, I'm EXHAUSTED.

Today's Title from: We are the Champions by Queen

I am strung really tight right now. My anxiety levels are at their peak and I haven't slept through the night in weeks.

My doctor gave me some coping techniques, but sometimes I'm too worked up to even concentrate enough to do them.

I go to court again tomorrow morning against my apartment management company. This should be the final showdown. I am nervous because this doesn't affect just me, but my 3 other roommates as well. I'm angry that things have gotten to this point and that people really can be this horrible.

I'm upset because I called Oscar last night, sad and needing him. Yes, I admit it, needing him. I wanted him there with me, but in the absence of the comforting presence of his arms, I just wanted to talk to him. I wanted to laugh about stupid things and work on our plan to have sex in a public place. He was so cute and adorable on the phone, on his way to his boy's house to watch a football game and promising to call me when he got home.

"Bye baby," he said.

And I was giddy and happy.

Until I woke up at midnight to the deafening silence of a phone not ringing, and didn't fall back asleep until 3. Then I woke up again at 6, even though my alarm doesn't go off until 7:30.

And in those hours of wakeful anticipation, I knew in my head all of the reasons why I was being a complete nutcase. I knew that he was with his boys and that anything is possible in those situations. I knew that he might have come home exhausted and fallen asleep on the couch as he is frequently wont to do. I knew that a promise to call isn't binding and that almost everyone I know doesn't always call when they say they will.

But I'm still strung tightly today. I find myself fighting tears at the most ridiculous moments and I am clinging to my plans for wine and tapas with Spatch tomorrow night like a life-line for when Things Will Be Normal Again.

Today's Title from: I Used to Love Him by Lauryn Hill

Labels: anxiety, Oscar

My boyfriend wants me to talk about my feelings more.

After arriving home from a bachelor's party on Thursday night/Friday morning, I got a 5 am phone call from Oscar. Knowing he had blown off our plans the night before for the forgotten bachelor's party, he knew he had some kissing ass to do.

After talking for about an hour, then realizing that neither of us had to work the next day, he decides to come and get me. At 6 am.

In the car on the way back to his place, he prods me very directly about how I feel about him.

"I like you. I've agreed not to sleep with anybody else, and I don't want to sleep with anybody else. What more do you need to know?" I said.

He heaves a big sigh across the car.

"You know what that's like when you tell me that? That's like running 3 miles, and going for your water, only to find the glass of water empty. That's what it's like for me when you say that," he told me.

"I'm sorry. I don't like to be vulnerable," I respond.

"Well, you need to learn to start."

The rest of the trip is equally as painful for me. He asks me questions and I can formulate an answer in my head, but I can't make the words leave my mouth. I hedge. I evade. I turn the questions back around on him. He tells me that trying to get a straight answer out of me is like being in court. He claims to need a litigator just to get me to answer a damn question.

I can't tell him how afraid I am. I can't tell him that the reason I don't give him everything he wants is because I'm terrified that the second he finds out that every night that I'm not with him- I miss him and wish he was there, that I worry like crazy when I don't hear from him for a few days, that everytime I see him, I get butterflies in my stomach and that right now, there isn't anybody on earth that I want to be with more- he's going to do a runner. He's going to say, holy shit- I didn't sign on for this kind of emotion and take off.

I don't have any basis for thinking these will be his actions other than how these things have gone in my past. I knew immediately when the shift occured in my relationship with my ex. The shift where we both knew that I had grown to like him more than he liked me. And the end of the relationship came shortly thereafter.

I'm terrified of letting go of the upper hand.

And later, as we lay on his bed, just cuddling, and he talked of his feelings for me and he again reiterated that he wasn't letting me go anywhere, I smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said.

Today's Title from: Undiscovered by James Morrison

Labels: Oscar

I find myself in a position that I haven't been in for about 3 years.

I think I might have a boyfriend.

Don't you just want to giggle?

A drunk phone call on Sunday night was the basis for the conversation in which Oscar and I agreed to be exclusive. It was his idea. He also suggested I move in with him (so he could more readily get some every night), but I was quick to nix the idea. I'm a girl who needs her own space/time.

I wasn't sure if decisions made when he was in an inebriated state counted, but the rampant texting yesterday and the phone call last night solidified it.

We made plans to fulfill each other's fantasies. He told me again how much he wants to meet my BFF, Karen. We talked about our first impressions of each other and how both of us have exceeded each other's initial expectations. When I told him that I worried I wouldn't ever see him again after our first date, complete with some slutty behavior by me, he told me, "don't worry, I'm not letting you go anywhere."

And somewhere inside me, a wall went down.

We've certainly had our ups and downs. We both have our own sets of insecurities and it's been a struggle for both of us to get past them enough to have enough faith in ourselves and in the other person.

But right now, in this moment, I am ridiculously happy.

Labels: Oscar

I have ZERO motivation today. After a stressful week, complete with a day filled with SO MUCH anxiety that I spent the entire day shaking and not eating (apartment legal woes rear their ugly head again). A long, productive talk with my lawyer and a good nights' sleep have helped my state of mind considerably.

Getting to see John Legend in Bryant Park this morning didn't hurt either. YOWSA that man is hot.

I met up with Spatch last night for some tapas and commiseration. Both of us had been through hell and back in the previous 24 hours and drinks and tears were on the agenda. After talking through all of the horrible stuff and surmising that both of us will indeed manage to go on living, I told her the story of Oscar and his lessons for me in Relationship Communication. As I neared the end of the story, the part where apologized to me so sincerely for crimes he didn't commit, I found myself tearing up. I told her about all the legal woes without even choking up, but the second I start talking about Oscar, I lose it.

After I'm done with the story, she ponders the possibility that Oscar might actually be A Good Guy underneath it all after all. She sees the tears, tracking down my face in my ridiculous burst of emotion and says, "You're really falling for him aren't you?"

I nod.

"And I'm TERRIFIED. I'm more scared of my emotions for Oscar than I am of my apartment management company."

She quizzes me on how I'm showing him my feelings and I confess to her that I do as little as humanly possible. My calls and texts to him are the bare miminum. She encourages me to open up and let him in- send him text messages for no reason, telling him that I'm thinking of him and other emotionally expressive steps.

Just thinking about doing this paralyzes me with fear.

I change the subject, getting her advice on ways to supplement my income in this city (I'm NOT great with money, hands-down my biggest flaw) and learning that she is a veritable treasure trove of information.

We leave Las Ramblas, one of our favorite tapas places, and walk up to 14th street. Just as I am saying goodbye to her, my lawyer calls and talks me off my ledge. She assures me that everything will be okay and I am comforted by her legal speak that I don't particularly understand.

And I go home, eager to start our with some of my new ideas and confident that just maybe, the universe might align itself in my favor after all.

Today's Title from: Each Day Gets Better by John Legend

Labels: Oscar, Spatch

Ladies and gentlemen- there is a glaring truth that is staring me in the face.

The reason for so many failed relationships on my part might not QUITE be completely to blame on the men involved as I have been attributing.

I stayed at Oscar's last night and a 'situation' occured. That I'm not going to get into the details because its extremely personal. It was no one's fault. But Oscar was pretty upset about it. He made it clear to me he was not mad at me, but upset at the situation. Other than being unusually quiet, he did nothing to indicate that he blamed me for what had happened.

But peeps, I am a girl FRAUGHT with insecurities. I laid there, mind whirling with ridiculous notions of him hating me and ending things and assuming that he really was mad at me even though he said he wasn't and being mad at him about that.

I was a HOT MESS.

And this was AFTER the long conversation that him and I had about his obligations and responsibilities these days, how overwhelmed he is and where he told me that I am the only person he actually makes time for, despite not really having any time to give.

This morning, I was still upset as I gathered my things to leave. He knew something was wrong and wouldn't let me leave until everything was resolved. I was quiet, having a hard time finding my voice for fear that I would break down in front of him. He spoke to me gently, apologizing despite there being no need for it. And even though my gut keeps telling me to just hold on, all I wanted to do was run. Run from my insecurities and the man forcing me to be vulnerable.

And besides, how do you tell the person you might be falling in love with that you're upset because you've got a one-way ticket on the Acela Express to Crazytown and THERE AREN'T ANY BRAKES?

I barely made it out of sight before I burst into tears. Why was I crying? I don't know! I don't have a good reason. Except that I have to stay. I can't run.

Even if I tried, I know he wouldn't actually let me go.

Today's Title from: He Can Only Hold Her by Amy Winehouse

Labels: Oscar