The Virginity Monologues

I am having trouble sleeping at night. The sleeping pills my mother gave to me wink at me from my nightstand, but I know how consistently my trouble with sleeping will rear its ugly head and the last thing I need is a dependency on something else.

I have a teddy bear in my room. Given to me by a friend several years ago when my sister-in-law lost her baby and sadness was a continual blanket over me. It has sat at the foot of my bed for a long time, seeming something silly to hold onto but having enough meaning for me not to throw it out.

Since returning from the hearth of my family for Christmas, I have taken to sleeping with this teddy bear every night. The words from the attempted intervention from my sister, brother and their spouses still stinging.

"Poor life choices..."

"Pretty soon you'll be a crack addict..."

"No self-respect..."

"Why do you let everyone in your life treat you just like Dad?"

"You're just like Mom....."

Having chosen to live a different life away from the religion in which I was raised, I knew these lectures and attempts to bring me back to the fold would be inevitable. I just didn't expect such a deep misunderstanding of who I really am or how different things are for me than them.

No, I'm not always happy with my life. The last year has absolutely positively SUCKED. I never want to set foot in a courtroom again. I never want to go to a Dr's appointment again. I never want to be let down by a man again. I never want to give someone my heart again.

But you know what, I'm at peace with my life. I'm living my life for me and me alone. And that's the most important thing of all.

However, the teddy bear is still necessary. Sleeping alone, being plagued by my cell phone that isn't ringing after the promises made by a certain adorably cute but horribly reliable individual, has become unbearable, physically painful. I need something to hold onto, or I'm afraid I'll start crying and never stop.

I turn 30 in a week. In one week my 20's are over. Part of me can't believe that I've made it to where I am. I have an amazing career in New York City. I've learned how to stand on my own two feet in a city that eats people up and heartily spits them out. I discovered myself to the depth of my soul and learned to love the size of my ass.

Poor life choices?

I genuinely don't think so.

Today's Title from: The Way I am by Ingrid Michaelson

I’ve had a whole slew of really fantastic days. I hardly even know where to begin.

Last Thursday night, I had dinner at Stanton Social with Spatch, Ana and Ames. It was an absolutely delightful meal, where we spent some time planning my upcoming 30th birthday. And the plans made helped make it so that this day that I have been dreading more than any other day of my life, seem less dreadful.

Friday night we had our company party, then I was off to meet Email Boy and his friends for a going away party for one of them. All of my different groups of friends are their own version of crazy. These boys are the version where they bring blow up dolls to obnoxious bars named ‘Porky’s’ and dance like idiots all night long. After a seriously awkward round of dirty dancing with Email Boy, where I tried valiantly to keep my breasts from making any bodily contact with him, I decided my feet had had enough for the night and made my way home. Deliriously happy.

There are times when I debate about how much to reveal here about my version of crazy. Sometimes, when the sun, moon and stars all align, I am the most uninhibited version of myself. And it doesn’t always necessarily include alcohol. Saturday was one such night. At my very good friend, Brian’s, annual Christmas party, I let myself get swept up in the holiday cheer and took all kinds of incriminating pictures and let one of the makeup artists there experiment by putting Lip Venom on one of my nipples (it tingles). After the house party, Karen and I headed uptown to meet up with some new friends we had made earlier that night. We shook our booties in a restaurant-turned-club in East Harlem, until I finally cried “Uncle” around 2:30 am.

Sunday was a miserable, miserable day weather wise. So I stayed at home and curled up on my couch, content to just recover from the previous couple of days. Around 8-ish, my brand new friend who lives a mere 20 blocks from me, called to see if I wanted to meet her and some other friends for dinner. I went, thinking I wouldn’t stay long.

Around midnight- I started to think it was time for me to go. But New Friends persisted that I stay.

At 2 am, I finally forced myself to leave, claiming that this action was not open for negotiation.

New Friends called to make sure I got home okay just before I crashed. DELIRIOUSLY happy.

Today, I am packed and ready to go home for the Holidays. My flight leaves in about 7 hours. My stomach is in knots and I didn’t sleep at all last night.

Wish me luck.

Today's Title from: When You Were Young by The Killers

I went to sleep last night deliriously happy. Yesterday was the perfect day.

I found the perfect new top for our company holiday party.

My roommate/BFF and I got ourselves a Christmas tree and decorated it while watching White Christmas and eating overly frosted sugar cookies and drinking egg nog and mulled apple cider. It was a deliciously Christmas-y evening.

Plus, all day long, I continually ran over the phone conversation in my head that had taken place at 4 am, the previous night.

Having walked in my door at 3:45 and semi-upset over instances that had just taken place, I wanted to talk to Oscar. And since he is the KING of calling me at odd hours of the night to talk, I figured I was well within my rights to call HIM in the wee hours of the morning. And I have to admit, I was also decidedly curious as to what would happen when I call him at 4 am on a Saturday night.

I was delighted beyond belief when he answered groggily. He was home. Asleep. ALONE.

We chatted for a few minutes, but he was tired enough that conversation was difficult. I apologized for having woken him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, babygirl,” he said, “you can call me ANYTIME you want.”

“Really?” I replied incredulously.

“Really.”

This morning, as my train ride to midtown was taking MUCH longer than it should have and I groaned inwardly as my express train moved to the local track, I felt this was a sign that my day was not going to go well.

I was right.

In a stunning last minute announcement, our company was doing lay-offs. One of my closest work friends was not spared. Right before Christmas. I am sad and disheartened and feeling horribly about myself because I’m relieved that it wasn’t me.

Today's Title from: Cold Water by Damien Rice

Labels: Oscar

All you have to do is look at me to see that I’ve been having a lot of sleepless nights. The bags under my eyes are dark and prominent. Every blemish on my face lit by a neon light. All the makeup and concealer in the world can’t fix this degree of ugly.

It was all worth it though for the night I had last night.

“What time to you have to leave for work? 8:00?” Oscar asked me this morning.

I nodded.

“What time is it now?”

“7:45,” I said.

“Good, I can have you just a little bit longer,” he said as he pulled the covers up tighter and pulled me in closer.

I buried my face in his neck and giggled about the last 12 hours.

In the car on the way to his place, I impressed him with my knowledge of Jay-Z lyrics. He sang smooth jazz to me. Once back at his place, he showed me all of his new toys, asked for some decoration help and made me dinner, then let me eat all of his sweet potato pie. We talked about his friends- about how all of them adore me and have asked about me. We talked about our future together- which he apparently thinks will be a very long time.

We laughed a lot.

There are moments when we seem perfectly suited for each other. Over the phone, he can always call me on any facial expression I would be exhibiting at any given time. He gets my humor, even when he doesn’t think its as funny as I do. He calls me on my bullshit and takes it in good stride when I call him on his.

And I’m conflicted.

I’ll admit- I WANT to be with him. When I’m with him- he’s everything I want. I also can admit that all relationships are a two way street and a lot of our problems were just as much my fault as they were his. Having never really been in a committed relationship before, there’s a lot of new ground that I was learning- the hard way. I know I’m terrible in relationships.

And despite all of our problem areas- I know that underneath it all- he’s a good person, with a good heart.

But the problem areas are there. There’s things about us that couldn’t be any more different, and these things manifest themselves in our relationship styles. And both of us don’t want to need the other person, but want the other person to need us, which doesn’t really work well, as you can imagine.

Ugh. I don't know what to do.

Today's Title from: Delicate by Damien Rice

Labels: Oscar