The Virginity Monologues

I think about you often these days. It makes sense, I mean, we talk about you and our dysfunction in therapy frequently. Even on my best days- you are the subject that always makes me break down. And it takes me by surprise every time. Especially the first time, when she asked about my most recent relationship. All I said was your name. I immediately felt as if someone had poured a bucket of pain all over me and pretty soon, I was sobbing.

I don’t know why it STILL hurts so much. Was it that you cared so little? Or that I cared so much.

You are never far from my thoughts. Even at times when there’s no way I should be thinking of you. Like Saturday night, when Nicole and I met up with some boys that she knows at that ‘club’ in Queens. It reminded me of the night of one of your boys’ bachelor party, when you were texting me all night, then came to get me on your way home, even though it was 5 am. And here I was, at this ‘club’, being hit on by 2 of the hottest men I have seen in a long time, and I’m wishing I’m with you instead.

To the point that I almost called you as I poured myself into bed around 5 am. Luckily, Nicole called to have a heart to heart about our friendship and by the time we hung up, I was so tired, I could barely form coherent sentences. I fell asleep thinking of my favorite things about you, not the unbearably hot man that had taken my number earlier. I thought of the laugh lines around your mouth. Your funny walk. The crook of your neck. I thought about how tightly you would hold me in the mornings. And how you always, always called me on my bullshit.

Hope is the theme for my life these days. Learning to let it back in. Not to let my cynicism become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I hope that someday, I will be over you.

Today's Title from: Nightswimming by REM

Labels: Oscar

HI! I’m here! I’m just busy.

Like ridiculously busy.

Busy in the normal, routine sense.

And also busy in the abstract sense.

I decided that this year is going to be MY year. Its going to be the year that I get my life in order.

I’m going to get my life in order in the mental/emotional sense. I started seeing a psychologist about a month ago, and already, myself and other people see changes. I’m not necessarily hearing anything I haven’t heard/already thought before, but maybe it’s the way that its coming from her, that the point is being driven home.

I.E. Men will never respect me when I don’t demonstrate that I respect myself.

Its hard. And I cry; every single week. Sometimes great big heaving sobs, like when I told her all about the 6 month time period when I attempted living with my dad, because he asked me to, and how it ultimately affected me and my mom. And how to this day, the day that I moved back to my mom’s house is the Single Worst Day of My Life. Followed closely by the day that I left my host mom in Russia.

I’m not dating for now. And except for the minor setback that was The Trainer, I’ve stayed pretty true to that since late January after The DJ Debacle. I’ve purged my life of all men who randomly pop up occasionally. For the first time in my life, I’m insulted by their inquiries to ‘come through’ instead of flattered. The half-assed attention that I get from these losers isn’t even remotely appealing to me anymore. And that feels pretty damn good.

I’m getting my life in order financially. I started seeing a financial advisor who is going to help me start setting myself up for retirement and allow me to enjoy New York, without living paycheck to paycheck and constantly feeling broke like I do now. It’s the number one reason that I don’t sleep at night. And its unpleasant. I’m absolutely terrible with money and at 30, this shit needs to stop.

I’d like to say that I’m also going to get my life in order physically, but honestly, this is the area where I have the LEAST amount of motivation. I’d like to be the kind of person who goes to the gym for at least 45 minutes everyday, and I’d like to lose a significant amount of weight (although managing to keep a relatively fat ass at the same time), but being a lazy Foodie completely works against me in this scenario. I’m working on it. I need a gym buddy. And I need to eat at home a lot more often (which will be healthier and better for my budget!)

But, like I said, I’m a busy girl. I won’t go into the specifics of my weekend, because its gets boring after a while. But needless to say, it was FULL and completely awesome.

Today's Title from: It Could Be Sweet by Portishead

There are some universal truths that I like to live my life by.

1. There can never be enough sugar in my coffee/tea. I am a complete sugar junkie and I cannot deny it.
2. As told to me by a friend as a quote by Maya Angelou- When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

This second one has been a hard-hitting truth recently. Hands down, my biggest flaw is my steadfast belief in the goodness of everyone. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and consequently too many chances.

And proceed to get stood up, again. And again.

I didn’t write any more about The Trainer, for a few different reasons. Mainly, that I made such a big stink about him, that I couldn’t very well admit to seeing him again. I felt shameful. Also, I think that writing every detail about these ridiculous relationships leads me to be even more excessively analytical than I am naturally (I know, is that even possible?) and I’m trying to be more of a Just-Let-Things-Happen Girl.

Luckily, part of growing up is learning from your mistakes. And instead of letting myself remain in a relationship with someone for 6-8 months (Oscar?) despite the constant presence of red flags, I took the reins last night after the 3rd (yes 3rd! I’m an IDIOT!) incidence of complete disappearance by The Trainer, I left this message:

Hi Trainer, it’s Chloe. I don’t really understand what game you’re playing here, but I don’t want to play it anymore. Thank you very much for making me dinner last night, it was delicious, but I absolutely cannot continue to date someone who so consistently lets me down.

I’m not heartbroken, as luckily I kept my emotions completely in check, despite his excessive effusiveness of emotion (You’re so beautiful! I don’t want to lose you! I’m falling for you!). Although I am sad to lose those unbelievable tatted up arms. Mmmmmm.

Today's Title from: If You Only Knew by Jurassic 5

Labels: Ted

I have mentioned that my favorite designer is Michael Kors, yes? (I also really like Carolina Herrera, but Renee Zellweger is determined to ruin her for me) He uses a little too much fur (I am anti-fur) and gold metal accents for my personal tastes, but generally, I find his stuff to be incredibly chic and clean. For reasons that I will not disclose, I am often allowed to participate in sample sales at his corporate offices here in The Big Apple.

Now. Prepared to be jealous, bitches. I bought these shoes today. For $10.

Labels: shoes

Dear Weekend-

Wow. You, were awesome. Seriously, I know I may have complained about you a few times, due to the extreme busy-ness that had me running around like a crazy person from the second I left work on Friday until I collapsed on my couch after dinner last night. But I will always remember you very, very fondly.

Friday night was probably the best part of you. The dinner at Yuca Bar in the E. Village with Ana, Ben and other friends was delicious. Then glamming it up in the bathroom of that weird club in Brooklyn, where Ana covered me with glitter and blinky lights was a first for me that I really enjoyed. Then- the party, filled to the gills with the most strangely dressed people I have ever seen. And I got to dance- dance in the middle of the dance floor, not giving a shit about who was watching and maybe for the first time in my life, enjoying myself some techno. Please don’t tell Email Boy, Weekend, I’ll never live it down.

After leaving the party, why did you let me harass the cab driver so? Granted, it was enormously fun to forbid to give him my number citing his terrible driving as my reason, but still, he probably didn’t deserve my an entire cab ride of my semi-drunk antics.

Weekend, I think the best line of the weekend came the next morning, as Ana and I painted her room/office in her new apartment.

Me: Ana, you’re painting past the tape.
Ana: Chloe, how do I stop painting past the tape?
Me: Maybe stop painting like a crazy person.

I was sad to leave my friends and their ridiculously cozy apartment, but you had other plans for me. Brunch and an afternoon movie with my BFF, Karen. Maybe next time, try not to make the both of us so unbearably tired that we struggle to stay awake during the movie. Once finally, ensconsed back in my apartment after the movie, my plan was to take it as easy as possible until it was late enough for me to go to bed without shame. But Weekend, you clearly knew what was best for me when you sent me a dinner invitation from Nicole, that included just enough wine that when I finally did make it into my bed, I was OUT. It was beautiful, that night of sleep.

That, unfortunately, didn’t last long enough. The next morning, you had my alarm wake up me up at 9 am. 9 am! On a Sunday! To go to church! In Queens! Queens!!! Which actually was quite nice. I am really enjoying this new church, and its wonderful accepting attitude towards everyone and everything, even if some things there take a little more getting used to, like the people who dance at the front of the room.

After church, Nicole and I got to have lunch at Wendys. Thank you, dear Weekend, for sending me some Wendy’s. I love Wendy’s. I’d also like to thank you, Weekend, for that break that I got between church and dinner, when I went home and crashed for about an hour. An hour of desperately needed sleep. Sleep which helped me to be on my most charming and delightful behavior for dinner at Artisanal with Spatch and her parents last night. Which was delicious and very, very interesting.

Then, weekend, you finally let me rest. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t let me go to sleep. You had me tossing and turning until way past 1 am. And now I am outrageously tired. Thanks for that.

Anyhoo. You were fantastic. Really.

Smooches-
Chloe

Today's Title from: Live it Up by John Legend

Dear Chipotle-

It cannot be denied. I love you. I love your chips with just the right hint of lime and the extreme crunchiness of your tacos. And I cannot stay away, as I walk past you, the scent of goodness draws me in. Now, it also cannot be denied that you rarely taste as good as you smell, a trait you share with another favorite place of mine, Subway, but you are still a bundle of deliciousness.

But. Let’s talk tacos. Now, I understand how hectic it must be for y’all in there between 12 and 2 pm. I see the lines that come out the door. Its insanity, as only a restaurant in midtown of New York City during lunch hour could be. However, my tacos, they are spectacularly uneven due to the application of such adornments as sour cream, cheese and lettuce. The middle taco gets its all. The side tacos are the ugly red-headed stepchildren who cry for a just a few crumbs of cheese. And, the to-go method for the tacos doesn’t work. Those sad, sad side tacos always end up broken due to the lack of the proper amount of protection. Maybe a box, instead of some hastily wrapped tin foil would solve the problem?

If you could look into this, I’d appreciate it.

In the meantime, thank you for your contributions to my taste buds. They greatly appreciate it.

Smooches-
Chloe


Dear Bed Bugs-

You think you’re so sneaky, with the tiny bites in random places only every couple of nights. Don’t think I don’t see them. Don’t think I don’t know how close I am to being rid of you forever. And don’t think you can escape. The exterminator is coming again.

Be prepared-
Chloe


Dear Life-

You still suck. Remember how I went all the way down to E. 29th street for the fucking lumber? Then got home and it was a fraction of an inch too long for my bed frame? How you laughed yourself silly, I imagine. Well, did you see, how I got the better of that bad karma, bought myself a hand saw and fixed the problem myself? I hope you know that I may be down; very, very down at that, but I’m not out. I will prevail.

Smooches-
Chloe

Today's Title from: The Sun Doesn't Like You by Norah Jones

Dear Bed Bugs-

Thank you for not biting me for the last 2 nights. I hope this means you are gone forever. Just to be sure, the exterminator is coming again next week.

See ya later suckas!
Chloe


Dear Life-

You suck. How ‘bout finding me a good solid reason to get out of bed in the morning. Mashed potatoes don’t count as a good enough reason.

Thanks-
Chloe


Dear Lady at Hardware Store-

Against my personal principles, I’ll be coming in tomorrow. I need the lumber more than I need to boycott your ugly-ass face. Try not to be wearing you’re grumpy boots.

Smooches-
Chloe

Today's Title from: Delicate by Damien Rice

Dear Lady at the Hardware Store Last Night-

I came to you after a trek to the upper east side Home Depot, where I learned that Home Depot’s in Manhattan will not cut lumber for you, yet another joy of living in Manhattan. They referred me to one of your associates there to get my lumber. Now, my need for lumber probably seems insignificant to you. I only need four 60” slats to go on my bed frame, so my mattress will stop sinking into the holes between the metal slats of the frame. It makes sleeping difficult and my back is always hurting these days. I know, I know, a box spring would solve my problem.

Well, super bitchy lady who made me cry last night, I don’t have a box spring. I had to throw mine out. Why did I throw my box spring out? Two words. Two words that are guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of any New Yorker.

Bed bugs.

These two words are the source of the immense amount of personal angst that I am currently going through. Every day when I wake up, I feel less and less equipped to deal with the stress of this problem. I’ve cleaned out my room thoroughly. I threw away my box spring and my rug. I have learned to put away every single piece of clothing after I’m done with it, and have sealed laundry into plastic bags. I’ve never been so tidy in my entire life. I’m washing my sheets at least once a week.

And yet, I am still waking up with new bites, every single morning.

I have cried. I have screamed in frustration. I have to wear long sleeves all the time, so people won’t ask what’s wrong with my arm. I haven’t gotten a pedicure in months because I am embarrassed at what my feet and ankles look like.

And I itch, all the god-damn time.

So please, before opting for uber-bitchy route to random unsuspecting customer who comes to your store, and may be dealing with some issues that make them a little sensitive and on edge, could you maybe be a little less rough and abrasive, and give them 30 seconds of your undivided attention to tell them when the fuck Juan will be in to cut them some damn lumber?

Thanks-
Chloe


Dear Pandora,

Please stop playing so much Jack Johnson and Jimmy Eat World. I said I liked them. I didn't say I want to drown myself in them.

Thanks!
Chloe


Dear New Office Mate-

You. Are. Awesome.

Smooches-
Chloe

Today's Title from: The Itchy and Scratchy Show Theme Song