The Virginity Monologues

There's still too many men. And not enough interest on my part. I want to be alone, so I head home after work. I put on my best face that demands to be left alone, my earphones in and do my best not to meet anyone's eyes.

I think about the very sweet and kind boy with waist length dreads, who I've been on enough dates to sleep with, but who doesn't seem to have any friends or much passion for life and is terrible in bed.

I think about the boy I recently met with the finest pair of abs I've ever seen a picture of, who shares my sexual excitement for the gentle purr of a Porsche engine, with a meaningful, selfless career and a continued desire for higher education and I can't seem to summon a great deal of enthusiasm for our sharpied-in date for next Wednesday.

I reflect on the date I had last Saturday night with a beautiful pair of biceps, attached to a pretty face, not much of a brain and a staggeringly inept ability to kiss.

Then, I think about the text message that came in this afternoon from the Mr. 11, who's still in Miami, but each week brings us closer to May, the time when he moves back to New York. I don't love him. I like him. He's smart, smarter than me and ambitious. He's always there at the other end of the phone, ready to assure me that he misses me or indulge me in a round of spectacularly dirty texting and has been known to count down the hours until we see each other again. He's always been good to me and he's someone beautiful who has no qualms in telling me over and over again how beautiful he thinks I am. And I wonder why this can't be enough for me long term. Are my expectations too high? Do I want too much???

Does my ideal combination of hot, funny, smart, clever, witty, tender and loving exist? If not, what can I compromise on? I'm okay without tender. I don't actually need tender. In fact, sometimes, I find tender to be nauseating and silly. And okay, so Mr. 11 isn't exactly gut-bustingly funny. But that's what my martini nights with Email Boy are for. Nights when we get falling-down drunk, draw graphs on napkins about our levels of drunkeness, then consider taking home chairs in large trash piles on the street that may or may not have been covered in poo then make the other person smell our hand to make sure it's doesn't smell like poo.

Maybe one man isn't enough on his own. Maybe I will need Email Boy to be a part of my life forever, to fill in the cracks. :)

Today's Title from: Cigarettes and Coffee by Otis Redding

Labels: Email Boy, Mr. 11

Okay, gentlemen of this world. I want to convey a piece of advice to all of you that is becoming increasingly clear to me that all of you desperately need.

When you are newly involved with a female in any sort of non-platonic situation- whether it be romantic or sexual or any sort of mixture of the two, DO NOT talk about other women. Do not constantly refer to your ex and her weird habits. Do not talk about how you have an asian fetish and how you previously wanted to date the girl's very good friend who happens to be asian. Don't tell her about the girl that is in love with you and wants to have your babies. Do not tell your fuck buddy about the girl that you've always been in love with. Don't mention the lunch that you just had with the belly dancer.

Regardless of how serious or not-serious the nature of your relationship is, is disrespectful and inappropriate. I don't understand why this is such a difficult concept and why it is becoming more and more prevalent.

Got it???

Today's Title from: Do Me a Favour by Artic Monkeys

I got a comment- wondering what's going on, where have I been?

I'm still here. Still in the exact same place that I always have been and always will be. Alone. My taste in men may be improving, but I am still repelling them with the same expediency. I'm tired of writing about the false starts and the constant over-analysis. I want to start handling my relationships like a woman instead of a 13 year old girl.

I still run. I still work out. I still hate myself because I can't seem to get a handle on my eating. I've been battling the same 10 pounds for about 6 months now and it infuriates me endlessly. Food is winning in this battle, despite reading book after book and delving about as deep into my psyche as I can. I need something greater than myself and I'm not 100% sure where to find it.

Work has become a source of constant stress for me. Layoffs have been plentiful and although somehow managing to dodge that bullet, my workload has increased 1o times over and there is always the threat of losing my job looming over my head. I'm overwhelmed before I ever walk in the door in the morning and I hate that feeling.

How are all of you? Surviving?

Today's Title from: Karma Police by Radiohead