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Thursday, July 29, 2010

Oh HELL no

Good guy is engaged again. A week after professing his undying love for me and telling me he was willing to wait for me to sort myself out. I find myself feeling a bit burned because I believed him when he said he would wait.

Instead I find he has returned to his ex-fiance. Whom was crazy and hated his parents, according to him. Also, according to him it was a bad relationship. Just... wow.

He actually told me that it was better for him to wait for me than to be in a bad relationship. Apparently not.

My friend says I must have broken his heart.

It was unintentional. I really actually kind of hoped he would wait for me. Maybe I'd get over Goth guy, and then I could fall for Good guy for reals.

My friend also says that if you chase two rabbits, you lose both.

Well, it's like the men in my life coordinate their attacks for maximum damage to my already delicate emotional state. I mean, SERIOUSLY! They must be like women. Their periods must synch like ours. Only, they synch with the periods of men that are also involved with their object of affection.

Clever, men. Very clever.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Books and lovers

A list of updates, after looking through the last month or so of posts:

My new toys are named Alejandro and Tchaikovsky. Alejandro vibrates. Tchaikovsky does not. But Tchaikovsky is made of silicon for easy cleaning and is bright blue. (realistic toys scare me. So much.)

I finished Life of Pi. It was disturbing in a very deep way and I highly recommend it. I also finished The Battle Sylph, by new author L. J. McDonald. It was average, even only so so... and yet somehow I'm impressed by it. I think I was mislead.

It LOOKED like a dirty romance novel. Which was sort of why I got it. I mean, CHRISTINE FEEHAN recommended it! Do you REALIZE what she WRITES? VAMPIRE SMUT! And "changeling" smut. And witch smut. And more recently, genetic-experiments-gone-wrong smut.

Heh. The first three or four books are pretty exciting. And then you realize that they are all EXACTLY the same. And then you feel a little bit pathetic. Like you should add some variety to your smut or something.

Anyway, the battle sylph LOOKED like that but ended up being a fantasy with a touch of not-all-that-graphic romance. I mean, I got a little, erm, excited during certain bits, but there was none of those "pulsing member" or "hot sheath" type descriptions.

Hell, I should write a romance. It would be easy and very profitable. I could even add the emotional resolution that I feel most smutty romance novels short change us on. Make it so the woman really WAS special in some way, not just hot or royal blood or annoyingly lucky. I'd make her special.

And I'd make the man DIFFERENT. Not your run-of-the-mill football player demi-god turned all powerful vampire type stuff. Hell, I don't even WANT the guys to be all THAT weird. I'd actually appreciate a leading man with a personality.

Oh, and I finished Girl with the Pearl Earring. Meh. Great book. The ending was.... realistic. Which is good, but [SPOILER ALERT!!!! IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THEN DON'T FINISH THIS SENTENCE!] I hate it when truth and love don't prevail.

Of note:

You know I'm starting to resent how dependent I am on facebook when I congratulate myself for staying on only long enough to check my notifications and scroll through my top news section.

(and I scrolled faster over goth guy's link, so I wouldn't have to think about him. I am a pillar of resistance and feminine strength. *eyeroll*)

Words of curse

I've been cursing a lot lately. I blame penny-arcade. Which is a really great webcomic. That makes me want to be violent and vulgar. I guess you pick up the habits of those you hang out with... which have been:

The webcomic, my buddy that likes to party at her wild party house, this awesome lesbian couple with really angry language, and HBO. (I know, I know. I'm SORRY! I'm addicted to true blood. It can't be helped.)

It's funny. The party friend is trying to stop cursing. So instead she uses terrible replacers like "Yucky!!". Really. Yucky? ERGH. I'd prefer a nice loud FUCK to 'yucky'.

If you MUST replace angry words (as I'm beginning to suspect i should) then PLEASE! Use cool sci fi curses! Like "Frack" and "Gorramit"! Do not join the Ned Flanders consciousness. Your words are worth more than that.

Brain ninja

The comedian Dane Cook once called women brain ninjas. Said we'd say something that wouldn't bother a guy at first, but then it would fester inside their heads until they went mad.

Well, Dane, I've got rather uncomfortable news: Men can be brain ninjas too.

Exhibit A: Goth guy.






Damn him... He'll call, we'll have a perfectly human conversation... Except he keeps bringing the topic back to why he's withdrawing from the world and how he just doesn't want to go out lately, "that's all". Okayyyyy....

The warning sign there was that I didn't ask but he said it anyway.

The second red flag was that he brought it up three times. About how he was fine. He was okay. And I was like, okay, that's great! But he KEPT BRINGING IT UP.

So eventually, I was like, "Is everything REALLY okay?"

"YES! I've just been telling you this whole time that I'm okay!" or something like that.

Which brings him to my LEAST. FAVORITE. HABIT. Worse than that whole break-it-off-once-every-month-and-a-half habit. and I really, really hate that habit.

So you can imagine just how much I hate the "HonestGoth can't say ANYTHING right because Goth guy is on his PERIOD right now" habit.

You FUCKED me at the beginning of this month. You took my FUCKING virginity, punk! DO NOT BITCH AT MEEE! Oh no. Do not.

Ironically, the last "HonestGoth can't say ANYTHING right because Goth guy is on his PERIOD right now" conversation we had was about a week before he fucked me.... So for all I know this means I'm gonna get some next week.

Which I shouldn't look forward to. But crave. Like drinking vodka, smoking cigarettes, eating guacamole and becoming ridiculously, flamboyantly famous some day.

But I admit after each of these conversations I secretly hope he'll just never come back. You know, let me finally continue on in my life? Give me the chance to build the walls that will (unsuccessfully) keep all men out of my life for good?

A girl can dream. Eventually I have to go through menopause, right? In thirty years or so... surely my libido will have bitten the dust by then. Just gotta wait thirty more years.

Of note:

We do seem to do that, don't we?


Thursday, July 22, 2010

Of note:

I wonder how unspeakably evil it would be to wear a giant batman shirt and a pair of yoga pants to the grocery store.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Darkness and Light

Light and darkness.

Good and evil.

Good guy and Goth guy.

You've never heard of Good guy. He was the only good person I ever dated (of the two). Sweet, honest, intelligent, Christian, a gentleman. The second of the two men I've kissed.

Today he found out I've banged Goth guy. His reaction was intense. I'd broken it off nearly six months ago. I couldn't develop feelings for him because Goth guy was hanging around. Talking to me. Messing with my feelings.

He found out I'd banged Goth guy and threw a tizzy. Hung up. And I received a text exactly along the lines of "have a nice life". Oh. HELL no. I defended myself by not defending myself. Basically I said, I KNOW i'm a bad person. SORRY! You're JUDGING ME and STOP HURTING MY FEELINGS!

This lead to a long line of texts and IMs until he went and admitted he loves me.


So. I love Goth guy. And Good guy loves me. SHIT SHIT SHIT!

I should explain, I just never had any feelings for Good guy. Stupid. I know. He's mostly perfect. But damned if I was gonna lead a good man on.

And now he wants a romantic "hang out session". I can't really explain everything about Goth guy to him (or even tell him who that guy I banged is) but it's like he doesn't understand what can't be there.

Heh. Maybe the best response wasn't "Maybe something less 'all alone in the woods' ish. I'm not in date mode and that SOUNDS like a date." Poor guy.

Dear God: Please smite me down. I'd really appreciate it at this point. Well, maybe not. Maybe just smite my emotions?

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Of note:

Ugh. There's one more infant child named Bella to add to the phenomenon that is Twilight. I hope you're happy, Stephanie Myers. Your books are destroying the world.

(In other news congratulations to one of my best friends who just had her baby.)

Of note:

I'm working on my third day of not having vomited. I've smoked two cigarettes in as many days. Not my usual. But I'm not smoking today. Nor the rest of this week. Maybe not this next weekend, but the weekend after.

Until then, I'll rely on alcohol to keep from binging and purging. Heh. If one addiction becomes a problem, then the others can cover for me while I recover. Great plan. Maybe that addiction to art school needs to become more serious.

Why can't anyone see my art?

I've been putting six word memoirs as my facebook status updates for nearly a month now. And nobody has noticed. I mean, I've gone to awkward and cryptic lengths to keep them at six words!

I have at least three friends that are obsessed with the six word memoir project! I have one that does a six word memoir every day, and she's doing it for a year. She won't go to bed without writing one!

Mine might not be as cool ALL THE TIME but damned if I haven't had some FLIPPING AWESOME ones!!

Like the title of this piece? AWESOME! It has hidden meaning! I love stuff that's obviously cryptic so you have to figure it out, want to figure it out. So much fun. Like reading Edgar Allan Poe or T. S. Elliot or C. S. Lewis.

People, start looking into the stuff that doesn't seem to make sense! It's the truest thing you'll find. Like Oscar Wilde said, all bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. Same basic concept here.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Hell is an eating disorder

I'm a bulimic. I vomit up my food when I feel I've had too much. Which is often.

So far once a day.

Goth guy made me feel bad about my body. Yeah, he called me big when we were drunk. Whatever. THAT didn't bother me.

What bothered me was when he emphasized how he only talked about how beautiful my FACE is. That selfish, conceited, self-conscious, self-loving, dramatic, pale, skinny, old BASTARD!!!!!!!!

But if I make him feel bad about himself, I'M a BITCH!? I just tried to tell him what he did to me while he was DRUNK OUT OF HIS MIND!!!

I know I should find help. But I so want him to look at my body and say, You are the sexiest body I have ever fucked. Bahahaha. Sad, isn't it? I WANT to be objectified.

Goth guy, what have you done to me?

Of note:

Ladies and Gentlemen!
It's back!
It's bigger than ever!
Please let me welcome back to the stage....



Thursday, July 8, 2010

Of note:

I find it really funny that Goth Guy forgets a lot of English words, but on the morning we woke up in bed together, he had no problem remembering the word "contraceptive".

Meat and Pearls

Their food is like a foreign language to me, and my book is like chocolate vodka.

Two beautiful metaphors that sort popped into my head today. But I can't put them as my facebook status because I've been using 6 word memoirs since mid June, and intend to continue until SOMEONE notices. But thus far no one has.

They of "their food" are my parents. I'm vegan, and can never eat the dinners my mother makes. It makes me sad sometimes. I miss being able to eat with them. "With" not just meaning at the same time and in the same place, but in unity. Everybody eating something special prepared by a part of the family, it's nice. I like it. Like a mind meld but different. A stomach meld. I miss it.

The book is Girl With a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier. Yes, I know, I'm far behind on the book fads. In my defense (and to my chagrin) I read Twilight before anybody knew what the hell it was, back when it was just a wonky vampire book.

Hell, what is the trendy book to read right now? Eh. Not feeling guilty.

I'm also reading Life of Pi by Yan Martel. That's a recent trend, isn't it? I find it to be very stylized. Which can be fun if you have the patience for it. I'm reading it in fifteen minute intervals, during my breaks at work. Makes me almost miss my grocery store. Nobody ever came in so I was always reading. Good times. Still don't think I finished many books, though.

Thinking of foreign languages, estoy piensando ir a hacer un poco de mi tarea de español ahora mismo. Tambien debo hacer un beber alegre. O beber un poco vino blanco. Voy hacer todos antes de éste.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Of note:

The bite-marks, bruises and scratch-marks all over his body insure that nobody ELSE is sleeping with him. What girl in her right mind would bang a guy who is clearly sleeping with a live tiger? Yeah. No. His letting me mark him up at least gives me THAT reassurance.


I gave him my virginity and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.

Heh. I cannot BELIEVE I have the good fortune of being able to say that. The t-shirt wasn't all THAT bad. Goth guy actually has pretty good taste. And he buys me shirts. And gives gifts. And is now starting to expect tribute (aka gifts) in return......

But the sad truth is still there. I gave goth guy my virginity. He is between 10 and 15 years older than me. I am 21 years old. And we were drunk.

We bought vodka and orange juice. Frankly there was more vodka than orange juice the first time around. And slowly the orange juice became more and more diluted until it was nearly straight vodka, as new glasses were poured. I'd never been drunk before. After the first glass, my defenses were definitely down. So when he told me to take a really long drink, I just jumped on it.

Apparently drunk-me is very open to suggestions. Because when he told me to slap him, later, I didn't think twice.

But first came the flirting. I was terrible. A little vodka in me and I'm unstoppable, apparently. I admit he *might* have tried. But he didn't try too hard.

By the time I was super drunk, he told me he was gonna rape me. That I wasn't really a virgin anyway. When it happened, I didn't expect it. I remember losing my underwear. Don't really remember when I lost my skirt, shirt and bra, except I recall him asking me to take the bra off and I told him to do it.

And somehow we were in his bed. As far as I can remember, his clothes aparated off of his body.

Then I was under him and there was this harsh rubbing down below. It hurt. Like I was raw down there and his thang was made of sand paper... well, not that bad. Like that but much more bearable. Does that make sense? Like, that's what the sensation reminded me of, but it didn't hurt nearly as badly as it would have if that were true.

Sometime between the first and third time, I got really, really sick. I'd eaten a pita and some hummus over the last two days. What can I say? I was busy! But man was I sick. I kept vomiting vodka and water and bile. He told me to kiss him while I was busy doing this... I didn't really realize he'd gotten drunk too. I was too drunk to notice.

He said horrible, cruel things. When it finally started to feel a little good and I groaned some, he told me to shut up. When I started to cry while I was vomiting, or when he was hurting me, he told me to shut up. He kept calling me a bitch.

Neither of us came in the night. He didn't really try for me. I did put in a solid effort, but when it hurt too much for him to continue, there was nothing I could do. I couldn't sleep for a while after.

Once it got closer to morning, and I'd been sleeping some, his alarm kept going off. Every time it woke me, we were entangled. Maybe he'd clamped down on my belly with his legs, or our legs were all mixed up. Once I woke to find myself clamped to his chest, my face in his throat, his hand on top of my head. When I tried to get up he mumbled "don't leave..."

In the morning I woke to a "morning, beauty".

He didn't remember anything.

"We didn't do anything weird, did we?"

"Uhhhrrrm... like...?" (this marks the start of my initial panic. In my brain: Oh no. Oh no. Does he not remember what happened? Is he playing it off? Is he messing with me?)

"Like, sex?"

I stared at him. He seriously didn't remember anything.

"You fucked me. And it hurt. A lot."

Eyes got wide. He started panicking about getting me some spermicide and morning after pills, etc.

I stayed in bed long enough to explain (as I had the night before, stupidly, drunkenly which is probably what got me fucked in the first place) that I am and have been on birth control. (for hormones. come on people. give me some credit.)

Then I went and locked myself in the bathroom. I mean, how embarrassing!! I remembered but he didn't? Ugh.

Then there was "make up for the miserable drunken sex" sex and all was well.

The worst part of the whole thing though is that while I was drunk, he forced me to admit that I love him. That BASTARD!!