Of note:

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

MY EATING DISORDER!!!
(AND THE CROWD GOES WILD)

Fuck.

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.

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.

Fuck

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!!

Of note:

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

*soul killing silence*

69 posts!! *confetti*

I'm really rather disappointed I didn't tell a 69 story for my 69th post. So I'll do so with my 70th.

I totally karate kicked goth guy in the head the last time, on the dismount. Through the tear-blurred misery of it hopefully being over at last again, I'm sort of proud of myself.

Heel to temple. It was not a gentle touch. He called it a kung fu ninja kick.

(P.S. to those who don't know what 69 means: think dual oral sex. my head's in his lap, and my lap's in his face. Great fun if you can handle keeping at it rather than doing the usual gasping. And not kicking his face on the dismount.)