In reflection of what happened in Chapter 10, I don't really regret it. I suppose that was a long time coming and it was bound to happen. It was just unfortunate that it sucked so bad, because it makes me never want to drive 6 hours for a booty call again. Lame.
I am beginning to question the direction of my life and if I am heading in a safe direction. As I'm gearing up to go back "home" (where I have an apartment by myself that currently possesses most of my personal belongings,) I feel a surge of inappropriate and immature behavior coming on. I see a fall full of drunken hookups and late nights dancing in clubs with men I've never met before. I see myself shopping for "club clothes" - I HATE THAT - and getting all hung up in "how do I look." I fear the fall because i know things are going to change with the leaves and I'm not really ready for change yet. I am not really mentally prepared for the repercussions of my future actions. eg: moral destruction and lack of self-respect.
But for some reason I have hope. I have hope that my future promiscuity and experimentation in the single life will be fun. I don't really want to beat myself up over these things anymore, and hopefully I can just let go and have fun for once. My happiness is now my priority, and I intend to keep it that way.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Episode 10: Poor Choices
I made some really terrible decisions recently. I am not proud of them. In fact, they go against most of the things I stand for, and I regret letting things get out of hand. Let’s break it down so I get embarrassed and never do it again:
First: Getting drunk. Usually I don’t have a problem getting drunk. I did have a problem with getting THAT drunk. The hangover made it almost not worth it. Whiskey is not my friend, nor will it ever be. That night may have changed my mind about drinking heavily… the thing is I don’t remember drinking that much. I had maybe 6-8 shots over the course of several hours (all in mixed drinks, never straight) and somehow, I ended up making the choices I said I wasn’t going to. Brilliant.
Second: Sex. Don’t get me wrong, sex is great. But this sex was licentious. I was completely disregarding my values and ideals regarding sex for the primal urges. This sex was not by any means amazing. This sex was dim witted (on my part, obviously licentious.) Almost annoying. Whiskey dick had struck him and I was forced into a position (not literally, well I guess literally) where I was forced to do most of the work, if you get my drift. He kept asking me to go down on him (in hopes of getting it up) and whenever I would, we’d have about 30 seconds of intercourse before he was soft again. Annoying.
But I don’t think you understand how annoying it actually was. The most annoying part of this entire ordeal is that I had hooked up with this guy once before, drunker, in fact (we’re talking black out) and had the same issue: severe drunk dick. It was a similarly upsetting experience and I did not have sex with him (partially cause I didn’t want to, partially because I was “saving myself for someone special,” which he teased me about the other night, but honestly didn’t bother me.) I guess I kind of made it a personal mission at one point to a) meet up with this guy again, drunk and b) have awesome sex with him – because obviously the chemistry was there and needed to be ignited.
Back to the most annoying sex of my entire life, I decide it’s far to degrading to tease him about not being able to get hard (he’s being hard enough on himself as it is) telling me how much he wants to fuck me and yadda yadda yadda. I go “great. Get a condom.”
And here’s what takes us to the biggest failure of the evening: Sex without a condom.
Ugh. I regret it. I regret it so hard I wish I could beat myself up more for it, but the hangover enough taught me a lesson. Well sort of. An STD would really teach me a lesson, but fuck that. No thanks. I asked for one, it was finally materialized (hah. He had to go downstairs and ask his roommate for one. Cute.) and promptly ignored. Erections were so inconsistent that getting the condom on would have been a buzz-kill and a half. Miserable. Ugh. It was terrible. And that’s when I think the drunk girl in me, gave up, and just went with it. He kept asking if I was on birth control, I kept not answering, and we kept having sex… until he finally came and we collapsed on the bed.
I fell asleep in his arms. That was the best thing about the night: the spooning was orgasmic. There’s something incredible about a man who makes you feel tiny wrapped in his arms.
I guess when I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of my entire life, I figured out it wasn’t worth the trouble. I felt guilty, like I’d betrayed someone… not just myself. I think it’s because I have sincere feelings for the Self Depricator that I’m not exactly comfortable with. I’m afraid to tell him, and I think it’s because I care what he thinks.
Oh. And my period just started? What a day.
First: Getting drunk. Usually I don’t have a problem getting drunk. I did have a problem with getting THAT drunk. The hangover made it almost not worth it. Whiskey is not my friend, nor will it ever be. That night may have changed my mind about drinking heavily… the thing is I don’t remember drinking that much. I had maybe 6-8 shots over the course of several hours (all in mixed drinks, never straight) and somehow, I ended up making the choices I said I wasn’t going to. Brilliant.
Second: Sex. Don’t get me wrong, sex is great. But this sex was licentious. I was completely disregarding my values and ideals regarding sex for the primal urges. This sex was not by any means amazing. This sex was dim witted (on my part, obviously licentious.) Almost annoying. Whiskey dick had struck him and I was forced into a position (not literally, well I guess literally) where I was forced to do most of the work, if you get my drift. He kept asking me to go down on him (in hopes of getting it up) and whenever I would, we’d have about 30 seconds of intercourse before he was soft again. Annoying.
But I don’t think you understand how annoying it actually was. The most annoying part of this entire ordeal is that I had hooked up with this guy once before, drunker, in fact (we’re talking black out) and had the same issue: severe drunk dick. It was a similarly upsetting experience and I did not have sex with him (partially cause I didn’t want to, partially because I was “saving myself for someone special,” which he teased me about the other night, but honestly didn’t bother me.) I guess I kind of made it a personal mission at one point to a) meet up with this guy again, drunk and b) have awesome sex with him – because obviously the chemistry was there and needed to be ignited.
Back to the most annoying sex of my entire life, I decide it’s far to degrading to tease him about not being able to get hard (he’s being hard enough on himself as it is) telling me how much he wants to fuck me and yadda yadda yadda. I go “great. Get a condom.”
And here’s what takes us to the biggest failure of the evening: Sex without a condom.
Ugh. I regret it. I regret it so hard I wish I could beat myself up more for it, but the hangover enough taught me a lesson. Well sort of. An STD would really teach me a lesson, but fuck that. No thanks. I asked for one, it was finally materialized (hah. He had to go downstairs and ask his roommate for one. Cute.) and promptly ignored. Erections were so inconsistent that getting the condom on would have been a buzz-kill and a half. Miserable. Ugh. It was terrible. And that’s when I think the drunk girl in me, gave up, and just went with it. He kept asking if I was on birth control, I kept not answering, and we kept having sex… until he finally came and we collapsed on the bed.
I fell asleep in his arms. That was the best thing about the night: the spooning was orgasmic. There’s something incredible about a man who makes you feel tiny wrapped in his arms.
I guess when I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of my entire life, I figured out it wasn’t worth the trouble. I felt guilty, like I’d betrayed someone… not just myself. I think it’s because I have sincere feelings for the Self Depricator that I’m not exactly comfortable with. I’m afraid to tell him, and I think it’s because I care what he thinks.
Oh. And my period just started? What a day.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Episode 9: Stay or Leave
I'm not quite sure what I wanted to write about today, but I'm going to just put my thoughts out there...
This guy (aka The Self-Deprecator) is killing me. I have fallen for it really bad. Our daily conversations have moved from just online to the phone, which to one degree scares me, because I feel as if I'm expecting him to call now. Everyday. On the other hand, its comforting. It's like having the emotional support I've been looking for in a relationship, but not having to deal with the messy stuff.
Actually, we've been playing games, and I don't think either one of us will admit it.
One of the games is the "I'm so glad you're my friend and I can talk to you about who I'm hooking up with" game. The SD apparently got more game than I expected him (bravo, sir) and has thrown a few stories I wasn't expecting. Then again, I think my past adventures also kind of catch him off guard: at times I sound like a bit of a whore, in reality of a comparison to my peers, I'm a pretty prude chick. Oh well. This game is pretty much him being like "I think I have a crush on this girl..." and the next day I'll throw in "I'm going out of town next weekend and I think it's a booty call." I think I'm a little more of an open book when it comes to my sexual past (go figure) but I'm unsure if he's just afraid of sharing anything like that, or if he's sparing me the gory details.
Another game we play is the "I hate my life game" where we both get into some funk about how horrible our lives currently on. You always want what you can't have, he tells me. But I honestly don't feel like I want anything else, I just don't like what I'm doing, and that's clear. I am constantly questioning my future path, and he's giving me his opinion, a direct response, which I so fucking appreciate, because people with fippy-floppy answers piss me off. Grr. He's comforting, yet just pushy enough that it will either push me further into my stubbornness, or make me see something I hadn't before.
Our final game is the "I miss..." game. This is usually when I say "I miss New York" and he goes "It misses you" or something to that extent. This translated into English means "I miss you." "I miss you too." It's odd, knowing that I could be on his mind right now. I try not to lie to myself, and I point out it is very well possible he is NOT thinking of me. This is true. But he is on my mind a lot, and for the amount of talking we do every day, I don't know how I couldn't be.
I simply adore his presence in my life and wish that fate would let it be something else. But I firmly believe that I'm here for a reason (even if it's a masochistic enforced reason) and that my mission, should I choose to accept it (already have), I have to complete what I came here to do in hopes of bettering my life in the long run.
My dilemma really lies in if I want this job I've been offered or not. On one hand, I know its the best opportunity for me, but i hate it here. I have never been happy in this city. I don't think I ever will be. My other option is to go back to New York, but I question at this point whether I'm doing it for me, or if I'm doing it for my friends. I miss them a lot, and I question my motivation for either one of my choices. I am going to have to stick to the hand I've dealt myself, and somehow float through time for awhile. I won't know I've made the wrong choice until after it's done, and it's a risk I have to take.
I have to stop now. I'm expecting a phone call...
This guy (aka The Self-Deprecator) is killing me. I have fallen for it really bad. Our daily conversations have moved from just online to the phone, which to one degree scares me, because I feel as if I'm expecting him to call now. Everyday. On the other hand, its comforting. It's like having the emotional support I've been looking for in a relationship,
Actually, we've been playing games, and I don't think either one of us will admit it.
One of the games is the "I'm so glad you're my friend and I can talk to you about who I'm hooking up with" game. The SD apparently got more game than I expected him (bravo, sir) and has thrown a few stories I wasn't expecting. Then again, I think my past adventures also kind of catch him off guard: at times I sound like a bit of a whore, in reality of a comparison to my peers, I'm a pretty prude chick. Oh well. This game is pretty much him being like "I think I have a crush on this girl..." and the next day I'll throw in "I'm going out of town next weekend and I think it's a booty call." I think I'm a little more of an open book when it comes to my sexual past (go figure) but I'm unsure if he's just afraid of sharing anything like that, or if he's sparing me the gory details.
Another game we play is the "I hate my life game" where we both get into some funk about how horrible our lives currently on. You always want what you can't have, he tells me. But I honestly don't feel like I want anything else, I just don't like what I'm doing, and that's clear. I am constantly questioning my future path, and he's giving me his opinion, a direct response, which I so fucking appreciate, because people with fippy-floppy answers piss me off. Grr. He's comforting, yet just pushy enough that it will either push me further into my stubbornness, or make me see something I hadn't before.
Our final game is the "I miss..." game. This is usually when I say "I miss New York" and he goes "It misses you" or something to that extent. This translated into English means "I miss you." "I miss you too." It's odd, knowing that I could be on his mind right now. I try not to lie to myself, and I point out it is very well possible he is NOT thinking of me. This is true. But he is on my mind a lot, and for the amount of talking we do every day, I don't know how I couldn't be.
I simply adore his presence in my life and wish that fate would let it be something else. But I firmly believe that I'm here for a reason (even if it's a masochistic enforced reason) and that my mission, should I choose to accept it (already have), I have to complete what I came here to do in hopes of bettering my life in the long run.
My dilemma really lies in if I want this job I've been offered or not. On one hand, I know its the best opportunity for me, but i hate it here. I have never been happy in this city. I don't think I ever will be. My other option is to go back to New York, but I question at this point whether I'm doing it for me, or if I'm doing it for my friends. I miss them a lot, and I question my motivation for either one of my choices. I am going to have to stick to the hand I've dealt myself, and somehow float through time for awhile. I won't know I've made the wrong choice until after it's done, and it's a risk I have to take.
I have to stop now. I'm expecting a phone call...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
